Heh heh heh. How’s bout some risotto being a father figure to a kid, ( you know the type of scenario I mean, Aldir kekeke) it’s wholesome and I love it
Hiiiiiii Danae!!! HHHH soft and wholesome Risotto is such a soft spot aaaaaaa how dare you-
Risotto Nero being a father figure to a kid
(Under the cut for length!)
Risotto was used to deal with strays. He too had been a stray, right after he left Sicily; he knew what it meant to hide in the shadows and share the shelter with animals or other people, often not so willing to do so. Street life changed you, and often in worse; it was a continuous fight to survive, all in all.
After that experience, Risotto promised not to turn his back to any stray, being it an animal or a person. He didn’t need a lot to live a dignified life and the excess money was donated anonymously to charity associations for homeless people; he always fed a stray cat, Fumo, that, by now, came to his house every day, searching for food or cuddles. This was Risotto’s way to give back what he had received, when he had been at the lowest point of his life. The last thing he ever thought was to open his home to a child.
Sure, he wasn’t new to host people in it. More than one time he hosted Formaggio; a couple of times even Gelato or Sorbetto, when they argued so bad that one had to sleep somewhere else; if one of the boys came back injured and couldn’t make to the HQ, Risotto patched them at his home. He had always hosted, however, grown men, his subordinates, his family; never someone who wasn’t in Passione. But… he couldn’t do otherwise.
The child was the son of a neighbor; she had been taken to jail due to drug possession. The kid’s father had disappeared years ago, a classic “I’m going to buy cigarettes” just to never come back; without his mother, he was alone. Risotto… he remembered too well how scaring it was being alone. He vaguely knew the kid, but he knew he was a quiet and reserved child. He wouldn’t have lasted a day in the streets.
And that was why he opened his home to a child. Of course he had to hide his real job -and he had thought hard about a good excuse to justify his absurd schedules-, but the child was already persuaded he was a sort of superhero or such. When the boy told him so, with confidence in his eyes, Risotto couldn’t help but to scoff a laugh and give him a pat on his head. A superhero… quite the opposite, in fact. Still… who was he to break a child’s fantasy? All in all, it warmed his heart to know that someone thought he was a good person…
He did his best to take care of the child. He knew that the mother would have stayed in jail for a couple of months -he could have bailed her out of jail, but he opted for not doing it: he hoped that, from this experience, the woman would have learned something, maybe how to be a better mother for her child-, so, for that time, he took work at home, other than taking for himself quite short and simple missions, to everyone’s dismay. Why was Risotto preferring such ridiculous missions when he could have taken way more important ones? He was their Capo and the strongest of them all; certain missions seemed suited just for him. Then why he preferred to send a team of three or more for something he could have done alone? Risotto never answered his team’s questions, ordering them to do as he said. His serious gaze was enough to make them shiver and go back to their work without asking more.
Even if he wasn’t used to have fragile people around and he himself was pretty scary and intimidating, Risotto had a hidden gentle and caring side. The child seemed to have grasped it, and he knew how to make Risotto show it. He managed to gain few words of encouragement, some pats on his head and, even, a couple of hugs. Risotto… Risotto didn’t feel so good since years. For once, he was doing something good; for once, someone was seeing the good side of him, someone was seeing the man, well… the man he could have been, if fate hadn’t chosen otherwise. He wanted to grasp this feeling, to treasure it and remember it when, in the darkest hours of night, he couldn’t sleep and just started to ask himself what kind of man he was, what kind of life he was living. He would have remembered that trustful gaze, that bright smile and that cheerful childish voice every time he felt on the verge to break in pieces. He had saved that child… but that child had saved his humanity, in the end.
Without almost noticing it, almost two months had passed. Risotto was so used to the kid, by now, to feel weird when he wasn’t around; the child, on the other hand, never had a person who cared about him so sincerely and who supported him so much. Risotto’s care wasn’t made of overwhelming physical affection or hollow promises, as, well, his mother always did; Risotto was here for him, for real. When he asked something to the tall man, he bent down to talk to him at his height; he treated him with respect and appreciation and he never made him feel like he was nothing or a bother. He… he never had a father, but he wished so much his father to be Risotto. He was happy with him, he felt at home. He loved to come back to Risotto’s home, after school, he didn’t linger out anymore, like he did before. Risotto never pampered or spoiled him, it wasn’t his style: more than anything else, he motivated him to do more and more, to do his best to achieve what he had to do, being it a math problem or a grammar exercise. Risotto gave a boost to his confidence as no one ever had done before.
When the months passed, he didn’t want to go home to his mother. He even cried, trying to move him to keep him more with him, but without success. Seeing him like this, Risotto kneeled in front of him, looking in his eyes, quiet and calm.
“Your mother needs you, you know this. You have to go.” the kid sniffled, shaking vehemently his head. No, he didn’t have to go! He didn’t want to go! Seeing him like this, Risotto sighed, giving him a pat on his head.
“Can you do this for me?” the child pouted, hearing it. This wasn’t fair… but, for Risotto, the father he would have wanted so bad, yes. He could do this for him. At his reluctant nod, Risotto smiled a little, giving him another pat.
“Bravo ometto.” he scooped him in his arms, taking him to his mother, who thanked Risotto many times, while cuddling her son, who, however, was staring at the man. Risotto just nodded at him, with a small smile on his face, immediately returned. The kid didn’t feel sad or scared anymore, not now that he knew he had an ally, no, even more. He had a father, even if not by blood.
Now that he had a father who was always watching over him, he was no longer afraid of anything.