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Crimson Dust (HIATUS)

Summary:

Hounded by the Joestar and the Speedwagon Foundation, Kira Yoshikage has no choice but to run for his life. He never thought his steps would lead him to the court of the Crimson King, where he can finally find his place and fulfill his destiny.

The story of how Kira fled to Venice, how he met the Boss and how he encountered love, death, and lots of hands.

Kira/Diavolo fiction. Murder, blood and graphic scenes in the coming chapters.

Notes:

i finished vento aureo this weekend and my heart is broken
i've never cried so hard than at costa smeralda episode

let me mourn plz.

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter Text

Kira Yoshikage liked peace and quiet. His whole life had been a longing for quietness, inner calm and peace.

Yes, he killed people. So what if he did? What if it contributed to the stillness of his existence? He'd led a life of calm and peace for years in Morioh.

Until the arrival of the Joestars.

Those fucking Joestar weasels. If they hadn't come and poked their noses into his affairs he could have lived peacefully in Morioh for the rest of his life.

When he confronted Jotaro, when he realized his life was in danger, Kira realized he couldn't stay here.

Morioh was his hometown, his city of heart and carried so many memories for him: his first murders, his first thrills, the ecstasy of murder. He wanted to end his days here, he wanted to stay in Morioh.

But more than anything else, Kira wanted to go on living, and killing. He knew he'd come out of the closet with the Joestar, and that to stay was to sign his death warrant. He was the smartest of them all, but there were many of them and their stands were powerful.

He had gone home, and in all haste he had packed a bag, withdrawn the money from his accounts, and taken a taxi out of town.

Leaving Morioh, and knowing that he would not return for a long time, had left a bitter taste on his tongue. He paid for the taxi, picked up his suitcase and entered the airport.

Kira's lavender eyes fell on the departure board, and a great sense of unease gripped him.

He'd left Morioh, but to go where?

Chapter 2: Sunset in Venizia

Summary:

The killer is running, and the king is wondering.

Chapter Text

Venice - Location unknown.

The candle flame danced softly on the walls of the room, illuminating the room with a warm glow. Papers were spread out on the desk, photographs hung on the wall, and a glass of wine sat on the ebony sideboard.

The French window was open and looked out onto an elegantly tended interior garden.

He leaned against the wrought-iron railing of his balcony and closed his eyes, enjoying the peaceful gurgling of the water in the marble gullies surrounding the garden.

The sun was setting over Venice, casting its orange rays on the buildings. In the courtyard of the private palace, the white flowers were tinged with purple and the fire of the setting star, the wind rustling in the weeping willow and the jasmines embalming.

With his face gently warmed by the rays of the setting sun, he opened his eyes to look at the scenery around him.

He had always loved Venice. Full of mysteries, full of secrets. Just like he had.

This city was his image, after all.

The transparent curtains behind him flew softly, and he sighed.

He had so much work to do. Swallows flew over the palace, and he followed them, distracted.

A lock of hair came loose from his loose ponytail because of a gust of wind, and he put it back behind his ear as he walked back into the room.

He untied his hair as he opened one of the curtains to let a draft through, his hair cascading down his back, flowing.

Walking into the room, he grabbed a hairbrush and sat down in front of the dressing table in a wood as dark as the rest of the furniture, and began to brush his hair meticulously, then braided it.

And he said, "There you go. You won't bother me like that anymore."

He let his fingers run down his cheek, looking at his face in the mirror.

The setting sun and the candle made his features look like classical paintings, he smiled.

He stood up, put the brush on the dressing table and grabbed his glass of wine and his computer, returning to the balcony to work.

He had a strange feeling. A feeling of anxiety was running down the back of his neck, and the strange feeling that terrible things were about to happen made him frown.

In the garden below, silence always reigned, sometimes disturbed by the rustle of the leaves.

 

 

Venice International Airport - Marco Polo

His suitcase had just gone out on mat number four, and Kira went to get it.

He'd spent 20 minutes at the start board in a panic. He knew he had no choice but to leave Morioh, but to go where?

The planes were leaving one after the other, and he had ended up just walking to the counter, taking a calm breath and asking for a ticket for the next available plane to anywhere.

Venice, had decided the flight schedule. He would go to Venice.

Kira had gone through customs, got on the plane and watched Morioh walk away as the plane took off for Europe.

He was lucky, though. Kira spoke very good English, he could always manage to learn Italian on the spot. He had enough money to last him for a while so he could find a place to live and a job.

Kira had never set foot in Venice, but if fate told him to go there, then he would do so, docile.

He had left the airport and took a vaporetto to reach the city, where the sun was just setting.

The water taxi had just dropped him off in front of the Hotel Gran Canal, where he entered and took a room. It was low season, so Kira knew the rooms were available, and the prices were really low.

Putting his things on the bed, he looked around the room. The front door of the room led to a small living room, whose furniture was covered with dark green velvet. A television sat enthroned on an oak chest of drawers inlaid with golden ironwork. The window overlooked the Grand Canal and the Bay of Venice, and he opened the window.

The second room was a bedroom furnished with a pair of bedside tables, a dark green armchair in a corner, a wardrobe and a queen-size bed in the middle of the room. A door led into what looked like the bathroom, while on the other side of the bed, the French window door led to a spinning balcony that led to the living room.

Kira took off his shoes and fell on the bed, sighing.

Now she had to start all over again.

He growled and took off his tie, leaving it on the bed as he rolled himself into a ball on his side and fell asleep, too tired to fight the sleep.

Kira's breathing became calmer, more peaceful, when Killer Queen spontaneously materialized. The stand watched his handler from the foot of the bed, before shrinking, again and again, to the size of a cat with an immaculate coat.

She climbed smoothly up on the bed, and went to curl up against his owner, laying her soft little head on his hands, falling asleep in turn.

Chapter 3: Evening Waltz

Summary:

Diavolo goes down to visit his favorite restaurateur, and discovers with satisfaction the new waiter who has just been hired.

Notes:

HELLO THERE
YES
CRIMSON DUST UPDATE YES

they finally meet ! haha !
and kira is ... kira.
enjoy !

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Venice - Calle Arco

"Grazie mille, signorina!"

The young woman blushes before turning her back and leaving the café.

Kira's smile disappeared as he returned behind the counter. He had been in Venice for almost six months now. He had learned Italian very quickly, and found a small apartment in the old Venetian city.

Kira had moved into a small but comfortable apartment, which was not far from Piazza San Marco, but in an alley, which sheltered him from the noise. The apartment was bright and overlooked the bay of Venice from one of the living room windows.

Kira had then learned Italian, and as he was walking through the streets of the floating city, he saw an ad on a board. Who was still placing ads on boards?

Server search. English required. See you at Osteria al Pozzo Reverso.

Kira needed money, and especially to keep busy during the day. Being a waiter was a small job he had already done when he was younger, and in a city like Venice, almost all economic activity revolved around tourism.

He went to the restaurant, which was a kind of Bistro Inn, very picturesque and he loved the quiet atmosphere, and met the owner, Marcellino. The man was not very young, but very nice, and immediately hired Kira. Kira loved the job. The coffee was often bathed in the coolness of the streets of Venice, and in the soft rays of the setting sun in the late afternoon.

Marcelino waltzed through the coffee's record player, and the beige and burgundy tones were comforting. It was never crowded, it was a quiet job, which largely covered Kira's expenses, and he loved working there.

It was hard to describe, but wiping glasses while listening to Puccini with Marcelino humming in the kitchen, and coming home in the evening, sitting at his window and watching the water glisten in the Venetian bay, Queen in his arms was the closest thing to the peaceful life he had always wanted.

It had taken some time to get used to his forced expatriation, but he had learned to appreciate Venice.

No one here knew him. He was the mysterious Japanese man who had fled his country for family reasons, and coffee drinkers liked to think that he had wanted to escape from a marriage of convenience.

After all, a handsome man like him was supposed to bring down women, right?

They had to fight hard to get him to ask for their hand, right?

Kira smiled mockingly and huffed as he put down the balloon glass he wiped as the coffee door tinged softly.

"Buongiorno, signore."

Kira looked up from the counter where he had just put his glass, to see his favorite customer enter. The man came every day at the same time. The first time Kira had seen him, he had almost dropped his tray in front of his beauty.

The guy was tall. Really tall.

He was wearing dark purple suit pants, almost black, very good quality Italian shoes, Kira could tell by the shine of the leather. He wore a black shirt whose first open buttons gave him a free hand to admire sculpted pectorals and a torso that he guessed was chiseled. His sleeves were rolled up on powerful forearms, and on one of them rested a suit jacket of the same fabric as the pants that made his legs look great. To complete this muscular and almost surreal body, an angular face, a straight nose, high cheekbones, and serrated features.

A square jaw, peachy skin, and eyes of a green intensity never seen before for Kira. With eyes wide open, he watched this man of supernatural perfection approach him, his long pink hair held in a high ponytail from which a few strands escaped. Kira had raised his head as the man approached him, gauging his gaze.

Oh, danger.

The man was three feet away from him, and must have been one more head.

He looked like he'd just come out of a museum because his stature was that of a Greek figure, his eyes were more intense than the fear he'd felt when the Joestars almost caught him at Morioh, and all of Kira's senses were on alert. The man was beautiful, but radiated danger.

Kira could smell his powerful jasmine and spice scent and the aroma of danger and death swirling around him in an intoxicating scent.

"Is Marcelino here?"

It took Kira a few seconds to realize that the man was talking to him. He mentally slapped himself, trying to hide his confusion despite the shiver that the deep velvety voice had just given him.

"Yes, yes, he is here. I'll get him for you. "

He went around the counter and into the kitchen to look for his boss, blushing. 

The man followed him as he walked through the kitchen swing doors, giving him one last look. 

Diavolo sighed, leaning against one of the chairs in the room. It seems that Marcelino has decided to hire someone to give him a hand with the restaurant. The waiter, a man in his thirties, with a thin face framed by beautiful blond hair waving around his face, his grey steel blue eyes, was not from here. 

His posture was stiff, and he had a very light but foreign accent. His white shirt and black pants emphasized the arch of his back and the curve of his buttocks, emphasizing the finesse and length of his legs. 

The waiter returned with Marcelino, his cheeks a little pink. 

Interesting. 

He took one last look at the man who had gone back behind the counter to give Marcelino his full attention. 

"Signore Doppio, what a pleasure to see you! 
- Marcelino, it's a shared pleasure."

The two men had talked, and Marcelino turned to Kira with a warm smile. 

"Signore Doppio, let me introduce you to Yoshikage Kira, my new waiter. This brave little one comes straight from Japan!"

The man, Mr. Doppio, greeted him by extending his hand, which Kira shook with cordiality. It was terribly soft, almost without imperfection, warm but not sweaty, subtly and elegantly manicured. 

Dream hands, in Kira's eyes. 

"My little Kira, Signore Doppio is our protector."

His blue gaze had sailed between the two men, his hand still in Mr. Doppio's, who was gauging him with his gaze, and a spark of understanding bloomed in his eyes. 

Mafia.

Mr. Doppio was a mafioso

"Ooh, I understand. It's a pleasure to meet you, Signore. 
- The pleasure is shared, Kira-san."

Kira had opened his eyes in surprise before giving him a small, genuinely happy smile, which had stirred up something unexpected in Diavolo. 
Since that day, Diavolo had been going to the Osteria every day. At the same time, he left his Venetian residence and went out for the day to go to the small café. There he talked less and less with Marcelino, and more often with Kira.

There was something ... strange about the Japanese. A coldness. Diavolo could not escape the calculating glow in his eyes. Neither had his fascination with his hands. 

Kira was intriguing, and Diavolo had decided to return to Osteria on a daily basis until he had discovered his secret. 

Kira was hiding something, something terrible, and Diavolo wanted to know what it was. 

Day after day, he got to know Kira. He had discovered that he had fled Japan for family reasons, even though he suspected it was a lie. He had learned that he had a cat, Queen, that his favorite color was lilac, and a whole bunch of other stuff that might not seem to matter but did matter. 

The more time he spent with Kira, the calmer Diavolo felt. Without even realizing it, he had started to spend more time in the café, reading the newspaper at the counter while Kira put the glasses away or quietly did the accounts, humming music that belonged only to him and his memories. 

Spending time at the Osteria with Kira was a quiet and gentle interlude in Diavolo's tumultuous life.

"Buongiorno, Kira. »

The blond man had addressed him with a sweet smile, which as usual, found its echo on Diavolo's lips. 

The boss had set up at the counter, so that he could see what was going on in the street as Paganini was playing the gramophone, and began to drink his coffee quietly. 

The door of the café opened, and Diavolo looked up to see a young woman with red cheeks. He watched her walk towards the counter, while the other two young women with her stayed outside, giggling. 

"Signorina, have you forgotten something? »

Kira's smile was polite, her face soft and worried for the client. Diavolo followed the young woman with his eyes, his glasses on the tip of her nose. 

Yes," she said, "I was wondering if ... Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

Diavolo raised an eyebrow, drinking a sip of his espresso. 

Kira looked fundamentally surprised by the woman's request, and after a few seconds of looking at her silently, he finally nodded his head, grabbing a piece of paper from the counter. 

"With pleasure, Miss."

He wrote something down on paper, probably his phone number, and handed it to the young woman. They exchanged a few words and Kira offered to meet the young woman that evening in San Marco Square, in front of the Doge's Palace. The young woman left the restaurant smiling, her skirt flapping gently behind her. 

Kira leaned against the bar after running a hand through her blonde hair. He puffed, finding the surreal solution before resuming what he had been doing a few minutes earlier, a small smile on his lips. 

Venice - Location Unknown - Three weeks later - 10:17 pm

The woman's heels snapped in the alleyway, moving away from downtown Venice. With her headphones on her ears and her walkman in her hand, her bag on her forearm, she didn't hear the man following her and turning in the alley she had just walked down, a few dozen seconds after her. 

The music continued quietly, until the record jumped. The woman cursed in Italian, then stopped to open the case of the walkman and blow on the record. It was great to be able to listen to music outside the house, walking and all, but what a pain, these records jumping all the time, and these tapes that had to be rewound afterwards !

The young woman opened the walkman, without realizing that the man who had been following her all evening was right behind her. The wind picked up in the alley, and the smell of a man's perfume was carried up to the woman's nose, who realized that she was not alone. 

With the CD in her hand, the cover of the walkman still open, the young woman turned to face the man who was following her. 

 "Y-you?"

He grabbed the young woman's wrist with a smile on his face, letting his fingers glide over the soft skin of her palm, her wrist, flying over her veins and feeling her frantic heartbeat. 

The young woman dropped the disc she was holding in her hand out of surprise, and before the disc touched the ground, all that was left of her was her hand. 

The walkman fell to the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces, the pieces of plastic from the device joining the shards of the CD the woman was listening to. 

The man looked at the hand he was holding, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe off the blood dripping from the severed limb, to prevent it from dripping on the floor and leaving stains that would be hard to clean. 

A few meters away from him, on a balcony of one of the Venetian palaces, Diavolo was watching the terrible scene that had just taken place before his eyes. With a cigarette in his hand, he had frozen completely when he saw this man enter the alley. 

The man was in suit pants, wearing a pale pink shirt pulled up to his elbows. He walked down the alley, waltzing with his newly acquired hand, as Diavolo slowly straightened up, loonking at the scenery with as much awe as fascination. 

Did the nice, handsome waiter at the Osteria just killed someone? 

The blond man was in the alley below, tracing the thinness of the woman's phalanges with his fingertips, kissing the knuckles of her fingers, a burning gleam in his eyes. At his feet, a strange pink silhouette, half human, half feline, was playing carelessly with the debris of the walkman and the CD. The silhouette was strange, with large cat eyes that sparkled with a dangerous glow, and which Diavolo immediately recognized as a stand.

Had he just seen the delicate Yoshikage Kira use a stand and kill someone? 

 

Notes:

sooooooo
did u like it ?
thank you SO much for all ur comments, ur kudos ... u have no idea how happy i am when u show me that u like my work and all ...
THANK YA

and see ya soon for the next chapter !

Chapter 4: Meeting the Devil

Summary:

Kira's life continued quietly, calmly, punctuated by his days of work and murders. And everything could have continued calmly if the devil hadn't decided to throw his grain of salt in it.

Notes:

Hello guys !
Crimson dust update, the chapter is big, and I'm finally happy with it !

Thank u for all the support, I hope yall will like this new chapter hehehe

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

After what he had seen that night from his balcony, Diavolo knew that he could no longer feel safe in the presence of Kira. The young man had still killed someone in cold blood. 

He had murdered a young woman, most probably innocent, to keep only his hand, which was very delicate, but it was still murder! 

Diavolo sat on the edge of his bed, cigarette in hand. He was absolutely certain that Kira had not seen him, but still. He saw death every day, which was relatively normal when you were the boss of the mafia, and you made your living from extortion and kidnapping, corruption, and human trafficking. 

But it wasn't because he saw death every day that he had been ready to see Kira, the one mysterious but relatively normal constant in his daily life, kill someone. If there was one person he didn't imagine murdering people, it was Kira. 

He looked so... normal. Diavolo frowned before getting up to ash his cigarette in the crystal ashtray he had given himself, and turned his head towards the night sky he could see through the large glass window in his room, the same window that gave access to the balcony and the garden below. 

Was it really this, that bothered Diavolo so much? That Kira wasn't... normal? As if he didn't understand it at first glance. As if he hadn't immediately sensed that Kira was much darker than he looked, with his beautiful wavy blond hair carefully combed, and his grey eyes that could be charming as hot mercury, or icy as the steel of a sword. 

Kira was angelic. His features were pure, his eyes clear, his hair softly golden. He was delicate and refined, not beyond the norm, but his gestures were precise and graceful in all circumstances, in a natural ease that reflected the innate character of his elegance. 

The Italian sneered softly. He knew right away that Kira was hiding something. But he was thinking of a complicated story, perhaps the reason for his hasty arrival in Italy, when he didn't know anyone and didn't know a word of Italian. But never, never could he have suspected that Kira, whose skin seemed softer than the silk of his dark bathrobe, and more fragile than the porcelain of his tea service, was hiding a stand. 

And murderous impulses. A stand and an inclination for killing women and keeping their hands. 

Diavolo took a puff of tobacco and looked up at the moon. Kira seemed to know what he was doing, after all. Diavolo exhaled the smoke from his cigarette by hanging the curtain on the side, giving him access to the balcony. 

Kira attracted Diavolo like a butterfly would be attracted to light, or a shark to the smell of blood. He was mysterious, secret and in a word, fascinating. 

Who was he hoping to deceive, anyway? He came back to the Osteria every day, like clockwork, to see him, to talk to him and simply to be in the same room as he left, not to talk, the silence that could be established between them was never anxiety-provoking, but always comforting in a strange way. 

Diavolo glanced at his computer, and his cigarette ended up in the ashtray as he sat in his comfortable leather office chair. He opened the computer, and typed the two words that would change the rest of his life into the huge database to which Passione had access. 

"What are you hiding from me, Yoshikage Kira?"


 Kira hummed softly on his way to work as he walked through the streets of Venice, his steps cheerful but restrained so as not to draw attention to himself. On the gutter pipe that climbed up to his building, a small poster flew softly, badly taped to the rusty metal and whose white paint was peeling and decrepit. 

The Japanese man stopped to look at the woman whose picture was printed on the poster, and recognized with relative amazement the young woman he had murdered a few days earlier. 

Her name was Bianca. 

It didn't matter, after all. Her name meant nothing to him compared to her long, slender and carefully manicured fingers. The girl was dead, the body had been disintegrated by the delicious power of Killer Queen, and no one could trace it back to him. 

As always, he was protected by fate, and luck would never stop smiling at him. With a satisfied smile on his lips, Kira made his way back to the Osteria, ready to start his day's work. A burst of laughter escaped from his lips as he caught behind his ear a lock of rebellious hair, a little longer than the others. 

He should probably think about going to the hairdresser. 

"Ah, my little Kira! I got a phone call for you!"

Kira's blood froze in his veins. A phone call? for him? Would the police have made the connection? Would he have found him? No, that was impossible. There was no way they could trace it back to him! 

He had been careful not to be followed in the alley. Maybe someone had seen what had happened and reported it to the authorities, and they were on his trail. 

Or maybe it was something completely different. Maybe it had nothing to do with the police. But nobody knew him here. Couldn't anyone call and leave him a message? 

Maybe it was the Joestars, those field rats would have found him? Had the Speedwagon Foundation and the Joestars got their hands on him again and he was going to have to run away and start all over again somewhere else? 

The panic was spreading inside Kira. He had confidence in his abilities, he had confidence in the power of Killr Queen and he had confidence in his luck. But he had just realized that the Joestars were still after him despite his departure from Morioh, that the police were going to start investigating the disappearance of women in Venice, and that once the connection was made ... the Joestars would find him. 

He had no doubt about this. These people who had been keeping Joestar in circles were going to find him and stop him once and for all. 

"Kira, you look pale! Why don't you sit down for a second?"

In the panic, he had grabbed the back of the chair next to him and held it so tightly between his fingers that his fingernails had left small crescent moons in the wood of the backrest. 

The Joestars were going to find him, and this time he could not escape. They wouldn't let him getaway. Kira had thought that leaving Morioh would allow him to start all over again, but he had been very much mistaken. Running away from Morioh had given him extra time to find a definitive solution to protect himself from the Joestar, but nothing definitive. And now they knew what he was capable of. They knew what Killer Queen was capable of, they would surely come with reinforcements he didn't know. 

He closed his eyes, short of breath and pale complexion as Marcelino gave him a glass of water, sitting in front of him, bringing him back to the reality of the moment. 

For the moment it was nothing serious. He had no guarantee that it was the police or the foundation that phoned to ask for it. 

Kira looked up at his boss with a contrite look in his eyes. 

"Forgive me, it reminded me of a bad memory. 
- You're welcome, my little one. Are you feeling better?
- Much better, thank you. So, what was the phone call about?"

Marcelino leaned forward, putting his hand in the palm of his hand, his arm resting on his knee, and let a smile of connivance bloom on his face, like a teenage girl about to unleash a big juicy gossip.

"Mr. Doppio called."

What.

If Kira was expecting it. 

He straightened up, raised his head towards Marcelino, flabbergasted. 

"Mr. Doppio?
- Yes, Mr. Doppio! He called to ask me about your working hours. 
- But why did he call?
- To invite you to dinner with him, he said. But shhh, I didn't tell you anything, did I? »

It was totally unexpected. 
Not unpleasant, just unexpected. The man had drawn Kira's inclinations on him from the very first day. 

He was incredibly handsome, and not only with his hands. His tailor-made suits flattered his Greek god body, he was tall, muscular and his deep, deep, even velvety voice caused shivers of pleasure along Kira's spine when he spoke. 

Kira wanted to feel his powerful arms around him, his divine hands around his throat, his long fingers on his tongue. He wanted it all, he wanted to bury his nose in his long pink mop, nibble his neck, tie his legs around that slim waist, run his fingertips and lips across that torso he knew was chiseled. 

He had wanted the Italian the second the man took off his Dolce and Gabbana glasses and crossed his green and amber eyes. The second he saw his purple lips,  he had wanted Diavolo.  

It was the first time Kira had ever felt like that, but he had blamed these strange emotions on loneliness. He had been alone for many years, terribly anxious and rather lost, no matter what he said, so he had taken everything "Mr Doppio" made him feel, and threw it all into the fire, preferring not to think about it. 

He should have understood that this was not enough when he cut off Bianca's hand some time ago he had not felt the same euphoria as usual. 

When the man wanted to see him outside the Osteria, it was unexpected, but not unpleasant. 

"He will be there at 8 pm tonight. I'll let you go when he comes to pick you up, okay?"

Kira nodded his head, still shocked. It was neither the police nor the Joestars, but a much more pleasant surprise. 

He was going to spend the evening with Diavolo and Kira was looking forward to it. The euphoria he felt when he was about to kill, the ecstasy of killing, he felt it for Diavolo.

Marcelino straightened up and got up again, letting Kira come to his senses and realize that he was going to spend the evening with "Mr Doppio".

It was, without a doubt, the longest and most boring working day Kira had ever known. He looked at his watch much more often than usual, his heart pounding every time the door of the Osteria opened. The minutes went by more slowly than in the bad movies his mother sometimes watched when he was younger. 

He tapped his fingertips on the light-colored wood of the counter and gave up doing his job properly when he realized that he had been washing the same glass for ten minutes. Kira put the glass back in the sink and wiped his hands, dropping himself on a stool on the counter. 

Kira put his head in his hands and sighed, his fingers passing between his blonde locks. He was almost trembling with impatience and watched the time go by with almost complete happiness. 
And when it was finally, at last, eight o'clock, the door of the Osteria opened, and the doorbell rang. Kira stood up, quickly smoothing out the folds of his shirt, looking towards the door.

The Italian of his dreams was in front of him, his jacket resting on his forearm, his long magenta hair running freely down his back, wearing a plum shirt and black trousers that flattered his legs and muscular torso wonderfully. 
His shirt was open on his chest, leaving visible to Kira's eyes a chiseled torso and pale skin on which he wanted to put his fingers and lips. His black, high-waisted trousers made his legs larger than they appeared, and his forearms tattooed with black ink were visible as the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows. 

That was so hot.

Kira looked up at him, dominating him from his height, and looked up at him. 

"Good evening, Kira-san."

The Italian wore his signature lipstick, dark purple almost black, and a simple stroke of eyeliner highlighted the intense green eyes that pierced Kira from side to side, leaving his almost speechless. 

Diavolo held out his hand, gloved in leather. 

Oh, his hands. Dear Lord

Diavolo's calm, deep laughter brought Kira out of his reverie, and he suddenly pulled himself together to greet him with a teenage awkwardness that didn't look like him. 

"Oh, good evening Mr. Doppio!"

He grasped Diavolo's hand gently, before realizing that the man in front of him was holding his hand to his lips, his green eyes plunged into his own, while he barely touched Kira's hand with the tip of his lips. 

Kira hiccupped, his eyes widening wide open.

"Diavolo. 
- Que-pardon," Kira stammered, shocked. 
- You call me "Mr. Doppio", but my first name is Diavolo. »

Kira slowly nodded his head as Diavolo - what a delightful name, perfectly fitting for the man who wore it and who looked just like a tempting demon straight out of hell - gently squeezed his hand between his fingers and led him towards the exit of the Osteria, giving him just enough time to grab his jacket which was resting on a chair. They left the restaurant hall in a gust of wind, Kira following Diavolo as the excitement grew inside him. 

Diavolo wasn't walking particularly fast, but Kira could sense that he wasn't the only one who was ecstatic about the dinner. Diavolo's step was light and his grip on Kira's hand soft but strong. 

Kira looked at their joined hands and Diavolo walking a few steps away from him, and smiled. He didn't really know why, but he was attracted to Diavolo like a bee to flowers in the spring.

"Where are we going, Diavolo?
- You'll see, Kira. Diavolo replied with a smirk, turning around a little and winking at him. »

He took him to an alleyway that landed on a dock where a vaporetto was waiting. Diavolo greeted the driver and boarded the vaporetto, letting go of Kira's hand for a few moments before turning back towards him, one foot on the edge of the boat, and his hand stretched out towards the blond man who was still on the quay. 

"Would you take a ride with me, Kira? "Diavolo asked him, as the moon threw silver shards in his hair that cooled his strange beauty even more.

Kira looked up at his outstretched hand, his gaze up his arm, his shoulder, his neck and finally his face. Diavolo was waiting for an answer, his eyes curiously green, a strange glow shining deep inside them. 

The blond man smiled and placed his hand in Diavolo's, putting one foot in the Vaporetto as Diavolo shook his hand in his own, pulling it towards him. Kira put his other hand on the railing of the boat, overhanging Diavolo and smiling at him. 
Diavolo wanted to play? They were going to play. 

"With pleasure, Diavolo. I like to ride on things. »

He jumped on the boat lightly, putting his jacket on the back of one of the seats, dropping gracefully and crossing his legs, knowing full well how much these trousers and this position flattered his silhouette. 

Diavolo watched him, surprised, before shaking his head and smiling, joining him on the seats of the Vaporetto, indicating to the boatman that he could start. Kira looked at him with playful eyes and Diavolo sat down on the sofa next to him, the boat starting gently. 


"Oh my God, really? But how could this happen?
- I know, I know. I'm still mourning the loss of those Armani trousers, they were one of my favorites. »

Kira burst out laughing, his cheeks reddened by the Tuscan wine and the company of Diavolo. Strands of hair were coming out of his perfect hairstyle, and the tops of his ears were a little pinkish from his laughter. Diavolo found him more beautiful than ever, as he laughed behind his hand, his eyes sparkling. 

Dinner with Kira was better, much better than anything he could have imagined. He knew he was attracted to Japanese, because he had seen what he was capable of in that alley because he knew it was mysterious and secret. Diavolo could never have imagined that he would have so much in common with the young man, whose humor and repartee was scathing. 

"I hated that day because I hate having the world's attention on me. It makes me tense.
- I understand," Kira replied, putting his hand on the table, suddenly looking serious.

He turned his head towards the window, his eyes dreaming. 

Diavolo looked at him, enjoying the solemnity of the moment. 

"I've always wanted a quiet life. And yet I had to leave my hometown because people were after me. I just wanted to... live quietly.
- A life far from problems, punctuated by daily life and stability? Diavolo asked him.
- Lord God, yes. I like the daily routine, the consistency. 
- Mh, I understand. There is nothing more comforting than stability. Now that I've found my equilibrium..."

Diavolo put his hand on the table, his fingertips touching Kira's, who looked up at him, curiosity and a kind of hope in his bloom. 

The atmosphere between them had changed in an instant, tilting towards something much more intimate, whereas until then it had been friendly. 

"Now that I have found my balance, I hope to find someone to share it with. »

They looked into each other's eyes, letting their respective emotions speak through their looks. Why were they so attracted to each other? What was there between them, what was that amazing alchemy that existed? Kira opened his mouth, ready to talk, but quickly closed it again when he saw the waiter approaching their table, bringing them the bill. 

The dinner ended in this strange atmosphere, a hybrid between desire and slight uneasiness, and Diavolo left the restaurant, Kira the previous one. They walked through the streets of the city, side by side, the moon half hidden by the clouds partially illuminating their walk. 

The moonlight was fine in Kira, Diavolo thought to himself. It cast cold, silvery glints on him that made his beauty ethereal and much less fragile than in the sunlight. Kira's face was raised to the sky, and he smiled soberly as he admired the beauty of the Venetian buildings around them.

"Beware!"

Diavolo shouted, not seeing their attacker until it was too late. The man emerged from the shadows, grabbing Kira by the arm and pulling a knife to his pale throat. Kira grimaced as the attacker pressed the blade against his skin, a drop of blood running down his throat. He grabbed the arm that had gone around his throat, his surprised eyes fixed on Diavolo. 

"Your wallet, quickly. Give it to me, or I'll stab him! »

Diavolo's face hardens, his anger rises when he sees Kira's slightly panicked look on his face. The attacker became more pressing and even though Diavolo didn't want to take King Crimson out, he soon realised he had no choice. 

"King Crimson!"

His stand materialised, with the characteristic noise he always made, under Kira's wide-open grey eyes. Behind a Diavolo with a dark face, a humanoid silhouette materialised, immense, with wide-set eyes and covered with a red grid. A strange sound like an echo passed by in acceleration, and suddenly Diavolo had disappeared. 

"What the hell is this mess?"

The thief grunted, turning his head and moving with Kira still with the knife at his throat trying to find Diavolo who had disappeared. Kira didn't understand what he had just seen. Diavolo had a stand? 

Diavolo had a stand. 

Diavolo, the guy he fell in love with at first sight, who fascinated him and who attracted him like a butterfly was attracted to a torch, had a stand. 

He wanted a normal life, they liked the same things, and above all he had a fucking stand.

Kira heard an awful gurgling in his back and felt the pressure of the arm around his throat relax. With a flick of his elbow he pushed his attacker who fell to the ground, holding his lower jaw. Kira turned around to see that instead of the man's jaw there was a gaping, bloody hole and that the man's gurgling was due to the fact that he was choking on his own blood. 

Behind the man, with the man's jaw in his hand, was Diavolo. He looked furious, and his eyes were burning with an immensely intense rage that was underlined by the coldness of his face and his features hardened by hatred. 

His whole forearm was covered with blood, and splashes had landed on his face. Kira approached him, hesitantly stepping over the man on the ground who was bleeding to death. 

Once in front of Diavolo, he gently raised his hand towards his face, spreading a drop of blood with his fingertips before bringing his hand to his lips, licking the drop of blood that was there, looking Diavolo in the eyes. 

"Killer Queen."

His stand appeared behind him, over his shoulder, and Diavolo smiled.  With a wave of his hand, Kira ordered Killer Queen to bend down, and as soon as she touched the body of the poor guy who had just tried to steal their wallets, he raised his hand to set off the bomb. The body disappeared in an explosion, leaving no trace of what had just happened but a pool of blood. 

Diavolo approached Kira, grabbed his hand, and pulled it towards him, pinning him against his body as he backed towards the wall. He grabbed the collar of Diavolo's shirt with his breath as the mobster put a hand on the side of his thigh. 

Kira looked up at Diavolo, looking at his lips before looking into his eyes, almost panting. Diavolo smiled as his hand moved up the side of Kira's thigh, in a more than equivocal caress. The tension that had reigned between the two of them for days, which had suddenly transformed itself around a glass of red at the end of a meal, was reaching its climax.

Kira stared at Diavolo, who was always smiling at him, and huffed when Diavolo pressed himself a little closer to him and one of his legs came to rest between his own. He could hear Killer Queen and King Crimson in the background, who seemed to be trying to communicate. Diavolo put his hand up along his arm, taking a shiver from Kira who couldn't resist any longer, and pressed his lips against his. 

Diavolo took a deep breath in their kiss, squeezing Kira against him with his hand up to his thigh, resting on his hip as Kira wrapped his arms around his neck. 

Finally. Finally, he was kissing this guy who fascinated him so much, at last Diavolo's hands touched him. Kira finally felt at peace for the first time since he had left Japanese soil. Diavolo was warm, solid against him, like a rock against which he could lean on. 

Diavolo reluctantly stepped back, short of breath, and nested his head in Kira's neck, which he chewed just below his ear, even as Kira let his head fall back against the wall. Kira's fingers slipped into Diavolo's hair, gripping it as the Italian touched one of his erogenous zones with the tip of his tongue. 

"Ah, Diavolo ... Stop ..."

Diavolo instantly came up from Kira's neck, looking at him worriedly. 

"What's going on?
- Not here. Not now. »


Diavolo nodded his head, moving back slowly but still against Kira. The blond man glanced over Diavolo's shoulder, pointing at Killer Queen and King Crimson who turned around looking at each other with curiosity. 

"And we should talk about the fact that you have a stand, too.
- Oh, are we on first-name terms now?"

Kira threw a loopsided grin at him that made Diavolo smile, whose hands were always on Kira. He slid his fingers gently, like a feather caressing his skin, making the Japanese man shiver as he closed his eyes. 

"We're going to do much more than just use the first name, I think."

Kira laughs softly, wanting to play. Diavolo definitively backed away as he raised his hand to try the blood of the guy who had assaulted them earlier in the evening. The purple liquid stained his fingers and Kira tried to resist the temptation to grab Diavolo's hand and lick the blood off his beautiful, long, thin, masculine, manicured and perfectly groomed fingers. 

He glanced at Diavolo's hand as he went to wipe the blood off his handkerchief and grabbed his hand. 

"Wait!"

Diavolo looked at him curiously, and Kira bit his lip. 

"Oh, what the hell. »

The Italian raised an eyebrow, seeing Kira grab his wrist and bring his hand close to him. The blond man looked at him for a few moments, probing his gaze to find something that would indicate what he was about to do. 

Seeing no red flag for what he wanted, Kira opened his mouth, his eyes still immersed in Diavolo's, and conscientiously licked the Italian's fingers, enjoying the surprise that was painted on Diavolo's face, and the desire that was rekindled in his green eyes. 

His tongue passed over Diavolo's fingers, licking his index and middle fingers, savouring the rich taste of the blood on his palate, and the touch of his fingertips on his tongue. Kira had a slightly strangled moan and felt hardened as he couldn't stop sucking Diavolo's fingers. 

It was better than anything he had ever experienced before. It was as if he had waited all his life for someone he didn't know he needed, only to finally find out why he was doing everything he did here in Venice. 

Diavolo watched him do it in amazement, a tender smile on his face. He put his other hand on Kira's waist and pulled it towards him, letting him play with his fingers as he pleased and giggling as he felt his erection against his leg. 

Kira released Diavolo's fingers in a loud pop and licked his lips like a greedy cat. 

He blushed suddenly, surprised by his own audacity, and turned his eyes to the pool of blood the guy had left on the ground. Kira pss-pssta Killer Queen came back to him, curious, and he crouched down beside the puddle, telling him to touch it.

Diavolo watched him do it, always silent, and watched the puddle disappear in small explosions, leaving no trace of their attacker. Kira got up, dusted off his trousers and gently caressed Killer Queen's head. 

The stand purring softly, and in front of Diavolo's eyes, reduced again and again to the size of a small cat, his big eyes staring at Diavolo as he jumped into Kira's arms, nesting his head in his master's neck. 

King Crimson also joined his master, looking at Kira and Killer Queen in his arms. The stand evaporated in a slight rustle, and Diavolo approached Kira to offer his hand to Killer Queen who sniffed it, before stroking the cat's head - from the stand? 

"We'll have to talk about it, won't we?
- About what?" Kira replied.

Diavolo looked at him, his face blank, and pointed to Killer Queen with his chin in his arms. 

"From your stand. And something else. 
- Anything else? »

Kira raised an eyebrow as Diavolo leaned towards him, whispering in the hollow of his ear. 

"I saw you kill that woman in the alley. »

Kira's blood froze in his veins, and he had to gather all the self-control he possessed in order not to let fear invade him and decompose in front of Diavolo's eyes. 
Diavolo's arm passed around his waist, pulling him back against him, but he was careful not to hurt Killer Queen who was still purring in his master's arms. 

"I know what you did to her, and I know your ... inclinations. »

Kira looked up at Diavolo, who dominated him in all his stature, and for the second time in his life, he no longer felt like the hunter, but like the prey. Diavolo was a predator, and he had a clear advantage over him. 

He had no way out of this situation, and he couldn't run away from Diavolo as he had already run away from the Joestars. He didn't want to run away from Diavolo, and Kira knew that the Italian had connections and was particularly powerful. 

Fuck, he wasn't even sure he could leave Venice alive. He had realized that Diavolo was a mafia man, and he had seen his stand. 

Against Diavolo who dominated him with all his stature, Killer Queen in his arms, in this street of Venice, Kira understood that he was stuck, and at Diavolo's mercy. 

Luck had always smiled at him, but this time it seemed he was running out of luck. Panic ran through his veins as he lowered his head, trying to calm down. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. 

"Shh, calm down. I don't want to hurt you, I promise."

Diavolo's other hand, which was not around his waist, slipped under his chin, gently raising his face towards Diavolo's. Kira reopened his eyes, suppressing the tremors of anguish that threatened to run through his distraught body. 

In Diavolo's green eyes, Kira saw no hostility. Some hope, some determination. But no hint of imminent danger.

"I want you to come with me. With me, you can satisfy your impulses without risk. To live in anonymity and tranquility, without ever again fearing those who chase you. »

Diavolo's hand slipped on his cheek, his enticing and magnetic tone and gaze, and his hands on his body were the only things that kept Kira from falling into absolute panic. 

With his lips so close to Kira's that he could feel his almost erratic breathing, Diavolo passed the tip of his push over Kira's lower lip. 

"My King Crimson and your Killer Queen will always protect us. Join me, Yoshikage."

Oh, how delightfully his name sounded in Diavolo's mouth. A long shiver ran down his spine as he made the decision that would upset his entire equilibrium, as he waltzed through all his fears and apprehensions. 

"I'm all right. "he breathed as Diavolo leaned over to kiss him again, Killer Queen still sleeping between them.

Diavolo was right, Kira thought. Together, who could stop them? 

There was something mystical and powerful between them, shouting to Kira that this was where he belonged, with Diavolo, and that only he could offer him everything he had always dreamed of. 

Diavolo stepped back gently, smiling back at Kira who returned his tender smile, while the moon and the evening wind were the only witnesses to their alliance. Silent Venice, now asleep, had just become their kingdom. 

Diavolo beckoned to Kira to follow him, and for the first time in a long time Kira followed him without any hesitation, passing through the door of Diavolo's Venetian palace with an unquestioning heart, turning his back on everything he had always believed in, and taking the hand that the devil had held out to him. 

Notes:

sooo
how was it ?
please come yell at me on twitter @Aerhoesmith yeah this is NSFW and I chat and go feral and post preview soooo

see ya soon
leone