#lampo doing the only art he can do

[lamponellatempesta]

Heyo Camp Cretaceous fandom, nothing to say, I just leave the fam I've done with this picrew here.

And an addiction:

Daniel Ferrante and Raven

The OC's of me and @gingericywolf in the series.

Hope you will like them you all!

[mafiabosstsuna]

admin aldeheid’s prompt 1:

Ricardo in love with an S/O time traveller.

Whew that was harder than I thought. I hope everyone enjoys it though XD.

~ admin Adelheid

Having you transported four hundred years into the past was a mistake. You should not have been there while the Bovino was experimenting on the ten year bazooka paired with the black hole they had asked Chrome to imitate casting from their battles with Daemon Spade ten years ago.

It was a stupid accident. You should not have walked in unprepared but you were too excited. The Bovino claimed to have had in their keeping a diary from Lampo that had information about the Vongola’s first generation from the First Lightning Guardian’s point of view. Naturally, as the Famiglia’s record keeper you cannot allow such an opportunity to pass you by so you immediately intruded on them.

You didn’t know exactly what happened next. All you knew was that when you opened your eyes the first generation had found you on Bovino property and had taken you under their protection after seeing you were nothing but a lost and harmless stranger.

For some reason Giotto had taken a liking to you. Despite Alaude and Daemon’s disapproval he welcomed you to Vongola’s new mansion and treated you as one of the Family. You had thought something good would happen and that time would put you in your correct place after a day or so but you were wrong.

Your heart was almost dying with homesickness by the time you met Ricardo.

The melodic sound of piano music took hold of Ricardo’s feet and led him to one of the salons. He knew that Daemon had gotten Elena a piano recently but he didn’t know she already knew how to play.

Like Giotto, he was born and raised a peasant. Their village was poor, music and art were crude and more than usually related to religion. When they had begun the quest to form Vongola and had their first tastes of the beautiful music and art that rich people were so addicted to they could not help but be drawn to it themselves.

And so here he was gawking as you played a melody on the piano that he had never heard before (insert: Reminiscence from Suikoden 2). He didn’t know how he could understand it but he could hear it. The fear… the pain… the longing… the hope… It was all in every single note that was produced by your fingertips.

And as the last few notes were gently played on the piano’s keyboard he couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the sight of a lone tear falling down your cheek. You made such a heartbreaking picture that he didn’t even know he had taken a step forward towards you.

His step was what made you look up in surprise and met his wine colored eyes…

You remembered your history lessons about him. The man that had made the Vongola what it was for the next eight generations after taking over. Cruel, ruthless… a man without mercy… You had always viewed him as some kind of demon back then but now… why can’t your heart stop beating as you look into his eyes? Why weren’t his eyes emitting the same demonic glow you see in Xanxus on a good day? Instead this man’s eyes were clear and dark. Turbulent but… human.

He listened to you gasp and for a split second he thought he saw a hint of recognition enter your gaze as you jumped to your feet. But it had gone by the time you bowed in respect and your feet moved to leave.

“Wait.”

His soft, gruff command made your feet freeze where they were and turn back towards him in surprise. He couldn’t stop himself from staring at your face and your heart wouldn’t stop beating like a hare escaping from hunting dogs.

You look away in an attempt to hide your face. It was foolish but it was all you could do. It wouldn’t do to accidentally change anything now and alter the future…

“Who are you…?” Ricardo asked wonderingly before noting that he was acting like a bewitched fool. An inappropriate way for a high ranking capo to act. With a move of his hand he took out a gun and glared you down with it. “Talk. Are you some sort of spy?”

“Ricardo, is that you?”

Ricardo didn’t even bother to look at his cousin as Giotto came up beside him. He was much too afraid to pull his eyes away from you. He didn’t know why but he had an awful feeling in his gut that if he closed his eyes for just one moment… you might disappear.

Giotto took one look at the situation before smiling benignly. “Ricardo, I see you’ve met my guest. Hey, this is Ricardo, my cousin. His father married my mother’s sister in case you’re wondering about the difference in coloring. It’s alright, don’t be afraid. He might look scary but he’s actually a pretty decent guy.”

Ricardo withdrew his gun in favor of glaring at his cousin. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Giotto laughed lightly even as he held up his hands trying fend off the imaginary waves of anger from his taller cousin. “Nothing! I just thought it’s easy for people to think you’re a bad guy since you look… well… mean.”

“Giotto.”

“What?”

“Hold still.”

“…Why?”

“So I can shoot that stupid head of yours.”

“See? This is the reason why girls just don’t take to you.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

They stopped at the sound of your laughter. Soft and sweet and genuine. It made Ricardo forget to breathe, his heart was beating way too fast. All he could do was stare at you in wonder.

“You finally laughed.” Giotto commented, smiling in what you could only figure was relief. “I was getting worried. Ricardo, stay for dinner, won’t you?”

Ricardo couldn’t stop himself from being haunted by you from then on. Even as he left the Vongola mansion to tend to his own property his mind would eventually follow the path towards his memories of you. The melody you had played the first time he saw you stuck in his head like a leech and he found himself humming it at odd times whether or not he was alone. He was not even aware that people were starting to look at him strangely because of it.

He normally did not have to go to Giotto’s to get his dinner but he found himself drawn there night after night just to catch glimpses of you. After dinner it had become normal for the Family to ask you to play the piano and he would normally stick to the shadowy corners of the room with Alaude staring at your face as you bent down on the instrument and played it with your magnificent fingers.

He had never thought he would be so fascinated with another person that he would actually find excuses to approach you whenever he was in your immediate vicinity.

Joining you for walks in the garden. Grocery shopping. Even the smallest errands. Despite Giotto’s remarks he was thrilled that you weren’t afraid of him. He enjoyed your presence greatly and so much that he gave you strict instructions to call for him whenever you had to run an errand outside the mansion.

But you knew getting closer to him than this would only spell tragedy for the both of you. What goes up must come down and you did not know how long you would be stranded here in this time for. For all you knew the Decimo was already pressuring the Bovino to find ways to get you back since he was such good friends with your father. So you kept the future Secondo at arm’s length. Even though every beat of your heart wanted to see more of him. Wanted to have him near…

Your obvious rejection upset Ricardo more than he had wanted to admit and one night, as you walked to your room after your nightly performance on the piano, he stepped out and pulled you into the shadows he had been hiding in; kissing you in drunken desperation.

“Ricardo!” you pulled away from his devastating kiss of wine and longing only to have his lips pursue yours again, defying your protests. His arms trapping you in a wanting embrace, never wanting to let go. “Please, stop!”

“Why?” he groaned in despair as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling every bit off essence he could get from your skin. “Why are you pushing me away? Aren’t I good enough?!”

“Please don’t―”

“Can’t you see you’re driving me mad?!” he half yelled, half moaned as he ground himself tighter against you. “No. I don’t care if you’re in love with Giotto. You’re mine. I love my cousin but you’re the one thing I can’t give him!”

“Ricardo, you don’t understand,” you tried to explain. Your heart feeling as though shards of glass were stuck in it. Wanting to hold him close but your reasons won’t let you. “I’m not in love with Giotto but―”

He fished something in his pocket and all of a sudden your eyes widened at the feel of something cold and heavy being slipped onto your left ring finger. You stared in wide eyed shock at the glistening gold band decorated by a large opal and small diamonds now marking your hand. The sight of it made your heart ache even more with despair.

“I can’t take this―”

“Don’t take it off.” Ricardo ordered. His words hard as granite and as resolute as the steel in his eyes. His gaze reflecting a resolve that you had only read about in books. And it was now being centered on you. “I don’t care what you say. You are going to be my wife.”

And he proved that. For days after that he made sure you wore his ring. Whenever he found that you had not done so he would march you right into your room to fetch it and personally put it back onto your finger. It happened so many times that you eventually got tired of it and just wore the ring to make him stop dragging you around. But you never mentioned accepting his proposal. Sadly Ricardo took your silence as permission.

The wedding was already being planned when the mansion was attacked by an enemy Famiglia. Elena was shot right before your eyes and even as you tried to help her a familiar black hole appeared at your back and sucked you out of harm’s way. You returned to your own time in tears; your heart broken in more ways than one. No matter what anyone did no one could stem your sorrow and refused to answer any of their questions. No one even dared ask about the ring on your finger.

When you had enough strength to stop crying and looked into the Vongola record books again you turned back to the entry about the Vongola’s first generation. Nothing had been changed in the records; everything had stayed the same.

The Bovino, in an act of remorse, sent Lampo’s diary over to you. Along with a music box made of lacquer and tortoiseshell with a note attached saying the music box came with the diary. Listlessly you opened the diary first and read the treasures of history that had been your whole life before the incident happened.

What you discovered there made you break out in a fresh slew of tears.

Lampo’s entry had crushed her soul.

“--Ricardo had loved Giotto with all of his heart. I had always believed there was nothing that could have ever destroyed their bond as a family. But after what happened that night… That night when Elena died and Ricardo’s fiancé disappeared… Ricardo was never the same again.

It was as though he had gone mad. He couldn’t stop blaming Giotto for what happened. Giotto himself was not surprised when Ricardo organized the coup and took over the Vongola. That man… That Ricardo… He changed into an angry, bitter man… The only form of sentimentality left to him was a music box he would constantly listen to whenever he was alone. I stole it thinking I should protect it from Tierzo who had hated Ricardo and would destroy all of the Secondo’s things given the chance. This music box... Ricardo had kept listening to it… until the day he died…”

Blinded by tears and with trembling fingers your hand opened the music box that came with the diary… and heard the song you had played the first time he met you…