Trust Issues | Frank Iero x Reader

3-≿You trust me too much≾ (Y/n)

"Dio! It's so amazing!" I comment to myself as I admire my suit - they had gotten my measures a couple of days ago and today, finally, the suits have arrived; they're amazing. I stare at my own figure that's reflected on the body mirror, appreciating it. Never in my life that I thought I'd wear something so fancy. I mean, of course I dreamed of having the best life in the world but never really believed I'd get something near it. Smiling, I touch the fabric, analyzing it - it's so fucking soft! I've never wore something with such a quality!

A knock on my bedroom's door interrupts my thoughts. Frank's voice follows it, "Are you ready, (y/n)?"

"Sì, just a minute..." I answer, taking a last adjust on the dark blue blazer before walking out of the bedroom. "Is it okay?" I ask looking down at myself. Honestly, it looks so weird on me. I'm used to seeing myself using those cloths the whole time, these clothes are super new to me.

"Bellisima." Frank says. "It suits you perfectly."

"Really? Thank you." I answer with a smile and a light chuckle. "Alright, what are we doing now?"

"Beh, you're not getting into work yet. We need to train you or at least know more about what you're capable of. I'd tell one of the guys to train you bu they're so idiot that they may end up shooting their own feet, so... come on." He says before turning around and heading downstairs. We finally stop when we reach an area in the back garden, far from the house, and there I see a something that seems like a big box - I can't really identify - with a few glass bottles over it - it's set some good meters away - and there's a fancy small box over the marble table beside us.

"C'mere." He says opening the small box to reveal three guns resting over the velvety insides. "Now, let me explain. Here, we have three models of guns, the most used ones and that we carry around. First, Smith and Wesson Model 19, a 6 round cylinder, a shooting range of up to 150 feet and extremely accurate." He raises one of the guns, making sure I'm paying attention. I node and he moves on, "This one is Colt M1911A1, reaches 328 feet. The feed system is a 7-round box magazine. And last, Remington Model 870. Reaches 150 feet, but it's slower to fire and bigger than the others, not one of our favorites."

"I assume you use more the Colt, I've seen at least four of the men with it, but you seem to personally prefer the Smith and Wesson one, ho ragione?" I ask.

Frank narrows his eyes at me, "Did they show you their guns?" I shake my head. "How do you know it? How do you know the kind of gun I use?"

"Simply by observing. I just linked each kind of gun to the volume on your clothes." There's also another volume but let's not talk about that. "I mean," I tilt my head, "it's not noticeable if you don't pay a lot of attention, but I could identify."

"Splendido!" He exclaims and I smile lightly, nodding. "Have you already handled a gun?"

"Uh, yeah, but it's not my favorite way to kill someone, might I say." I comment inspecting the three guns. "I prefer a handwork, but... I suppose each one's gun is chosen according to their work, right? What am I going to do?" I look up at him.

"You're good at the streets, but I prefer you with me." He explains. "You'll be working on the strategy area. Still, you need to know how to handle at least those three, tutto apposto?" He eyes me carefully.

"Yes, yes." I nod. "I just don't really know how to handle a Remington, I'm already slightly familiar with the Colt and I've already handled a Smith a few times." I comment getting the Remington in hands. - Wow, it's heavy.

"Seven pounds." Frank says chuckling. I raise my eyebrows lightly trying to adjust it in my hands. He rolls his eyes and places his hands over mine, adjusting the gun so I'm holding it correctly. "That way, belle." He says with a small smirk and I blush lightly. To hide it, I don't change my expression and keep my head low, slowly nodding.