#bruno/reader

[serotonins-stuff]

Katsuki is the type to sing love songs under his breath while cooking you breakfast. Hair messy and no tshirt on, just him, his headphones and your clingy ass wrapping your hands around him from behind.

Occasionally he shifts one headphone to the side, tilting his head to glance at you from over his shoulder. It's either to check if you're still awake or to ask about your breakfast.

"You want your eggs scrambled t'day or sunny side up?"

"Suprise me" you mumble sleepily against his back, whinining when he shuffles towards the fridge.

He huffs in amusement, and a smug smirk tugs it's way onto his lips. "Told you to stay in bed"

"And I told you It's cold-" you pout, before trailing your fingertips over the soft textured skin of his scars "And you're the warmest thing in this house right now, and your singing is so soothing"

You're cute, so dangerously cute that he can't help but shy away from the flutter of his heart after your comment and gentle tuch. However he plays it cool by clearing his throat and shifting his focus back onto the task at hand.

You tighten your arms around him, and your cheek smooches quite comedically against."What song are you singing?" The comfort of his broad and warm back putting you into a comfortable daze.

"Die with a smile by uh- Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga"

You hum with acknowledgement, and he continues to dish up breakfast with you attached to his back like a koala. Occasionaly he'll place bits of food up to your lips and you'll accept them eagerly and hum in delight.

As his song gets to the best part he can't help but turn around suddenly, his firm touch on your hip as his other hand finds the warmth of your palm, and he slips his fingertips past yours, steadily intertwining your hands.

Your head finds comfort on his warm chest and you can feel every harsh thump of his heart while he sways with you side to side. He pushes his embarrassment and shyness to the side, wanting nothing more than spending the early morning with you before you would have to go.

"I'd wanna hold you~" he sing, just below a and his raspy voice reverberates through his chest and against your ear. "Just for a while~"

"And dieee with a smile"

"If the world was ending I'd wanna be next to you~"

-----------

A/n

Just a lil something for you guys

Thank you so much for 1k followers!❤:)

[blog-on-a-log]

"died and came back wrong this, died and came back wrong that" what about dying and just coming back. just coming back at all. especially when it was the choice of the deceased to return. bonus points if it was because they left something unfinished. the narrative is a corpse and it reeks of devotion

[riddle-me-ri]

Jojo asks huh?~ how do these characters handle jealousy? Like their crush being flirted with by someone who is very touchy feely and reader being a tad overwhelmed and flustered. It can be the boys you think would have the most amusing reaction if you want or all of them if you want~ thank you very much:)

a/n: YESH FIRST JOJO ASK LETS GOOO and wee jealousy headcanons to boot lets gooo! Thanks so much and congrats on being the first! I hope I did everyone justice, still getting a grip on them all but having fun while doing it! The list isn't in any particular order…just the order they're in on my masterlist lol and also I didn't quite do all the characters I have listed because I was worried about being repetitive or it was hard to see them jealous, hope you guys enjoy!

Content Warning: small mentions of fighting and threats, nothing explicit or detailed.

How (some) Male JJBA Characters Handle Jealousy

Jonathan Joestar

- He's a little naive at first before he feels any true jealousy if that makes sense?

- Plus even though he does adore you…

- If someone was to get to you first, it's his fault for waiting, and you deserve to be happy…

- But surely you can't be happy with this stranger occupying your personal space so…rudely.

- Jonathan knows you well enough to know when you're getting uncomfortable…

- His skin crawls the way the person is clearly undressing you with their eyes…

- Jonathan tries to maintain his composure…not to embarrass either of you…

- As he calls you over to help you get away from the stranger.

- Jonathan can't conceal his small grin as he sees the look of relief on your face as you dashed toward him.

Robert E. O. Speedwagon

- Speedwagon doesn't believe he has a chance in hell with you anyway-

- He feels kind of guilty for even getting jealous��it's not like he owned you or you two were a couple.

- Speedwagon just…knows you deserve better than him…and most other slimy gents he's crossed paths with-

- Such as one that kept getting a little too close when you went to visit Speedwagon at a pub.

- Speedwagon grits his teeth as the patron attempts to wrap an arm around you-

- You try to be polite, give a laugh, and smile

- Maybe…he's overreacting…no he definitely is…

- It doesn't stop him from keeping an eye on you, though, in case the guy gets too comfortable and takes advantage of you.

- The relief on his shoulders when he sees you heading back toward him, leaving the random dude in the dust with a defeated look on his face.

Joseph Joestar

- Joseph tries to hide but is absolutely shit at it.

- He's the loud, brazen, confident type that can take it or leave it, unless it pertains to family or something/someone he cares about…

- And he really, really does care about you, just isn't sure how to show it.

- But Joseph, sure as hell isn't going to let someone whisk you away while he figures it out.

- If looks could kill, anyone that's even dared to tell you a pickup line would incinerate on the spot…

- It wasn't even a good line, Joseph has a far better one (its not, but it makes you laugh, and that's what counts)

- Some guy tries to wrap his arm around you, oh lookie there, I don't think an arm is supposed to bend that way~

- Joseph rarely ever feels bad…only when you berate him and tell him to cut it out, does he feel some guilt.

- I wouldn't be surprised if it's one of these discussions on his jealousy that he finally confesses his feelings (would be down to write that scenario if they're any takers 👀)

Caesar Zepelli

- It takes him longer to feel that gnawing green monster of envy.

- But when it gnaws it leaves marks.

- Caesar tries to remain composed…who could blame anyone to try and steal your heart away?

- However just anyone wouldn't do, not for someone special like you…

- Caesar challenges the offending person to a battle of wooing~

- In which Caesar shows how to truly win your affections in front of the person interested in you.

- Caesar of course wins this battle…

- Either by true deep feelings on Caesar's part OR because the person trying to flirt with you was utterly ridiculed and withdrew from participating…

- The former is most likely, but Caesar would deny it.

Jotaro Kujo

- Definitely the least jealous out of this bunch…

- He's more annoyed than anything?

- Like can't the dude tell you're not interested…

- Good grief, it's so obvious.

- Jotaro can tell a fake smile and forced laugh of yours from a mile away.

- Jotaro doesn't understand why you don't just kick this asshole to the curb-

- But he also knows you are too kind for your own good..

- If he’s got to come give you back up, he will~

- Jotaro has a way of leaving an intimidating impression on people…

- So maybe just maybe one look at him, and they'll know not to mess with you (cause you're his…neither of you know it yet)

Jean Pierre Polnareff

- Epitome of “do you wanna go, bro?”

- I swear this Frenchman is always aiming and ready to fight for your honor and peace.

- A knight in shining armor if you will.

- Onlookers can't help but assume you two must be a couple…

- Which makes your face even redder from getting so flustered.

- Polnareff gets rid of the “pest” easy enough, and now its back to courting you as usual~

- Polnareff doesn't nor did he ever hide the fact he has a major crush on you-

- These moments of vehement jealousy just further cements that fact.

- Please talk to this Frenchman and get him under control for your sake and others.

Hol Horse

- Hol Horse has no reason to be jealous…he loves all women and well, most women love him…

- He isn't clingy or belonging to anyone…

- You're cute as hell. Who wouldn't want to chat you up anyhow?

- Hol Horse can't blame anyone for trying, Lord knows he's tried and even got you to smile and giggle for him.

- However, he doesn't appreciate you giving that same sweet smile to the fellow at the other end of the bar…

- Hol tries to shake it off, you didn’t belong to him, y'all weren't a couple…should be no issues.

- He can tell you're just being polite to the guy. He's no smooth talker, but at least the guy's got some confidence…

- Hol Horse really has no reason to be getting up from his bar stool and walking over to you-

- It's rude to interrupt, really, and truly, but he can't really find it in his heart to care when you turn your attention towards him.

Josuke Higashikata

- cough cough like father like son cough cough

- He's a hot head, I can see him getting frustrated and irritated quickly.

- Just who the hell does that student think they're doing? Pinning you to your locker like some cheesy romance anime protagonist?!

- Koichi and Okayasu's efforts to restrain him are in vain

- But they're relieved to see you escape from the other student, which slowly dissipates Josuke's ire.

- Josuke is still upset at the idea that he almost lost you…

- Not that you were his to lose, but he really does care about you as more than a friend.

- If he comes across the student later, he's still very likely to tell that student to back off “or else”

- It does make Josuke come to the conclusion he needs to confess to you, and soon…

- (not that you two being a couple would cure his jealousy any better, but at least you'd help him calm down faster)

Rohan Kishibe

- Oh, please, him? The Rohan Kishibe, jealous?

- Of who? Oh, you conversing and smiling widely with that individual at an outside table at a cafe?

- Pfft please, why would he care?

- You're your own person, free to see and talk to who you pleased-

- Acts very nonchalant, but deep down, he's agitated.

- Why would you want to spend time with them and not him?

- Rohan tries to dismiss the thought and carry on with his day

- But the image of you clearly enjoying yourself lingers in the back of his mind~

- He'd like to be able to create such a moment, but for the both of you…

Bruno Bucciarati

- Honestly, Bucciarati is sort of ashamed whenever he feels that green monster on his shoulder.

- He tries to conceal it with the notion that he's just protecting you-

- Which is true, everyone knows how protective Bruno is, the same goes for you…

- However, the motivation to protect is slightly… founded on a different basis altogether.

- Which leaves room for jealousy to fester..

- Bruno is quick to pull you away when a random man gets a little too handsy-

- He's quick to push a man back if he finds the man far too close to you to whisper something…

- Bruno does get rather embarrassed for how brazen he acts…

- Perhaps he needs to take some inventory on his emotions towards you

- (please just accept this man's feelings and love him for the love of GOD-)

[thestressedskittles]

Team Bucci Blurb (NSFW): Cumming inside of you

Warnings: Use of pussy/cunt/breast, gender-neutral reader, all characters are 18 and older! I did not proofread because its late, so I apologize for any mistakes.

BRUNO

His hands slide up to your breasts, where he teasingly plays with your pebbled nipples, kissing your jaw and pecking you lips for short kisses, leaving you pouty and adorable. He finally leans in for a fiery kiss, his blue eyes darkened with lustful intent, and he pushes you to lay down completely on the bed, your hand tangling into his silky black hair.

Going in raw isn't new, but this time, it feels different, more pleasurable. This time, he doesn't need to be careful. You're already clenching in excitement and Bruno is a master at revving you up, his long and slender fingers reaching deeper than your own, but nothing compares to his cock.

It never takes long to bring you to the edge when Bruno warms you up so good. A low groan kisses your ears and Bruno moves to lay completely on top of you, wanting to be as close to you as possible as you both reach bliss together. His hips move like a machine when there's a small stutter in his tempo, a strong twitch in his cock, followed by slow and deep thrusts. Moaning through clenched teeth, he leans in close to your lips before connecting them with tender affection.

ABBACCHIO

"Mm, fuck, Leone!" You moan out as the tall goth has you pulled against his chest, one arm wrapped around your middle, one hand on your breast, and the other braced against the bed, leaning you forward slightly to hit that little bundle of nerves just right.

He moans with you, the deep baritone sending pleasure furling in your pussy. His head rests on your shoulder, and his eyes cast a downward glance, watching your breast move with his thrusts. "You look so good right now." He breathes out, giving you goosebumps. He turns and lays a kiss upon your neck as your head tilts upwards.

Feeling you tighten, he holds you closer. "Gonna cum for me?" You can't see his face but you can hear the smirk. "Want me to cum inside of you, carina?" You nod frantically, at a loss for words, and his thrusts become stronger and quicker. "Gonna cum inside you!" He quickly shifts his grip, holding you close to his chest as his hips finish you both off, your mind fuzzy at the warm feeling of his cum shooting into your pussy.

MISTA

"Fuck, I love seeing you on top of me," Mista groans, his hands rapaciously kneading your breasts as you grind down onto his pelvis. His cock is fully sheathed inside of you and your clit rubs against his hard abdomen. "Feels so good, being inside you." He lets his head tilt back and you gently rake your nails down his chest, leaving light scratches.

"Guido!" You moan out, feeling ready to go over the edge. Every vein on his cock is enough to make you weak. Feeling the constant throbbing, you know he's close. "Want you... want you to cum inside of me! Fill me up!" You're bouncing on him now, eager to feel that knot in your belly erupt.

Planting his feet on the bed, he matches your bounces and rhythm, hands shifting from your breasts to your hips. He's noisy as he closes in on his release, you yourself are no better. Mista pants out words of encouragement and praise before you both lament, Mista slamming upward into your pulsing pussy, rubbing small circles on your hips as you milk him for all he's worth.

NARANCIA

Narancia is glued to your body, his usually messy hair now frayed and sticking to his forehead as he pants into the space above your head. Both his hands are gripping and twisting the bed sheets hard, struggling to keep himself together as his cock sinks into your molten pussy.

He half whines, half moans as he pulls away slightly, leaving his cock buried to the hilt. "I don't know how much longer I can last." He looks at you with purple eyes blown wide. His tone is higher pitch, one of his many telltale signs he's ready to cum. He brings himself to his knees and pulls your hips flush against his own, both your legs spread out on either side of him.

"Nara!" You reach for him, inadvertently pushing your breasts together and offering him an irresistible view, sending your raven-haired boyfriend over the edge. His thrusts turn to slams as he loses himself, hard cock twitching and pulsing, his hands finding purchase on your thighs and hips, sure to leave bruises to be admired later.

FUGO

"Holy shit!" Fugo grunts, feeling every inch of your cunt along his cock. One hand by your head, fisting the pillow, and the other running along your side to ground himself. "You feel... so good." He has to take a moment, not wanting to ruin this moment.

When he gets his bearings, he sets a hard pace. He starts up a consistent tempo, satisfying you both. He keeps himself deep as much as possible, every so often he'll keep his hips flush against yours for a split moment, to savor you and vice versa. Your arms wrap around his neck and your leg wraps around his waist, unable to get enough of him.

The feeling of being bare is intense for the both of you and doesn't take much before you're both at the edge, ready to tumble into the abyss of pleasure. Despite his rough pace, Fugo suddenly leans in for a hard kiss, his tongue pressing forth. The twitching of his cock intensifies as you reciprocate, tongues gliding against one another. He moans into your mouth, your pussy sucking in every last drop.

GIORNO

"So beautiful, so divine," Giorno murmurs into your ear as he bottoms out inside of you. You clutch at his pale shoulders as he shifts into position, laying tender kisses along your neck. You murmur his name into his shoulder and he begins a gentle rhythm, wanting to savor every moment of this first-time experience.

"F-feels good," you whimper out, feeling everything Giorno is without a barrier. He helps you wrap your legs around him before bracing his hands against your sides, his hand occasionally reaching up to knead your breast lightly. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, telling you how beautiful you are beneath him.

You hands are tangled in his hair by the time you're ready to release, his braid undone and light scratch marks little down his back. Your hips canter upwards to meet his thrusts, silently telling him to pick up the pace. You both ride out on each other as bliss takes over the both of you. Giorno lets out sweet, soft moans as you stretch out beneath him, gripping his forearms and riding to cloud nine as he peppers your neck with kisses and hug you with sweet words.

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

“I love you.”

Various jjba characters and how they express their affection for you

Content: lots of fluff and physical affection, inclusion of Dio being shallow and manipulative, alcohol and alcoholism mentioned, slightly suggestive

Written in headcanons style

Characters: Joseph Joestar (part 2), DIO, Rohan Kishibe, Bruno Bucciarati, Leone Abbacchio, Guido Mista, Gyro Zeppeli

-Joseph Joestar: You will be drowning in his loud affection one way or another. Such a physically affectionate partner, his lips pressed all over you, a constant flirt with wandering hands (and sometimes wandering eyes). He always aims to impress you or show off, and makes an effort to remember your likes and dislikes. He might tease, but he’s usually careful to not push you too far. Always jumping in to defend you; your sad face cuts him deeper than you know. You shouldn’t ever have to cry out of anguish, it is something he simply won’t stand for. If you do cry around him, you can guarantee he won’t be resting til you’re smiling again. He puts every effort into making you feel better when you’re down; it’s one of the rare moments you see him choose to behave seriously in front of you.

-DIO: Love…When you’re around him and he says his affection for you is deep and endless, it is very believable. He had such a way with words he could convince you of most anything, honestly. He could tell you you were the only one he ever saw, his favorite, he wishes he could spend his eternity by your side and of course he would if it wouldn’t be so cruel to take your humanity by turning you into a vampire. Or so he says.

It sounds ridiculous when you reflect on it when you’re away from him. Of course he’s just telling you what you want to hear, why do you keep coming back?!

And yet you return and return and return. Even though it was only shallow lust, if it came from Lord Dio it felt like you were with your soulmate. Maybe that’s the limit of the affection he will ever feel for you. A lust, a desire just deep enough that he will put some effort into taking care of you. His “love” comes from words, waxing empty poetic to you. And, of course, promising to give you whatever it is you truly want. He will make it happen. All you need to do is swear your loyalty to him, and he will grant you any desire you seek…

And if that desire is him? You can have your fill whenever you please~

-Rohan Kishibe: He is not a subtle man, nor does he try to be. A mere glance will show you the true impact you have on him…after all…you so often appear in his works. And so blatantly too. This character has your eyes. That character has a birthmark just like yours. One says things you would say. One dresses in your style. A piece of you, each time. It is how he wants it. He is proud to admit you are his ultimate muse, his favorite inspiration. Whenever he’s fighting art block, he turns to you.

Though, he is not so good with actually verbalizing the depths of his affection for you. He’s not the best at physical affection either. He won’t hold hands for long, he often doesn’t know how to respond to kisses and hugs, and usually he doesn’t get too close at night, if he even comes to bed at all.

It is enough for you. It doesn’t matter so much to you that he isn’t an expert in verbal or physical affection. You feel every ounce of his passionate love for you when he asks you to model for him, even though you know an exceptionally brilliant artist like him doesn’t need you to do a basic pose for him. And it does not go unnoticed to you that the poses he requests are always very comfortable for you to hold on the couch.

-Bruno Bucciarati: He takes care of you. It is what he does, and it is how he shows his love. You’re eating at a restaurant, he will pay the check. Stuck in a crowd? His hand will be on the small of your back, maybe subconsciously, or maybe deliberately, so he won’t lose track of you. He’ll drive you home at night, and wait til he sees you’re safely inside. He is a sanctuary.

Though he is not the most in tune with his emotions, and clear communication is difficult for him sometimes, but damnit if he doesn’t try for your sake. He’s very busy, but he makes an effort to carve out some time for you where you can both have some peace and quiet, and a heart-to-heart.

When it’s just the two of you, he’s able to lower that guard of his. You can always tell he’s tired. But he puts you and everyone else he cares about first, every time.

You lean against his chest. He is so tense, but he allows himself to slump his shoulders and hold you close. He talks for a bit, just being honest with you, vulnerable. And then he goes quiet, his chin resting against the top of your head.

His breathing is soft, his hands gently slide down your arms…he had fallen asleep. A rare opportunity for you to take care of him without him protesting has finally presented itself…

-Leone Abbacchio: Sure he is a jaded and broken and horribly grumpy man but he is also very capable of affection and care, even if he’s not the best at showing it. Despite his crass personality, he has suffered so much, so he can also empathize much more than you’d initially think. Though that doesn’t make him great at giving you comfort or affirming speeches. His love comes from reassurance; usually words are unnecessary. He’ll always sit beside you wherever you go. If someone tries to take his spot next to you at a restaurant, he’ll drag them out of that seat if he has to. What is his is also yours. You want to drink his wine? Sure, don’t mind the purple lipstick on the rim of the glass. The depth of his physical affection is deepest when you share a quiet evening together. His hand on your shoulder, face pressed against your neck. Whether it’s him taking a quick moment to reflect (you’re his pillar, and he’s reminded of it especially when his troubles seem to melt away when he presses his forehead against the back of your neck), or he’s a little drunk and trusts you to straighten him out (his pillar, his pillar…even when he’s indulged in too many bad habits and slurs his words and stains your neck with purple lipstick as he falls asleep nestled against you, you are always so kind and patient to him, but always firm). He is broken, his regrets follow him like a vengeful ghost, he will never be good enough for you in his own eyes. But damn it if he won’t at least try.

-Guido Mista: His hand in yours, quick kisses up your arms all the way up to your cheek. His bullets swirling around him constantly gushing about how nice and amazing you are and begging Mista to go see you again so they can Also see you. The mercilessness when he digs his fingers into your skin and tickles you until he ends up getting hurt from your elbow hitting his nose on accident from your squirming.

He calls your name just to get you to look at him. He thinks you smell SO good, especially after you freshen up with your favorite scent, but he actually worries about looking weird around you so he might not say anything. Guess he doesn’t realize it’s much weirder to silently sneak in sniffs instead of telling you he likes how you smell. He’s even more impulsive than usual when you’re involved. If he has money in his pocket and you seem slightly interested in something you can bet he’s opening up his wallet and buying it for you.

You do a lot for him, a steady and familiar comfort in his crazy life…so let him blow a couple bucks on you when he wants to. Seeing you happy when he manages to get you something you like is one of his greatest joys in life.

-Gyro Zeppeli: Watch his hands, he’ll put them all over you when the opportunity presents itself. He’s not a gentleman, you already knew that. He doesn’t even try to talk like one. He loves how you feel in his lap, and he’s not shy about saying it out loud. One of life’s greatest joys is a drink in one hand, and his other hand supporting the back of a cute thing like you sitting on his thighs. If you walk by him, you Know that man is gonna try and playfully spank you. Put your hands in his hair, he loves when you play with it, but choose your timing because it might put him in a mood if you tug on it. And of course he’ll delight you with the spin, if you let him. He uses it so gently with you, easing your sore muscles after a long day, or sending pleasant sensations rippling across your skin. Or using it to cause a bit of mischief. A sudden jolt through your body when he wants your attention, or a relentless tickling that has you laughing and writhing and begging him to knock it off.

He holds onto you like a teddy bear when the two of you snuggle up for the night. His muscular arms wrapped around you, clinging to you, snuggling his face against you.

It can be suffocating at times. He’s just so. Big and strong. But damn do you feel safe, and you haven’t the heart to push him away when he wants to hold you at night.

He does this thing where he gives you something he values, so you can hold onto it for him and give it back to him later. It’s how he shows his trust for you. Hold on to one of his belt buckles, or his goggles, or his hat…give it back at your leisure. He insists. He knows you’ll keep it safe, and it’ll remind you of him if you hold onto it. In his eyes it’s a win win.

[byakuyacoochie]

Size Matters - Jojo's x Reader

Summary: You "guess" the wrong condom size.

Characters: Anasui, Joseph, Bruno, Wamuu, Josuke, Caesar

A/n: I decided it would be good to try a prompt kinda fic that I see all the talented girlies do but I fear I did not eat with this one.

[sugarcherris]

Narancia who looks up to reader headcanons

Brotherly & Older sister bond

Aka: chaotic sibling energy, platonic, wholesome, domestic, fluff, a bit of angst, and Mista being Mista mentions his own dick

(Reader is a chainsmoker... don't smoke kids)

Narancia “borrows” (Reader)’s eyeliner

(Reader) has the perfect winged liner, sharp enough to cut someone. Narancia starts trying to copy it. He sucks at it at first and pokes himself in the eye. She doesn’t help him right away,just watches with that smug little grin.

When he finally nails it, (Reader) gives him a smug, approving head pat.

“There you go. Didn’t even stab yourself in the eye with my eyeliner this time.”

He flips her off but preens the rest of the day.

Team reactions:

Fugo: “You two are unhinged.”

Mista: “I’m stealing this look too. Pass the mirror.”

Abbacchio: Glares in disgust but looks just a second too long at the wing.

(Reader) calls him “ragazzino” (little boy) when shes feeling playful or condescending

It infuriates him.

“I’m not a kid, dammit!”

“Then stop kicking the back of the van seat or I will tie your knees with your bandana!”

He still lets her ruffle his hair right after that.

They have stupid secret handshakes

Not one. Multiple.

They change it every month and forget half of it mid-handshake and just turn it into a slap fight.

Somehow it always ends with (Reader) flicking Narancia in the forehead.

They make “mixtapes” for each other

Narancia starts writing her tracklists of songs he thinks she’d like—rock, metal, dramatic anime OPs he won’t admit he loves.

(Reader) writes hers on torn napkins in lipstick: metalcore breakdowns, and “old people music,” according to Narancia.

Bonus

Fugo: (Secretly steals one of (Reader)’s playlists. Pretends he didn’t.)

Narancia hides behind her when Bucciarati’s mad

Classic younger sibling move. Bucciarati raised his voice, and Narancia ducks behind (Reader)

(Reader) just raises an eyebrow, does not protect him, and says,

“Don’t drag me into this. He’s mad at you, not me.”

Narancia stares in betrayal

Bonus:

Later she sneaks him a sweet from her pocket when Bucciarati isn’t looking.

They graffiti stuff together

They tag alley walls with little stylized versions of each other’s names or dumb phrases like “(stand name) was here (so was Aerosmith)”.

(Reader)’s handwriting is elegant and sharp. Narancia’s is chaotic. Together it looks unhinged.

Team reactions

Bucciarati: “You tagged our safehouse?”

Narancia: “It’s ART.”

(Reader): “It’s coded. They won’t know what it means.”

Fugo: “You used your stand names! They’ll know exactly what it means!”

Abbacchio: “I hate you all.”

They try to cook together once. Just once.

The kitchen never recovers. Powdered sugar on the ceiling. A knife embedded in the floor. Fire extinguisher was used. Twice.

Bucciarati puts them on kitchen probation. (Reader) sneaks in anyway. Narancia just watches for lookout and giggles.

Narancia “guards” her cigarettes

She left her pack behind one time and he grabs it, dramatically guarding it like a chihuahua.

“If you want them, you have to answer three riddles.”

“Narancia, I will kick your ass.”

She gets them back by pulling his bandana down over his eyes and just taking them.

He once tried to steal a cigarette from her. Never again.

(Reader) had left a half smoked cigarette on the ashtray, and Narancia, wanting to be cool, took a quick drag.

Immediate, violent coughing fit. Red watery eyes. Almost fell off the chair.

(Reader) didn’t even look up. Just chuckled

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

The whole team laughed except for Bucciarati, who just sighed.

Bonus:

Narancia still tries to act like he smokes sometimes, resting an unlit cigarette between his fingers like she does with her lit one. He gets so mad when she calls him out on it.

Narancia falls asleep next to her during long car rides.

She lets it happen. Doesn’t shove him off.

He sleeps with his head leaning against the window at first, but eventually, when he gets really exhausted, his head tips onto her shoulder.

The first time, she smirks and mutters, “Comfortable?”

The fifth time, she just sighed and quietly adjusts her jacket so it drapes over him a little. Doesn’t say a word.

Team reactions:

Bucciarati: Says nothing but notice with a warm smile.

Mista:Giggling, thinking it’s cute but will draw on narancia face and (Reader) lets him.

Fugo: Mild disgust. “You’re drooling on her.”

Abbacchio: “Wake him up by pushing him out of the car. Do it. For me.”

(Reader) hates it when Narancia pulls reckless stunts.

Few times, he jumped into a fight headfirst before backup arrived.

He came out fine, but (Reader) was furious. She never yells at him except that time. After much built up frustrations because of his mistakes and words entering his ear out the other.

“Do you wanna die? Huh? That’s your goal?”

He snapped back at her “What the hell are you my mom?shut the hell up bitch!”

Silence. Tension. He stormed off, but later that night, she threw a bag of sweets at his head.

They never talked about it, but the next mission, she covered him a little closer.

if (Reader) has tattoos? Narancia wants to get a tattoo because she has them.

“What if I get something cool? Like a knife? Or a skull? Or or or A PLANE!”

(Reader), blowing out smoke “You’d cry.”

“No, I wouldn’t!”

He drags her to a parlor once. The moment the needle comes close, he flinches hard.

“I’m not ready yet,” he mutters. She crosses her arm looking amused and pays the guy off.

If (Reader) has piercings? Narancia tries to copy her piercings

• He gets a second ear piercing by stapling his ears (Staplers were stolen from Bucciarati office) just because he saw hers glinting in the sun one day. She just chuckled at his stupidity whilst treating the infection.

• "Thought it looked cool on you... So..."

•She just hums, but she's clearly smiling. She took him to the piercer parlor the next day.

Team reactions:

Mista: "Sickkkk, should | get a dick piercing?"

Fugo: "You're all stupid."

Bucciarati: Groaning mentally. Locking his office next time.

Abbacchio: "Jesus Christ."

Giorno: (Standing on the side ready to give him a new ear)

"If you died I'd go feral.”

•(Reader) stares at him with an unreadable expression" Good."

• It's said like a joke, but the silence after it hangs a little longer than it should.

“If I go first, you better not cry, ragazzino.”

Mafia life is dangerous. They joke about it sometimes.

Narancia, scoffing: “You’re not gonna die before me.You’re much stronger and smarter than me!If anything it’ll be me.”

(Reader), tilting her head: “Mmm. You sure?”

He hates that answer. He doesn’t know why, but it sticks with him longer than it should.

When she’s out late, Narancia worries.

He’s not obvious about it, but if she’s gone longer than expected, he starts getting antsy.

Checks his watch. Paces. Cold hands.

If she comes back with blood on her glove, he doesn’t ask questions, just mutters, “You good?”

She grins, “Why? Miss me?”

He huffs, “Pfft No, just making sure you didn’t get your dumb ass killed.”

They both know he was actually worried.

This is my first time writing a fanfic/headcanon! Phewwww hope you guys enjoyed this!! Maybe I’ll write narancia and (reader) first meeting and how they bond grew to be 🫡

[spwarkles]

I just think it would have been funny if Bruno’s gift had turned out to not be prophecy related at all he was just observant and had common sense and everyone internalized it.

Bruno: hey it’s really not healthy for a goldfish to live in a bowl that small it’s gonna die

Bruno: hey if you keep eating like that you’re gonna gain some weight

Bruno: it looks like you might be balding

The Town:

Meanwhile Bruno’s real gift is like dancing or something

[naomijoestar]

⋆.ೃ JJBA SCENARIOS ࿔*:･

Masterlist here <3

genre: erotic fiction

warnings: boners; doesn’t lead to anything tho, slight NSFW

characters: bucci gang

notes: F!reader, also i wasn’t going to include the 18- characters (giorno, narancia, fugo) but i set up a poll yesterday on whether I should include or exclude them and the majority of the votes told me to include so here you guys go!

Bucci gang members getting a hard-on from their crush

Giorno Giovanna

You and Giorno are sitting on an ornate balcony overlooking Naples, enjoying the sunset. The atmosphere is warm, the golden glow of the setting sun enhancing the intimacy.

Giorno listens carefully as you speak, but he's acutely aware of the way your body shifts closer, your fingers lightly brushing his thigh as you adjust yourself on the seat. The touch is innocent, but it sends a ripple of heat through him. He prides himself on his control, but he feels his breath hitch when you lean in even closer, your lips just inches from his ear, as you softly ask him a question.

His pulse quickens. His hand rests on his knee, and he clenches his fist discreetly, trying to maintain his calm façade. But beneath the table, he subtly shifts, trying to hide the involuntary reaction your proximity is causing.

You tilt your head curiously when he doesn't immediately answer, your eyes meeting his. "Giorno, are you okay? You seem a little... distant."

Giorno's face remains calm, though his voice is deeper than usual. "I'm fine," he replies, his words a touch slower, as if carefully measured. But the heat creeping up his neck and the tightness he feels under the table say otherwise.

His composure slips for just a moment as he brushes a strand of your hair away from your face, his fingers grazing your cheek.

Your soft smile doesn't help. It only fuels the heat in his chest, making him long for more, but Giorno, always the gentleman, leans back slightly to catch his breath, hoping you don’t notice the subtle tension building between you two

Bruno Bucciarati

You and Bruno are working on a mission late into the night. The small room is dimly lit, and you're seated next to each other, sharing the same space.

Bruno's focused, but as you lean over to point something out on the map, your chest lightly presses against his arm. He freezes for a split second, the warmth of your body suddenly igniting something in him. He keeps his eyes fixed on the map, trying to maintain his usual collected demeanor, but inside, his thoughts are racing.

Your breath tickles his ear as you speak softly, oblivious to the effect you’re having on him. The sensation of your body so close, combined with the scent of your perfume, stirs a primal response that even Bruno struggles to suppress.

His jaw clenches slightly, and he subtly shifts in his seat, his hand pressing against his thigh to calm himself. But when you laugh softly, your lips so close to his neck, he feels a surge of warmth, and he has to cross his legs beneath the table to hide the growing tension in his body.

You turn to him, your lips still curved in a smile. "Bruno? You're awfully quiet." There's a playful teasing in your tone, but Bruno only offers a tight smile, his usual confidence faltering.

"I'm just... concentrating," he says, though the slight huskiness in his voice betrays him. He swallows hard, his hands resting in his lap, hoping you don’t notice how affected he is by your presence.

Leone Abbacchio

You and Abbacchio are seated at a secluded corner of a bar, the dim lighting creating a sultry atmosphere. You have been teasing him all night, your laughter cutting through the low hum of the room.

Abbacchio's used to keeping his emotions in check, but you know just how to push his buttons. You lean in closer, your leg brushing against his under the table as you smirk at him.

"You're really fun to mess with, you know that?" you tease, your voice a little lower than before.

Your lips are dangerously close to his ear now, and Abbacchio tenses, feeling a surge of heat course through him. His body reacts instinctively to the closeness, and he grits his teeth, shifting slightly in his seat to try and adjust himself without making it obvious. The tightness in his pants is becoming more noticeable, and he silently curses his body's reaction.

He turns his head to glare at you, his usual scowl in place, but his eyes betray him-they're darker now, filled with something he's trying to keep under control. "You're playing with fire," he mutters, his voice low and gruff.

You lean back slightly, still smiling, but your eyes linger on him, noticing the tension in his body. Abbacchio crosses his arms, but it doesn't help; he's still keenly aware of the way his body is reacting to your proximity, and it frustrates him that he can't maintain his usual composure.

He quickly finishes his drink, hoping to distract himself, but the heat between you lingers, and Abbacchio is left sitting in silence, pretending he's unaffected, though you both know better

Guido Mista

You two are walking down a quiet street after a late-night hangout. The moonlight making everything feel more intimate.

You're laughing, the mood light, until you playfully nudge him, your hand resting on his chest for a moment longer than expected. Mista stops mid-sentence, the playful vibe suddenly shifting. Your touch sends a jolt through him, and he feels a wave of heat spreading downwards.

"Uh, wow," he says, his voice cracking slightly as he laughs awkwardly, trying to shake off the feeling. But his body's already reacting, and he glances down quickly, panicking as he realizes the situation unfolding in his pants.

Mista's always been confident, but right now, he feels the need to hide his growing arousal, pulling his jacket down to cover himself. "Hey, you wanna grab some gelato or something?" he blurts out, his voice a bit higher-pitched than usual as he tries to change the subject.

You look at him, amused by his sudden shift in energy, and arche a brow. "Mista, are you okay? You seem... flustered." Your tone is teasing, and Mista feels his face flush as he desperately tries to keep his cool.

"I'm not flustered! I just-uh, I really want ice cream, that's all," he says, laughing too loudly. But as you walk, his steps are a little stiffer, and he keeps his hands awkwardly in his pockets, trying to play it off. Inside, though, he's mentally cursing his body for betraying him so easily

Narancia Ghirga

You are hanging out on a rooftop, watching the city lights flicker below. The cool night air contrasts with the growing warmth between you as you sit close together.

Narancia's usually full of energy, but tonight, he's more subdued, his attention drawn to the way your leg brushes against his. You shift closer to him, your body pressing lightly against his, and Narancia feels his throat go dry. He's not used to feeling this kind of tension-it's different from anything he's experienced before.

Your hand grazes his knee, and suddenly, his body reacts with a jolt of heat. His breath hitches, and he shifts uncomfortably, feeling the tightness in his pants as his arousal becomes undeniable. He glances at you, panic flickering in his eyes as he tries to play it off.

“S-sorry, it's just a little cold up here," he stammers, though his voice betrays him. It's not cold at all, and the heat radiating from his body is unmistakable.

You look at him, your expression soft, but there's a hint of something more in your gaze. "Narancia, you okay?" you ask, your voice gentle, but your touch lingers on his leg, making his pulse race even faster.

He laughs nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Y-yeah, I'm fine! Just.. you know, uh... the city's really pretty tonight, huh?" He's babbling, trying to distract himself, but the tension between you is growing, and his body isn't giving him any breaks.

Narancia shifts again, pulling his shirt down as subtly as possible, hoping you don’t notice his very obvious reaction. But the way you’re looking at him with that knowing smile, makes him realize you probably already have

Pannacotta Fugo

The both of you are in the library, studying together late into the evening. The quiet atmosphere is heavy with tension, and the dim lighting makes everything feel more intimate.

Fugo’s eyes are glued to his book, but his thoughts are elsewhere. You are sitting right next to him, leaning over to look at the same text, and the scent of your perfume is clouding his usually sharp mind. Every now and then, your arm brushes against his, and with every accidental touch, Fugo feels his composure slipping.

He adjusts his collar, suddenly too aware of the warmth building in his chest—and lower. His mind races, scolding himself for letting his thoughts wander like this, but the tension between you is growing, and he can’t ignore it any longer. Your hand grazes his knee lightly, and the contact sends a shockwave through his body, stirring something deep inside him.

Fugo’s body reacts before his mind can catch up. He shifts awkwardly in his seat, crossing his legs beneath the table, but the pressure in his pants is undeniable. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, hoping you don’t notice the slight tremble in his hands as he grips the edge of the table, trying to stay focused on the book in front of him.

You lean in closer, your breath warm against his ear as you ask him something, your voice soft and teasing. “Fugo, you seem distracted… everything okay?”

He swallows hard, feeling a rush of heat up his neck. His voice is lower than usual as he replies, “I’m fine. Just… trying to concentrate.” But his body betrays him; his heart is racing, and the tension in his pants grows harder to hide.

You smile knowingly, your eyes lingering on his face for a moment longer than necessary. Fugo clenches his fist, fighting the urge to lose control. He’s always been careful, disciplined—but right now, with you so close, he feels himself dangerously close to crossing a line he’s never dared before.

In a sudden move, he pushes his chair back slightly, creating more space between you. “I need some air,” he mutters, his voice strained as he stands up quickly, hoping you don’t see the flush creeping across his face, or the other, much more obvious reaction he’s trying to hide

[helenabuu32]

My first hc post officially has 100 notes 🥹

To celebrate……

Anotha one.

Bucci Squad when their crush or S/O gets badly hurt during a mission!

Bucciarati:

RIP to the one who has awoken mama bear

Without hesitation will use Sticky Fingers to safely tuck you away from danger until the threat is taken care of.

Depending on how severe the injury is, he’ll send another member in the zipper dimension with you to make sure you’re okay. If it’s life threatening, he’ll make Giorno heal you there.

Once you’re somewhere safe, it’s go time. There’s no holding back and the rest of the team is actually a little shocked (or scared) of his lack of composure when going after the one who hurt you.

He will accept help from the others if he needs it, he doesn’t care as long as the person gets fucked up. He will however insist on on delivering the finishing blow

Will probably deliver a really emotional speech about “those who dare harm the one he loves” (he’ll do this whether you’re dating or not bc ur prob unconcious anyway so it won’t really be a confession lmfao) as he proceeds to zipper their entire body apart and rip the pieces to shreds

Once the battle is over, he’s taking you home and not leaving your side until you’re better. If you’re dating he’ll make sure there’s always a fresh red rose by your bedside ❤️

Mista:

Did someone order a side of Swiss cheese?Because that’s what Mista is about to turn this person into.

He will throw himself in front of you and order one of the others to get you the hell out of there. He doesn’t care if he gets hit with an attack as long as you’re not getting hurt anymore.

The Sex Pistols are ANGRY. 5 is crying and wants to go to you, but knows Mista needs every bit of help he can get. They’re going absolutely nuts helping to riddle your attacker with bullets nonstop. Some of them are even trying to cling onto them and straight up bite chunks out of their body.

Mista will want to take care of this person himself but if he can’t handle it on his own, he’ll reluctantly let the others assist him. At the end of the day he doesn’t really care as long as he gets some (MANY) good shots in and this person is no more.

Once the fight is over, he’s sprinting to your side to assess the damage. Putting pressure on any wounds, he’ll take his shirt off to make a pillow for your head. Hell even rip it to shreds if you need bandages he doesn’t care.

If there’s a lot of damage, he’ll ask Giorno to help. He’s not letting you die on him.

Once you’re back home or somewhere safe, he’s doing everything he can to take care of you and help you. Any time you need food or water or a change of bandages, he’s the one who’s going to get it. Other than that, he never leaves your side until you’re better.

Abbachio:

This person is definitely gonna regret laying a finger on you.

He scoops you up and brings you somewhere safe while he’s yelling at the others to give them everything they’ve got.

If your life is in danger, he will put his hatred for Giorno aside and start begging him to come and heal you. He’s so desperate that the others are kind of shocked. They never realized you meant so much to him.

Depending on the enemy stand users abilities, he knows he and his own stand may be no match for them. If that’s the case, all he asks is that the others leave them alive so he can finish them off….

Once that has been done and he knows you’re going to be okay, he’ll demand that the others stay with you while he “takes care of things.”

He doesn’t even wanna use Moody Blues. In fact, he’s called his stand back in. If there’s anything laying around like a crowbar, a plank of wood, something that can do damage, he’ll grab it. If not, being the strongest of the group physically, he has no problem using his fists.

The others will watch from afar as Leone makes this person unrecognizable as human. This person is literally begging and pleading for mercy, but Abbacchio doesn’t intend on stopping. Even when they’re long dead, he just keeps going until they’re a bloody pulp.

He’ll walk back to you and the group, covered in the blood of the enemy and tell everyone to back off. He carries you the whole way back to whenever you’re staying. If you’re dating, he’ll just hold you and silently cry when you’re away from the others as he tells you how much he loves you and never wants to lose you.

Narancia:

Lol the others should run

No actually. He’s telling the rest of the Bucci gang to take you, make sure you’re okay, and run. FAR. Away.

He’s literally screaming at this person as he uses Aerosmith to just unleash everything it has. If there’s cars or anything around that he can use to set a fire, the whole area will be set ablaze within minutes.

Once he knows it’ll finish them off for good, Narancia will drop Aerosmith’s bomb and absolutely destroy everything in the vicinity. He doesn’t even care if he hurts himself at this point.

When the deed is finally done, he’s rushing to you and the others, tears running down his face yelling and making sure you are/are going to be okay.

Once you’re all back home, Narancia is constantly bringing you snacks and drinks and feeding them to you. He’ll set his boombox up in your room and let you ply all your favourite songs to help brighten the mood. He acts cheery to put a smile on your face, but this boy is honestly traumatized after watching you get hurt like that.

If you’re not dating, he feels like he literally needs to guard your room at night. He has this irrational fear that someone else will break in to try to finish you off. If you’re in a relationship, he sleeps with you every single night, waking up every half hour/an hour because he’s so worried something will happen.

Will pick you flowers he found (they’re actually weeds lol) outside because he knows how much you like them

Giorno

Uh yeah so he’s definitely about to prove he’s his fathers son here

He’s calm. Like SCARY calm. The others have never seen him act this way before and it’s freaking them out.

He’ll heal any wounds that need to be tended to immediately, then ask the others to take you somewhere you’ll be safer

He never once loses his composure. In fact, the others think they can see him….smiling???

His goal now is to use Gold Experience to make this person regret they were ever born. The enemy won’t even notice the strategically placed roots he’s been sprouting from the ground until it’s too late…

Once the enemy is where Giorno wants him, the others will watch this person slowly. SO slowly. Get impaled all over with thin tree branches. Giorno makes sure this person stays alive for a long time. Once he’s ready to finish the job, he will make the tree grow fully through their body, completely tearing them apart.

The others jaws are on the floor as they watch Giorno walk back over to them, the scene behind him looking like a gory horror movie. Most of them are a little scared of him right now but Abbacchio actually managed to grow a sliver of respect for him, strangely enough.

Upon seeing you, he goes back to his normal, kind self. When you get home, he will care for you until you’re better. If you’re dating, he’ll hold you tightly as he tells you how much he loves you and will never let anyone hurt you like that again.

Fugo

So he actually almost kills everyone out of complete, uncontrollable rage

He’s so angry he honestly doesn’t even check on you before going nuts on this person. The others, realizing they can’t stop him and would definitely die trying, get you to safety and take care of any injuries that may need immediate attention.

Fugo honestly almost gets himself killed with his own stand. But he doesn’t care, because at the end of the day, the person who hurt you is gone and boy did they suffer greatly

He finally calls Purple Haze back in, realizing how reckless he was being in his emotional state. He feels ashamed, but couldn’t help himself when he saw you laying there, crumpled up in pain on the ground.

When you get back, he’s actually avoiding you at first. When he finally comes to see you, he explodes. “What the Hell were you thinking??? Are you stupid, throwing yourself in the middle like that to blindly defend everyone? You could’ve gotten yourself KILLED. I almost LOST YOU.”

…if you weren’t dating already, that was pretty much his confession of his feelings for you. If you are in a relationship, he’ll finally let his guard down and just weep. You actually have to comfort him at first. He just keeps repeating how much he loves you and can’t ever lose you. He’s saying he’s sorry over and over again. Sorry for letting you get that hurt, sorry for almost hurting the others. He’s just sorry. And he swears to protect you and work on being more calm in those situations.

I’ll be adding one for Trish later as I was having a hard time thinking of a good amount of hcs for her and I’ve had this in my drafts so long that I just really wanna get it out there! I hope you guys liked this one, and again, always feel free to send in a request for some hcs from me! :)

Love: your friendly neighborhood Abbacchio simp 😌

[multi-fandom-imagine]

»»𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐥 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮 – 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐀𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐟𝐞.

A/n: I love him.

1. The Tower Room – Late Afternoon

Bruno’s tower is a labyrinth of winding staircases and hidden alcoves, but at the very top, there’s a small room with a narrow bed draped in faded blankets. The room is filled with candles that cast a golden glow over the sandstone walls.

You’re leaning against the stone wall, your dress pulled up to your waist, legs wrapped around Bruno’s hips as he thrusts into you slowly. His forehead is pressed against yours, sweat dampening his curls as he groans your name. His eyes are half-lidded, mouth hovering over yours but not quite kissing you.

“You have no idea how much I love you,” he whispers, his voice hoarse and desperate.

You gasp as his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles in time with his thrusts. His other hand cradles the back of your neck, his thumb stroking your jaw as if to keep you grounded.

“Say it again,” he pleads, his lips brushing over your cheek. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Bruno,” you whimper, and that’s all it takes. He presses you harder against the wall, hips moving faster, each thrust deeper than the last. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, mixing with the soft murmur of the wind outside and the creak of the tower walls.

2. The Courtyard – Midnight

The moon hangs high in the sky, casting a silver glow over the courtyard. Everyone is asleep, and the house is eerily quiet. You’re sprawled out on the soft grass, your dress bunched around your hips and Bruno’s hands gripping your thighs as he pins you down.

His hair hangs in his eyes as he lowers his mouth to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “Anyone could catch us,” he mutters, his teeth grazing the curve of your shoulder.

“But they won’t,” you counter, fingers threading through his curls and tugging just hard enough to make him hiss.

Bruno’s hands slide under your thighs, lifting them higher as he thrusts into you hard enough to make the grass scratch against your back. The chill of the night air only makes the heat between you more intense, your bodies moving together in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“Shh,” he warns, pressing his lips against your mouth to stifle your moans. “Don’t wake the house.”

But the way he’s moving, each stroke deeper than the last, makes it nearly impossible to stay quiet. You’re both panting, skin slick with sweat as he fucks you slow and steady, his hips grinding against yours with delicious friction.

3. The Kitchen – Early Morning

You’re bent over the wooden kitchen table, the scent of freshly baked arepas lingering in the air. The house is still waking up, and the sound of Mirabel’s voice singing softly somewhere in the background makes your heart race.

Bruno’s chest is pressed against your back, one hand tangled in your hair while the other clutches your hip, holding you in place as he thrusts into you from behind. His movements are frantic, almost desperate, his breath hot against the back of your neck.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters, voice low and rough as his hips snap against yours. “You know that?”

Your hands grip the edge of the table, nails digging into the wood as he fucks you harder, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. His teeth scrape over your shoulder, biting down just enough to make you gasp.

“Bruno,” you moan, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts.

“Fuck,” he groans, his hand slipping around to your front, fingers circling your clit in quick, firm strokes. “You’re so good to me. So perfect.”

4. The Nursery – Midday

The nursery is empty, Elias playing outside with Mirabel and Antonio, but the air still smells of baby powder and warm sunlight. The rocking chair creaks softly as Bruno straddles it, you perched in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist.

His hands are under your dress, sliding up your thighs as you rock against him slowly. His lips are on your neck, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses up to your ear.

“Missed you,” he breathes, his voice thick with longing as he thrusts up into you, each movement slow and deep. “Needed you.”

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging his head back so you can kiss him, tongues sliding together in a messy, heated dance. The chair rocks beneath you, the creak of the wood mingling with your breathy moans and Bruno’s soft curses.

“Don’t stop,” you gasp, hips rolling against his as his hands grip your ass, guiding your movements.

“Never,” he promises, his eyes dark and full of love as he watches you come apart in his arms.

5. The Candle Room – Evening

The room glows with the light of hundreds of candles, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows on the walls. You’re on your knees in front of Bruno, his back against the wall as he looks down at you with wide, needy eyes.

Your mouth wraps around his cock, tongue swirling around the tip as he threads his fingers through your hair, his knuckles going white as he struggles to stay still.

“Gods, you look so beautiful like this,” he breathes, his voice thick and breathless. “So perfect.”

You hum around him, taking him deeper, your hands gripping his thighs to keep your balance as you move. The sounds he’s making are intoxicating—soft, desperate whimpers mixed with low, throaty groans.

When you finally pull back, his cock slick and glistening, he drags you to your feet, spinning you around and pressing you against the wall.

“My turn,” he growls, sliding down your body until he’s on his knees, his hands spreading your thighs apart.

“Hold on to the wall, cariño,” he murmurs, eyes dark and hungry as he dips his head between your legs. “This might take a while.”

6. The Garden – Sunset

The air is warm, the sky painted in hues of pink and gold as the sun dips below the horizon. You’re beneath the arch of hanging vines, the scent of jasmine and roses heavy in the air.

Bruno lays you down on the soft grass, his body covering yours as he settles between your thighs. His hands grip your wrists, pinning them above your head as he slides inside you, slow and deliberate.

“Wanted to do this all day,” he whispers against your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

His hips roll against yours, each thrust slow and deep, your bodies moving together in perfect rhythm. The warmth of the sun lingers on your skin, mingling with the heat of Bruno’s body as he takes you apart piece by piece.

You arch beneath him, moaning his name as he kisses you, his mouth soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the intensity of his thrusts. His lips trail down your neck, biting and sucking until you’re trembling beneath him, the world falling away until all you can feel is Bruno.

7. The Library – Stormy Night

Rain pounds against the windows, lightning flashing in the distance as you and Bruno lay sprawled on the library floor, a blanket beneath you. The fire crackles softly, casting a warm, golden glow over your entwined bodies.

Bruno is above you, his curls damp with sweat as he thrusts into you slowly, his forehead pressed to yours. The storm rages outside, but inside, it’s just the two of you, moving together in a slow, lazy rhythm that speaks of love and longing.

“Stay with me,” he whispers, his eyes locked onto yours as he kisses you, soft and sweet. “Always.”

And as the rain pours down and the fire crackles and the world falls away, you hold him closer, your bodies melding together as you make love on the floor of the library, surrounded by the scent of old books and the sound of your hearts beating as one.

[cannedbananabread]

Nobody Does it Better- Bruno Bucciarati x Reader

Word Count: 12.1k - I need psychiatric help

CW: smut (of course), kinda rough sex, some violence, mafia treachery, religious symbolism (presented in the context of art)

Can also be read on ao3 (probably easier given how long this is)

A/N: From an ao3 request for capo Bruno paired with a fellow capo reader. Keep in mind that I have never been to Italy so any information about the setting comes from google and my brain lol. Also, while I'm pretty sure the design on Bruno's chest is supposed to be a lacy undershirt in the manga, it definitely looks like a tattoo in the anime and I think it's a bit more scandalous if it's a tattoo, so it's a tattoo here. Regardless, I hope you enjoy, I'm hoping to get through more requests sooooon!! Hopefully not quite so long as this one oops!

Rising to the rank of capo in Passione was no small feat, but you had done so in just a handful of years. Your home life had been one of dissonance and so it wasn’t any wonder that you had gone the unfortunate way of many of your peers, scrounging for survival in the streets.   Starving and alone, you were entirely out of options that night several years ago when a plucky little boy around your age had found you, sick and shivering in a filthy, damp alleyway.  

Delirious from fever, you were met with the impression that an angel had fallen to earth and rescued you from ruin, but reality had not been quite as kind.  The boy offered you solace in the dusky hotel where he resided and saw to it that you were fed and taken care of.  In the morning, with your lucidity having returned to you, it was quite apparent that the boy who had come to your rescue was a member of Passione and the very thought left you reproachful of even his most genuine assistance.  

The extent of the power Passione had over Italy could not be overestimated. You knew that the shadow of that treacherous organization extended far beyond the edges of the little city you called home. You had known better than to involve yourself with something so unsavory; however hard up you were, you were not going to trade your life away just to end up the beast of burden to a faceless, unknowable entity who viewed you more as a number than a human. 

The boy who had acted as your savior approached you with a stoic expression that made him appear far wiser than his meager years would’ve suggested but you only glared back at him with contempt burning in your eyes. You knew a debt to Passione was not one you could easily be free of, so before you even properly met the boy, you loathed him with all the fire in your soul.  He tentatively handed you a glass of water which you accepted, only to promptly splash in his face. “Puttana, what did you do that for?” 

“I know what you are,” you spat, rage bubbling in your chest until you reached your fatal boiling point, “goddamn mafioso, the world would be a better place without the likes of you in it.  Whatever you brought me here for, I won’t do it!”

“You would be dead in the gutter if I hadn’t helped you stronza!”

“Bruno…” a deep, almost metallic-sounding voice bellowed, reverberating off the walls of the hotel room, “what did I tell you about bringing another ruffian into my home?” 

“Polpo, sir, I—”

“Oh, a girl, Bruno, you dog you.” 

“It’s not like that!” The boy shouted in vehement protest before shrinking back in fear of impending punishment for having spoken out of turn, “and besides, she was just leaving.” 

You nodded silently to affirm his claim and made a quick, darting movement to escape. Polpo’s reputation preceded him; he was a cruel and cold capo who seized what he wanted through whatever means necessary and wherever he went, he was undoubtedly treated like a king but in practice, he was more akin to a tyrant.  In the far recesses of your heart, you felt a pang of guilt for the boy; a mafioso he may be, but he had still come to your rescue without the hope of selfish gain. You bowed humbly to show your gratitude for the sanctuary you had been provided the night before, hoping the gesture would be enough to placate some of the man’s ire towards his subordinate, then you made another hasty attempt to make your exit, but your arm was caught in the capo’s massive, swollen hand.  “And where is it that you are so eager to run off to, it’s clear that such a sickly thing has no home waiting for her, why not join me?  It’s a generous offer, you would have food, shelter, and above all else, my protection, all I ask is that you pass one simple test.” 

His booming voice struck something deeply within you, as though he had tapped into the very wiring of your brain and pulled something loose. Before him, you felt entirely powerless and it required all of your strength just to remain on your feet as he forced you to look into the black depths of his soulless eyes.  “A-and if I were to refuse?” You stuttered, unable to hide the irresolution that quaked your entire frame. 

“Hmm?  Well, in that case, I suppose you would be of no use to me,” he said, forcing aloofness as he glanced over his fingernails.  “Quite a shame too, I can’t say things tend to bode well for those who cross me.”

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach as he uttered such a thinly veiled threat, you were foolish to even tenuously believe that he would let you walk free without the demand of some kind of restitution, in the face of him, you were left utterly bereft of words, so shaken that you couldn’t see beyond the immediate terror that drowned out any of your better senses.

“Think it over, someone like you could be quite an asset to this organization.” 

“S-someone like me?” You asked and a dim hope arose that he might look favorably upon you and that you might find your freedom yet.

“Yes, someone that no one would ever come looking for, someone with nothing to lose and everything to gain. Someone expendable.”

There it was, your worst fears laid out before you as if by the wave of a hand, you had been stripped of all your resolve, forced to relinquish the last vestiges of personhood you had clung to so fiercely. “What do I have to do?”

A wicked sneer crawled across the corpulent man’s face and though you could not see what happened next, the ominous aura caused every inch of your skin to prickle with goosebumps and the acute sensation that followed was enough to make your body go limp. After that, the next thing you were able to recall was waking up in a warm bed feeling rather worse for wear, but the pin on your bedside table let you know that your initiation into Passione had been a success.  

And so swore fealty to Passione, from then on your future was set in stone, you would not know any other life that wasn’t one of carnage and bloodshed. After a while, it became normal, more than that, you began to revel in it. What had once been stomach-churning acts of violence soon left you aglow with pride, you ruthlessly pursued anything you wanted, no sacrifice was too great, “all for the good of the organization,” you said as you rose effortlessly through the ranks, paying little heed to those you had stepped on to reach for higher and heights. Was it any wonder that you’d become a capo in only a few short years?  Certainly not, and you were as respected by your subordinates as you were feared and in truth, any of you considered even your darkest of deeds to be worth the price now that you lived a life of luxury.

As the years passed, any thoughts of the boy that had come to your rescue had receded to only a dim recollection your mind could only laboriously conjure up, though your connection to him was not one you could so easily forget and every time you heard his name in passing, you were catapulted back in time, struck by a vision of tan skin, dark hair, and deep blue sunken eyes that looked upon you with violent contempt.   

Bruno Bucciarati; you had not seen him in years and perhaps that was for the best, he had not been shy about his acrimonious feelings towards you and even though there was a part of you, deep in the reservoir of your cold, cold heart that still looked favorably upon him, you did not think the possibility of amends would be worth the risk of altercation.

But then, on a perfectly common day at the end of March, came the instructions for your latest assignment, direct from the hands of Percilo himself. You had been requested to undertake a special mission with the newly appointed capo with one clear goal in mind: eliminate the leader of the hitman team, Risotto Nero. So you were left with no other choice but to follow the orders that had been handed down to you, you could never violate a direct order from the Boss and live to tell about it. Armed with the knowledge that Bruno would be less than enthused by your presence, you arranged your travel plans and made a reservation under a false name at that little restaurant Bruno was so terribly fond of and planned to enter unannounced before he had a chance to deny you entry.

Seated at one of the quaint tables, you observed as a group of well-dressed civilians was led to their reserved table nearby which provided you with the perfect opportunity to ask the maitre-d’ if he could send for Bucciarati.  While he complied graciously and assured you that he was in, instead of Bucciarati, a trio of vibrantly dressed, obstreperous youths emerged from the back of the restaurant and crowded your table. 

“Are you the one who’s been asking for—” the blond dressed in a green suit asked before being interrupted by one of his friends.

“Who are you and why do you want to see Bucciarati?” 

“Narancia, cool it, that’s not the way you talk to a guest.  You gotta ask nicely and if they don’t comply, then, well, we have other means.” The third man said as he glanced at the purple handle of a pistol that stuck out of his waistband. 

“Are you threatening me?” You asked, feigning an affectation of coyness as you looked up innocently from your menu. 

“A threat?  No, no, I like to think of this as more of a suggestion if anything.” 

“And if I choose not to take your suggestion?” 

“Well, you don’t have to, but I can’t say I’d be so eager to throw my life away,” he said with a shrug, letting his fingers over just over the handle, baiting you to continue your defiance. 

“Aw, you think you could kill me? That’s adorable. Where did Bruno pick you up?” You simpered, folding your hands together in an offhand gesture to emphasize the meaninglessness of his threats.

“Listen, lady, just tell us what you want with Bucciarati, we’re not gonna fight you if we don’t have to,” he said at last, planting his hands firmly on the table, having given up any pretense towards a gunfight in the middle of the restaurant. 

“I will only talk to Bruno, not whatever help he’s pulled together.”

“And what makes you think we’ll let you?”

“Oh, you will,” you said, standing up with a crazed look in your eye, ready to fight if necessary, but you reined in your temper just enough to keep the upper hand, “after all, he and I are old friends.”

“Doubt it,” the blond cut in, matching his tone to yours, “Bucciarati told us about the kinds of friends he had before and none of them are welcome here.” 

“Well, that’s quite a shame then, because—” you began, but were cut off by a familiar voice slicing through the ensuing quarrel.

“What is going on out here? Mista, Narancia, Fugo, when I sent you to see who was asking for me, I explicitly told you to do so without disturbing the other guests!” Bucciarati shouted, a pair of other men flanking him as they entered the scene, the man to his left had silver hair and wore a long, dark coat, and to his right was a young blond with his hair tied back into a braid, dressed in a lurid pink suit.

“My, my, Bruno Bucciarati, as I live and breathe,” you said, a sly, coquettish titter to your voice as you collected yourself, he was certainly just as handsome as you remembered him, “can’t say I thought I’d ever see the day where they’d let you make capo, the Boss must really be desperate after what happened to ole Polpo.”

“You… I thought you knew better than to ever show your face around me again,” he sneered, several vulgar interjections from his colorful subordinates followed his declaration.  

“Now, now, is that any way to treat a lady?” You asked, abandoning the table entirely and sauntering over to where he stood with the letter in hand.  “And besides, I’m here because of my orders alone and these have been handed down from the top, if you care to have a look.”

He snatched the paper from your hand and read it over carefully. It was legit. Only a select few had ever been chosen directly by the Boss himself, but all were rewarded handsomely in both monetary compensation and under the banner of greater trust. As much Bruno did not want to tangle himself with any of the unsavory business you often dealt with, that added trust alone could prove essential to the long-term goals he and his newfound friend were aiming towards, “one last mission and then we go back to being strangers. I mean it, I don’t ever want to hear from you again, are we clear?”

“Crystal.” 

The details were dealt with accordingly and you returned to your hotel to bide your time until your departure the following day. Meanwhile, Bucciarati discussed the matter in depth with his team, though all the while, a flurry of unwelcome emotions stewed relentlessly through his mind, as vivid and intolerable as the last time he laid eyes on you.

“Bucciarati, I think you should seriously reconsider accepting this mission, something about it seems strange,” Giorno said as he looked over the fragment of the letter you left in their care.

“You can’t be serious, stronzo! Bucciarati can’t just ignore a direct order from the Boss!” Abbacchio exclaimed, slamming his fist on the table with such ferocity it caused the dishes to rattle in their places. 

“Listen, Giorno, I know you’re new here, but the Boss doesn’t hand out missions like this to just anyone,” Fugo said, more calmly than his cohort, but still in vehement opposition to anything that may create conflict between them and the Boss. And rightfully so, it would be a foolish endeavor to even think one stood a chance against such a fearsome adversary.  

“Yes, they’re right Giorno, disagreeable as they are, orders are orders and I am determined to see this through.” 

Giorno sighed and mulled over the arrangement before drawing his own conclusion and covertly hiding something in Bucciarati’s pocket. “Giorno, what is—”

“Take it for luck. It’s… insurance.” Bucciarati did not need to ask questions to understand where Giorno’s intentions lay, but he could not afford to disclose any further information and jeopardize the safety of his team.

“Come Bucciarati, the instructions say to meet at Napoli Centrale, I’ll drive you.” 

“That won’t be necessary Fugo, I promised my old friend that I would meet her at her hotel.” 

“Is it wise to disobey orders like that?” 

“Perhaps not wise, but I doubt any harm will come of it. The Boss must be well aware of our history or else he would not have specifically paired us to work together.” 

“Well, alright, you would know best, just promise that you’ll be safe… for all of us, we need you as our leader.”

“Thank you, Fugo, I will make it back from this, you have my word,” Bruno declared, his resolve was evident in the deep tone of his voice. One more mission, that’s all it would be. He would earn the Boss’s trust and then you would be out of his life for good.

It was early the next morning when there came three rapid knocks on the door of your hotel room and with all the swiftness of a cat, you glided to the door and pulled the chain through the lock so that you could open the door just enough to make sure your visitor had been invited.  “So you came after all, Bruno, but really, how could you stay away?” You purred as you undid the chain and bade him inside with far greater amiability than he was likely to offer you. 

“You know very well that I had no choice in the matter,” he spat, trying desperately to avoid eye contact with you… those damn eyes of yours, like sparkling jewels, they always hypnotized him. 

“Come now Bruno, that hurts my feelings, and after all the things we’ve been through together, it’s quite a shame, I remember when you used to be so terribly fond of me.” You purred, dragging your index finger tediously down his exposed chest. 

With an abruptness that startled you out of your cavalier disposition, he harshly gripped your wrist to stop the salacious pursuit of your hand. “You know very well that any fondness I once had for you died a long time ago.” 

“Are you quite certain about that? I saw the way you were looking at me at the restaurant, I think there’s a part of you that still wants me like you did all those years ago.” 

His brows furrowed together and, with the same suddenness with which he had grabbed your wrist, he pushed it away and took several steps away from you. 

“Aw, Bruno, haven’t you realized that you shouldn't show your hand so early?” You snickered, drifting slowly over to him, your hips swaying with each purposeful step.

“Well, it’s not as though you ever made it a challenge.”  He snapped, unamused by your performance.

“If that’s the case, then how come you were never able to seal the deal? We both know how desperately you wanted to.” 

“It is very like you to think more highly of yourself than you deserve, but you must be misremembering.” 

“Oh, am I misremembering the compromising position that Polpo caught us in that Easter?”

“That was before Milan.” 

“Don’t tell me you aren’t even the least bit curious about what would have happened if Polpo hadn’t come back early,” you said, pressing your chin to his shoulder and whispering softly into his ear.

“Hmm,” he mused carefully, drawing back from you and finally securing a seat in one of the finely quilted chairs, “even back then you tasted like a liar.”  If looks could kill, you would have been dead, face down on the floor after the way he looked at you, full of hate, ire, and a deep desire for vengeance.  And yet even for all the malice in his stare, it tickled you to know you still affected him so strongly.  Had he truly cut you from his life with the same knife you had used to stab him in the back, he would not have been driven to such brutish, adolescent insults.  

You smoothed out the skirt of your dress and sat in the chair opposite from him, quickly, but not without a degree of ceremony, you unfolded the remaining pages of the letter and spread them out in order upon the coffee table, “I suppose we should get down to business then, shall we?”

He made no reply but began to sift through the separate papers to familiarize himself with the administered task.  A look of confusion sprung across his face when he reached the final sheet, “this can’t be all you were given.”

“For now, yeah, the rest of the mission will be waiting in an envelope behind The Birth of Venus then we just go from there.” 

“You act like it’s that simple, thousands of people go to the Uffizi Gallery every single day!”

“And we will be among them, just leave everything up to me, I have a plan.” 

“I will certainly not trust you with my life, not after last time, you will tell me exactly what you have devised and then we can decide what the best course of action is as a team.” 

“A team? Well, in that case, perhaps I can accept those conditions.” You simpered, crossing one leg over the other, knowing full well it offered him a titillating view of your upper thigh.  “Truth be told, Risotto and I were once… friends. I have some apprehensions about targeting him and his team, especially after what happened to Sorbetto and Gelato.” 

“This is precisely why they tell you not to mix business with pleasure, though I was certain you’d learned that lesson a long time ago.” 

“Hm, I don’t recall you being the jealous type, Bruno, perhaps you have changed.” 

“And unfortunately for us both, it appears that you have not.”

That cut a bit deeper than his previous affronts and you felt a bit of your playfulness recede, “I’m merely saying that while Risotto was an irrevocable fool for believing he stood a chance against the Boss, I think his motives are understandable, after what happened to Sorbetto and Gelato, but they should have known better than to go poking around into the Boss’s identity.”

Bruno sat pensively as he considered the circumstances, “far be it from me to question the Boss’s absolute authority, but isn’t it a bit odd that he sent us to do a hitman’s job, that really isn’t either of our specialties.”

“Well, La Squadra was in charge of assassinations, I’m not sure he could get any one of them to defect from their leader. I suppose he trusts us more at any rate.” 

“I’m sure he has plenty of other skilled assassins that would be better suited for the job than us if this job is really so important.”

“Well, you can consider it your initiation.  Prove your loyalty now that you’re a capo.”

“Then why you?”

“Because of my relationship to Risotto of course.  Listen, I know you aren’t fond of me, at least not anymore, but you know there isn’t a better person you could have been paired with for this mission.  I know Risotto like the back of my hand, I’m wise to his tricks, I know how he thinks, and I’ve seen his Stand. I know all of his strengths and weaknesses, like it or not, you need me for this.”

“Fine then, but my previous request still stands, once this is over, you and I are strangers once again.” 

“I agreed before, didn’t I?” You asked, resting your head on your folded hand to eye his movements more keenly.  The stern, unwavering look on his face remained, as such you were forced to resort to far more efficacious means to restore the upper hand you so desired.  

Without a word, you moved across the room with the same rhythmic sway of your hips that always seemed to catch Bruno’s eye and situated yourself before the only mirror your hotel room offered. 

“What on earth are you doing?” He asked, aghast as he watched your dress flutter to the ground and pool around your feet.

“Don’t act as though it’s something you haven’t seen before,” you groaned, rummaging through the mess of your suitcase for the necessary garment until, at last,  you found what you needed, an expensive sundress covered in a vibrant pattern of flowers and citrus fruits. 

“And your previous attire was unsuitable?” He asked, that unflappable aplomb had been utterly laid to waste once he got a glimpse of your body.

“Naturally, we will be going to Florence, what better way to blend in than as tourists? Every member of La Squadra is a thoroughly trained assassin, this way we can hide amongst the throngs of couples on holiday and they will be none the wiser,” you explained as you stepped into the dress. “Now then, zip me up?” 

“I never imagined you’d be capable of appearing so docile,” he mused, tugging the zipper up the length of your spine to where the hem of your dress sat between your shoulder blades. 

“Don’t look so smug, I brought something for you to wear as well,” you said and handed him a tidy garment bag.

“You can’t expect me to wear this…” he said, recoiling as he unzipped the bag and caught sight of its sickeningly pastel colored contents.

“I do indeed, and as sexy as that suit is on you, we are aiming to be as inconspicuous as possible, so get changed, I promise you’ll look just as dashing in this little costume I’ve picked for you. Now hop to it.” 

With disguises set and travel plans arranged, you boarded the train for Florence. The journey was long, several hours at least, but the journey across the Italian landscape was beautiful. Perhaps, had it not been for your addled mind, you would have been able to enjoy it more. Instead, you leaned your head against the window in your private car and watched as Bruno slept in the seat beside you. The tan suit and pale blue shirt suited him perfectly, in fact to any unknowing passerby, the two of you could have easily been mistaken for a young couple on a scenic ride through the countryside. 

Baring that thought in mind, you felt nothing but contempt for the dismal shell of a life you had been living. Briefly, you wondered what might have been if young Bruno had been your savior all those years ago, but you couldn’t see past the immediate severity of what you had been rescued from. Even so, you never wanted this, but for all your dangerous desires, all the money and power you had amassed in so young a life, you knew that you could never be anything else but what you had already become. You were a murderer and no matter how you tried to couch it in the insistence of necessity, that it was a matter of your life or theirs, that they were no better than you, but no matter how you dressed it up, a murderer you would always be. Even if by some stroke of luck you managed to escape the grasp of Passione, you could never escape all you had done. Years of miserable deeds and back alley deals; it would all have to be paid for in time.

You gazed upon Bruno’s gentle face, his soft features and the glow of his tan skin always seemed somehow angelic especially in the warm light of the late morning sun, even when you had been young you’d always been struck by his appearance, he was beautiful and even beyond on that, you found him admirable, he was loyal and disciplined and merciful, all of the things you were not and it drew you to him like a moth to a flame. You wondered if he ever felt the same, dissatisfied, downcast, and disillusioned. You could recall all the nights you’d spent looking into his eyes as though you’d been twins, cut from the same cloth and doomed to the same forsaken end, but now you were not so sure. In spite of your unfathomable success, Bruno had eclipsed you somewhere in the years between. He had built a life for himself, one surrounded by friends who truly cared for him, seeing that ragtag group he’d assembled at his restaurant, you knew that he had found something that you had never been able to and you were then rendered certain that you could never again be equals. It was an appalling realization to face while stuck within the cramped walls of a train car when all you could do was stew in your dismay. Whatever you were to become, you could never be all that you wanted.  

Florence, known as the birthplace of the Renaissance, has been home to many notable figures including authors Niccolo Machiavelli and Dante Alighieri as well as Renaissance masters such as Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and Sandro Botticelli. In part due to the extensive commissions made by the eminent Medici family, it has been a thriving centre for history, art, and culture ever since.  Many of the world’s seminal works of Italian art remain today in the many museums and chapels that line the streets, but none more recognizable than the great duomo of Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore, which prominently holds its place in the skyline, ever looming over the city like the crown marking a bygone dynasty. 

And still, the city teems with life, attracting tourists from all walks of life, and that is precisely how you found yourself when the train rolled into the station on that bright afternoon. 

Staying at one of the many charming little hotels, you unpacked your things and set up a makeshift base of operations where Bruno made you tediously go over the plans you had set ad nauseam; he wanted to hear every detail laid out for him in the exact order you intended for the umpteenth time, “again,” he said, the velvety timbre of his voice that you normally would have found dangerously alluring only grated on your nerves. 

“We are going to the Uffizi Gallery as tourists, we will arrive just after one, when it should be the most crowded that way we can blend in seamlessly, then we will nonchalantly peruse the museum for several minutes so we don’t raise suspicion, finally, on my mark, you are going to position yourself at The Birth of Venus while I go across the hall and trip the security system, once the guards have rushed over to me, you grab the envelope and use your stand to make a swift exit.  We reconvene here to figure out what needs to be done next, got it?” 

“I am still finding it rather difficult to believe that you would willingly put yourself in the position to get caught, that is not how I remember you operating,” he said, though his words had been unabashedly smug, his tone was thoughtful as if he were sincerely trying to piece together the path your life had taken since you parted ways.

“Well, I just know that you are far better suited to retrieve the envelope than I am, plus, as pretty as you are, I’m sure I can do a better job of seducing the guards if need be.” 

“And if the guard is a woman?” 

“Ha! You act as though that would make a difference.” 

“Your modesty has been dearly missed,” he said, rolling his eyes, though there was playfulness in his chides that had not been there the afternoon before.

“You know as well as anyone that my claims are not without merit.”

He let out a discontented sigh before he could manage a response, certainly, there was an inkling of truth, but did you always have to tout your wiles so audaciously? “ I was young and dumb then, I would not fall for your same tricks again.” 

“Who said my tricks are the same? I have refined my craft since last we met, you could be falling for me as we speak, you might not even know it.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.” He muttered before rising to his feet and tossing the sheets of paper containing your instructions onto the fire, “there, now that that’s done, we had better be off.” 

So you walked, arm I’m arm through the piazza and made your way up the steps of the gallery where you seamlessly wove into the colorful menagerie of attendees that dispersed through the halls. Falling into an old routine, you walked up to a painting across the room and looked up at it with a thoughtful expression, “The Annunciation by Leonardo da Vinci,” you said, leaning closer to trace the intricate details of the diaphanous veil with you eyes, “imagine being so skilled that you can paint something sheer and gauzy like that.” 

Bruno gave a little nod and followed the line of your gaze, “hm, I’ve never had the opportunity to see this one in person, quite impressive, far different from The Last Supper.”

“Now that’s one I’ve never seen in person.”

“That’s because you absconded Milan before we had the chance,” he said with that same grave intonation that he always summoned when he made reference to your duplicity. 

“Not here,” you whispered tersely, giving his upper arm an emphatic squeeze, “here we are civilians and it’s imperative that we remain so. Now, let’s go.” 

You left brusquely and escaped around the corner, forcing him to quicken his pace to follow after you.  You continued through the bustling halls of the museum in silence, a jarring difference from the myriad of conversations from the other patrons that echoed liltingly through your ears as you wandered into each of the different rooms, passing the target of your mission several times and taking careful stock of the artwork that lined the accompanying walls. 

“Don’t you think you’re taking your role as a tourist a bit too seriously?” He asked before glancing inconspicuously around the room.

“Hey, I paid for these tickets, I’m going to get my money’s worth and see the art!  Won’t you indulge me a little bit, it’s not often I get to do things like this.”

“Well—”

“And think of it this way, if we do a sweep of the entire place, we can be sure no one from La Squadra is lying in wait for us.” 

“Well, in that case, I suppose we can waste a few more minutes. Come along now,” he said, there was something suave about his voice as his strong hand found the small of your back as he effortlessly jockeyed you through the crowd. You felt your mind relinquish long-held apprehensions under the gentle force of his palm. So easy it was to let him take control, to let him handle you as though you were his own. Contentedly you accepted this subtle comfort as you soaked in the remaining minutes of quiet bliss.

“Hm, you know, I always preferred Primavera to The Birth of Venus.” You mused, staring up at the painting, your eyes flitted between the various allegorical figures 

“Oh, is that so?”

“Definitely, the colors, the dresses, the setting, there’s something very idyllic about it; pleasant and  dreamy, something that makes me feel like there’s still beauty in the world,” you quickly ceased your wistful longings, realizing you had spoken far too honestly than the moment called for, you quickly tried to divert the conversation elsewhere, “did you know the orange grove was meant to symbolize the Medici family?”

“That’s very interesting, I had no idea you were so well-versed in art.”

“Well, maybe you don’t know as much about me as you’d like to think you do.”

“Maybe so,” he murmured, twining his fingers with yours leading you to the stairs. 

And so you meandered through the various rooms, hand in hadn’t while you prattled on about art and for one brief moment, you felt as though your life was normal, you felt, through all the depths of your desperation, that maybe, if your mission went well, that you could take whatever funds you acquired and run as far away from Italy as you were able, start over and never look back. Build the life you wanted from the rubble yours had crumbled into.

“You know, sometimes I feel like that,” Bruno said as you both looked at Caravaggio’s The Sacrifice of Isaac.

“Abraham or Isaac?” 

The question went unanswered and you both stood in silence, staring at the scene brought to life by dramatically staged lighting that was so characteristic of Caravaggio’s works, feeling the moments tick away like grains of sand in an hourglass. “Now then, I believe it’s time for us to take our positions.” Bruno declared before taking his leave of you.  It was a curious feeling, the way that his hand slipped from yours, the way the touch of his fingers lingered in the moments after as you walked in the opposite direction, ultimately landing yourself face to face with another recognizable painting.  Judith Slaying Holofernes.  Gentileschi’s gruesome and dynamic depiction left you to ponder how deep your resolution ran. If it came to it, could you ever posit yourself as Judith? It concerned you even further to realize that you did not know if you could.

Without any other time to think, you made your way across the room where The Birth of Venus housed and with Bruno already in place, you positioned yourself far enough away from him so that when the alarms went off, he could secure the envelope unnoticed.  It was a simple task, some may say foolproof, all you had to do was reach across the threshold of the protective railing… all the world around you appeared to move in slow motion, all except for your racing heart, hammering hard against the walls of your chest.  It was such an easy task, you had done far worse and yet, you hesitated. Quaking in your resolve, you made a move to look back at Bruno but before you could turn your head, someone knocked into you and sent you careening past the protective bar. 

All at once, the alarm sounded, piercing the reticence of the serene gallery and then every guard in the vicinity was upon you.  A swarm of quick steps and terse exchanges could be heard throughout the whole room as civilians began to gather around you to catch a glimpse of the commotion. Out of the corner of your eye, as you were assisted to your feet and escorted away via museum security, you were certain you saw Bruno quickly disappearing beyond the farthest wall, from there, you were able to breathe easy. 

Bruno had made it back to the hotel with ease, your little spectacle had proved more than sufficient for him to make off with the next set of instructions unnoticed. So by the time you were released by security and made the journey back to the hotel, Bruno had already thoroughly read through the instructions and drawn several conclusions of his own.  As you sheepishly slinked through the door, you found him seated in one of the comfortable chairs with his elbows resting lackadaisically against his knees. 

“So it seems they let you go free without much trouble,” he drawled, straightening his posture and crossing one leg over the other. 

“I told you that I can be very persuasive, did I not?” You said, muster greater confidence than you actually felt. He looked back at you without speaking, as if he were trying to reduce the veracity of your claims hidden in your shaky inflection. “So… what’s the next step, I assume you’ve read it without me.” 

“I have and… here, see for yourself,” he shoved the folded sheets in your direction and watched keenly as you read through them.

“The duomo, huh?  Can’t say I expected the likes of Risotto to be holed up in an ancient Cathedral, but I guess I can give him points for style,” you said, trying to disregard any apprehensions with a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders. 

“That is precisely what I thought… a very peculiar location for a safe house.”

“Regardless, I suppose we should devise a plan, it’ll be dark soon.”

“Listen to me, you said yourself that Risotto is a skilled assassin, why would he choose to hide himself in the most recognizable building in the entire city?”

“As you said, he’s incredibly skilled, he doesn’t need to be discreet.”

“That sounds ridiculous, even by your standards!”

“Everything else worked out, didn’t it?  You’re just going to have to trust me.”

“I will not blindly trust you, I’m telling you that there is something wrong with this entire mission.”

“That isn’t for us to decide, we shut up and we do our jobs, that’s all!”

“No, you aren’t understanding, don’t you think it’s a little odd that we spent the entire afternoon in public and not a single member of La Squadra came after us?”

“Yes, but—”

“You feel it too, I know you do.  Just think for a moment, you have always been shrewd, you know that something here isn’t right!” He shouted, his hands grabbed harshly to your shoulders, holding you in place, so close to him that you could feel the heat radiating off of his impassioned frame. 

“No!  No, I won’t even consider it.  We have to do this, this is what we do, this is what we signed up for when we became mafiosi. We have to see the mission through, we don’t have a choice!” You screamed, violently breaking yourself free of his restraint.

“You’re wrong, we always have a choice, we can walk away from this.”

“You’re far too naive, Bruno, you can’t possibly believe that, if we don’t go through with this, the full wrath of Passione will be after us, we wouldn’t even make it out of Italy before they had us killed or worse...” 

“Why must you always be so damn stubborn?”

“Why must you always act like you know better than I do?”

“Because I do,” he said, a coolness to his voice that left you both standing frozen in place as if noncommittal in the face of what you both knew would follow.

Propelled by some invisible force far beyond the realm of your control, your lips crashed against each other, gnashing brutally in a battle for dominance that neither of you would concede so readily. 

With ease not suggested by his lithe figure, he lifted you off the ground and pinned you securely against the nearest wall with such force that it caused the decorative print to rattle against the plaster. As if on command, your legs wrapped around his slender waist to draw him closer. With sufficient stability acquired, his hands were able to roam up your thighs, enough to hike your dress up past your hips. Your skin prickled with goosebumps under the urgency of his touches and a breathy whine caught in your throat and came out as a feeble squeak which in turn, only heightened his desire and the thin lace of your panties did not help matters either, “look at you…” he murmured, his cool façade hardly concealed the ardor that had stirred his disposition. Pulling your panties to the side, his fingers were able to explore between your folds, “you’re so wet,” 

“What’re you gonna do about it?” You purred, back arching against the wall when you felt his fingers slipping into you. 

“I’m going to fuck you,” he said, pupils blown wide as saucers as he glared at you with a menacing, hungry look. Your plush walls clenched around his fingers, fuck, the way he looked at you, like he hated you, like he needed you, as if you were the only person in the world that could quell the raging fire within him— it was as though several years of unmet desires had unfolded right in front of you. 

Not a sound of protest was made towards his brazen declaration and it took no more than an instant for him to throw you onto the tiny hotel bed.  Before he could climb on top of you, you managed to shimmy out of your dress and toss the garishly colored fabric to the floor so that you were left in nothing but your lingerie as you lay back on the velvety comforter and watched as Bruno quickly undressed at the foot of the bed. Each discarded layer revealed more of his brilliant, tan skin, ever so lightly flushed from the ardent rush of your previous actions

Once his shirt had been cast away your eyes were able to trace the intricate line work of his tattoo down his chest to where it culminated in the outline of a heart just above his navel. The precarious position urged your eyes to wander lower as his hands moved pants to undo the button of his pants. The newfound freedom offered you an excellent view of his cock, which stood erect, firmly pressed to his abdomen. You sat up on your knees with hands folded between your legs and mouth slightly agape as you tried your best to comprehend the perfection that stood before you, there was something elegantly baroque in the man that stood before you, like a mixture of gold and marble, his statuesque frame, his svelte waist, the tantalizing taper of his long, curved cock.  You traced the fine slope until you reached the pinnacle of his flared, swollen head which eagerly dripped glossy pearls of precum as he held firmly to the base of his shaft. 

“On your back,” he commanded, then, before you even had a chance to comply, he climbed over you and pinned you flush against the mattress. You let out a shrill gasp of surprise when you felt his hard length rubbing against your aching sex, the thin, damp fabric of your panties was the only impedance between your two bodies. 

Harsh and indelicate, he lifted your back to unclasp your bra, without much care or effort the scanty garment was tossed away and Bruno seized the opportunity to quickly explore the newly exposed skin.  His teeth rasped against the swell of your breasts, leaving behind a pattern of oblong crimson marks. “Bruno,” you moaned, craning your neck back before hurriedly biting your lip to stop the indecent squeals as his lips close around your nipple, god, he hadn’t even fucked you yet, how could he have managed to unravel you so fast? 

Without warning, the sensation stopped and you were left panting nearly delirious from even such paltry stimulation. Through your heavy-lidded gaze, you watched as Bruno repositioned himself at the foot of the bed, from where you lay, you could easily guess his next play and that assurance was enough to restore a bit of your confidence, “How long have you been dreaming about this moment?” You taunted, doing your best to maintain a semblance of control as he fluidly pulled you to the edge of the bed by your ankle. 

“Were you not just moaning my name a minute ago?” He scolded, roughly pulling your legs apart and immediately hooking a finger under the lace band of your panties and rolling the sullied fabric down your legs. You gave a soft, approving mewl at the feeling of his warm breath against your cunt. In spite of your lewd appearance, there was something undeniably pretty about having you there in the position he had so many times imagined you in.

“Just fucking do it already!” You growled, teeth clenched to maintain an illusion of aplomb, but the frenzied look in your eyes betrayed you egregiously. 

“Typical. Something doesn’t go your way so you behave like a brat, is that how you expect to be rewarded?” He teased, his mouth hovering millimeters above your throbbing pussy, so tantalizingly close, but never close enough to give in to the pleasure you wanted. 

“For fuck’s sake, will you stop talking?”

“So demanding,” he purred, licking one long, arduous stripe along the entire length of your sex.

“Fuck,” you breathed, the meager sensation was enough to send a chill down your spine and leave you all but begging for more. He had intended to carry on teasing you for far longer, but the moment your honeyed taste filled his mouth, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to deny himself any longer. 

He abandoned the façade of bravado in one heedless action and began frantically lashing his tongue over your cunt, drinking in the heavenly juices that poured for you all too freely with each of his reckless ministrations. The wet sounds that emanated from you were nothing short of vulgar as his skilled tongue easily parted your folds and dipped into your dripping cunt just enough to make you squirm in place, but her certainly wasn’t done with you. Once he had thoroughly enjoyed your taste, he quickly turned all of his attention to your neglected clit. The sensitive bud was hot and tender with need and even a perfunctory flick of his tongue is enough to send a jolt of electricity surging through you that only intensified when he began fervently lapping at your clit, drawing hasty, swirling patterns that made your head spin and your vision bleary. Shit, you should not have been as sensitive as you were, not that soon, but if he continued like that, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to last much longer. 

“Tell me Bruno, do I still taste like a liar?” You asked through a slew of uninhibited groans that certainly made the question feel less mordant than you had intended it to be.

“A horrid, filthy, little liar,” he sneered, his lips forming the words against your needy cunt, even for all the malice he spoke, it only served to arouse your further, causing your hips to roll listlessly into his face, “an awful little liar.” 

“Bruno… fuck!” You moaned, knitting your fingers into his silky black hair and tugging with such vehemence that you dislodged one of his hair clips.

He let out an inadvertent groan, either brought on by your taste alone or the strength of your grip on his hair, but that too only further drove you towards your inevitable peak.  His tongue continued its relentless pursuit, maintaining the same diligent rhythm that had already rendered you delirious and you were no longer able to stifle any of the sultry moans that spilled from you, “Bruno, I’m— fuck, so close!” 

Your hips sputter out, indecorously writhing to a hectic rhythm that made it difficult for him to maintain the consistent pace he had devised, but the sweet sounds of your pleasure were more than enough reinforcement for him to forge ahead. One hand spread across your pelvis in an attempt to quell your incessant thrashing.  The restraint only caused the pressure to build until it became unsustainable, heat rushed to your core and the sensation you’d only tenuously been staving off snapped within you, leaving you awash with the brilliant glow of orgasm. 

Satisfaction dripped off Bruno’s face as he cleaned your excess arousal off his lips, leering up at you, content to take in the vision of your panting form, only brought to such an agreeable state through his efforts. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so submissive,” he said as he pulled himself on top of you, the swollen top of his cock prodding shallowly into your entrance. 

“Sh-shut up,” you whimpered, damn near docile as he sunk into you.  Given how amply prepared you were, it only took one effortless glide for him to be fully buried within you. You let out a shaky whine against his neck when he bottomed out, a response he couldn’t help but feel was incongruously cute compared to your typically ruthless demeanor. 

It was not long before he had established a steady rhythm. He had not allowed you any time to recover from your previous release and the sensation of him savagely fucking you quickly thrust you into overstimulation. In such a state, all you could do was scream out his name between an array of curses, all of which only urged him to continue more brutally, the strength of his grip was nearly bruising as he held your hips in place to keep you from wildly bucking beneath him. He pounded into you with such ferocity that it caused the headboard to clatter against the plaster wall. Your back arched, meeting him mid-thrust to pull him back down, your tight walls sucking him in so luxuriously that he could help but let out a choky moan into the crook of your neck. Fucking you, claiming you, ruining you, reality had eclipsed anything he had ever imagined when he would violently fuck his hand to the thought of you. The silky mewls and shrill screams you made each time he drove into you rendered him certain that your neighbors and very likely every patron on the entire floor knew how much you were enjoying his cock. 

Overstimulated to the point of babbling, each thrust added a new sensation you were certain you could not handle. Lost in a haze of bliss, the line between pleasure and pain had blurred beyond comprehension and you were not sure if you couldn’t cum anymore or if you simply hadn’t stopped cumming. 

Your nails scratched viciously into his back, leaving behind jagged claw marks that would last more than just the evening and serve as a reminder of the amorous affair. Bruno let out a hiss and dug his teeth into the supple skin of your shoulder. 

In a quick, ungainly action, he pulled out of you, the sudden emptiness caused you to let out a dejected whine for want of further stimulation, but he only knelt above you, frantically stroking the tip of his cock until he’d decorated your abdomen with sticky ribbons of cum then collapsed on the bed beside you, both more fucked out than either of you could remember. 

The afterglow hung heavy in the air, lingering silently between you as reality flowed back in along with the unsettling feeling of irresolution. After you’d cleaned up the mess that had been left, You returned to the bed and covered your body with the blanket to placate the meekness that left you dithering over what needed to be said. From the window, you could see the outline of the great duomo, only faintly illuminated against the darkened sky, its imposing shadow loomed ominously over the streets, as though it were itself some great beast that would swallow you up if you dared tread further. 

But before you could voice any apprehension, Bruno had left the bed and begun dressing, “well then, shouldn’t you be getting ready?” Something in the way he spoke seemed to banish all doubt from your mind, or at least enough to restore your confidence. 

“Oh, I thought you were determined to abandon the mission?”

“I have my concerns, but you were right, we need to see this through to the end, whatever that may be.”

“Well, it’s nice to see you’ve finally admitted who’s really in charge here.” You simpered, padding over to him with a characteristically feline strut.

Bruno caught you mid-step and drew your body firmly against his chest so that he was able to whisper directly into your ear, “oh cara mia, we both know it certainly wasn’t you,” he said, drawing out his words far more seductively than you could handle at present and punctuating the sentiment by nipping along your earlobe, “now, don’t dawdle, we have business to attend to.”

It had been far easier to access the duomo than you would have thought, even so late into the night you would have imagined a perpetual presence of security to make sure ne’er do wells, such as yourselves, did not get up to any chicanery on the premises, but that was not the case. It merely required the picking of a cheap lock on one if the auxiliary entrances and you were in. 

The air hung every in the dark halls, but even so, there was something reverent about the hallowed halls of the imposing structure. A feeling of peril caused your stomach to churn violently, it wasn’t merely the sanctity of the space that filled you with an acute sense of danger, but the sudden realization that you were not alone in the darkened chamber.  You made a quick motion to turn and alert Bruno, but before you could make a sound, a large hand was clamped over your mouth and you felt your strength give out under whatever force had apprehended you 

When next you awoke, you found yourself in a windowless room, tied with your back to Bruno in metal chairs that had been affixed to the ground with heavy bolts to ensure no means of escape.  “Bruno…” you whispered meekly, hardly able to muster the resolve to speak in such a dismal position, “Bruno, are you alright?” 

“I believe so… but I’m afraid that… from the start… this whole mission was a setup.” 

“I know, I— fuck, I should’ve listened, I just didn’t want to believe that…”

“Oh, isn’t that precious, our little saboteurs are awake,” an unfamiliar voice broke through the emptiness of the room and an odd-looking man dressed in a long white coat with emerald green hair that appeared almost harlequin alongside his makeup emerged from the darkness, flanked by his even stranger looking companion who walked threateningly on all fours. 

“So, I take it the Boss sent you to get rid of us,” Bruno said, managing a far more assertive tone than you would have been able to muster.

“You could say that… you see, Passione is like a living organism, all the parts must function together to keep it alive, and much like our bodies have an immune system as a failsafe to fight off any unwanted pathogens, so must our little organization. You may consider me as such.” The green-haired man mused, partly to you, partly to his associate who looked upon him with awe as he spoke, as though his words contained some kind of sacred divination. “That’s why I’ve brought you here, to test a little invention of mine… you know, when here in Florence, I can’t help but recall Leonardo, he was more than just an artist, like me, he also dabbled in many inventions himself. I was always struck by his proclivity towards water, the water wheel, hydraulics… perhaps he would find some of my research… fascinating,” he gave another wicked grin, eyes dancing with delight at the thought of his malevolent intentions.

“What are you getting at?” Bruno demanded, breaking the man free from his wistful daydreams. 

“All in due time,” he said, never wavering from that malicious grin that made your heart go cold with fear.

“You know, they say drowning is one of the most painful ways to die, I must say, I’m very excited to see for myself,” he declared boldly and burst into an uncontrollable fit of cackles and anticipatory groans, “Secco! Is the camera set up yet?”

The man sat up on his hind legs and gave a series of garbled hoops and excited cries as he thrashed to and fro in wild, ungainly gestures.

“Good boy, Secco, good boy! Now how about a treat?” He groped for something in his pocket as his strange companion eagerly lashed his long, serpentine tongue around his mouth, then darted with expert precision after what had been tossed his way.  So nimble, he almost defied gravity as he snatched the sugar cubes out of the air and began to gnaw on them like a rabid animal. 

“You’re sick,” you spat, brows furrowed with disgust and indignation.

A dreadful, malignant smirk settled across the green-haired man’s face as he knelt down to your level.  A skilled hand dragged across your cheek, unexpectedly tender as he caressed your smooth skin, “is that what you think?” He asked, baring his teeth as he roughly grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him, “on the contrary, dear girl, I am free. The same cannot be said for a weak little traitor such as yourself.”

You clamped your eyes shut, frantically shaking your head to dislodge his grip but to no avail, all of your efforts only earned you a forceful slap across your face that caused your cheek to burn, swollen and red from his violence. “You know, It’s useless to struggle, but then again, it’s so deliciously fun to watch you try!”

“Why not just use your Stand to kill us?”

“Oh you pretty little thing, that’s the best part! I don’t have to.” 

You swallowed thickly, unable to summon any kind of response, before a man as cruel and sadistic as he, you were utterly helpless. 

“And Bucciarati, I can see the gears turning in that head if yours, ‘once they leave, I’ll use my Stand to get us out of this,’ and while I admit that your Stand in particular is a bit of a nuisance, I would strongly advise against taking such a measure, you see, even with whatever evasive maneuvers you may attempt, we have ways assuring you do not get far.” 

The quadrupedal man let out a series of gleeful howls as if to affirm his companion’s threats. 

“Now, what will happen?  Hmm, decisions, decisions. Will you lie down and die like the good dogs you are? Ah, or maybe perhaps you will pull one another down like crabs in a bucket.  Or maybe one of the lovers will make a desperate attempt to save the other.  Hmm… which will it be? I can’t endeavor to say.”

“Have you been watching us…?” 

“Oh, my dear girl, our eyes haven’t left you since you departed from Napoli, any secrets you might’ve thought you had… well, rest assured that I have them very well kept,” he said, falling into a menacing laugh as he patted the handheld camera. 

“Fucking sicko,” you snapped, indignantly writhing in your bindings in a futile attempt to free yourself. 

“Aw, poor little puppy, all bark and no bite,” Cioccolata sneered, eyes darting for you over to Bruno, “She’s in love with you, you know?”

Violently, you bit your lip, how could you even begin to formulate a response? “Oh, by the looks of it I guess you didn’t know, well, it’s no matter.” He said, crossing the room and pulling a heavy lever. The loud, mechanical noise of machinery engaging could be heard through the ancient stone, “I look forward to the show, please do remember to smile for the camera.”

With that, both he and his companion took their leave through the only exit, a heavily barred metal door that you knew you wouldn’t have a chance of breaking through. And then you heard it, faint at first, but the distinct sound of running water caught your attention, open pipes on either side of the room flowed freely, splashing violently against the floor, faster and faster with each second that passed and only then did you fully understand the meaning of your captor’s threats. There were no exits, no windows, no vents, nothing to let the water out, you were trapped and the flow of the water only seemed to quicken as the flood reached your feet.

“Is this really how it all ends?” You asked, a vehement lamentation to no one in particular as you struggled restlessly in your bindings. 

“It should be a few hours before it’s over our heads, maybe we can think of something in that time.” 

“No, don’t you see that it’s hopeless, they must’ve had this planned for weeks, the only way out is through that door and they’re on the other side.  They’re going to kill us one way or another… we lost.” You sank into silence and let the sound of the water drown out your other senses. It was sick indeed to force you to sit and contemplate your death for hours before it arrived, even sicker to derive some twisted satisfaction from it all. You were bested and there was nothing for you to do but wait for death to come and hope for your sake that it would come swiftly. 

“He called you a traitor… what did you do?” Bruno asked, breaking the silence as the water crept up past your knees. 

“How should I know, he’s obviously fucking crazy, he called you one too and I know for a fact that Bruno Bucciarati, Polpo’s finest little soldier, would never betray the big bad Boss.”

Bruno sat silent for a long time, he hadn’t planned on telling you the extent of his perfidy, but if you both were going to die anyway, it would be almost an act of confession. “He wasn’t lying…”

“Bruno… you didn’t…”

“Not me, Giorno.”

“ That little blond with the baby face? No, I can’t believe that.”

“I don’t know how he did it, but he did.  He went to see Polpo in prison and the next I heard, the man was dead.  I believe he intended to use my newfound privileges as capo to help me unmask the Boss, I guess it is all for nought now.” 

“Why Bruno, you knew that would be a death sentence… why?”

“Because I’m sick and tired of seeing people… of seeing kids end up on the street, addicted to drugs… the same goddamn drugs the Boss sells, the same goddamn drugs my father was killed for and for what? Money, power? As if the Boss doesn’t already have more than enough of either.  Those are people, good people, my people and they’re suffering and they’re dying and it’s my fault because I answer to the same power that signs their death warrants. I have to do something, I have to make things better, it’s my responsibility.”

“Bruno, you know that’s a damn pipe dream, you know you can’t take on the Boss!”

“I knew the risk when I took it, but I believe in Giorno, if there’s anyone out there that can usurp the Boss, it’s Giorno Giovanna!”

“How can you have such faith in someone you just met?” 

“Because I have seen what he’s capable of, I’ve witnessed his brilliant determination, I believe that he will accomplish all he sets out to do, with or without me.”

You pondered his words carefully, had the sentiment not been so foolish, it would have been touching, but regardless, you felt it was too late for secrets as you felt the water rise past your abdomen. 

“I’m the one who told Sorbetto and Gelato where they could find information about the Boss’s identity, I’m the reason they were killed.”

“That’s rich after all waxing on about the folly it would be to take him on. Tell me, how did you even come by such privileged information?”

“Last summer, I met a man on the French Riviera who told me that he knew the Boss’s identity, somehow he fought him and survived and… he wanted me to help him take out the Boss, I turned him down, told him no one could withstand the full force of Passione’s wrath. I guess I was right.”

“But you had no problem selling that information to Sorbetto and Gelato,” he said callously, adding insult to injury.

“Listen, what they do is their business, not mine, I have to look out for myself above anyone else.”

“Just as you always have,” he spat, vitriol spilling off his tongue with each pointed word, like a poisoned dagger to the heart.

“I… I didn’t want it to end like this… I thought… I thought if there was anyone who stood a chance against Diavolo, it would have been La Squadra. I only told them how they could get in contact with my informant, that was all.  I thought they’d concoct a better plan, I thought maybe Risotto…”

“Diavolo… so that’s his name, huh? I guess it doesn’t matter now, poetic really, that I finally learn his identity, but I’m going to die before it can be of any use.” 

Conversation ceased as you both fell silent, the soft hiss of the water filling the room was the only sound that could be heard, endlessly jeering at your helplessness.  You glanced around the room in the hope that you could locate some weak point that could serve as an exit, but your search proved fruitless, and with the water already up to your chest, there seemed no other possibility than to accept your dismal defeat, certain that from wherever he watched, your captor took sadistic satisfaction in your inevitable surrender. 

“Bruno…” you said, at last breaking the silence, though your voice was stifled and words had been muddled by your tears, “Bruno, it was my fault… in Milan, it was all my fault.  It was a stupid risk to take and I almost got us both killed and then… and then I left you with the mess.  I— Bruno, I’m so sorry, it was such a selfish thing to do, do you think you could ever forgive me?” 

“If we make it out of here alive, you may consider yourself forgiven.” 

You mustered a feeble sound of thanks through your sobs but any intelligent words had been long abandoned. 

The water had risen to your neck, it would not take much longer for you to be swallowed up, perhaps Bruno could last a few extra minutes but what did it matter in the end?  Your thoughts grew fuzzy from the great strain it was to keep your head above water. It wouldn’t be long, only a minute more and your head would be underwater.

It was then, at the moment when you were sure all hope had been dashed, when you had resigned yourself to the inevitability of your death, that a muffled clamor rose beyond the thick stone walls of your would-be tomb. 

“How’s it going Narancia, we have to find Bucciarati and fast!”

“W-what’s going on?” You mumbled, struggling to make sense of the noises in your listless state.

“Got it! There should be two people in the next room!” 

“Giorno! He must’ve been tracking us this whole time.” The thought had not occurred to Bucciarati until just then, but he had wisely held onto Giorno’s parting gift throughout the entire mission.  It seemed like it had brought good luck after all. 

“Stand aside, leave the rest to me,” the sound of crumbling masonry echoed loud across the receding water and the light that filtered in when the wall had been breached seemed almost blinding to your eyes.  There, standing framed in a golden mandorla of new dawn light, was Giorno Giovanna, regal and determined as the dust settled around him, “Bucciarati, are you alright?”

What happened next was a blur, but someone pulled you from the water as Giorno gave Bruno a complete rundown of the situation, how Giorno had been able to track your location with the ladybug his Stand had imbued with life, how they had managed to kill the two men that held you captive, and their tentative plan to proceed now that they had fully defied the Boss.  Of course, Bruno was all too eager to inform Giorno of all you had told him, the Boss’s identity, your secret informant, the inevitable defection of La Squadra. With everything looked at together, it was as though each piece of the puzzle had fallen perfectly into place and Giorno rejoiced in the miracle of timing. 

It did not take long for a plan to be devised and with the added strength of La Squadra and the help of one eager Frenchman, it was only a matter of time before Diavolo was defeated and Giorno assumed his rightful position as the head of Passione. 

“Tell me,” he said one average day only a few months after all had been said and done, “what is it that you truly want?”

“I want out of this life for good,” you answered readily, it was the truth after all.

“Is that all?” He asked, the drawl of his voice as sweet and commanding as it always was. 

“Well, I suppose… I’d like to go to Milan,” you said, a curious diffidence had arisen in your voice as you stated your request.

“Then so it shall be,” he said with the gentlest of smiles that made him appear more like an angel than any man you’d ever seen before. 

And as he ordained it, so it was. 

“Well, is it everything you thought it would be?” Bruno asked, his hand in yours as you stood before The Last Supper.

“No— I mean yes… it’s marvelous, it’s incomprehensible… thank you for taking me.” 

He gave a salacious purr as he kissed the back of your hand, “I couldn’t think of anyone better to accompany me.” 

“It’s a little nostalgic being back here, don’t you think?”

“Well amore mio, for what it’s worth,” he began, moving his arm around your waist as you exited the church and began the walk back to that little hotel you stayed in what felt like a lifetime ago, “I have always loved Milan.” 

[coochellati]

GUYS—If you are currently simping or have ever simped for Bruno Bucciarati—JUST FUCKING LISTEN TO THIS, OKAY?? (18+)

ThIS IS NOT AI. This is Ray Chase’s ACTUAL voice.

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

Various jjba characters x reader: sleeping habits and headcanons

Dating/married depending on character

Characters: Joseph Joestar (part 2), Rohan Kishibe, Guido Mista, Bruno Bucciarati, Leone Abbacchio, Johnny Joestar, Gyro Zeppeli, Diego Brando

Warnings/Content: drinking, general angst and lots of fluff

Joseph Joestar: Guy who sleeps in just a tank top and boxers. Comfort is key to Joseph, and he’s a big man too, so he takes up lots of space in bed, often sprawling himself out almost like a starfish. You’re the one who’s gonna have to adjust when you share a bed with him…he’s large so he doesn’t move easily and even though he’s not a super heavy sleeper, he PRETENDS to be so you won’t try and wake him up to ask him to scoot. He’s a bit of a snorer too, only sometimes though, which wouldn’t be so bad if you could get him to roll onto his side but. He won’t do that so easily for you. He’ll just wrap his big strong arms around you, his face pressed up against yours and at first you’ll feel pretty irritated he’s opted to just cling to you but…it is a very safe and comfortable feeling. You can’t stay grumpy for long.

He wakes up pretty early, and he usually doesn’t like to sit still so. He’ll get up and do his own thing and come see you when you wake up. He somehow always seems to know when you will. He usually doesn’t think to bring you anything though, beyond the occasional coffee if he’s expecting you to have a slow morning. Then he’ll lay his head in your lap while you lie in bed and tell you about everything he’s already taken care of today and what he plans to do next. So much energy…slow down a bit, Joseph…

Rohan Kishibe: He’s a bit of an enigma when it comes to his nighttime rituals…due to the nature of his stand his actual work doesn’t take him that long, but he spends long evenings doing research for his manga, or simply being a bit of an insomniac. He struggles with relaxing in the evenings, a very restless man…he needs a lot of unwinding time if he actually wants to get any sleep at night, and he doesn’t usually ask for it specifically, but your company brings him comfort and makes it easier to relax.

You’ll just stay up with him drinking something warm and talking while he organizes all his thoughts in his sketch pads and notebooks or out loud to you. He’s got a brilliant mind, and even when you’re tired and staying up late to help him unwind you always gain something from the experience.

He’s particular about physical affection, but he’s slightly more open to it at night, admittedly enjoying the occasional massage on his stiff shoulders from you before bed.

He’s not snuggly when (if) he finally goes into the bedroom, happy to stick to his own side of the bed. To him, the bed is for getting rest and not much else. A necessity for maintaining the prison that is the flesh.

Sometimes he has a long, drawn out evening routine doing stretches before bed and washing his face and reading before bed and all that stuff. Other times he simply collapses into the sheets, falling asleep almost immediately. Thankfully he’s got a slight build, so you can move him over easily, but if he wakes up from you trying to move him he’ll be grumpy. He tries to wake up early, and is usually successful, but on the few mornings where he can’t get himself going you’ll take it upon yourself to help him wake up by making him his coffee (he’ll complain about how you make it wrong but still drink it anyways.) Sleepy morning Rohan is so cute even though he’s so grouchy and grumbling about you being in his face while he’s waking up.

Guido Mista: He likes to stay up late doing whatever it is he does at night, but is very easily coaxed to bed by you if you want him to join you. He’s an easy sleeper, falls asleep fast, and can fall asleep almost anywhere. Sometimes all he needs is to pull his hat over his eyes and he’s Out like a light. But if he’s gonna fall asleep wherever, he prefers to fall asleep on you, whether he’s leaning on your shoulder or using your lap as a pillow. And of course you can do the same to him, but he’ll get a little flustered if you fall asleep on him, worrying about waking you up on accident.

He’s not too worried about nighttime routines. He’ll just go to bed when he’s tired in whatever he’s wearing. You usually have to tell him to at least take off his belt before bed so he’s somewhat comfortable.

He loves snuggling in bed with you, often crawling on top of you and falling asleep with his face nestled into your collarbone. It’s super cute but sometimes he feels SO heavy and combined with his snoring you’ll have the occasional difficult night for the sake of his comfortable rest. But it’s alright. Stroking his back while he uses you as his own personal mattress and snores his heart out is so sweet. (Also ok. Imagine the bullets lined up next to you all snuggled under the blanket that’s giant compared to them. You’re like there’s no way you sleep like that and Mista’s genuinely like what’s wrong with it????)

Bruno Bucciarati: He’s not sure when the last time he’s had an actual decent night’s sleep was. He is stressed and overworked all the time, which leads to many sleepless nights. Often times he’ll come to bed and try to sleep for a moment, but once he thinks you’re asleep you’re usually greeted to the sight of his bare back as he sits at the edge of the bed debating if he should just get up and start his day since sleep won’t be coming to him anytime soon. If you reach out and touch him though, he’ll allow himself to lie by your side a little longer, to put you at ease. He knows you worry about him. Occasionally he’ll get a few hours of sleep, but often you hear: “I just need to take care of a few things, dear…” and he kisses your forehead and climbs out of bed and tries to be as quiet as possible as he gets dressed for the day.

When he does manage to fall asleep, he’s neither a light or heavy sleeper, but his exhaustion is visible in how he sleeps. How his brow manages to be furrowed even in his sleep astounds you, but he still retains a sort of elegance with his head against a pillow and his hair slightly unkempt as his soft breathing makes his chest rise and fall. He’s not particularly physically clingy in his sleep, but he’s not opposed to holding your hand or wrapping an arm around your waist, and it won’t bother him if you curl up into his chest while you sleep. He might even sleep a bit better.

Leone Abbacchio: He’s got an inconsistent sleep schedule, tending to go to bed whenever he wants, whether that be really early or really late. He either takes forever to fall asleep, or is out like a light as soon as his body comes into contact with a semi-comfortable surface. He’s not used to consistently sharing a bed with someone, don’t take it personally when he’s not the most considerate bedmate, especially at first. He doesn’t like being touched or snuggled in his sleep. He’ll complain and push you away, usually saying something about how it’s too hot for you to be clinging to him like that. He just finds it way too intimate for someone like him to snuggle with someone like you in bed. Intimacy, vulnerability…he’s not used to it and he’ll resist it for a long time, even with you.

He tends to wake up either in the middle of the night, or late into the morning. He doesn’t like to talk about it, he’d probably never if given the choice…but he has nightmares on occasion. Intense ones, where he’ll nearly scream himself awake. He’ll apologize for waking you, but usually won’t tell you what’s wrong, crawling out of bed in just his sweatpants to drink away whatever the hell woke him up so violently. Follow him if you’d like. He won’t want to talk, but he’s visibly shaken, drumming his fingers against his glass and staring down into the liquid. You press your forehead against his bare back and attempt to hug him from behind. He’s stiff, unresponsive, quietly telling you that you should go back to bed and he’ll join you…in a moment.

Johnny Joestar: He’s comfortable to sleep next to, something about him feels so…safe. He’s a pretty sleeper, breathing softly in his sleep, nuzzling against you if you’re close, clearly so exhausted and so in need of a decent night’s rest. He frequently wakes up in the middle of the night, often for no apparent reason. Sometimes he can fall back asleep. Other times he’ll just lie awake, frustrated that he woke up at such an unreasonable time, but used to it at this point.

He doesn’t mind cuddling at night but he’s secure keeping to himself. It’s probably most comfortable for him to just hold your hand when he falls asleep, so he can have his own space and the comfort of your companionship at the same time.

You have the best late night conversations with him when you both have the misfortune of waking up in the middle of the night for whatever reason. Even when he’s just complaining about his messed up sleep schedule, you love listening to him talk.

Sometimes he’ll have random bouts of clinginess though, where he wants to wrap his arms around you or lay his head in your lap or bury his face into the crook of your neck while he falls asleep.

Gyro Zeppeli: Your big, rugged, handsome Italian cowboy of a husband can sleep just about anywhere, but of course he has a preference for sleeping with his sweetheart in his arms. He enjoys pulling you on top of himself when you’re snuggling in bed, and despite your protests he insists he literally sleeps better with your weight on him. You can roll off of him after he falls asleep. He’s a heavy sleeper, and he snores real loudly. You have better luck just hoping he’ll roll onto his side than trying to move him yourself or waking him up. It can be irritating, but you’re glad he’s able to sleep so comfortably. You thought he’d be inconsistent with a nighttime routine but if he has the means to take care of it he’ll actually get fussy until he does it. It’s kinda hot watching him brush his hair while also taking off his accessories because he’s too impatient to get to bed to do one thing at a time.

Despite how huge and uncoordinated he might seem by appearance, he’s got a lot of grace and elegance. Despite doing so many things at the same time, he doesn’t mess himself up even once.

He also sleeps really good with his head on your lap or against your chest. Be prepared, if he falls asleep on top of you you’re gonna have a hard time escaping. Better get comfortable.

Diego Brando: He’s so difficult to sleep next to…HOW does he snore that loudly?! And he writhes around in his sleep a lot, sometimes his body is freezing, and you really notice because he clings to you often. It’s not even intentional, he just wraps himself around you in his sleep and won’t release you unless you wake him up. He’s a blanket hog too, unsurprisingly. He Can fall asleep anywhere if he has to, but he prefers to sleep in a comfortable bed, with a bunch of pillows, since he loves to feel like a king. He typically wakes up super early, and exercises or reads in his private study (which is more of a trophy room than anything). Though he thinks sleeping in is more of an “apex of society” thing, he can’t stand lazing around in bed in the mornings, with the exception of when he’s not feeling well or you somehow wake up before him and decide to spoil him with breakfast in bed. It makes him feel important, so he encourages you to treat him. As annoying as it is to deal with him acting like a bratty princess, it also makes him happy and puts him in a good mood; and he doesn’t like sitting in bed all morning anyways so you don’t have to deal with it too often.

-

I actually don’t have anything to say but I feel the need to write something at the end anyways um…I’ve been thinking about my list for my top ten favorite jjba characters and I think Johnny, Gyro, and Diego would all go on there lol…I don’t think it can be easily guessed from my blog theming but my favorite character is Rohan, and my favorite antagonist is Diavolo~

[byakuyacoochie]

Once in a lifetime - Bucciarati gang x Reader

Request: I--- I can't stop thinking about a scenario where reader does the "You May Slap It....Once." and the Bucci gang is just tripping over themselves trying to get to reader first! Fksksk! Text as the announcement, maybe some denial "I'm not going to Do That, c'mon guys" + "THEY ARE A LIAR I SAW THEM RUN PAST" + "COLLISION ON THE FIRST FLOOR BOTH BUTT HURT" & "RUN Y/N!!!" some wholeheartedly going "Oh Now this is Too Good an opportunity!" "Where are you y/n??????"

[inkpot909]

Your Relationship Trope (Bucciarati’s Gang)

↳ Gender Neutral Reader. Takes place after the events of Part 5 in a everyone lives!AU.

A/n: It’s been a while! I had to take some time for personal matters, so sorry for my absence. I wrote something just a tad more breezy to help ease myself back into it; I really missed writing. I hope y’all enjoy!

Warning(s): None.

Giorno Giovanna

-> Love at First Sight

This deeply romantic, cheesy, guy.

Because of how much he prides himself on understanding, and by extension owning, his own thoughts and feelings- he could tell there was something drawing him to you the moment he met you. A gut feeling that he’d really care to know you better; one that he knows better than to ignore.

Good luck trying to hide anything from him yourself, either. He is as good at reading others as he is himself.

Therefore, if you felt immediately drawn to him as well, he’s going to notice. You might not say anything outright or maybe try to bury it deep down… but either way, he can tell.

Not that he minds your affections, of course. Giorno gets into this cheeky habit of dangling the concept of a potential relationship above your head. Just out of reach.

Yes, it’s in part because he wants to tease you. Seeing you grow flustered at his unapologetically forward flirtations… it never gets old.

But Giorno is also a very busy individual.

It’s difficult for him to plan meetups with you, being gone for days on end at times. Even up and leaving at the drop of a hat if the need arises. He takes his position seriously, and has been a rather involved Don since day one.

And Giorno is a sucker for the details, so he won’t make the final push to become official unless it’s the perfect moment.

Luckily for you, he’s a patient guy.

And as mentioned, he can read you like an open book. He knows you’re not looking at other men or women. Keenly aware you’re waiting for him to make some grand gesture.

Some guilt inevitably spawns whenever he gets extra busy, but your happiness at getting to see him again quickly puts those worries to rest for the time being.

All that in due time… after all, if it’s really true love, he is in no desire to rush.

That being said, the people in his inner circle would absolutely like him to rush. Who knows about his feelings for you? Everyone.

That’s not hyperbole, he’s fairly certain everyone around him can tell.

He will never shut up about you. In damn near any situation where it may be appropriate. Not in any situation that it would potentially reach your ears.

Mista himself has commented that he doesn’t know which he would prefer: Giorno before a relationship with you or during. Either way he’s ‘dealing with a lovesick fool.’

Giorno doesn’t care much, already knowing it’s something his closest friends ought to get used to. Confident in himself and what he picks up on.

After all, your smile says what his mind is already thinking.

Bruno Bucciarati

-> Reunited Childhood Friends

Bruno Bucciarati is a man that has stuck with the same haircut and pattern of clothing since he was twelve years old.

Of course he’s still not over you by the time of the inevitable reunion. Like Giorno, he’s definitely a ‘one love’ sort of man.

Getting contacted by you felt like a dream… but it also brought forth initial hesitation.

Due to the specific turn his life took, he had to leave a lot of things behind. Some more regrettable than others… and you were one of his biggest regrets for a long time.

Regardless, his heart won that day- as he agreed to meeting up with you faster than he would care to admit.

The excitement and build up to it after a date was set is a beast in of itself. The prospect of finally seeing you again after all these years fills his chest with a warmth he’s only ever associated with you.

His mind whirls, all his thoughts leading back to the hope that he’ll get to know the person you have matured into.

Your career, hobbies, how your family is doing, the path you’ve been walking down ever since he’d left its course far too long ago… and him praying there’s a distinct lack of a ring on your left hand.

Bruno’s glad to say that his hopes were well-placed. Upon seeing you again, you proved to be just as eager to know how he’s been doing all this time.

Your questions leave him feeling bittersweet; something he knew would happen.

How could he even begin to explain himself? Would he even want to? You deserve more than a short explanation or a lie. But he cannot and will not bring you into gang affairs either. And if he was honest…. where would he even begin?

“I committed murder to protect my father when I was twelve and ended up entangled in gang affairs. Sorry for not giving you a phone call.”

… it needs work, to put it lightly.

He’s not the type to succumb to fear but… it’s difficult not to stress over what you would think of him if he’s completely honest with you. It’s a testament to how deeply special you are to him; hardly ever getting this mentally worked up over anything outside his beloved team.

The push and pull of wanting to be honest with you- yet not wanting to risk putting a target on your back.

Whether it’s due to the years of separation or just the undeserved kindness you offer him, at some point, you admit to only thinking of those old days fondly.

Regardless of being quite startled with his sudden absence in your life, you couldn’t hold it against him. You knew of his parents divorce, and the last thing you had heard, was that Bruno’s father was in the hospital.

At first, he’s just resigns himself into being grateful you had it within yourself to forgive him.

But how can he hope to ignore… how lovely of a person you have grown up to be- inside and out. In the long run, it just doesn’t happen. His feelings truly snowballing for the first time in years.

Suddenly, he feels like a foolish child again. Only now, he must be doing something right because you could cause traffic to stop with the way you start to look at him.

There’s a warm nostalgia to you. Someone who knows him; truly knows him. Outside of his work and the contradictions he over for it for years.

And it gets to a point where Bruno resolves he must tell you how he feels. And by then, he won’t dally.

You’re back in his life again, and he’s sure as hell not leaving. Especially not without expressing his feelings.

Only took him short of nine years.

Leone Abbacchio

-> ‘We’re Just Coworkers’

He doesn’t necessarily meet people outside Passione, not one to go out of his way to seek companionship.

He has the team. He has Bucciarati. There isn’t much he wants, or feels like he can, ask for.

It’s because of this that you both are most likely to meet through the organization.

And there’s no doubt that Abbacchio is… apathetic to your position in the gang at first.

Now, he’s not as harsh on you as he was comparatively to Giorno. You’re not a fifteen year old with a savior complex and a tendency to act with a sort of righteous grandeur.

So, in short, you’re already doing great as far as he’s concerned.

Not that he warms up to you quickly; quite the opposite. Weeks will pass before he starts to slowly accept and involve you in any meaningful capacity. A guy like him just needs time to get used to someone so new to him… lots and lots of time.

Once that need has been met, he figures you’re alright.

Not bad company- in or out of Passione business. Far favorable to other people around him, as far as he’s concerned. He finds that you’re much better to converse with than Mista or Fugo.

It’s in his nature to compare a little bit, so when he starts seeing you from a fairer perspective… that’s when a quiet appreciation forms.

Alas, his heart is not as immovable as he likes believing it to be.

Over time, the two of you start to metaphorically lean on one another.

It starts off professionally enough, relying on one another in the heat of battle. Then, it gets to a more personal level- quieter conversations maintained between the two of you beneath the usual noise of the others interacting just a foot or two away.

Still, you two only work together. It’s professional. Without question. At least, that’s the case if Abbacchio or you are asked about it directly.

But the others are oh-so-quick-to-point-out that him letting you crash on his bed during particularly exhausting nights is not exactly platonic behavior. Nor is just how sucked into conversations the two of you get, or how much time you spend one-on-one.

And Abbacchio is nothing if not the type to do the exact opposite of what everyone says.

He’s going to deny it for months. Hell, years if you let him.

Never mind the fact the two of you already act like a couple. Getting ‘mistaken’ as one when going out, regardless if it’s just the two of you or not. Each time, you’re both insistent that you’re merely work friends.

It would be ten times more frustrating if there wasn’t any truth to it that neither of you are prepared to admit to.

It takes a healthy amount of whack cartoonish logic for things to finally fall into place. Being locked in a small room for twenty minutes, or possibly an accidental kiss to the lips… that sort of thing.

Guido Mista

-> Coffee Shop Regular

Mista likes the simple things in life, no doubt.

There’s many ways that fact manifests. One example is that he often wanders around the city in order to check out local businesses. Diners, secondhand stores, and little coffee shops. He knows the area well, and likes sparking up conversations with the people he comes across.

And a cute worker at one of his favorite coffee shops? Makes his day even better, he’d figure.

He was already a regular at your place of employment long before you were hired. Meaning, when he saw a new face behind the counter, he had to offer a hello with a relaxed smile on his face.

And to his credit, it was incredibly easy to like him.

The type of customer who’s always in a decent mood, not too impatient, and always knowing what he wanted to order long before walking in.

Sprinkle in a pleasant ‘hello’ or a lighthearted joke every now and then, and he starts to notice your face brightening every time he enters the shop.

He won’t argue against the idea it fills him with something far deeper than pride.

Beyond finding you initially attractive, he considers you a good worker. He cannot imagine being a barista is always easy, but he’d care to point out that you make it look easy. You know his order by memory after a while, and conversation with you comes naturally.

And soon, the workplace barrier is finally shattered. Happening so casually it was practically thoughtless.

One day, Mista walked into the store just when you were sent on a break. He greeted you as always, and offered to sit with you while you decompressed with a cup of coffee of your own.

That’s when he’d say that something a bit more concrete formed. More real, past the relationship of worker and patron.

And he grows unapologetically forward by then too.

He’s not the type to hit on you at work, but certainly not above blatantly asking for your number after he felt it may be appropriate to do so.

He finds it to be a casual and natural progression, something that is in his nature to embrace.

Like Giorno, though, he’ll drag out the time before asking you out just in order to tease you. He doesn’t automatically figure out that you might be into him, but he’ll get the hint by the time you two start calling one another regularly.

He’s not easily affected by the others teasing him over you, either. He openly admits that he’s into you, why get embarrassed?

Now, if someone makes a comment about it in front of you, then he’ll get flustered. An emotion expressed through frustration and defensiveness.

Regardless of that, it’s such a relaxed progression that at some point he thinks meeting you may have been fate. There’s a ton of coffee shops all around Naples, yet you chose to work at one of the small handful he regularly likes visiting.

If his life is predetermined, like he believes it is, then he’s grateful fate is on his side.

Pannacotta Fugo

-> Friends to Lovers

This man looks at someone with a view on love like Giorno and scoffs with distain.

The notion of ‘love at first sight’ is one that is only entertained by foolish and idealistic individuals, according to Fugo. Rolling his eyes, a scoff escaping his lips… he thinks that mindset is ridiculous and is unafraid to express it.

Hell, romantic relationships aren’t even on his radar in general.

He doesn’t look down on or think negatively of anyone in one, of course. But it’s hardly ever on his mind. Focused on Passione and the team he is proud to be a part of.

And that doesn’t change one bit upon meeting you.

As usual, such a thing doesn’t cross his mind once. The prospect of a potential new ally and friend is the only one he cares to ponder, even if you start off on the right foot. He’s a little distant, but polite and fair enough to give you a chance.

Good thing he did to, as far as hindsight is concerned.

A funny individual and someone who hardly ever makes him want to flip a table? He’s glad to call you his friend once a foundation of trust is established.

If he thinks about it, he’d have to admit to himself there’s something very earnest and warm about the relationship.

You’re a good conversationalist, he respects your intelligence, and even silence around you is comfortable.

More than that, you’re reliable. Stress doesn’t come quite as easy whenever you’re around. And when it does, you understand him. You know just what to say and how to say it. And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try to express the same kindness.

He starts thinking of you when you’re not around, especially when he’s alone. Thinking of anything from a fond or humorous memory, or simply the curve of your smile.

Oh… oh no.

Tackling his own growing feelings is a lengthy process. He wasn’t interested in seeking out a partner, but he catches feelings before he even realizes it.

And figuring out your feelings on the matter? Forget it.

He won’t say a thing unless you make a move yourself, too wary to even admit he could realistically do something himself. A fact the others are quite keen on reminding him of.

His insecurity won’t last forever, though.

Being around you is such a joy that it’s hard to get trapped in his own mind in the moment. That smile on your face, and sentences leaving your lips in the familiar tones of your voice…

You are his friend first and foremost; someone he feels he can really talk to and trust.

And that’s why you turn out to be everything he didn’t know he’d ever hope for.

Narancia Ghirga

-> Will They, Won’t They?

Giorno is going to start making Narancia pay for his therapy appointments. Abbacchio once made a sarcastic remark about wanting to start drinking again because of this. Mista has given Narnacia approximately twenty three lectures over the subject. Fugo is pulling his hair out.

And really, who can blame any of them?

Having to watch you and Narancia interact on a regular basis is a frustrating experience- to put it lightly.

That feeling only heightened by the fact that it’s something no one feels as though they can even comment directly on whenever you and Narancia are both around. Simply swallowing any words bubbling to the surface.

All this to say, Narancia falls for you quickly and he falls hard.

At first, there wasn't a single complaint to be had from anyone on the team. On the contrary, the others took the time to hype him up with wide smiles and pats on his back.

Narancia himself is excited to be experiencing something as genuinely sweet and grounded as a crush, and that elation was contagious.

But then a couple weeks pass... then a month... then another month... then another....

If the others were a smidge more invasive, they would've just pushed you two in front of one another yelling 'to just get on with it already' months ago.

Specifically Fugo, who actively lets it get to him in a way that Narancia merely huffs at. Sometimes offering a noncommittal response if he feels it’s necessary.

It doesn't matter how much his former tutor gets on his case, Narancia’s not budging. A light blush present on his face when he insists for the hundredth time that there's no way you could possibly feel the same.

Your own friends go through a very similar situation on the other end of things.

Similarly with someone like Abbacchio, the two of you act like a couple far before anything is set in stone. Unlike him, it's less causal and downright mind-boggling to the people around you.

Your legs lazily draped over his lap, going on drives that last for hours at a time, one barely ever seen without the other, and talking about each other constantly.

The latter became so frequent that Giorno once had to pull Narancia aside and tell him to stop mentioning you at Passione meetings.

Narancia has to bit his lip just to stop himself, but he manages. Much to the Don’s relief- never wanting to have that kind of conversation with a friend again.

Giorno cannot and won't try to control him outside of work, though, so it was merely half the battle.

Not that Narancia particularly minds the others' reactions to it very much.

Months into his affections and he's gotten used to the constant stream of teasing. Besides, he lies to himself figures that maybe they're just jealous. He wouldn’t blame them if that’s the case, finding you as special as any person can be.

Regardless of what anyone says, the sweetness is there.

An amusement to be had over how truly clueless the both of you are, despite interacting with flushed faces and stuttering words. It’s sweet, then annoying to the point where it circles around to being funny.

But you and Narancia retreat into your own little world where all of that melts away. He’s loyal, and since you hold his heart, it would be an understatement to say you’re just important to him.

Who will give in and admit the crush first? It's up in the air.