#.... if i catch any of you saying that shit about bruno when we get to him....... it wont be pretty........ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whoreiaki-kakyoin · 3 years ago

Note

okok for the writing prompt number 5 and “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.” with abba please?? sorry my memory is short I can't remember the number (and also I don't know the limit so feel free to choose)

Ah, no apologies for short memories here! Excellent choices for Abba... You have no idea how excited I was seeing this ask. 👀 I may... have gone a lil overboard but this one was just fun to write and play with! 💖

"No panties?" and "You're so fucking hot when you're mad" for Abbacchio

Gender neutral reader (Mista does call you doll at one point), light degradation/name calling, jealousy, confession of feelings

Leone Abbacchio could be an incredibly frustrating individual. You'd been in Passione for a while now, and you two had been dancing around each other for the past several months. Some days, his eyes would meet yours across the room, something dark and wild stirring in his gaze. Others, he'd brush past you without so much as a word. You knew he wasn't much for other people, or for asking for any sort of help or companionship. Still, you wished he would at least get his shit together and tell you what he wanted.

The last straw had come about a week ago. The two of you were catching your breath after a fight with an enemy stand user, and found yourselves ducking down an alley to assess any damage and plan your next steps.

"Glad that's over," you sighed. When you turned to look at Abbacchio, you noticed he was already staring at you intently. Your breath hitched, and time seemed to slow down as your eyes met his. There was so little space between the two of you, and his gaze drifted down, lingering on your lips.... Your heart hammered in your chest as you each leaned in a fraction more, before he— stopped. You struggled to process as Abbacchio pulled away just as suddenly as he had surged towards you, his gaze turning steely and impassive again where it had just been so vulnerable.

"We should get going.'

"Wh.... What?" His eyes stayed trained on the pavement.

"Come on. The others are going to wonder where we are."

"And... We're not going to talk at all about what just—“

"Don't worry about it," he told you gruffly. You felt like screaming, like forcing him to acknowledge you by making a scene right out in the street as you walked back to the car. Embarrassing yourselves both in public might have been worth it if it would have gotten Leone to fucking discuss his feelings. Instead, all you had gotten was a silent car ride home and a week of tense, furtive glances, and fucking radio silence.

Determined to get his attention once and for all, you decide you'll simply have to make him pay attention. Make yourself impossible to ignore. It's a slower night, not much on the agenda in terms of missions, so that means dinner at Libeccio. You smile to yourself as you look through your closet, settling on something form fitting that shows off your figure and bares some skin. A spritz of perfume, a bit of makeup.... and that should do it. When you head down to meet the others, you think their eyes might pop right out of their heads.

"Oh!" Bruno coughs, his eyes slipping up and down your figure and a slight flush rising to his cheeks. "My, you certainly look lovely." Mista whistles, taking you in with wide eyes.

"Damn," he comments with a shake of his head. "You look hot. You're gonna make the rest of us look bad!" The pistols clamor at his side, chiming in about your daring outfit, and you smile. Even Fugo gives you a soft "You do look really nice tonight." Abbacchio, however, says nothing, simply keeps his eyes glued to you as you smile.

"Thank you guys, seriously. C'mon, shouldn't we get going?" Abbacchio maintains a sullen silence as you head to the restaurant, and you laugh inwardly to yourself. Leone Abbacchio was a jealous man. He was territorial. As much as he was keeping his composure now, the night had only begun, and you were going to make him crack.

You allow things to start off calmly enough as you get comfortable at your usual table and order your food. You make a point of trailing your hand along Bruno's arm as he speaks, flashing him your most dazzling smile as you bat your eyes and laugh at his jokes. You try not to look at Abbacchio across the table, but you can see him tense out of the corner of your eye.

When the food arrives, you take a few bites with a smile before declaring, "Gio, you have to try some of mine, here." The blonde raises his eyebrows as you incline your fork towards him with a sugar-sweet smile, but he gives you a reserved smile of his own as he leans in to let you feed him a bite.

"It's good, right?" Giorno blushes as he holds your gaze.

"Yes, excellent," he murmurs, and you giggle sweetly as he offers you a forkful of his own, feeding you just as you had for him.

"Mmm." You tip your head back slightly, letting your eyes flutter closed as you hum out an appreciative noise that sounds just a bit too much like a moan. Giorno's cheeks flush a shade darker, and Abbacchio sputters as he goes to take a sip of wine. You simply bite back a smirk and carry on your conversation with the blonde like nothing had happened.

Dessert comes around, and you find yourself settled in Mista's lap, giggling at his jokes and even the more suggestive of his pickup lines. At one point, you even make a show of fawning over his muscles, fingers running over his biceps as you practically purr how he's sooo strong.

"Ah, you're too sweet to me, doll," he chuckles as your fingers tease the curls peeking out from his hat. His hands drift lower, fingers gripping at your thighs, your ass, and you can hear Leone's sharp inhale. Abbacchio's eyes linger on you for a moment, before he rises wordlessly from his chair and grabs your wrist to tug you out of Mista's lap.

"Uh, hey! We were talking?"

"Damn, Abbacchio, take it easy, yeah?" He ignores you both, ignores the affronted look you give him, ignores the way the others have all turned their attention to the three of you. Instead, he simply pulls you by the arm as he heads to the exit. Out in the street, you huff indignantly, but on the inside, you were celebrating your success.

"Drop the attitude," he snarls, stalking back towards home.

"I could say the same to you," you mutter, but you fix your face in a more neutral expression rather than your previous pout. The walk back is quick and silent, and butterflies swirl in your gut at the way Leone doesn't loosen his hold on you for even an instant. It isn't until he manhandles you through the front door and slams it behind him that he speaks again.

"The fuck was that?" You blink back at him innocently.

"The fuck was what?"

"You know exactly what I mean. Don't play dumb."

"Hmmm." You tilt your head like you're thinking. "No, sorry, I don't think I do, but if there's something you want, Leone, why don't you tell me?" He raises his eyebrows, his eyes flashing as he huffs out a laugh of disbelief.

"That's what this is all about, isn't it?" "Hm?"

"Such a needy brat. You were that desperate for my attention, you'd be a whore to get it?"

"I'm not a whore!"

"No? Oh, no, of course not." He gives a dark chuckle, pressing you up against the wall. "What else would you call it, then, the way you were throwing yourself at the others like a piece of meat for the taking, letting their hands wander as you led them on, hm? I'm waiting." He scoffs after another beat of silence, like he's unsurprised you don't answer. "That's what I thought." You huff out a soft laugh, blinking at Abbacchio.

"Shit," you breathe. "You're so fucking hot when you're mad."

"And you. Are such a little fucking tease. I bet you're not even sorry for your behavior tonight." His tone is unlike anything you've heard before, low and gravelly and thick with need. It makes heat pool in your stomach and between your legs as you think triumphantly that you made him lose his composure this way. He wanted you that badly.

"Why would I be sorry?" Your voice comes out breathy as his gaze burns through you. "You wouldn't fucking talk to me about it, so I gave you a push. A 'thank you' would be nice." He glares, then surges forward, his lips meeting yours roughly. He holds your chin firmly in place as he kisses you breathless, his fingers curling around your jaw sending an unspoken message: mine. He nips roughly at your lip, then moves to kiss down your neck, seeming to take pleasure in making you pant and whine. Once he decides you're sufficiently flushed and desperate, he pulls away to meet your gaze.

"Consider that your thank you. Now—“ He grabs your arm again, tugging you with him up the steps and down the hall to his bedroom.

Leone wastes no time in pulling off your clothes, his eyes widening as he looks you over.

"No panties?" His fingers dip between your legs and you let out a breathy whine. "You're so desperate, look at you... and you were practically humping Mista's lap like some common bitch at the restaurant. I bet you wouldn't care if he realized you didn't have any panties on, hm?" You whimper again at his words, trying to buck your hips into his fingers. "Do you like being such a bratty slut? You like teasing me like this?"

"Yes," you sigh, arching into him as he strokes you. He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.

"You drive me crazy sometimes, you know that?" He works a finger inside you before you can answer, and your mouth falls open on a soft moan.

"Ahh, mm, Leone.... C...Consider it payback, then," you tell him with a smile. He swears under his breath, cheeks tinting pink.

"Can't believe anyone can look so perfect." He adds another finger, stretching you pleasantly as he crooks them just so. "You make the prettiest sounds... I want to be patient, but...."

"Then... oh, fuck, then don't."

"What?" You'd roll your eyes if you weren't so preoccupied with his fingers.

"Don't be patient. Fuck me."

"Shit," Abbacchio hisses as you start to undo his pants. He quickly gets the memo, though you whine softly despite yourself when he removes his fingers to pull his shirt over his head. His clothes quickly join yours on the floor, and you sigh as he pushes you back onto his bed.

"Are you sure you're ready?" He grabs an elastic off the dresser, pulling his hair back as he straddles you.

"Leone, I've waited months. Please, I need you." He nods. God, he looks like a painting. Pupils blown with lust, muscular chest, his hair tied up hastily... Maybe you'd died and this was heaven. Abbacchio rummages in the drawer of his nightstand, and you decide not to question who he had condoms at the ready for before you. You've made him jealous enough today that you certainly couldn't hold a one night stand or two against him.

Abbacchio pushes in slowly, and you arch your back with a low whine at the sensation. He's decently thick, and you silently wonder if you'll be able to fit all of him inside you. After a few moments, though, he buries himself snugly inside you with a groan.

"Ah, amore mio, you feel so good... You're so tight." Your hand grasps at his shoulder as you adjust to the stretch of his cock inside you.

"You feeling all right?" he murmurs, and you nod, starting to rock your hips against his.

"Amazing." He chuckles, starting to thrust into you at a slow pace as he holds you tight.

"Cazzo," he breathes, his breath warm against your skin. "Should've done this months ago." You moan as he angles his hips to drive right into your sweet spot, your nails digging into his back.

"Mm... Told you, yeah?" You wrap a leg around his waist, pulling him in closer as he trails love bites down your neck.

"Yeah... Mmf, you did." He hisses softly as your nails rake down his back. "Shit, amore... You keep that up, I'm gonna cum." You tuck your face into his shoulder with a moan.

"Ah, please? God, I wanna make you cum, Leone... Please, I'm close." Abbacchio fucks into you with renewed vigor, his thrusts deeper and rougher as his fingers establish a bruising grip on your hips. You feel a familiar warmth spreading through you as the bedroom fills with the sounds of your mingled breaths and low moans of each other's names. Leone's hips stutter, his thrusts growing sloppier until his cock twitches inside you and he cums with the prettiest sound you've ever heard. He brings a hand down to stroke you as he rides out his orgasm, groaning when you clench around him. Your climax washes over you, and you orgasm with a gasp of "Leone!"

It takes several minutes for you to catch your breath. It's Abbacchio, surprisingly, who breaks the silence first.

"I'm sorry."

"Mm?" You turn towards him, and the way he looks at you makes your stomach drop like you're in a free fall. It's not unlike the way he looked at you in the alley that day, but now, you feel fairly certain you can put a name to it. It's a look of pure, vulnerable adoration. "Y...yeah?"

"I was stupid. Caught up in my own head over... whether I deserved you. I convinced myself I'd only fuck things up, and then, well."

"You fucked things up more by trying not to fuck them up." He laughs when he sees the smile on your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Yeah. That. But, it seems like you'd be willing...?"

"What, to be official?" Color rises to his cheeks, but he nods.

"Um. Yeah. I've been an ass, and you deserve to know how I feel about you." You press your lips to his softly.

"I feel exactly the same. The answer is yes." He kisses you again, more deeply, and you let your fingers tangle in his hair. Laying there against his chest, you feel happier than you had thought was possible. Your bubble only bursts a little when you come to a realization.

"We don't have to go out and face the others until morning, right?" Leone chuckles.

"Not eager to explain those hickeys?" You shake your head, and he pulls you closer with a low hum.

"Fine by me. That's a problem for tomorrow." As you eventually doze off, you think to yourself that you can live with that.

#requested writing #abbacchio x reader #jjba smut #laur's writing #leone abbacchio x reader #abbacchio 🖋✨

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ctrlaltsoob · 2 years ago

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18. weird - take a hint (csb)

summary: worrying about anything else couldn’t matter less to huh y/n, who cares so desperately at beating the one and only choi soobin in absolutely everything she can. although maybe there are some things than only can take the trophy for first…

or where two people fail to realise that the line between love and hate is very thin, even though they might be the smartest in their studies.

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex (no smut), empty insults, Fluff . read: soobin not knowing how to deal with his emotions and making a big mess out of it

a/n: i start college soon Gross . so pls bear with me if the updates get a little slow

17. bruno mars | masterlist | 19. #goals

more under the cut [wc. 2.9k]

hosting movie night was not something soobin thought would be on his summer agenda. neither was having you look after his hedgehog or having you sleep in his bed for a good two hours, but he supposes that’s just how it is sometimes. he also didn’t expect to catch himself wondering where the hell you were nearly an hour after everyone else had arrived.

when he opens the door to see you holding a watermelon in your hands, he hopes he doesn’t sound as stupid as he thinks he does in his mind. welcoming you inside consisted of short, awkward sentences, and somehow he ends up kneeling down and untying your shoe laces when you struggle to undo the knots.

“you’re late,” he says, trying his best to not look up at you as he fiddles with the string. he can feel his face burning up when he realises exactly what he’s doing. “everyone else arrived ages ago.”

“was debating whether or not i should’ve come here,” you mumble, eyeing the family portrait hung up on the wall. “i don’t think i can show my face anymore, not after that stunt you pulled.”

soobin makes a face as you finally remove your shoes and follow him into the kitchen. “what are you on about,” he sighs, pulling out a chopping board and knife to slice the fruit.

“you know they think we fucked right?” the way you say it so casually makes his head whip up so fast that he swears he’ll break his neck. he stares at you with an unreadable expression on his face, but you decide to continue despite seeing his grip on the knife tighten. “on sunday? at the housewarming?”

“i know when it was,” soobin replies, slightly annoyed. “so what if they think we did? we both know what the truth is anyways.”

from the corner of his eye he can tell you’re beginning to get frustrated. should he have phrased it differently? maybe, but he honestly couldn’t care less about what your friends think.

“i told you that you should’ve just left it until after they left,” you say unabashedly, and he has to stop what he’s doing so that he doesn’t end up accidentally hurting himself. “now look.”

“it’s not my fault that i needed a charger for my dying laptop? let’s not forget that it was my room — my bed, you were sleeping in,” soobin hisses, cutting the last slice of watermelon a little too forcefully that the sound makes you flinch. “why do you always get so worked up about shit like this? it’s really not that deep.”

“i’m just tired of having to deal with all that, okay? so please, let’s not make things any worse,” you sigh, hands gently wrapping around his forearm. you’re too close to him, and he can feel the heat creeping up to his ears, so he leans forwards on his palms and dips his head to collect his thoughts. “does it really not bother you?”

“of course it bothers me. i just don’t care enough when i know it’s not true, you know?” he lifts his head and looks you in the eyes. soobin immediately regrets it though because your eyes are filled with something akin to despair, and the fact that you’re standing so close makes his brain short circuit. he attempts to swallow the lump in his throat before he speaks. “you need to stop caring about those things, y/n.”

the atmosphere is oddly intimate. he’s not entirely sure what you’re thinking about, but he can see how doubt flickers in your eyes and it makes him feel conflicted inside, like his conscious is telling him to apologise for snapping at you. some part of him wants to reach out and tuck the stray hairs behind your ears as a silent sorry, but he can’t bring himself to do it, not when he knows that doing so could just make more problems in the future.

“i know,” you say softly. the urge to caress your face grows stronger, like your words have put him under a spell. his mind is screaming at him to not move, but the human heart is fickle, and so his hand reaches out anyways. soobin touches you like you’ll break at any moment, his fingers barely brushing against your skin. he watches as your eyelids flutter, hands slightly squeezing his forearm.

soobin thinks you look pretty like this. it’s the only time he’ll allow himself to admit that, but of course he’d never say it aloud. and if having you so near to him wasn’t fatal enough for his weak mind, when you subconsciously lean into his touch, he swears he could die right then and there.

his hand is still softly brushing your hair behind your ear when he speaks. “we should go to the others now. they’re waiting.” it’s a miracle how his voice still sounds clear as he speaks to you, eyes staring into yours. you hum a quiet affirmation, yet none of you make an effort to move. it’s as if he’s enchanted you too, from the way you stare at him with wide eyes.

the sound of someone clearing their throat cuts through the room, and you repel away from each other with the force of a rubber band that’s been stretched so thinly being cut in half. you immediately open the nearest cupboard to you, coincidentally pulling out a plate to compile the cut pieces of fruit on, while soobin coughs and sees taehyun standing awkwardly at the entrance to the kitchen.

“we’re about to order food, but if you guys are busy then—”

“no!” your voice rings out at the same time as his, and it makes him cringe because he now realises exactly what you were trying to avoid with your friends. taehyun only blinks, staring at you both with wide eyes that look more mischievous than anything else. he only presses his lips together, a impish look consuming his features.

soobin clears his throat again. “we’re not busy, i mean,” he clarifies, dying a little when taehyun shifts his weight on his feet and crosses his arms. you nod along with him, focusing on making sure that none of the watermelon falls off the plate. “you guys go ahead. i’ll clean up here.”

you turn your head to stare at him, and taehyun watches as you and soobin have a silent conversation with your eyes. it’s not until soobin nods firmly once more that you sigh and take the plate of fruit with you to the others, taehyun immediately jabbing at your side. as the two of you walk away, soobin sighs and begins tidying away all the equipment, regret creeping up on him like a ghost.

what the fuck was he thinking? you two are barely friends, and yet here he was, caressing you like you’re his girlfriend or something. it’s so stupid how his heart is beating abnormally fast, and how his mind just doesn’t seem to get the image of you out of his head. it’s just you, he tells himself as he wipes down the countertop. it’s just you.

as he walks into the living room where everyone else is, soobin sees you curled up on the couch by ryujin’s side. he pauses for a second, contemplating whether or not it’s worth it to grab a piece of fruit from the plate in front of you and risk making the rest of the night awkward. eventually he decides against it and makes himself comfortable on the other couch, ignoring the curious eyes of taehyun.

amidst the bickering going on between all his friends, soobin finds his eyes repeatedly drifting back to you. he’s not entirely sure why it keeps happening, but he knows he needs to stop before someone gets the wrong idea. yet despite all his efforts, heesung kicks at his side.

“what is wrong with you?” he glares, rubbing the area where heesung harmed.

“more like what is wrong with you?” heesung fires back, blinking quickly. he glances back and forth between you and soobin when his friend doesn’t catch on. “i’m beginning to believe the shit i see them say on twitter.”

“fuck off. not you too,” soobin sighs, rubbing his temple because you’ve never been more correct in his life. “it’s nothing. i didn’t even realise i was—”

“oh wow beomgyu is right. it is happening.”

“fucking hell,” this time his sigh is much more exaggerated. heesung watches as he hides his head in his arms and pulls his legs up onto the couch. “i promise you, nothing is going on.”

“are you sure about that?”

“yes.”

“are you really sure? because taehyun—”

“taehyun what?” soobin’s head immediately shoots up hearing his name. the wide-eyed look on his face makes heesung slightly laugh. “if he said anything, ignore him, he’s not telling the truth.”

“i don’t know,” heesung exhales, shifting around to make himself more comfortable. “you did take a bit too long in the kitchen.”

soobin groans, head dipping down to hide his slightly burning ears. “whatever he told you, it’s nothing.”

“nothing is going on with y/n?”

“nothing.”

“what’s nothing?” yeji’s voice cuts through their conversation. despite the innocence of her question, the glint in her eye tells soobin that she may or may not have heard their entire conversation.

“uhh, don’t worry about it,” he says, blinking when she simply nods and passes him the remote. he clears his throat, ignoring the sideways look he sees you give him. “what movies did you guys wanna watch?”

eventually everyone settles down, and before he knows it, they’ve watched two movies back to back. at some point when he makes his way to the kitchen, soobin sees you at the entrance putting your shoes on.

“y/n?” he says softly, catching your attention. he watches as your face reddens when you recognise his voice. “what are you doing? you can’t be leaving now. we still have to watch kiki’s delivery service.”

his words make you smile which leaves a strange feeling in his chest. it’s similar to the one he felt when you leant into him as he tucked your hair behind your ears. soobin has to force himself to not stare at your face, because he’d rather not have a repeat of what happened earlier in the kitchen.

“i know, i know,” you mumble softly. “but i didn’t bring any spare clothes so i can’t sleep over.”

soobin frowns. “yeah, but it’s like,” he pauses and checks the time on the grand clock hung on the wall. “nearly two in the morning. you can’t go home at this time.”

“i’ll be fine,” you say, somewhat caught off guard by his sudden courtesy. “don’t worry about me.”

“i’ll let you borrow something. everyone else is staying,” he pleads, watching as you stare up at him with a million thoughts behind your eyes. “just this once.”

it’s not until after a lengthy silence that you slowly nod your head. there’s an odd sense of pride that he feels after managing to successfully convince you, and so he smiles, both dimples appearing on display. it triggers you to bashfully do the same, ears burning red as he looks at you.

“great,” he says, eyes smilling along with his mouth. “i’ll just put this away and i’ll take you upstairs in a sec.”

soobin makes sure that there’s not a random taehyun in the corner of the room, watching him speak to you as he walks you upstairs. you make ample conversation with him, which he’s grateful for because he’s sure that he would just stay in silence and make everything awkward again. when you sit on his bed, talking about how cute you find his hedgehog, soobin smiles into his wardrobe as he searches for clothes for you to wear.

“he probably shitted on like, half of my mom’s fancy pillows, but he’s so cute i literally did not care.”

“you won’t say that when he shits on your bed twice a week,” soobin grimaces, pulling out a shirt from the numerous piles of clothes he has. “here. this should be good.”

“thank you,” you accept the piece of clothing with a shy smile. “i think ryujin brought a spare pair of trousers so i’ll just use that.”

soobin nods as you speak, fiddling with random clothes so that he looks busy while he tries to think of something to say. “um, i just wanted to apologise,” he starts, turning his body so that he’s now facing you. “for earlier. in the kitchen.”

your face is evidently shocked, and it makes soobin regret bringing it up in the first place. did you want to just forget about it and move on?

“oh right,” you laugh nervously and shift around on his bed. “don’t worry about it. it’s not that big of a deal.”

“yeah i didn’t mean to snap at you,” he says sheepishly, hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck like it always does when he gets nervous. “sorry, about that.”

“ohh, you mean that?” your words have him confused, and he looks at you with his brows furrowed. “i thought you were talking about the, you know?”

you bring your hand up to your ear and start tucking your hair behind your ear, mimicking his movements. once he catches on, his face turns a deep red colour, almost the same colour as yours.

“oh, well, i mean, i’m sorry for that too,” soobin blurts out, and he cringes in the process because he definitely could’ve worded that better. “i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable.”

“no! no, i wasn’t,” you pause to swallow, and suddenly your eyes are avoiding his. “uncomfortable, or anything like that.”

“oh,” is all he says, before a long silence ensues. he didn’t make you uncomfortable? despite doing all that? friends don’t even do that and yet here the two of you are. “i’m glad then.”

there’s a small smile on his face as you nod, but for some reason you’re still avoiding his eyes. the silence in the room is palpitable, and it doesn’t help that it’s just you two, alone in his room, while the rest of your friends are probably scheming and betting with each other on what you’re both up to. the air is suffocating, and he desperately wants to say something to break the tension, but you alone with him in his room is honestly driving him insane.

“are you tired? do you want to sleep?” he asks, relieved that he noticed you yawning. you shake your head and try to stop yourself from yawning again, but the small laugh that he lets out just shows that you’re unsuccessful.

“shut up,” you mumble, rubbing your eyes as he laughs again. “i’m not sleepy, let’s go downstairs before it’s too late.”

when soobin sees you wearing his shirt, he tries his best to play it cool and not look at you every five seconds. but it’s not the easiest task in the world, especially since you always find a way to involve him in your conversations. it seems like he’s lost his grip on reality lately, because why on earth does his brain keep going back to you?

you’re the centre of his thoughts when you laugh at his jokes, and you’re the centre of his thoughts when you unknowingly compliment him. when he carries you upstairs because you’ve passed out on the floor, your sleeping face is all that’s on his mind. and while the others are spread across the two guest rooms, soobin knows that you prefer to sleep alone, so he rests you in his bed. it takes too much of his self restraint to not run his fingers through your hair and caress your face. mainly because a) he’d probably look like a creep, and b) because you aren’t close enough for that.

there’s a part of him that wonders why he’s being so accommodating to you, especially since you crushed his knee when he came to visit odi at your place. and yet despite all his questioning, there’s a small reason in the back of his mind that links to an incident a few years ago, that might be the reason why he’s suddenly doing all this.

but he’d like to think that it’s just something else.

still, the fact that you snuggled into him when he had you in his arms has his mind going crazy and his heart beating at light speed. so when he finally leaves his room and shuts the door to his parents’ room behind him, he knows that he’s gone insane.

and this reality hits him once he lays down in a bed that’s not his own, because why has he given up his own bed to let you sleep in it? his parents’ bed might be comfortable, but there was literally no proper reason to have you sleep in his bed. with a mind that has never been this distracted before, soobin shuts his eyes like it would shut out the thoughts of you in his head.

falling asleep has never been harder for him.

taglist (open): @bergandysam @beepbopbee @minbit @shwizhies @glyxiebear @lowxkie @rlajjunie

#soobin x reader #choi soobin x reader #soobin smau #soobin fic #txt fic #choi soobin #tomorrow x together #social media au #soobin: take a hint #ficscafe

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ikissjesse · 3 years ago

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⚠ PROMISE ME part 3

➜ luisa x fem!reader, requested by @shiroichiban ! part 1 × part 2

一 ◓ I KNOW I SAID I WAS GONNA DO ONLY 3 PARTS BUT I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF WITH THIS so now there's gonna be 4 ueueueue

also new layout for fanfics :D

fic under the cut!

"let me get this straight, you guys were eavesdropping on us?" (y/n) pinched the bridge of her nose. Isabela scoffed, "uh, duh! I-" the eldest madrigal grandchild was interrupted by her younger cousin elbowing her, "we knew you guys love eachother!" she stated proudly.

both luisa and (y/n)s faces flushed at the word love.

of course they loved eachother, they weren't fooling anyone, but to admit it was much more difficult than to feel it.

"shut up, Isa.." luisa groaned, embarrassed. "why should I? you know I'm right." her older sister grinned.

"dinner!" señora pepa exclaimed from downstairs just as luisa was about to throw a chair at Isabela.

after a little more bickering, they all rushed to the kitchen.

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everyone gave (y/n) surprised and shocked looks as she walked in. (y/n) returned the favor with a small wave and an awkward smile, "hi...guys!" she gulped.

"(y/n)! julieta told us you were here. please, join us for dinner!" señora pepa was the first to speak up, inviting the girl to sit at the empty seat across from dolores. "I'd love to, thank you señora."

sitting where pepa had motioned her to, she noticed dolores eyeing her and luisa, looking as if she were going to burst at any moment.

"dolores so help me if you say anything about earlier I swear to god.." she whispered at the older girl across from her. dolores just blinked back.

(y/n) sighed and looked away for a moment, "excuse me, señor, could you pass the potatoes?" she asked the man to her left.

agustin, who happened to be the man she had spoken to, smiled. "of course! here you are." he said as he handed her a bowl of delicious mashed potatoes. after (y/n) put some of it in her plate, she drew her attention back to dolores. her eyes widened when she saw dolores whisper something to camilo.

shit shit shit shit shit! was the first thing to come to mind. why now, dolores??

camilo spat his drink out and stifled a laugh, earning a puzzled look from his father, felix.

when noone 一 apart from (y/n), of course一 was looking at him, camilo shape shifted into luisa and started making kissy noises and winked at (y/n). she had to stop herself from flinging a spoonful of mashed potatoes into the younger teens face when antonio tapped her shoulder.

"what's up, kid?" (y/n) questioned the child, giving camilo a side-eye. "I have a surprise for you later! tio bruno helped me with it!" antonio beamed. the older girl smiled brightly at him, grateful that he wasn't teasing her over luisa like his older sibling. "aw, thanks buddy! I can't wait to see it." she ruffled his hair with a sweet grin.

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"thank you for helping me clean the dishes, (y/n), but you really didn't have to! you should be catching up with everyone instead." julieta thanked the young girl next to her who was busy scrubbing a bowl. dinner had just concluded and most of the family went off to do their own things.

"It's no trouble at all, señora! I've got all the time in the world to do that now that I'm moving back here." (y/n) smiled. julieta shook her head softly and laughed, "I suppose you're right."

as (y/n) placed a bowl onto the dish rack she felt a small hand tug at her [dress/pants]. "oh! hey antonio." she kneeled down to face the 5 year old, who she learned the name of after dinner, a smile spread across her face. "can you come see your surprise now? pretty please? " antonio pleaded with a pout. his older new-found friend giggled, "sure!"

she waved to julieta and followed antonio through his fairly large home. eventually he stopped in front of a painting, "here we are!" he exclaimed excitedly. (y/n)'s eyebrow raised as she examined the portrait in front of them, "did you guys paint this for me?" she asked, surprised that a 5 year old could paint so well. perhaps señor bruno did most of the work.

"no, silly! my tio isn't that talented." he answered, still smiling. (y/n) put a hand over her mouth to stop herself from wheezing. "so what is the surprise, then?" the girl asked, still trying not to laugh her head off over what antonio said. "you'll see!"

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antonio pulled the painting towards him, and in doing so revealed a dark passage way of some sort. (y/n) gasped quietly at the sight, pulling antonio to herself as he was about to go in. "uh, antonio? where does..that lead to?" she questioned, exaggerating the 'that' part.

"don't be scared, It's where me, mirabel, and tio bruno hang out! sometimes the others come too!" the young boy assured, and (y/n) sighed, presumably out of relief.

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"tio bruno! she's here!" antonio exclaimed and told (y/n) to cover her eyes. "give me just a sec to- get back here! you're supposed to play luisa in this you little-" the girl could hear an almost panicky voice scream, as each ear-piercingly loud word got further away she assumed the person was chasing someone or something. and she was correct.

bruno was in fact chasing a rat dressed in a tiny version of luisa's dress. trust me, I'm just as confused as you are.

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"gotcha!" bruno yelled the moment he caught the surprisingly well-dressed rat. (y/n) could hear a bit more rumbling around her, until antonio poked her side, "okay...open your eyes!"

(y/n)'s hands practically flew from her face, the excitement and curiosity boiling up inside her. her face became one of confusion 一 and slight amusement? 一 at the scene infront of her. "uh, señor bruno?" bruno hummed in response, "why is that rat wearing a tiny dress and wig?"

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"erm, well... I might have seen what happened at dinner. I also might have rehearsed a play for you with the rats as the cast..aaaand maybe had mirabel sew little costumes." bruno scratched the back of his neck, an awkward smile on his face as (y/n)'s gaze pierced right through him like a sharp object.

"okay, I admire the fact that you were able to rehearse an entire play using just rats within a few hours.." (y/n) mumbled and rubbed her temples. "right then, show me what you've got." she added, directing it at both bruno and the fabulous rats on the tiny makeshift stage.

the older man high-fived his nephew and turned around to face the stage.

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"oh amor, how I've missed you!" bruno declared dramatically, holding a rat dressed to look like the girl sitting at the front of the 'stage'. (y/n) laughed as she watched bruno drag Luisa Rat over to (Y/n) Rat, "mi vida, I have missed you dearly as well!" the man behind the small box 一 er, stage一 pushed the two rats together, mimicking a kiss scene.

"and the two lived happily ever after." antonio chimed in as the curtain drew, applause from the only member of the audience followed right after.

"bravo! I'm surprised, I was so invested in that!" (y/n) whistled, "will there be a sequel by any chance?" she joked. the males giggled and bruno nudged her shoulder, "hey, maybe I should do one where you two get married."

#encanto x reader #requested #encanto #encanto fanfic #luisa madrigal #luisa x reader

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tooruluv · 3 years ago

Text

Katsuki Bakugou x F!Reader ( part 1 )

❝ ...and then there’s you. ❞

description: you and bakugou have hated each other since childhood. through the constant bickering, fighting, and actual fist fights... you had no idea that you had been writing to him.

genre: angst, soulmate au where you have a notebook that you can write to your soulmate in

word count: 3.8k

warnings/notes: strong language, lots of angst, aged up characters, bakugou being bakugou, reader has an air manipulation quirk created as part 1 of 3 for my winner of my tooruluv2kparty contest @katsulovee <33

teaser | part 2

| masterlist

“ ‘cause when the sun goes down, someone’s talking back ” - talking to the moon, bruno mars

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The storm only escalated, casting the sky in deep blues and greys. Loud rain clattered against the roof of your apartment building, the ceiling of your top floor apartment being the only thing that separated you from the pour.

The rain may be cold, but you were on fire.

You had been livid all day, positively outraged by the man who seemed to always be in your way. He was the most arrogant, most opinionated, and most… loud-mouthed person you ever met. You were screaming from the inside out, burning with rage.

Groaning, you sprawled out on your bed.

Katsuki Bakugou was the biggest fucking issue on the planet. His absurd need to be the best at everything he did, his cold demeanor and venom that spews from his mouth -- you wanted nothing more than to punch him directly in the throat.

With a deep breath, you flipped open your Soulmate Journal.

The world was such a strange place, full of quirks and criminals and heroes and villains. To add on top of that, when you turn thirteen a journal just… appears. And whoever is your soulmate can read everything you write. Once they read it, they can reply or talk to you that way and the ink disappears. There are plenty of rules that go along with it, like if you turn thirteen before your soulmate does, the ink is red until they receive their own journal. Or how the journal itself is indestructible. Or the biggest rule: you cannot write any given name.

When you’re thirteen, your life is full of hope and wishful thinking. Almost everyone at that age is excited to start writing to their Person, the one who they were supposed to be created to be with. You were surprised when you opened yours to find nothing written.

You assumed that you were a bit older than your soulmate, but that was quickly shut down as you wrote in black ink. Your soulmate hadn’t written anything.

It took two months for him to write back. Two months of your excessive writing and nearly diary-like entries. Two months of you wondering if they would ever write back. Until he did.

Today sucked.

That was all you wrote, your past two months of writing still ever present and glaring at you with smudges and hinted annoyance. The ink started to fade like Harry talking to Tom Riddle, reappearing with new handwriting.

It was scrawled across the page with terrible handwriting, very much one of a middle school boy.

Life sucks. Deal with it.

You were now twenty two, an adult and that once hope and love has turned into pessimism and indifference. And life still sucked.

You were pretty famous, your air manipulation quirk one that catches a lot of attention. That, alongside your rivalry with the second most famous hero Bakugou, brought an abundance of recognition. Bakugou completely steals your thunder every chance he has, stealing your light and victories.

You hated him. With the utmost disrespect, you hated him. Since your days in the hero academy, the two of you were at each other’s throats. He would even stop in the middle of antagonizing Deku to make some horrendous comment towards you instead.

You ended up scribbling along the Soulmate Pages, heated rage boiling with each word.

Hey Honey! I need to vent if that’s okay.

Of course.

You would not believe the shit I have to endure in real life. I wish I could describe the hatred I have for this man I work with, he’s a real piece of shit. Anyway, how was your day?

My day was about the same as yours, living with the idiots of real life. If we could write names I would because there’s this bitch I work with that I fucking hate.

Maybe we need new jobs (insert laughing face even though I’m livid right now)

Yeah. Maybe. But we’ll get through it.

It took years for your soulmate to warm up to you. The first interactions were hesitant, slow, and barely considered conversations. But now you can discuss your day as if you were texting a friend, talk about your likes and dislikes.

He was your soulmate after all.

You learned that he was a boy and an only kid, he had a strong quirk, and that he liked ramen. He was a rule follower and his handwriting always used proper punctuation. You told him all about your life and how you wanted to travel away from everything.

You wanted to know who he was, more than anything.

You wished you could tell him your name and quirk, where you lived and who you were. You wished he could do the same.

You’ve tried, of course, to write out your name and location. But the second the words were written onto the page, they turned into a random assortment of letters. Gibberish. Never to be written, never to be known.

“Dude, fucking relax!” You rubbed your temple at your desk, voice spitting venom against Bakugou’s loud vocals. “Not everything is about you, just sit down and wait to be sent on a mission.”

“What did you say to me?”

Katsuki Bakugou had been going on and on about how Deku got assigned to a mission in upper Japan, sent to work with a separate force for a bit to expand his horizon. He was outraged, yelling and standing tall and broad to pretend to be bigger than he was.

You were doing paperwork, trying to concentrate despite his yelling and complaining and bitching. You were hovering above your seat with your legs crossed, papers scattered (it was a habit of yours, to just kind of hover a couple of inches off the surface of things; air manipulation and all that).

“I said,” You turned to look into his ablaze eyes. “Sit down and wait. Not everything is about you.”

You only threw fuel into his fire, you could hear the sparking between his fingers. You turned back to your paperwork.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, you’re not even in the top five heroes.” Bakugou barked in your direction. You could feel his heat as he approached your desk. “You can sit and do your own paperwork all you want! I need to be put on serious cases, just like stupid Deku is always placed on.”

“You can argue with me all you want.” You moved to continue your work, pretending to be unbothered. You could feel the anger boil in your chest. “But you still are and will always be measly little number two. Now shut the fuck up, you’re interrupting those who are actually working.”

He was going to hit you, you knew he was. You two ended up fist fighting all the time, oxygen and explosions ending in destruction. Before he could, your boss walked in with a bellowing, “Bakugou! Get over here, I have something for your loud ass!”

You decided to give him a bored middle finger as he walked away.

They say that words are the way of life. You could say an infinite amount of words and sentences in your lifespan, you could say a word and only ever say it one time. Each assortment of words are different each time, something new every day.

You figured that’s why you hated the soulmate thing.

Finding your soulmate should be one of chance, of pure coincidence and meeting of strangers. With the journal, you are starting something you only hope to find. You could go your whole life without finding your soulmate.

And that is terrifying.

There are horror stories of writing to an endless notebook, sad movies created where the lettering turns back to red before they’ve found each other. You wanted nothing more than to meet and just… be with the man you’ve been writing to since you were thirteen.

It seemed to be some sick joke, a tease in the palm of your hands.

When you were young, you attended UA High. It was meant to be the best school for heroes, grooming them into the best of the best. Both of your parents had been heroes themselves, your mom with a cloud quirk and your dad with wings. You took after a bit of both, no wings and no clouds but could create air currents and manipulate the air surrounding you within a certain radius. It has something to do with your breath and lungs, but you never looked too much into the actual DNA aspect.

When you arrived in the hero program, you passed the tests with ease. You tried to focus mainly on yourself and gaining your own points, alongside a couple of students with the same idea.

You were pissed when you were placed in 1-B instead of 1-A. It was the start of your rivalry with the explosion boy.

Luckily, you quickly gained friends. You actually seemed to have a soft spot for Hitoshi Shinsou, and you and Itsuka Kendou seemed to be the only two with brains (this led to many conversations resulting in shit talking and giggling). So in the end, you weren’t too upset to be placed in the second best class.

And you did get to fight with Bakugou a lot more without punishment, your professor wanting to be number one as much as anyone else.

One particular day that you remember to this day, one that really labeled your hatred for Bakuogu, was just a normal day at first. You were finished with your normal morning classes and just beginning the hero portion of the day, the training and fighting.

Your class was working with Class 1-A for the day, teaming up with one of their students and seeing how your quirks would act both against and with each other.

You were, of course, teamed with Bakugou.

The fucker was already set in his ways, loud and in need of attention at all times. You were well aware of his… loud personality… at that point, being beside Shinsou when he called your class “extras”. He was already someone you wanted nothing to do with.

“Good luck.” Kendou muttered to you when your names were announced as partners. “See ya.”

The second you headed to him, you could feel his apprehension. He wanted nothing to do with you. And you wanted nothing to do with him. In fact, you were hoping for Uraraka as your partner, wanting to see how your air manipulation would work with her gravity.

Apparently the professors wanted to see the oxygen working with the burst of flames. Which, honestly, is cool yes — but it was the person behind the explosions that you did not want to be a part of.

Bakugou was not one to mumble under his breath.

“Why am I paired with you?” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. “I could at least be with someone interesting like Mind Control over there.”

You already wanted to punch him. “You’ve obviously never seen my quirk.”

“Clearly it hasn’t been interesting enough to be worth my attention.”

“Say that again when I remove the oxygen straight from your lungs.” You threatened, knowing damn well you didn’t know how to do that yet. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He let out a long exhale, moving into position. You were already flying by the time he let off his first explosion.

His utter disrespect for you and your quirk not only irritated you, but only was the start of a long term competition on Who Can Be Better Than Who that lasted the rest of your time at UA.

Through the constant loud arguments, the yelling in the cafeteria and the comments just loud enough for the other to hear, the fist fights and the swearing that was reserved only for each other, you found comfort in talking to your soulmate. It was relaxing after a long day of pure annoyance and shit talking to finally just get to have normal conversations with someone you enjoy.

Are we allowed to ask about school in this thing?

I don’t think so.

I’m sighing. Pretend that you could hear my sigh.

Wow, that was a loud sigh.

YOU’RE FUNNY! Anyway, I really want to know if we go to school together :(((

I don’t even think we can talk about JRTPD or BO::SOMD. See, they turn into gibberish.

I mean… we can say school. So we can ask ABOUT school just not… specific schools.

That’s true. I go to a special school and am the best in my class. You’re getting lucky by having me as a soulmate.

Well I would only hope so. Need a smart soulmate for fun facts.

Fun fact: you’re pretty cool. I guess.

Ah, the admission of your love for me.

Not love. I don’t hate talking to you if that does anything for you.

The one person you don’t hate. I’ll take it, Soulmate.

Don’t push it.

We should give each other nicknames. Since we can’t call each other by our real names.

Does the book allow it?

My parents did it before they found each other.

Okay. Like what?

I can call you Hot Head, because you’re hot and because you are always writing about how mad you are.

No.

I can always go with something cute like Honey.

This is gross. I was thinking like gamer tag nicknames.

Okay, Honey.

I take back what I said, asshole.

Honey and Asshole. The perfect pair. We could solve crimes!

I’m going to bed now.

Goodnight Honey ♡ I know that you aren’t reading these but you will in the morning. Dork.

“Do you know who your soulmate is?” You asked.

You were hanging out with Kendou, Monoma, and Shinsou in Kendou’s bedroom. The dorm rooms were all set up the exact same way, but for some reason Kendou’s always seemed to be bigger.

“No idea.” Monoma shrugged. “I don’t think I want to know until I’m older, we’re too young and I want to focus on graduating first.”

“He’s right.” Kendou twisted in her position on her bed. “Why? Do you want to know who yours is?”

“I want to know more than anything.” You sighed. Your head was laid across Shinsou’s lap on the floor. “We get along so well and I try to talk to him every day.”

“How do you know it’s a he?”

“He told me.” You laughed. “We tried really hard to narrow it down as much as possible.”

“It sounds like he wants to know you too.” Kendou said. She giggled. “I should ask my soulmate their gender.”

“What about you, Shinsou?”

“I barely write to mine.” He shrugged, making your head tilt a little. “I’m sure they understand.”

“I’m sure they do, they were made to be yours.” You looked up at him with a smile. “Of everyone, I thought you would write the most.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because most people are scared to talk to you in real life.”

He flicked your forehead. “You aren’t scared to talk to me.”

“I’m not scared to talk to anyone.”

“I’ve noticed.”

You sighed and closed your Soulmate Journal, the rain now casting a dark shadow across the entirety of the sky. Your face was flushed in red, hair disheveled and you were still in your hero uniform, dirty and kind of burnt.

Katsuki Bakugou had not only interrupted your victory, but he had claimed it as his own. His desperation to be the number one hero hadn’t stopped. It’s been years, you’ve grown past his stupid desire and he simply… hasn’t.

You fought the villain yourself, using your quirk to it’s full capabilities and trapping them in a circle of air. You fought for over an hour by yourself, taking up the mission while out and witnessing it first hand. Your freshly bought coffee was long forgotten as you raced after the thief.

The second you landed the thief, the ball of air dissipating as you grew tired, Bakugou arrived in a fiery feat and handcuffed the villain. Of course, the main photos were of him with the handcuffs, standing proud as if he hadn’t stolen your fight.

His argument was that he did help. Yeah, he did ‒ for three seconds.

Katsuki Bakugou was a piss stain upon himself, truly the worst of the worst who’s own personal interest outweighs anything else in his life. He will never be anything but second best because he never thinks of anyone but himself.

If only he could read thoughts instead of turning his sweat to ignition. Then you wouldn’t have to put your harsh thoughts into tone.

Your Soulmate was one of two people you genuinely enjoyed talking to, he always seemed to be on the same page as you. The other is Shinsou, from your high school. He was the only one you really kept in contact with.

Sometimes you like to convince yourself that Shinsou is your soulmate, since he hasn’t found his either. But you compared the handwriting and it didn’t match at all. Shinsou’s handwriting was much smaller and neater than the man you would eventually call yours.

“This is so fucking stupid!” You screamed, your rage reaching its max.

You threw your journal across your bedroom, the storm masking the sound of it banging against the wall by your bed. You were pissed, you wanted nothing more than to see Bakugou’s downfall. It’s been years. You were over it.

You were over it all. You were over him, you were over not knowing your soulmate, you were over being alone in your stupid apartment. It all reached it’s apex. Maybe you needed a shower, or maybe you needed to move from your job.

Your fit was interrupted by a loud crash on the roof of your apartment building. You nearly jumped at the sound, the sound not even close to the crashes of thunder.

You rushed to the roof, your hero senses kicking in more than your regular carefulness. Once you were outside, you were almost instantly drenched in the rain. Only a couple of yards ahead of you was a man crumbled to the ground; they must’ve hit the roof harder than you thought.

When they turned, clutching their side, you knew instantly who it was.

“Deku?” You rushed towards him. “I thought you were in Hirosaki for some serious villain.”

He moved to stand, much taller and broad than he was back in high school. Yet still with the fluffy green hair and bright eyes with hope always seemingly sewed in.

“I was. I just… I need your help.”

“Why do you need my help?” You helped him stand fully, taking his hand from his side to check for an injury. He wasn’t bleeding. “Doesn’t Uraraka live around here?”

“I don’t… want to involve her in this.” He stood straight. His healing must’ve started. “I… this is something I need you for.”

“Okay…” You crossed your arms. “What do you need?”

“I know what you’re going to say.” Deku started, and you didn’t move. “But it’s Bakugou.”

“No.”

“C’mon, Aero, I know that you two…”

“No.”

“Please, I…”

“Deku, you know more than anyone how and who he is. Whatever it is, he can deal with it himself.” You started back towards the stairs. “I appreciate you coming to me, for whatever reason, but this is something that you have to find someone else for.”

“Don’t think of this as us doing something for him.” Deku rushed to stand in front of you. “Think of it as a favor for me. You owe me one.”

“Don’t do this now.”

“I’m officially cashing in my favor.”

You sighed, “Fine. Can you at least tell me what we need to do for the asshole?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.” He nearly jumped in joy. “But you cannot tell anyone. Not Shinsou, not the police, and not our boss. This is under the radar.”

“Oh, shit.” You followed him as you flew next to him. “What are you getting me into?”

tag list: @katsulovee @paradisebabey @seaofemptygold @zhaixiaowen @daylghits @haikyuusimp91 @darknessyournewfriend @samwise-though @liaxxx109

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sohin-ace · 3 years ago

Text

Bucciarati - My little Seastar

Sister reader. Enjoy~

"Hey, Bucciarati! Can you help me for a sec?"

You turned towards the direction of the voice calling you and stopped in your tracks on the wooden docks.

"What do you want, Valentino?" You spat, a bit more harshly than intended.

The smug boy who was crouched on his zodiac chuckled at you. "Aw, come on, Bucciarati! Don't be like that. I just need some help to tie the rope. Your dad is a fisherman, right? You should know knots like no one else!"

Even though he had said this as a way to woo you and flatter you somehow, you couldn't help but hear it as a condescending remark. You crossed your arms over your chest and he pouted at the glare you sent him.

"Pretty please~? No funny business, I swear! Look, the guys aren't even here, I'm all alone. You can trust me!"

That's right. Valentino and his little gang took great pleasure in teasing you and bothering you at every corner and it pissed you off. No matter how much you insulted them, ignored them or avoided them, they never seemed to stop their stupid and useless bullying.

But sadly, oh so sadly, the Bucciarati that you were was kind. Too kind. You despised that you were so gentle-hearted, but in the end, this is how your father and brother had raised you.

You huffed and slumped your arms loose along your body, defeated. "Fine!" You dragged your sandals over the dock and approached him. "It better be quick."

The boy beamed as you embarked on the zodiac next to him, "Sure thing! Thanks a lot, girl. I'll make it up to you!"

He gave you the ropes as you crouched down at his place and got to work. But without you noticing, the boy had swiftly slid his leg over the vehicle and easily jumped back into the dock, leaving you behind.

Before you could even turn around and ask where he was going, the brat, now accompanied by all three of his little buddies that appeared out of their hiding spot, all kicked the zodiac off of the dock before you could even tie it.

"Waah-!"

You lost balance at the violent jerk of the boat and yelped, letting go of the ropes that could have saved you from your demise.

You couldn't even get back to your knees and try desperately to grab onto the dock's wooden planks. You heard the boys snickering and laughing at you as you drifted farther and farther away from the land into the water.

"I fucking knew it you disgusting piece of TRASH!" You yelled at them, angry with them obviously, but also angry with yourself for granting that bastard the benefit of the doubt. "You know damn well I can't swim!"

They all seemed to laugh even louder, obnoxiously. "Too bad for you Bucciarati! Maybe you shouldn't be so stupid next time! BWAHAHAHA!"

"YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE VALENTINO! SCREW YOU!"

Your curses and wails seem to fall into deaf ears as you drifted even farther away from the coast, with no way of even paddling back.

Looking around towards the much bigger boats parked along the docks, you could only hope 'he' would hear you.

"PAPA!! PAPAAA!!!" You called desperately. Surely he would hear you, he wasn't far after all, you did come all the way here to bring him his lunch. He must still be somewhere around the fishing boats.

After a few more vain attempts to call for your father, you settled to accept that he wouldn't hear you, nor would the other fishermen that were already far gone from their boats to bring their catches to land.

You sat on the damp zodiac and brought your knees to your chest, not even caring if your sundress slid down your thighs indecently and got stained by the salty water. Stupid Valentino couldn't even keep his tiny boat clean.

"Stupid, stupid..." Your voice cracked, threatening to break into a sob. "If he was a sailor he'd be dead before even sailing. That's how stupid this stupid boy is. Stupid."

With only your expletives to reassure you in your demise, you buried half of your face in your arms now craddling your cold knees.

Everything was so silent, the sea did a great job at muting every sound around the coast and you felt the loneliest and most scared you had ever been since you were a child.

You thought nobody would find you, and you'd be dead drowning because you could never learn to swim and since nobody even noticed your absence in minutes that felt like hours, nobody would cry for you if you died here either.

And so the stinging tears prickled at your eyes.

"Y/N?" You heard a familiar voice calling your name, but brushed it off as the wind. "Y/N is that you?"

You looked up towards the insistant voice in a sliver of hope and, like an angel fallen from heaven, you were met with the caring blue gaze of your big brother from the railings of one of the high boats right next to where you had drifted to.

"Bruno!" You gasped and got up immediately, almost falling over from the sudden sway of the boat under your weight. "A-ah! Bruno help me, I'm stuck!"

"Hold on!" The worried face of the male hesitated to leave you for even a split second. "I'm coming down. Don't move."

You nodded at his strict tone and waited for him as he disapeared. Your breath caught in your throat with stress, even though you were reassured to finally have a savior. And what a savior it was, your one and only big brother.

Barely a minute passed before you saw him come back and unravel an emergency ladder down to you. He made sure the ladder was all tight and secure and almost immediately after, Bruno jumped over the railing, to your grand fright, and started climbing down, your heart pounding with worry for him.

He finally arrived down and stepped into the zodiac, joining you, like a glorious hero, saving the day. You barely let him any time to react as you threw yourself into his chest and gripped viciously at the back of his shirt, scrunching it without care, scared to be alone at sea again.

Bruno wanted to scold you and yell at you for recklessly playing around all alone in the docks and ending yourself in such a dire situation. But when he felt you trembling and squeezing him like your life depended on it, which ironically it did, the elder couldn't help but sigh and wrap his long arms around your shoulders, a gesture of comfort.

"... What happened to you?"

"It's-" You choked a sob and Bruno tutted and shushed you softly, patting your head to calm you down, just like your mother used to do when you were a child.

"Shhh, it's okay bambina, I'm here now."

He felt you relax and you sniffled a few times before mumbling into his shirt. "It's Valentino! He tricked me! I hate him! He's such a coglione!"

"Hey! Language." He scolded and pinched your arm, earning a little 'ow' from you, "What would dad think if he heard you say such words? Bite your tongue, young lady."

"S-sorry..." You croaked a little ashamed of your outburst and lifted your head up at your brother. "They always do this to me... Valentino and the others... Why...? They know I can't swim and they throw me into the water all the time..."

Bruno let go of you to cup your face and wipe your tears off. He did not let it show to you but he was infuriated. There was only so much patience an Italian man could have when his family was being targeted. Especially his little sister and the only lasting woman of his life.

"Shh, stop crying now, mia stellina marina. I'll deal with them later, okay? Let's get you home for now."

"They'll see." You sniffled as your breath steadied, calmed by Bruno's soft tone, "When I'll marry a big, tall, goth policeman, he'll beat them up for me and then, they won't act so cocky anymore."

He huffed with amusement at your words before he let you go and laid a gentle hand on your back to usher you towards the ladder. Bruno, still with a bit of confusion, mumbled to himself without you hearing it.

"... Why goth, though?"

Only now had you noticed the zodiac had stopped drifting since Bruno found you, held onto the much bigger boat by a phantom blue and white arm and a golden zipper that you'd recognize from a mile away.

"Can we... Can we let the zodiac in here?" You asked hesitantly towards your brother who paid no mind to it.

"Who cares? It's not ours."

With thoughts of Valentino's expensive motorboat getting lost in the sea, you slowly took ahold of the ladder's ropes and started climbing, Bruno keeping it steady for you until he was sure you embarked in safely.

He then joined you up and lent you a spare jacket that he thankfully thought of taking with him in the morning, covering you from the cold of your drenched dress against the littoral wind.

"Thank you Bruno..." You softly uttered and hugged his warm jacket closer around you, "I always cause you trouble..."

"Nonsense, piccolina. I could never live knowing my sister is crying, cold and afraid somewhere." He squeezed your shoulder against him as you approached the stall your father and his colleagues were filling with freshly caught fishes. "I'll make sure you're the one that never gets troubled again..."

Fortunately for you, the day ended much more peacefully than it had started and your father was happy and relieved to find you safe and uninjured. He had specifically instructed Bruno to not get involved or make a scene, but of course, his son was a stubborn mediterranean who could not let anything just slide.

It was not the first, not the second, nor even the third time this boy, 'Valentino' and his friends, had taken offense towards you.

So, Bruno would make sure the zodiac Valentino had worked oh-so-hard to afford, part-timing as a waiter, cleaning after people's messes, scrubing disgusting shit-stained lavatories and cutting his hands off of plastic and metal scraps scattered along the beaches for a few cents per day, got thoroughly anihilated to pieces.

"NOOOO!!!! MY ZODIAC !!!! MY 50 000€ BAAABYYYYYY!!! WHYYYYY???!!"

The very next day, as you walked along the docks to bring some fishing materials to your brother, you heard the painful wails of a very familiar boy kneeling down and crying on the woodplanks, his screams echoing against the shore.

"SHUT UP BRAT! You'll think about your money after you pay for the fines I'm about to give you. You think you can get away with polluting the water with your gross ass wreckage?" A tall and burly policeman wearing purple lipstick growled at the kneeling boy, no signs of mercy in his baritone voice. "You'll have a reason to cry when you pay for the oil you spilled in here. You're lucky I'm not throwing your ass in jail right now."

"Officer please-" Valentino pleaded miserably, but the policeman did not hold back on pushing all fives of the different citations he had owned by having pieces of his zodiac scattered all around the precious ressourceful ocean.

"You have two weeks to pay up and clean all that shit." The officer fixed his shades over his nose before turning around to leave. "And expect to receive a salty lawsuit soon. Fucking whiny bitchbaby..."

The policeman left with a determined and impatient step as you witnessed the entire scene with wide eyes, not noticing your brother approaching.

"Oh no... That's horrible..." You gasped with sympathy and worry, "I hope the fishes and corals won't get impacted by the oil spill..."

"Oh don't worry," Bruno chuckled, taking the heavy loads off your hands, "I made sure to zip that out of the water."

You blinked, confused.

"...What?"

"What...?"

That fic was inspired by the very first scene of H2O, I love that show so much, and I can't wait to post my mermaid fics in store!

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tenthgrove · 4 years ago

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Can I request the one where La Squadra thought the reader was pregnant (when she just actually visited her kid) situation for Bruno's gang?

Mother Mother- Bucci Edition

Team Buccerati x Reader (Fem), Platonic, SFW

Bruno Buccerati is feeling restless. He's not one to pry, but your behaviour lately is starting to concern him. Leaving the base for hours without explanation is no cause for worry in itself, after all, you're not obliged to inform him of your whereabouts 24/7 and you're hardly the only one on the team who does this, but together with the ceaseless obsession with cutting your finances, the uncharacteristic melancholy and the jolt of panic whenever your personal circumstances become the topic of conversation all add up to a bad picture.

The final straw for Buccerati came today, in which while passing you idly on the sofa he caught sight of the word 'parenthood' printed on the title of the leaflet you were reading. He didn't see the rest of what it said, but your guilty smile at being caught spoke well enough for itself.

Buccerati truly does feel bad about this, but with how defensive you become at even the smallest sign of confrontation, he sees no other choice. As he watches you depart your bedroom and head into the bathroom, he waits quietly for the rush of water from the shower, before sneaking into your unlocked bedroom unnoticed.

He will make clear, he thinks to himself as he pilfers through the loose paper on your desk for that leaflet, that he is not angry. If it's what your heart is set on, he isn't even that opposed to the idea of you raising the baby yourself. The squad is decently paid and their work isn't as dangerous or all-consuming as some, so they can manage. He even feels a little bit of excitement at the thought of helping you with your offspring. He's only doing this because it can't be healthy for you to conceal your pregnancy like this. Children have always been such precious things to him.

A pink leaflet flits off of the desk and Buccerati picks up his prize. He reads the title in full.

"Parenthood for the Parents of Hospitalised Children: What Doctors Advise"

Ahh. Now that changes things. Buccerati feels his heart sink at the sight of the stock image of a mother and father standing over the bedside of a sickly-looking girl. He guiltily returns the leaflet to its former place and tries to reorganise the paper as he found it, before exiting quickly.

Having learned his lesson well about making assumptions on too little evidence, Buccerati sits down with his phone book. There's a fellow on one of the intel teams who owes him a small favour, and it's time he called on it.

“Hello, it’s Buccerati, could you do something for me quickly? I need you to check the records of all the hospitals in Naples that hospitalise chronically ill children, and take a look through the names of the patients in the children's ward," he requests. "There's a specific surname I'm after, hang on, I'll find it for you." Buccerati racks his brains. If there's one thing he's certain your being honest about it's your real name. He pulls it from his memories and relays it to his friend. "No, no need to take any action once you find them. Just let me know the details, particularly of the illness. Very well, thank you," he concludes the phone call and hangs up. He leans back in the seat and sighs.

He barely gets half an hour to rest before the phone rings.

"Oh hello, that was quick. Did you find them? That's excellent. What did the records say?"

The agent relays his findings. Matching the surname he gave him is a little girl about 5 years old, currently residing in the hospital closest to Buccerati's base. The child is suffering from a frightful condition that, although rarely fatal with treatment, can leave sufferers in need of constant medical care for months on end, along with more minor support for years after.

The most concerning thing about the records is that the agent was able to find visitation logs attached to the data, and they all speak of a single, anonymous visitor with recorded visits matching perfectly with the dates and times of your disappearances.

Buccerati thanks the agent and promises to wire him a little money for his quick and extensive help. Hanging up, he broods deeply. He cannot simply allow your suffering to continue if there's anything, anything at all he can do to help.

He is broken from his trance by the sounds of panicked footsteps running in from the hall. He catches sight of Mista and Narancia sneaking in from the hallway, and is struck by the immediate impression that they are by all definitions, up to no good.

"What's the matter you two? You seem startled," he presses them patiently. He is met with two loud sounds of 'uhhhh'.

"Nothing Buccerati, we swear it!" Narancia promises.

"Yeah! In fact, we were just going to the shops and were arguing over what to get!" Mista backs him up. Buccerati rolls his eyes and smiles.

"Alright. Not too much sugar, Narancia? We don't want to find you being sick in the bathroom at two in the morning again, do we?"

"It's not me you have to worry about doing that now," Narancia mutters under his breath.

"Pardon?" Buccerati asks, confused.

"Nothing! We should go now!"

The boys immediately make their exit out the front and disappear down the street. Bruno tuts. Sometimes he thinks he'll never understand that lot. He smiles.

As he replays the encounter in his head, it occurs to him what that strange item poking out of Mista's pocket was. The leaflet from (y/n)'s room. Shit.

"Mista? Narancia? I think we should have a word please!" Buccerati shouts down the entry street. But it's two late, they've both disappeared out of earshot. Buccerati throws his hands up in despair, and returns to his room.

::::::::::::

Abbacchio knows what he sees. Mista and Narancia go running down the street and about 20 second later, Buccerati goes out shouting. As Abbacchio watches Buccerati return to the house in defeat, he makes a decision. He's had enough of those kids and their petty little antics. If Buccerati doesn't have it in him to set them straight, he will.

"You look pressed," Fugo remarks as Abbacchio pushes past him in the corridor.

"None of your business. Mista and Narancia are up to no good and now I've got to go and find them," Abbacchio grunts.

"Narancia?! But he promised me he'd work on his assignments tonight! Little bastard, I'll kill him!" Fugo fumes.

"Will you now? Better keep up then," Abbacchio says, throwing on his coat.

It doesn't take them long at all to find Mista and Narancia. Indeed, they're cowering in the very first alleyway left of the house.

"We can explain," Narancia promises.

"I bet you can," Abbacchio mutters half-heartedly.

"Take a look at this!" Narancia urges them. He pulls a pink leaflet from Mista's pocket and rereads it himself. "It says 'parenthood'. We found it in (y/n)'s room. Does that mean she's pregnant?"

"Why in god's name were you snooping around in (y/n)'s room?" Abbacchio interrogates them.

"Furthermore Narancia, you can't read," Fugo adds.

"Well, for a start, Buccerati did it first. We just went in after him to see what it was he was looking for. Second, Mista read it for me, and he swears it says 'parenthood'. Isn't that right Mista?"

"Sure is," Mista affirms. "Look."

He flicks the leaflet in front of them and, sure enough, they all read the same word. Abbacchio and Fugo curse simultaneously.

"What the hell is their game, thinking they can hide something like this from us?" Abbacchio fumes. "Does Bruno think he's protecting her or something? He's a fool."

"If I may, Abbacchio, it is most uncharacteristic of you to speak ill of Signor Buccerati," a voice from behind protests. Abbacchio turns with a jolt to see Giorno standing at the entrance of the alleyway along with a very bewildered looking Trish. They each have a couple of shopping bags in their hands.

"Are you spying on me?!" Abbacchio shrieks.

"Not at all. I simply thought that going after dark would be a much safer time for Trish to do her shopping, so I was taking her out," Giorno explains. "I overheard your voices and came to investigate, but I really haven't heard much."

"(Y/n)'s pregnant and Buccerati's hiding it from us," Mista fills him in.

"Wait, I'm lost. Did Buccerati get her pregnant? Because if so, what in the actual hell?" Trish comments.

"Fucking christ. Could you imagine?" Narancia remarks. The group soon devolves into a mess of interrupted shouting.

"All of you quiet!" Abbacchio yells. He holds up his hands in desperation. "We are going to get to the bottom of this and we're going to do it now! We are going right home, and we are getting (y/n) to explain herself, whether she likes it or not. Agreed?"

::::::::::::

You had an awful eery feeling getting out that shower would be a mistake. The last thing you expected tonight was being hounded by your dear teammates while you're half dressed and wet haired, particularly on such an outlandish concept as pregnancy.

"Slow down! What the hell are you accusing me of again?"

"You're having a baby and you aren't even telling us! Do you have any idea how much those cost?" Trish accuses. You don't even have an answer for that one, it's just so completely wrong there's no way to refute it.

"We aren't looking to judge, we just want to help," Giorno assures you, though his voice is drowned out by the rest of the rabble.

"I don't need help, I'm not having a baby!" you protest. Narancia opens his mouth.

"But the leaflet says-"

"What on god's earth are the lot of you doing?" Bruno calls from the hallway. "Why are you all hounding (y/n) all of a sudden."

"You think we don't know what you know, Buccerati?" Abbacchio confronts him. "You're complicit in this. You're helping to hide this- baby!"

Buccerati breathes deeply.

"Ah. I believe I know what this is about. Mista, I want you to take that leaflet you found and read the front page out to me. In full."

Mista complies.

"Parenthood... for the Parents of Hospitalised Children. Oh."

"You made the same mistake I did," Buccerati explains. "You saw the first word and immediately jumped to your own conclusions. But in regards to the full title I have carried out some follow up and have confirmed it is exactly what it sounds like. (Y/n) has a young daughter who is unfortunately quite sick at present, and she has understandably been taking time off to be with her."

"You know about her?" you exclaim in panic.

"Apologies (y/n), I was acting only in concern for your health. It was admittedly due to my poor caution that the others found out and, well, it went from there."

"Look," you protest, thoughts spiralling into panic. "I didn't mean for you to know. You said I could do what I wanted with my money so I did. There- there was no other way I could afford to treat her," you justify, tears starting to leak from your eyes. "Please don't kick me out. I swear this doesn't affect my work, all I need is a few hours a week to check on her!"

You collapse against the door in tears. The crowd goes into a shocked silence. Buccerati pushes to the front.

"Hey, hey, I'm not going to kick you out so don't worry," he promises. "I would never cut off a member of my squad like that, especially not when they have such a vulnerable dependent. We can talk about helping you with the money tomorrow, but now, let's get you calmed down okay?"

You nod through your tears. Buccerati guides you to your feet and leads you gently into the kitchen. The remaining group in the hall look at each other with pressed lips. Fugo takes the leaflet from Mista and reads through the front cover once more. He hits him.

#team buccerati #team buccellati #bruno buccerati x reader #bruno buccellati x reader #bruno buccerati #bruno buccellati #leone abbacchio #leone abbacchio x reader #giorno giovanna #giorno giovanna x reader #guido mista #guido mista x reader #narancia ghirga #narancia ghirga x reader #pannacotta fugo #pannacotta fugo x reader #trish una #trish una x reader

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ravenadottir · 3 years ago

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okay I'm really curious how do you think the Li voice sounds like? does any of them have a good voice to serenade mc? because every time i listen to love song (aint always so good) by isaac gracie it keep reminding me of henrik lol

((this took me so long! and not because it's a complicated question but because suddenly i couldn't remember any actors' or singers' voices lol))

if there's mentions of american artists, just picture that tone of voice with an accent. (some voices change slightly when changing a language or accent but you'll catch my drift)

bobby. i always picture him with a velvety medium tone while singing, like the weeknd or bruno, something that melts you while listening to it. but when talking somehow the boy gets slightly raspy, like trevor noah. just a solid medium tone. ((i often imagine bobby with the voice cody and noel gave him though... especially when he's being funny, but that's just the codel episodes ruining bobby for me))

henrik. i didn't know who isaac gracie was but i have to agree henrik would sound like that as well. in my head he always had a raspier voice, and highly energetic. the only person i could think of that gets closer to that was damiano from maneskin... but one thing i think we can agree a hundred percent is that IT WAS A DAMN SHAME WE NEVER GOT TO "SEE" HENRIK SINGING because i know damn well he's always humming or singing when doing chores! we were so goddamn robbed...

lucas. right off the bat, he thinks it's tacky to serenade someone... i'm sorry, but there's no fucking way lucas is into it! his speaking voice, and often *clears throat* commanding one, might be close to felix', from stray kids. i'm still in shock so... it just makes sense to me that lucas has a clean and composed voice, and that's the closest i could find to illustrate that sentiment. plus, i saw comments about this boy's voice, such as "felix looks like a baby but his voice can make one" and "this boy hit puberty at 2 years old" and i think that sums it up...

gary. taron egerton. i always associate him with arctic monkeys but i don't believe he has alex' voice. have you seen the size of this boy's chest??? yeah, no, much deeper than that... speaking voice resembles something around tom ellis'. i say speaking voice because i know he's a damn disaster when singing. gary would probably try his best just to get a laugh from his girl but i really think he's a walking "nails on a blackboard" when trying anything musical.

carl. richard medden. i feel like spock boy is surprisingly good at singing. definitely don't think he would be serenading anyone at any given point but he definitely hums when distracted with a chore or work. you could probably hear a really low voice coming from his office and he doesn't even notice he's doing it.

kassam's voice is deep but... how can i explain this? right! robert pattinson's voice is pretty much how i imagine kassam talking, except with a new castle accent. i just love imagining him being snarky in that tone just like robert is whenever talking shit about twilight... plus, i really think he can serenade, but won't, because reasons lol

noah. we had a brief description of his voice when henrik and lucas come in... bobby talked about it being velvety. i would add deep into the mix, something like taye diggs' tone really clicks for me! of course adding the accent.

ibrahim is winston duke in my head. i can't explain it, he just is.

lottie. kristen stewart, because i can definitely hear it whenever lottie is on screen. it stayed with me since the beginning.

marisol. phoebe waller-bridge. sooo unique and recognizable, and there are many syllables the actress says that i pictured marisol saying even before i saw fleabag or knew about phoebe's work.

elisa. naomie harris. i just love her voice and how she speaks certain words. her speech pattern makes my brain tingle and elisa definitely has that quality about herself, so i figured her voice would be part of it.

as for the others not on this list, i really couldn't find anyone that would explain as well as i intended to. like priya. i picture her with a very commercial voice since she was a real estate agent, and she often gives me the impression of someone that could make a speech and people would stop what they're doing to hear it because it's so magnetic, but i can't think of someone like that that would fit priya's profile. if you have any ideas, please, let me know!

#litg #love island the game #litg s2 #litg season 2 #litg lucas #litg noah #litg henrik #litg mc #litg marisol #litg fanfiction #litg gary #litg bobby #litg kassam #litg ibrahim #litg priya #litg carl #queue #group asks

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floralseokjin · 4 years ago

Text

PBN drabble; A surprise

warnings; smidgen of angst, fluff!! word count; 1.6k

author’s note; i know i’ve missed a lot of the in between, and i will try to catch up on those drabbles at a later date, but the need to write this was too much. it’s been an idea of mine for ages, finally had to share!! please enjoy the surprise 😘

5:15.

Yoongi would be home any minute now. Your gut turned, a new kind of sick twisting your insides. For the past four days you’d felt awful. Throwing up a handful of times too. Yoongi was hellbent it was the steak you’d eaten on the weekend. You weren’t so sure. The restaurant you’d had it from was your favourite. You always ate there.

No. This was a different kind of sick. You’d had food poisoning before, it was horrific. It wasn’t stomach flu either. Yoongi was fine, so it wasn’t catching. This was different. More of a constant nausea. It reminded you of carsickness. You used to suffer with that a lot when you were kid.

You hadn’t thought much of it at first, maybe you were just tired or something, under the weather, but then Seulgi and her logic had suggested something yesterday afternoon. Maybe you were pregnant. Of course she’s been joking around, but you couldn’t shake it. What if you were?

You’d stopped taking the pill two months ago, wanting to try another form of contraception after giving your body a few months break. You’d been told your periods could be irregular to start off with, so while the first had come on time, you hadn’t thought much of the second one being late. Some of the signs had been there. Bloating, painful boobs, tiredness... just no actual period. A quick google search told you they were also early signs of pregnancy. Impossible. Surely? You’d been using a condom every single time. Although maybe they weren’t the most effective. What if one had split without you both realising?

This morning Yoongi had already left for work by the time you’d woken up, still feeling rough. Your heart had sunk. There was only one thing left to do. Just to put your mind at ease. You needed to take a pregnancy test. Calling out of work (for the third day in a row), you’d gotten showered quickly, making the short walk to the drugstore in record time. You were being stupid, you kept telling yourself. You repeated it over and over again as you walked home. Over and over again as you rushed to the bathroom and peed on the stupid stick. There was no way you were pregnant. There couldn’t be.

Could there?

Waiting those three minutes for the results were the most nerve-racking (and longest) of your life, but nothing could prepare you once you saw those two pink lines. It was like your world had stopped. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. You immediately threw up. Whether it be from actual morning sickness, shock or panic. All three probably.

You weren’t ready to have a baby, surely? Yes, you and Yoongi spoke about it from time to time, but it was mostly done in jest. You loved one another but that didn’t mean you were all set to have a baby. You’d been together 4 years, living together for just over one. What would he say? What would you even tell him?!

You spent the rest of the day numb. Curled up on the sofa, the television playing to itself. You wanted to call your mom, you wanted to tell Seulgi, but you knew Yoongi should be the first to know. So alone, your thoughts orbited around all your anxieties.

Hearing his keys in the front door, a fresh wave of nausea turned your gut. You heard him in the entry way, kicking his shoes off, his keys landing in the bowl on the little side table you’d both picked out. You’d made a home for yourselves so easily, the thought comforted you for a quick second, but then you saw his face come into view, stood in the doorway.

“Hey,” he greeted softly, a puzzled look on his face. “I thought you were at work.”

“I called out.” Your voice was hoarse, you hadn’t used it in a few hours.

As you cleared your throat, Yoongi’s frown deepened. “Are you still feeling sick?” He rushed over, taking a seat next to you, an arm wrapping around your shoulders.

You leaned your head against him, letting your eyes flutter closed. Comforted by his warmth, his smell. Maybe this whole thing wasn’t so bad. You were in this with the man you trusted most in this world. The man you loved so fricking much. He loved you too. Always had.

“It was that steak from Bruno’s, I’m telling you.” He was adamant, stroking a hand through your hair, fingers combing through the tangles. You’d been so out of it today you hadn’t even brushed it. “We should call them up, get our money back.”

You pressed your face into his warmth, taking one last moment for yourself before you moved, left him, creating a distance between your bodies. “It wasn’t the steak.”

You could hear the concern in his voice when he said your name. “What’s wrong?”

You shoved a hand in your hoody pocket, fist clenching around a stick of plastic, psyching yourself up. Beside you, Yoongi rubbed your back, getting more and more worried. He chuckled awkwardly. “Come on, babe, you’re scaring me.”

You didn’t want to scare him. You found your voice, removing the test from your pocket as you spoke. “I’m feeling sick because I’m pregnant.”

Saying the words out loud for the first time felt weird. Yoongi stiffened up beside you, eyes wide as he stared at the test in your hand. Hesitantly he took it from you, bringing it closer. You didn’t miss the way his fingers trembled.

“What are we going to do, Yoongi?” Your voice was a whisper. “I don’t understand how it happened. We always use protection.”

You didn’t think he heard you, still staring at the stick. “You’re pregnant?” You nodded as he finally tore his eyes away and looked at you. You watched the beginnings of smile twitch at his mouth. “We’re going to have a baby?”

For a moment your chest felt lighter. “If you want to,” you heard yourself say.

This time he broke out into gummy grin. Despite still looking and sounding dazed, he seemed...happy? Excited? “Of course I want to!” He exclaimed, in his own little world as he stared at the test again.

He was holding it in both hands now, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “You’re pregnant,” he pretty much awed. Your heart swelled. After feeling heavy all day it was a very much welcomed improvement.

“Wait–” He turned his head, suddenly realising something. “Do you want to?” Your earlier behaviour had only just dawned on him, now his forehead creased with fresh concern.

“I’m in shock.” You answered honestly. “We didn’t plan for it. I thought maybe you’d...” You petered out. Why had you been so worried to tell him again? Taking his arm, you smiled. It felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. “I want to too.”

Suddenly you found yourself embraced in his warmth, a bear hug of sorts, Yoongi’s arms squeezing you tight. You felt his lips at your crown and closed your eyes, gripping his sweatshirt, safe and sound.

“Shit. We’re having a baby?!” He laughed in amazement, over your shoulder. He was still clutching the test.

“I’m fairly certain.” You chuckled, a hand rooting around inside your hoody again. “I took three tests.” In a bid to be sure, you’d driven to a drugstore ten minutes away. All three had given you the same result. You were definitely pregnant.

Yoongi broke away, laughing at what he’d just heard, eager to see the evidence. He held them all, gazing at each line and cross and even the word ‘pregnant’ in small black font. “Fuck. How did you piss so much?”

The laughter bubbled from your throat. Of course it did. He had that ability. No matter the situation he could always get you laughing. You were even more thankful in this moment.

“Anxiety.” (Although, you had read it was an early symptom of pregnancy too – peeing a lot.)

Despite your laughter, a couple of tears trickled down your cheeks. Yoongi caught them immediately. “Hey, don’t cry,” he murmured, dropping the tests in his lap to reach for your face and kiss them away.

“They’re not sad tears,” you reassured. You hadn’t cried all day but seeing Yoongi so happy was what got you in the end.

His eyes were still filled with concern though, pushing the hair out of your face, searching for something in your eyes.. “Were you worried about telling me?”

“I don’t know why,” you confirmed. It seemed silly now. All your worries seemed pointless. Why had you been so scared at the prospect of raising a child? Of course you could do it. Especially with Yoongi at your side.

Yoongi understood you. He rubbed your upper back. “I know it’s a shock but it’s not the end of the world.” You smiled thankfully, letting his words soothe you. “In fact, you could say it’s the beginning of the world.” His happy little grin got you, giggling at his lame ass line.

He leaned in, rubbing his nose with yours. “Our world.” You cupped his face as he pressed a kiss to your mouth, letting your eyes close briefly before he pulled away. “I love you,” he sang softly.

His eyes were twinkling, the happiness he felt obvious. “I love you too,” you sang right back.

Chuckling under his breath he was still amazed. “We made a baby.”

Running your fingers through his dark hair, you grinned and confirmed. “We made a baby.”

#fic:pbn #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #floralseokjin:writings

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sunnyoldbear · 3 years ago

Text

Luca Headcanons Part 2

DoesLast one blew up and I was gonna wait to make another before making this one but then my Italian fish obsessed brain couldn’t stop thinking and I literally couldn’t stop myself so let’s go, part 2!

Luca:

Has nightmares of what would happen if things went differently: If he was sent to The Deep, if he and Alberto were outed as sea-monsters before the race, if Ercole, Cicco, and Guido didn’t miss Alberto when throwing the harpoons at the beach, if Alberto didn’t come with the umbrella during the race and he was outed in front of the town and hit with Ercole’s harpoon, etc. He always wakes up terrified.

Apologizes to inanimate objects if he bumps into them or drops them.

Names everything he comes in contact with. Random animals such as birds, insects (even though he’s terrified), erasers he uses often, etc. They’re always random, silly names, but he loves them.

Is a slow reader because of how he fantasizes himself in the books and daydreams, then is snapped back to reality.

Keeps a dream journal!

Loves making stories about the stars and constellations. He loves the original stories, but he loves to make up his own.

Honestly I just get the vibe that he’s scared of birds after the encounter with the seagull.

His favorite color is purple followed by green!

Giulia’s mom buys him his own bike and he loses his mind, loving it so much

He’s a bit awkward with making friends at school, sticking to Giulia’s side most of the time

He doesn’t really care for music

He can fall asleep anywhere, honestly. He once fell asleep leaning against the doorway and then crashed onto the floor

Alberto loves to doodle on his arms and hands and Luca doesn’t really care to wash them off so they just kinda chill there.

He’s very easy to prank and scare

Oh you should see him around the holidays! He’s so excited! His eyes sparkle and shine, he absolutely loves the decorations!

He’s not competitive, actually. He just wanted the prize money to get the Vespa, but he doesn’t really care about winning. He just... Isn’t competitive

He is very protective over his friends. Do what you want to him, but lay a hand on someone he loves and he will tear you a new one. We see him in the movie just frown when Ercole makes fun of him, but when Ercole shoved Alberto, all bets were off.

Charts the stars

He doesn’t have one love language, he has all of them, but probably Physical Touch and Quality Time more than anything, or Acts of Service.

Drinks expresso more often than he probably should, but just to get through his schoolwork

Misses his goatfish more than he wants to admit, especially little Giuseppe

Allergies beat him up during the spring

Slowly gets used to cats with Machiavelli’s kittens, but he’s still scared of the chunky boy

A teacher at school made the mistake of introducing him to Shakespeare. He spent hours sobbing over a good chunk of the plays.

Because he liked Shakespeare, Giulia’s mom got him some poetry books. He was not a fan of Edgar Allan Poe or Agatha Christie or Mary Shelley, all the horror/murder type stuff. He loved Emily Dickinson though!

Is as terrified of losing Alberto as Alberto is terrified of losing him

While he isn’t as touchy with Giulia as he is with Alberto, he does get more touchy with her

Reads tons of books about cats, dogs, and turtles to give Machiavelli, Nerone, and Caligola the care they need

Hears about human farms and loses his mind, rapidly asking questions about how they work and if they’re similar to his own

Giulia tries to convince him that fairytales are real. He has nightmares about them for a few nights until Massimo has to tell him that fairytales are made up and her mom changes them slightly to be more... Non-scary. She starts telling them to him to bed just because she misses doing so, and then he can’t fall asleep without someone telling him a story.

Doesn’t do the handshake with anyone that isn’t Alberto or Giulia.

Giulia’s mom calls him “fishy” or “guppy” and he wants to hate it but he can’t

Hates it when people call him cute or baby him, but his family + Alberto + Marcovaldos still do it

Once heard some French Tourists and stared at Giulia and went “why is their Italian so weird sounding” and she lost her shit laughing

Doesn’t swear, refuses to swear

Tries to use Vespa stamps if they’re available

Once he learns what “Piacere, gioralamo trombetta” means, he sends a letter to Alberto which is just him freaking out and laughing while making fun of it. They don’t stop saying it. In fact, they probably say it more.

He has a map in his room with pushpins of where he’s been. Beside it are a bunch of sticky notes of where he wants to go with Alberto with reasons on why he wants to go.

Has a little bit more courage, but not too much

He’s often teased for calling others “sir” or “ma’am” and so he feels really shy about it but doesn’t stop

Refuses to call Massimo and Giulia’s mom by their names, it just feels too awkward for him

Makes friendship bracelets for the trio as well as separate ones for him and Alberto, then him and Giulia.

While he loves gelato, he doesn’t like it as much as Alberto

I feel like he’d dot the i’s in Giulia’s name with hearts but no one else’s

People at school think he has a crush on her but he doesn’t

He and Alberto still say they sleep under the anchovies. No matter how often he researches stars, he’ll always call them anchovies around him.

Sticks out his tongue when focused

Doesn’t like aquariums, he stares at those fish and he just feels trapped

Loves to dance in the rain

Does that little feet tappy dance thing when he’s excited or shakes his hands

Honestly half of his vocabulary is stern shouts of “Alberto!” “Giulia!” or “silenzio Bruno, silenzio Bruno! Silenzio Bruno!”

Speaking of, he can’t just say “Silenzio Bruno” once, it’s always him saying it more than once, especially when he’s really scared

He doesn’t have loud, aggressive sneezes, but he does have sneeze fits. Once he sneezed so many times that with every one his face got closer to his desk until it just went BAM and he has a massive bruise on his forehead for days.

Sometimes just goes into the water and swims to relax. If he’s feeling homesick, he’ll do some daring trick and then instinctively turn to smile at Alberto only to realize he isn’t there

His dad still keeps crabs but lets Luca name them. Luca chooses to name them all after space things. Mainly moons, but sometimes planets or galaxies

Secretly feels really guilty about Alberto selling their Vespa

After almost being sent to The Deep, he is terrified of the dark and can’t sleep without a light on, no matter how dim it is

Alberto:

Matching pajamas with both Massimo and Giulia! (Refuses to match with her, Massimo yelled at them)

Tries to see what triggers his transformation. Does watermelon? Does juice? Is it any liquid? He’ll find out!

Calls Giulia “Spewlia” just to piss her off

Those two are always arguing. Yes, he often starts it

Lots of tattoos and ear piercings!

Will into Giulia’s room, stare her dead in the eyes, call her a bitch, and run out while leaving the door open. She’ll scream at him and probably throw something.

Tends to shorten people’s names. He calls Luca “Lu,” “Lulu,” and even “Luke.” Luca does not like any of these names.

Still builds his Vespas! They’re not as fun without Luca, though

Takes Giulia with him sometimes too and purposely crashes into the sea or something just to see what she does.

Gains quite a bit of muscle

Is the one who takes down all the sea monster things with Massimo. He and Lorenzo carry Smuca to the fountain

Idk I feel like he has loud sneezes

I also feel like he makes that weird cough face like that one cat idk I just know I’m right

He doesn’t just sing... He scream sings

Doesn’t know how to dance but if there is music he will dance

Loves dancing in the rain too!

Sometimes he’ll just walk into Giulia’s room and gossip with her. They’ll make a blanket fort and grab some snacks and cats and just... Spend the night talking and catching up

She teaches him how to braid hair and now he just loves doing her hair

Bites his lip quite a bit. That’s canon but like, still worth mentioning

Learns how to ride a bike so he doesn’t get killed or something

Keeps a journal on things Luca and Giulia are interested in so he can learn about them. He writes down bullet points on what he remembers from conversations, but it’s honestly not much

He doesn’t have big dreams other than traveling the world with Luca. He knows Giulia wants to be a marine biologist and Luca wants to travel the world + is still figuring things out. He has short term goals other than that and changes the topic about it.

A popular headcanon is that Alberto takes care of the goatfish when Luca’s at school and I think that would happen!

He’s shockingly good with kids! When not working, he loves playing soccer with them by the fountain

He almost named Machiavelli’s mate “Frog” because he can’t name things

Half the time when Giulia and/or Luca talk about school, he goes “I don’t what that means, but I’m choosing to define it as ____” and won’t let them prove him wrong

Technically canon but he will bite. Chomp chomp.

When he meets Giulia’s mom, they love to paint together

He does make some friends in Portorosso, but none are as close to him as his sister and best friend!

This man is the most dramatic person good lord

Love language is definitely physical touch!

Still screams “Take me, gravity!” pretty often

Can’t do work alone without music. He doesn’t really like opera but he can’t stand silence, he just can’t

Sometimes he thinks of Luca’s betrayal and is really angry, but knows he’d probably do the same if the roles were reversed. It was about self preservation and the risk of living. He still gets upset about it sometimes, but completely forgives him and understands

Is always torn between giving Giulia genuine facts about sea creatures and giving her such absurd but lowkey believable lies. He wants her to succeed so badly but also wants to screw her over

If you give him anything, he will play with it. String? A toy. A pen? A toy. A literal rock you found on the side of the road? A gorgeous toy, thank you!

Never just goes into the water, he will always be dramatic and dive in or jump

Sometimes when not on duty, he just blows his lifeguard whistle because he thinks it’s cool

He loves yoyos!

Will noogie Giulia.

Sometimes gets scared that Massimo will abandon him, but it seems like Massimo always knows

Città Vuota is his favorite song!

Doodles all over everything, especially Giulia and Luca’s arms and legs. They range from little stars to tic tac toe games to fish to anything that comes to mind

Giulia:

Is very much into photography! Luca always does hearts with his hands/fingers while Alberto does stupid poses or flips her off... or both.

Hums and sings a lot!

Also loves to dance and is the best of the trio! Loves to twirl and vibe even if there’s no music! It’s just her personality

She doesn’t just hug, she jumps into their arms and holds them close

Sometimes just to annoy Alberto she’ll hug him and press kisses to his head and cheeks. Siblings gonna be annoying.

Always has so much energy but really struggles with sitting still for homework after such long hours in school that her grades aren’t all that good except for Astronomy!

The most competitive of the trio

Bites her lip when she’s nervous

Started wearing her hat to match her dad when she was little and now she doesn’t like being without it

Has probably fallen asleep in class

Loves watermelon and gelato

While Ciccio and Guido apologize for their actions, she doesn’t forgive them and doesn’t want to. She has every right to

Gets really into singing when she’s singing along to songs

Doesn’t like makeup for herself but will hold the boys captive to do their makeup

Loves puns! Will make sea puns to piss off Alberto and Luca, but Luca loves them so it half-works

Loves copying Alberto’s lipbite

Machiavelli her beloved <3

Loves her fam so much! She’s got pictures of them everywhere and is constantly buying them gifts

Speaking of! Her love language is giving gifts!

She’s actually pretty good at making friends since she can read people so well. It’s just that Portorosso doesn’t have any.... Great kids to befriend and Genova just has too many that she sticks to a small group which eventually fades, as groups do

She isn’t the most emotional but she also isn’t the least emotional. She doesn’t cry often but she does get sad and shows it

I don’t know why I feel this way but I definitely think she’s scared of the doctor

She used to be scared of thunderstorms until meeting her boys and the race happened. Now she associates rain and storms with that win

Summer is her favorite season

She knows everyone in Portorosso by name and knows most of their birthdays by heart

Speaking of, she always celebrates Alberto’s birthday like her like her life depends on it

Now loves racing on her bike even more cause of the race

Calls Alberto “Berto” and is the only one allowed to do say

A very light sleeper

---

More on the way probably they’re all I think about

#luca movie #Luca #pixar luca #luca pixar #luca paguro #alberto scorfano #giulia marcovaldo #massimo marcovaldo #giulia's mom #death tw #maybe? just in case

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blitzturtles · 3 years ago

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Title: Fever (Ao3)

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo

Pairing(s): BruAbba, AbbaBru, (Platonic) Bucci Gang

Summary: “Hey, so… where’s Booch?�� Mista asks, leaning back in his seat.

All eyes are on him suddenly, before they gravitate to the chair that Bucciarati frequently takes up as his own.

Notes: For Day 1 of Sicktember, "Fever", because I never do anything on time. @sicktember

The morning goes like any other. One by one, the Don’s closest filter into the kitchen to get their first cup of coffee and whatever they feel like scrounging up for breakfast. There’s mundane conversation between the more wakeful lot; they aren’t allowed to talk about work until everyone’s finished their meals, which means the conversation doesn’t get much more interesting than whatever they’ve managed to get up to since the night before. It’s an odd sort of rule, but it helps to ensure that they can maintain some boundaries between their professional and personal lives, which further guarantees that they get more time together as a family, rather than as a team.

“Hey, so… where’s Booch?” Mista asks, leaning back in his seat.

All eyes are on him suddenly, before they gravitate to the chair that Bucciarati frequently takes up as his own. It’s empty with no sign that the man has made it downstairs, despite their designated breakfast time ticking by.

Narancia elbows Abbacchio to get his attention when he doesn’t seem to pick up on the same thing the rest of them have. He makes a motion for Abbacchio to take off his headphones and repeats the question.

“How should I know?” Abbacchio deflects with practiced ease, but there’s an edge to his tone. Sharper than even his usual morning demeanor calls for, and it’s clear--from the way his eyes fixate on Bucciarati’s spot--that he’s as concerned as the rest of them.

“You sleep in the same room,” Fugo points out, matter-of-fact and oblivious to the daggers that Abbacchio shoots in his direction.

“Yeah, well--” Abbacchio falters. He doesn’t actually have a reply for that.

“Maybe we should go check on him?” Trish asks, ever the most reasonable of the bunch, aside from perhaps Giorno.

“You don’t need to go… crowding him,” Abbacchio trails off as Mista and Narancia race out of their seats, already making a beeline for the stairs. He sighs and gets up to follow them.

What he doesn’t tell the group won’t hurt them. They don’t need to know that Bruno had been complaining of a headache the night before, or that he crashed unusually early. Or that he had been less than compliant about waking up with Abbacchio.

“So much for ‘just a headache’,” Abbacchio mutters under his own breath as he follows the kids up the steps. He can hear the rest behind him, each as eager as the first two to check in on their once-leader. “Hey, knock it off,” he calls when he finds Mista and Narancia outside the door to their bedroom, banging on it obnoxiously.

“But he’s not answering!” Narancia whines, dramatic and loud.

“And you think this will help?” Abbacchio raises his eyebrows, but he moves to unlock the door. The moment he opens it, he can see what his tired eyes failed to notice earlier. Bruno’s face, as little of it that is visible, is bright pink. There’s sweat clinging to his brow, and it’s obvious he’s been tossing and turning since Abbacchio left, which means he likely spiked a fever sometime recently.

Abbacchio ignores the kids in favor of making his way to the bed. He frowns at the dry, parted lips and the labored breathing that greet him. Bruno’s eyes haven’t so much as cracked open a hair, despite the sheer volume of Mista and Narancia. The rest of the gang catching up doesn’t seem to phase him either, even though none of them seems to be capable of shutting up.

Without thinking, Abbacchio undoes the clips that must have been left in from the night before. It speaks volumes to how poorly Bruno felt at the time. He always takes his hair down before bed, and Abbacchio isn’t sure how he missed that not-so-little detail.

“What’cha doing?” Narancia asks, startling Abbacchio out of his thoughts.

“He doesn’t like it when his hair gets sweaty,” Abbacchio explains without thinking. He splits Bruno’s bangs down the middle to pin them on either side of his face. It isn’t the most fashionable look, but it should hold.

“Guess you would know, huh?” Mista asks with a raised eyebrow.

Abbacchio feels his cheeks burn red at the suggestion, and he turns around to give the kid his best death glare. “That’s not what I meant.”

Mista throws his hands up quickly, “I was joking.”

“Don’t,” Abbacchio answers gruffly. He turns back to Bruno, trying to work out the best way to take out his top braid without disturbing him too much. He settles for loosening it instead, careful to avoid tugging it in a way that might pull. The point is to reduce the pressure, not add to his discomfort.

“He wears his hair down when he goes fishing,” Giorno speaks with such sincerity that it’s all Abbacchio can do not to snap at him, too. Plus, it would probably disappoint Bruno. If he were awake.

“Yeah, I pointed that out too. It’s weird.” Abbacchio shrugs. He would think that having your hair stuck to your skin with salt water would be worse than sweat, but he guesses that Bruno finds some nostalgia in it. He’s long given up on understanding certain things about his partner.

“I think it’s safe to say he’s sick,” Fugo points out, breaking the silence that follows. “We should probably get his fever down.”

“Right, yeah!” Narancia nods enthusiastically, then stops for a moment and looks dumbfounded, “How’d we do that?”

Fugo smacks him on the back of the head, “With medication and cold towels, obviously.”

“Hey!” Narancia spins on his heels, so he’s facing the other teen. He crowds in on Fugo until their chests are pressed together and Fugo’s reaching for something in one of his pockets.

“Cut it out!” Abbacchio snaps at both of them. He pinches the bridge of his nose and wonders why he ever let the whole group up here in the first place. He’s more than capable of taking care of Bruno on his own, even if he had missed the earlier signs.

“I can go get medicine,” Trish says, a bit meek compared to her usual self, and she’s gone before anyone can say otherwise.

“I’ll go get towels?” Giorno looks uncertain. He’s never had to deal with anyone else’s illness before. Not like this, and he’s always taken care of himself while sick. Usually by pushing through until his body sorted itself out.

“I’ll go with you,” Fugo offers with a half-smile. It’s meant to be reassuring, and Giorno seems to take it as such.

Abbacchio’s just relieved to have less people around. Mista and Narancia linger, but he elects to ignore both of them in favor of tucking the blankets in around Bruno. The best thing for a fever is to sweat it out, after all.

By the time the other three get back, Narancia and Mista have made themselves busy by going in search of a thermometer. It’s really more like a competition between the two, but Abbacchio doesn’t care as long as it keeps them distracted.

“I brought some water, too,” Trish says as she extends her bounty to Abbacchio. In one hand is a bottle of water; in the other is the medication she must have scavenged her own medicine cabinet for. That or the Team first aid kit. There’s actually a few of those throughout the house, but Bruno’s the only one that bothers stocking them, and that’s only when he knows to. For the most part, they run out of supplies because someone uses them without remembering to say anything later.

“We got hand towels in a bowl of ice water. It should keep him going for a while,” Fugo explains as he nods to the bowl that Giorno’s carrying and deposits his collection of towels on one of the bedside tables. He takes one and unfolds it enough to make a thin strip out of it. He dunks it into the water and squeegees out the excess before handing it to Abbacchio.

“Thank you,” Abbacchio says, taking the towel and placing it gently on Bruno’s forehead. It’s worrisome that he hasn’t stirred in the slightest. That despite all the ruckus, he’s remained sound asleep. Part of Abbacchio wants to leave him that way, but he knows getting the fever reducer in him will help him faster than the towels will. He gently shakes his partner’s shoulder and calls his name until familiar blue finally peaks open.

Bruno’s eyes are red around the edges, and there’s no focus to them. He blinks at Abbacchio a few times. Slow and owlish.

“You’re sick,” Abbacchio explains with little to-do. “You just gotta take these, and you can go back to sleep.”

A quiet hum is all he gets in response, and it’s damn near enough to convince Abbacchio to take Bruno to the nearest hospital. He’s never known Bruno to be cooperative a day in his life. Not when it comes to being sick or injured, but he forces himself to be reasonable. To think logically. Bruno isn’t indestructible. He’s allowed to feel like shit, and that means he’s allowed to want nothing more than to be left alone to sleep off the worst of whatever bug he’s managed to catch.

“I know,” Abbacchio murmurs, more to himself than Bruno. He helps Bruno sit up enough to take the pills and helps him back to lying down after that. He fixes the blankets and puts the wet towel back on Bruno’s forehead. Once he’s all settled, it takes only seconds for Bruno to pass back out.

“It’s weird seeing him like this,” Fugo admits, quietly.

“I don’t like it,” Trish’s voice is somehow softer, but there’s more to it. Her tone holds something else, and Abbacchio curses himself for not picking up on it sooner.

“He’ll be fine,” he says, doing his best to be reassuring. The problem is that he generally isn’t. “It’s been awhile, but Bruno does get sick.”

“Yeah,” Fugo says quickly, eyes following Abbacchio’s. “He’ll be fine, probably by tomorrow. Besides, Giorno can help if he needs to, right?”

Giorno looks a little startled to be pulled into the conversation, but he’s quick to nod, “If there’s any kind of damage, I can replace it.”

“See? All good. You all should get to work. It’s late already,” Abbacchio points out. Never mind the fact that he doesn’t plan on leaving Bucciarati’s side, which means they’re down, not one, but two men for the day. “And, if you see Narancia or Mista, tell them to forget about the thermometer.” The best thing they can do for Bruno at this point is leave him alone and let him rest.

“Right, yeah, let’s--let’s do that,” Trish says, stumbling over her words as much as her feet. She’s quick to reach for the door, obviously relieved to be dismissed without having to do so herself. Abbacchio can’t blame her. He doesn’t like seeing Bruno like this either, but he doesn’t have a recently deceased-from-illness parent at the forefront of his brain. He knows how much that still eats at Bruno. He can only imagine what it does to a teenager whose memories of the event are fresh.

Fugo follows her with a simple nod of his head at Abbacchio. A small sign of his appreciation that someone is taking care of the man that he sees as his savior, even now. Abbacchio mimics the gesture in acknowledgement and almost turns his attention back to Bruno before he notices Giorno, lingering by the door.

“What?”

“It’s--” Giorno swallows, “It’s nothing. Take your time. We can work out whatever we need to until he’s feeling better.”

“I will,” Abbacchio says with a tone that’s almost dismissive. Truthfully, he’s grateful for the permission. To hear it aloud rather than to think it to himself, but he won’t admit that. Least of all to Giorno. “Don’t forget to take the other two with you.”

“I will,” Giorno echoes with the slightest curve of his lips.

Cheeky little shit, Abbacchio thinks, but he watches Giorno with a near fondness reflecting in his gaze. It’s odd how much the little bastard has grown on him. Not, he supposes, unlike the rest of them. Maybe it’s all the time they spend together, given Abbacchio’s position in Investigations. Or maybe it’s the mutual concern for Bruno’s wellbeing. Whatever it is, Abbacchio’s glad the kid sees things his way. Just this once.

#sicktember2021 #bruabba #abbabru #bucci gang #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #leone abbacchio #trish una #giorno giovanna #guido mista #narancia ghirga #pannacotta fugo #blitzwrites #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #vento aureo #blitz

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duskholland · 5 years ago

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Places We Won’t Walk | Peter Parker

summary ↠ superhero!y/n au: when you have superpowers thrust upon you, sacrifices have to be made. some more willingly than others.

wc ↠ 4.5k

warnings ↠ depictions of character injury and death. angsty as fuck. there are a few swear words too but honestly they’re the least of your problems lmao

a/n ↠ recently I’ve found myself reflecting on the amount of loss Peter has experienced. loss of innocence, loss of childhood, loss of loved ones... this guy is a teenager and yet he is constantly forced into being an adult and it !! is not fair !! I wanted to play around with this sense of loss, and this fic gave me the perfect opportunity to do that. it made me cry lmao. *there’s a lil bit of a pov switch near the end, but it’s intentional*

↠ this is my submission for @mischiefandi‘s writing challenge. it’s based off the song, Places We Won’t Walk by Bruno Major. I made it a superhero au to fit my guideline! thanks so much for the challenge, V, I had a lot of fun with this <3

“You ever wish you weren’t a hero?”

The words fall past your lips before you can stop yourself. There’s a silence. Then a presence appears beside you, and you feel Peter wrap his hand in yours as he joins you by the window.

“What do you mean?” He asks, voice soft, questioning.

You tilt your head at the scene beneath the window. Central Park sprawls out in front of you, the lush green trees and speckled flowers brightening up the centre of New York City. The windows are shut, but you can imagine the sounds drifting up from the park: children laughing, lovers embracing, friends chatting. A sense of bitter jealousy sours your mouth as you force your gaze away from the park, the pain in your heart twisting angrily.

“We’re up here, working,” you start, picking your words carefully. “The world goes by below us. People- they fall in love, yeah? They hang out with their friends, they live their lives and they’re happy. Meanwhile, we stay up here, working alone, sacrificing everything.” You can’t help the bitterness that sweeps into your voice. You glance tentatively to Peter, who’s gripping your fingers a little harder now, his face pinched in an expression of anguish as his soft brown eyes flicker over the park.

After a moment, he sighs. “No one said life was going to be fair, Y/N.”

You’re disarmed by the bluntness in your boyfriend’s voice, and find your eyebrows raising reflectively. He finally tears his eyes from the park and brings his gaze to your face, his arms pulling around you as he takes in your expression. You bury your face in his shoulder and try not to cry as you think about the people down in the park, laughing and carefree, all because you’re up here, protecting them and their city.

It’s not fair. It will never be fair. But there’s nothing you can do about that. Because leaving the job would be siding with the enemy, and you could never do that.

“One day we’ll get out of here,” Peter murmurs, hands in your hair. His sweet peppermint scent swept over you as he holds you tight. “One day, we’ll take some time off, yeah? Go to the beach, have a vacation. Just...not yet.” And his voice sounds so false that water burns your eyes as you blink furiously.

“You think Tony will ever let us both leave the city?” When he stills, you catch your lower lip beneath your teeth and sigh guiltily. Pulling yourself back from his grip, you nudge your mouth against his cheek in a quick, chaste kiss. “Sorry,” you murmur. “It’s just hard, sometimes.”

Peter, only eighteen, but looking so much older with worried creases scrunched between his eyebrows, shrugs his shoulders. But he has an image of understanding on his face and a soft, sad smile spread across his lips, and it makes you feel a little less lonely to know you aren’t the only one chained to responsibility.

“We’ll get through it,” he promises. “They need us.”

And then you’re both looking back at the images of happy people playing in the park, and the silence returns again.

[——]

It’s Christmas Eve and you’re stumbling around on top of a rooftop, exchanging blows with a masked figure. In one hand he clutches a bag full of looted money, and in the other, he holds a knife. To say he’s built stockily, with wide shoulders and a tall, looming figure, he’s incredibly nimble on his feet. You’re breathless as you parry his strikes, your aching body already exhausted from taking on the rest of his goonies.

Peter’s somewhere below you, swinging around the city. You’d been relaxing beneath the Christmas tree in your apartment when his ears had pricked and you’d got a brief text from Stark HQ, and now you’re here, your evening plans of a festive gathering sacrificed for the greater good. Back in your lonely, dark kitchen lays a spread of cold festive treats you’d intended to serve to your friends and family, and you know you’ll stumble back to your empty place in a few hours and collapse on your sofa in tears.

It’s not that you don’t like your job. There’s nothing more gratifying and fulfilling than spending your hours saving lives. But it is a full-time job, and you never signed up for it. It wasn’t your fault that you were involved in a lab disaster when you were thirteen. You never volunteered to be Tony Stark’s newest project. And yet here you are, your body bruised and throbbing on Christmas Eve, exchanging blows with a thug instead of taking part in festive celebrations like the rest of the city. It’s hard not to be bitter.

“Ow!” You exclaim, your lack of concentration allowing the man in front of you to get a swipe at you. Your arm aches as the knife slices across your bicep, and you try not to look at the way your blood drips down onto the stony slabs of the rooftop. You deliver a swift kick to his chest and watch as he goes tumbling down, crumping in a heap on the ground. You tie his hands together and get ready to call for a lift back when there’s another blow delivered to the back of your head and you go spinning. You’re on the ground now, your vision blurring as you stare up at another of the men who must’ve sneaked up behind you as you dealt with the other. “Don’t you guys ever give up?”

He just snarls at you, lunging towards you with a larger knife than the other. You roll and spring to your feet, but now you’re lethargic and your arm has started to really hurt. Cursing lowly, you mutter into the com piece in your ear, “Pete? I’m gonna need some help up here,” the sense of guilt multiplying in your chest as you realise you’re pulling him away from the streets below, where he’s most likely helping civilians.

But you don’t regret it when the man gets a kick in at your stomach, and you end up on the ground again. Your head rattles against the stone and you can’t even manage to clamber to your feet as the guy approaches you, kneeling at your side so he can dig the point of the knife in at your neck. It’s cold and sharp, and you find yourself staring at the night sky, wondering if this is finally it. You can’t even see the stars through the air pollution, and your eyes glass over with tears as you realise you’re too exhausted to move your body.

You truly think it’s the end. But then there’s a loud crash, and the figure above you goes flying across the rooftop and crumples in a heap on the other side. With the pressure gone from your neck, you gasp a breath, a couple of hot tears falling down your cheeks.

“Y/N? Y/N, what’s wrong? Oh, shit, baby-” Peter’s hands go to your arm and you yelp as he pulls back the sleeve of your shirt, exposing the large laceration. Your eyes are screwed shut as you feel a cold pressure, and you know from experience that he’s using some special healing spray he’d had put in his suit for occasions such as this. His other hand goes to your face and you can feel his fingertips tremble as he caresses your cheek gently. “Hold on,” he murmurs. “Almost done.”

The throbbing dies down in your arm as Peter stops working on it. He helps you up to your feet, but you’re a little dizzy and stumble into him, your head aching and your stomach burning.

“I feel like I was just eaten by a wood chipper,” you manage, your fingers clinging to Peter’s shoulder for dear life. His laugh is low and weak as he helps you towards the edge of the building. You hear him mutter something through his earpiece to HQ about needing a cleanup crew, and then he wraps his arms around you.

“Let’s get out of here?”

“Take me home.”

He swings across the city with his arms wrapped around you, and you cling to your boyfriend weakly. When you’re back to your apartment, he helps you into some pyjamas and tucks you up in bed with a bunch of painkillers. You know you haven’t sustained any serious damage, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like you’ve been hit by a truck.

“You scared me there, for a minute,” Peter murmurs. He’s stood at the end of the bed, the mask gone from his face, but his body still wearing the rest of his suit. His brown hair stands up messily, and your heart throbs weakly as you see the dark bags hanging beneath his eyes. He steps a bit closer, eyes casting down guiltily. “Sorry it took me a while to get up to you.”

You hold out your hand and he takes it, his grip firm but somehow still delicate. “It’s not your fault,” you say. “None of this is your fault.” You trail off for a breath moment, but then a weak laugh slips out. “When do we ever just get a quiet night in?”

His face twists almost painfully, but then he nods. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” His hand slips from yours and you realise with a pang that he isn’t done yet.

“Oh…”

His lips find your forehead, and they linger there for a few moments. Unspoken words and mutual understanding flow through the contact and you sigh softly as you know he couldn’t possibly stay. Just because you’re out of action, it doesn’t mean he is, and crime doesn't take a day off just because it’s a holiday.

“See you later,” you say, voice quiet. He looks into your eyes for a few seconds, an expression of regret briefly flickering over his face before he steps back and pulls his face mask on again.

“I love you,” he reminds you, voice a little squeaky.

You do your best to smile comfortingly as you watch him jerk up your bedroom window and clamber out. You don’t manage to say it back before he’s gone, disappeared off into the chilly night sky with a swing of his wrists.

With a sigh, you turn off the light and bed down beneath your duvet. You don’t even bother trying to sleep: you know you won’t be able to until he comes back and shows you that he’s safe. So instead, you stare vacantly up at the ceiling, every inch of your body hurting with a dull ache, and you listen to the noises of the city as they stream through your open window. A few sad tears soak into your pillowcase as you hear the dull pulse of Christmas songs and distant laughter, and there’s even a faint scent of gingerbread coming out from one of your neighbours’ apartments. And it hurts - it hurts like there’s a thorn piercing your heart that scratches deeper every time you breathe - but there’s nothing you can do apart from lay there numbly and stare into the darkness, knowing that nothing will ever change, and this will be your life forever.

[——]

Undercover missions are always your favourite.

It’s something about the way you get to don a disguise and slip into another persona for the night that thrills you. You get a break from your life, and though the missions are never straightforward, that brief release from your superhero duties is always welcome. They’re also some of the few occasions that you get to stroll around, arm in arm with your lovely boyfriend, and he’s able to look exactly like himself; not Spider-man, with that daunting, blue and red suit, but he’s Peter. He’s Peter and he’s eighteen and he looks so dashing all wrapped up in a neat black suit that it draws a smile to your face.

The function room you’re currently pacing is full of New York’s elite. Dazzling diamonds and rich rosy scents flood your senses, and it seems everywhere you look, you’re surrounded by pretentious wealth. It’s hard not to let your eyes bulge as everywhere you look you see perfectly curled hair, long legs with tall heels, and expensive-looking leather watches. But it’s thrilling, too, and for a few moments, you find yourself lost in it.

“Did I mention how stunning you look tonight?” Peter whispers into your ear. Your cheeks warm as you use your free hand to dust down your dress.

“Oh, this old thing?” You joke. “It only cost about $2500.” And you hadn’t had to pay a single penny, thank god. It all comes under ‘business expenses’ - one of the few perks you get when you devote yourself to a life of service.

Peter gulps, his eyes softening when they meet yours. Adoration fills you as you look at your boyfriend, and you tighten your grip on his hand as you lean in to steal a quick, tender kiss.

“The most beautiful woman in the room,” he says firmly. He joins your other hand with his, and the rest of the room seems to fall away, leaving just you, and him, holding one another tightly. “I’m so lucky.”

“I’m lucky,” you correct, ignoring the way he opens his mouth to dispute the fact. “No one understands me like you, Peter.” Your breath catches as he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. “I can’t imagine living in a world without you.”

“A world without you is one I wouldn’t want to be in,” he affirms. He drags one of your hands to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to the skin there. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

But you can’t, and no sooner do the words come out of his mouth are you being interrupted by an elderly socialite. She’s wearing a glittery shawl and her pale blue eyes seem to dig into your soul as you make contact with her.

“Pardon the interruption,” she drawls, Southern accent twinkling lightly, “I just wanted to say how dashing you both look. What an adorable couple,” she compliments. Her gaze drifts down to your empty left hand. “Are you two getting married?” She says anyway, effectively driving a hard dagger into your chest.

Your eyes flutter shut as the pain that gripes at your chest stings your eyes. You can’t help yourself imagining the scene. You’re only eighteen, but you’ve known Peter since you were both fifteen and have been dating almost that long, so you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t imagined what it’d be like for him to fall to his knees in front of you. You know he’d be nervous - all flushed, and bumbling, and nervously shaking - but you’ve always found that endearing, and you know with certainty that you wouldn’t feel anything other than pure, sweet adoration as he asked you to marry him. It’d be a yes - of course it would be - and then you’d tumble into his arms and live out the rest of your life peacefully.

But it’s just a fantasy. An idea that you cling to every night you’re out fighting on the streets, everything hurting. It’s almost pitiful how much you find yourself yearning for it to happen, your mind fabricating a reality where you aren’t tied down to your job, and can instead live peacefully with the man you love.

When you’re silent, Peter speaks for you, laughing nervously. “Oh, uh, thank you, ma’am,” he flounders, his cheeks a bright red. “We’re just dating.”

“Oh, what a shame!” She exclaims. Then she steps nearer and grips your arm, and you feel dread replace your awkwardness as you remember your mission objective. Her fingers dig into your skin as her mouth finds your ear, and she hisses a low, threatening, “I know you’re here to ruin this deal, but I’m afraid I’m not going to let that happen, sugar. You’re surrounded.”

And you know Peter’s amplified hearing has picked it up, and you pull back to look at him, a dull look in your eyes. Of course it was too good to be true. God forbid you get to spend even five minutes with your boyfriend without someone stepping in and ruining it.

He shares your disgruntled expression as he flicks his wrists and his web-shooters appear. “Y’know, lady, I really thought you were nice,” he mutters. Then he blasts her with his webs, and the room becomes a war-zone, and you’re dragged back to your day job with a bitter taste in your mouth. This always happens, and at this point, you should be used to it, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less to come to terms with the fact that this is your reality: closeness with your boyfriend only when you’re on the battlefield, fighting back to back. No engagement, no wedding, no happily ever afters. Just fights, and pain, and work. And it’s heartbreaking.

[——]

Peter knows how much of a toll this life takes on you. He’s watched as the fifteen-year-old girl he used to joke around with started to shrink and wither. He’s been there as you’ve grown older and your heart has grown heavier, and he’s been with you as you’ve taken lives, saved people, lost people - the whole works. And he understands how difficult it can be, because he goes through it too, but he knows it’s worse for you.

Neither of you ever chose this life. For you it was a lab explosion, for him it was a spider. You aren’t like Tony Stark who engineered his way to the top, or Captain America, who chose to take on that super serum. You didn’t willingly surrender your freedom for the greater good - it was taken from you, ripped out of your cold, aching hands, and he’s watched as that theft has slowly worn you down.

You’re still the same girl he’d fallen for, three years ago. You can still be found humming along to your favourite songs as you bake in the kitchen, and you still greet him with a kiss every time he climbs through your window. But you’re also sadder, and he can sense the weight that hangs in your heart and the longing that you feel when you look around at the world and see only what you can’t have. Because you’re a good person - and that’s the main reason Peter found himself being gravitated towards you in the first place. And that means that you won’t ever leave this life and this city, even if it’s slowly suffocating you.

He’s tried all he can to help. He lets you cry on his shoulder and rubs your back and promises he’ll get you out of here one day. But they’re empty words and he hates to lie to you, but deep down you both know that it’ll never happen. Even if Tony let you have a week off, Peter knows that neither of you would feel content leaving the city in the hands of others.

You’re both tied to your jobs like a ball on a chain, and try as he might, Peter hasn’t been able to loosen the shackles. Not even a little bit. And one day, it all falls apart, and it’s only then that he realises how blind he’d been to the truth.

You’ve both been sent out of the city for a drugs bust involving a gang of vibranium scrappers. They’re in possession of some seriously dangerous weapons, so you’ve got a team of agents with you to help neutralise the threat. The warehouse they’re staked out in looks cold and uninviting, and as he approaches the metal box, Peter grabs your hand desperately.

“Promise me you’ll be safe,” he says hurriedly. He looks at you and the determined grin branded to your lips and his heart skips a beat. You are the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. When you let out a small giggle, it sounds like a thousand gentle wind chimes floating through his ears.

“I can’t promise that,” you tease, nudging his side. “How about you promise to save me if I get stabbed again?”

Peter’s heart falls as he remembers the time on the rooftop on Christmas Eve, all those months ago. When he’d swung up and seen you laying limp on the ground, close to death, he’d never felt as panicked in his life. It was as if his life had flashed before his eyes, but there was an empty space just beside him where you were supposed to be - his best friend, his partner in crime, the love of his life. He shudders as you drop his hand.

“I’ll always save you,” he promises. He’s got his mask in his hands and before he can stop himself, he gives you a quick, deep kiss. He feels your surprise, but then you grin into him and kiss him back strongly, your lips warm and soft and perfect.

“I love you,” you remind him. You give him another short kiss. “Let’s go get these bad guys!”

It goes well at first.

Peter had formulated a plan and the team had followed it precisely. Whilst he worked with you to take out the gang leaders, the backup you’d brought scurried around, securing the precious vibranium and neutralising as many weapons as they could. The warehouse was stuffed with personnel, yet slowly and surely, the gang is broken down.

He can’t help but become a little distracted as he webs up a few men. He can’t stop looking at you. The way your face is pulled into a magnificent expression of determination as you kick and punch and dodge and defend. Your hair goes flying in arcs around your figure and your movements are so fluid and powerful that it’s like you were born to do this. He’s left awestruck as an overwhelming feeling of love floods his system, and in that moment, Peter knows he’d follow you to the end of the earth if he could.

But his soft expression of adoration drains away as he watches the unthinkable happen. You’ve just punched a man in the gut when another approaches you from the side, and in a sickening manoeuvre, he stabs you in the side with a long, poisoned dagger. Immediately you go down, the material of your suit darkening as you yelp. The sound sends a blast of hot, white rage through Peter.

He loses it. When the man over you pulls out the dagger and allows a hot rush of blood to leave your side, Peter’s vision burns red. He’s shooting webs in every direction and manages to take down all the remaining targets in about two seconds, and then he’s stumbling to the ground, all the colour drained from his face.

Your face is flushed and your forehead is sticky, and as Peter pressed the flat of his hand into your side to stem the blood, you manage a scattered yelp. Your eyes are wide and terrified.

“Karen, run diagnostics,” he manages.

“Wound is deep. Poison is lethal. Two minutes until it overwhelms her system.”

Peter chokes back a sob and pulls off his mask. Two minutes. Even if you’d brought paramedics, he knows it would be a lost cause.

You’re gazing vacantly at the metal warehouse ceiling as he uses his free hand to shakily cup your face. “Hold on, okay,” he stammers. “Y/N, it’s going to be okay.”

Even in the face of death, you manage to smile weakly. “Take me outside,” you beg, voice shaky. “I want to see the stars.”

Peter scoops you up in his arms and manages to apply pressure to your side with one hand as the other swings the both of you out of the warehouse. Luckily you’re quite far out of down, and after using a few trees to gain momentum, Peter finds the rise of a hill and settles you both there. His hands shake and his lungs heave as he gently lies you down in the cool grass, and something a little like peace travels across your face. But it soon vanishes as you shudder, and then you’re grabbing at his arm and squeezing so tightly it feels like you’re ripping his arm from his socket.

One minute.

“Peter,” you manage, your voice quivering. Peter leans over you, kneeling desperately by your face, his eyes skittering over every line of your familiar skin. He takes in everything: the way your hair is soft and supple and smells of fresh strawberries, the way your eyes are sparkling and seem to draw him in, the way your nose curves perfectly and the deep smile lines that he can imagine forming by your mouth. His heart shatters as he brings his hand to your face and cups your cheek delicately. “Peter.”

“I’m here,” he mumbles. You clench your finger around his arm as your breathing eases.

“Get out of this,” you plead. “I- I’m begging you. Find… Find a nice girl, okay? And go to college with her. Maybe get married. Have some kids, even. Go on holidays.” You break off as a torrent of hot tears run down your face. “Live your life.”

Peter thinks about all the times he’d soothed your worries away. All the times he’d said you’d get some time off together eventually. When he’d said you could both go to college. When he’d promised one day you’d be able to settle down and live happily together. And he thinks about how they were just all big, ugly lies.

“You are my life,” is all he can manage. He smooths his hand through your wet hair as he cries too, eyes stinging.

“Do it for me.”

Your breathing is slower now, more pained. Peter presses a scattering of kisses to the side of your face and nods his head at the night sky.

“The stars are pretty tonight,” he manages. You gaze up and as the twinkling lights of the stars dance in your eyes, he knows you’re almost gone. He kisses your cheek again, his shaking lips lingering by your ear as he whispers, “I love you, brave girl. You can let go now. Go join the stars.”

And your lips let out a final, shuddering breath as your eyelids close, the light draining from your face. And Peter folds over on himself, an awful, twisted anguished groan filling the air.

Do it for me, your voice seems to echo through his mind. And Peter cries until his mouth is dry and his lungs burn and he’s heaving, and all he can think about are the empty promises he’d whispered to you, and all the places you won’t walk together. And how that life you’d described - of him, with a nice girl, building a life together - is never going to happen, because you were the love of his life, and now you’re gone. And for the first time in his life, Peter knows he’s truly alone.

[——]

any feedback? I would love to hear any thoughts you have on this!

masterlist

taglist ↠ see this post to be added :D

@behind-my-hazeleyes27 @stiles-o-dylan24 @stilinskiswritings @stealth-spiderr @youngblood199456 @flyingburrito123 @kiwijulia @theraggedwerewolf @sweetstilesofmine @breathinginthevapor @skamlover200 @irwxnhugsx @stixnstripesworld @mischiefandi @penguinchick100 @hcomet28 @aftrrglo @scottish-sim @cosmicholland @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles @sweet-baby-cakes @apatheticanvas67482 @oh-whatabeautiful-parker @panadolle @rhapsodyparker @xxxxdelenaxxxx @blairscott @quaksonhehe @starlight-starks @wonderlandfandomkingdom @musicalkeys

#Peter parker #Peter Parker imagine #Peter Parker oneshot #Peter Parker x reader #Peter Parker x y/n #I'm sad #v song-themed writing challenge #this made me cry like a bitch fhdjfhdfhdj #avenger!reader

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trashiewrites · 4 years ago

Text

The Clueless Bachelor and Bachelorette

(Bruno Bucciarati x Reader)

An: hey everyone, I know this is very different content then CoD but I do want to extend my reaches to other fandoms! I'll still be writing CoD but I'll also reach to maybe other games and anime. I hope yal all enjoy my first published Jojo Fic.

There a lot of responsibility when being a Capo for Passione. Taking orders from the boss, controlling a specific area. The last thing Bruno expected when to deal with constant female attention.

Ahh yes, at the prime age of 20. Perfect age for once to start looking for a partner. Undoubtedly, upon the bachelor's list was his truly, Bucciarati. He really couldn't deny that he's attractive but to say he comes with perks was an understatement. If one was to look at the list it would be quite easy to see that.

Walking down the busy streets of Naples with Girno was even a chore. Next thing a group of young women will be walking down the street "Bucciarati!" To look over at a groupie and see the one that (in his opinion) wasn't very attractive waving at him. He wishes he could ignore all of it, but he has a reputation to keep.

"Girls really have been after you huh Bucciarati?" Bruno look back to the newbie, his brow frowned in the slightest hint of annoyance.

"Tell me about it Giorno... I don't know what happened but I've been getting called at by women all the time now." In the distance again, hearing his name be called. This time he wasn't even bothered to look, he just waved. "I mean at first the attention was nice but I can barely go outside without a woman trying to seduce me."

"I feel that, the curse of being pretty I guess..." Giorno shrugged, Bruno could only sigh. "Let's head back to the others, at least give you a break from outside."

"That sounds like a splendid idea."

As the two walked in the the cafe the gang usually hangs, they enter to see the three huddled. Huddled against a magazine. "Wow, they really have a lot to say about Bucciarati!" Narancia moved his head closer to the book.

"Hey watch it! I'm trying to read too!" Mista pushed Narancia's head away.

"What are you all reading?"

"Oh hey, boss?" Mista closes the magazine and pulls it behind him.

"Mista! What the hell! I was reading it!" Narancia pulled on Mista's arm, getting up and personal.

"Like hell you are! You probably can barely read dumbass!" Abbacchio sighed as the two were two seconds away to pulling out the stands.

"To answer you Bucciarati, they're reading that new Local Bachelors and Bachelorette magazine."

"And I'm in it?" Bruno whispered to himself, "hand it over you two!" Mista seemed hesitant, it couldn't be that bad right? "Now, Mista" sticky fingers began to appear from over Bucciarati's shoulder. He shoved it into Bruno's hands and stormed off elsewhere. Bruno felt bad but was too intrigued by this magazine mystery to pursue it.

He gently flipped to the pages to reach the number 1 bachelor and "This is worse then I thought..." Giorno peered in, looking from the side. He noticed how much was written exactly. And well the pics were certainly something.

"Bucciarati, do you remember taking those photos? How did they get ahold of them?" The be frank, Bruno was busy reading the almost a thirst essay about himself to even notice the picture.

Giving the pictures a glance he was surprised he recognized them.

"I remember these..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunlight shined softly down the busy Italian streets. Tourist and locals alike enjoying the beauty of the day. Bucciarati took a sip from his glass, "nothing better then a cold glass of wine on a day like this. " he would get the occasional hello from locals he knew as well as glances by curious tourists.

One person, in particular, came up to him. A young women, maybe around her late 20's with a camera around her neck. "Signore, if I may ask. May I take a few photos of you? I'm an artist and I often take pictures of things that inspire me!" To any human being the request would be rather offputting. Indeed it was, at least to Bruno. But a normal person would also decline the offer. Bucciarati didn't see the harm of a few photos, if anything he'd call himself quite photogenic despite his semi-cold demeanor. Plus to deprive an artist of inspiration didn't sit right with him; so he agreed.

~~~~~~~~~

"That artist lied... or she sold my pictures. Either or isn't good, but damn..." Bruno skimmed through the pages. Person after person, some of them he even knew. He stopped on one page and well maybe call it fate but it was the page of the number 1 Bachelorette. Giorno auditable gasped as the sight.

"She's very beautiful... I see why they placed so highly..." Mista and Narancia came from the other side taking peaks.

"Yo, you're right Giorno! She is really beautiful. Father owns a successful flower shop too!" Narancia's cheeks turned slightly red. Mista closed his eyes, humming to himself as if he was fantasizing about something.

"Girl has looks, money, and property. She's a guy's dream girl honestly!" Bruno slammed the magazine closed, proceeding to roll it up. Then uses Sticky Fingers to smack him to the ground. "HEY! WHAT WAS THAT FOR!?"

"How dare you think like that Mista. Loving someone for their 'perks'..." Bucciarati stared down upon Mista, disappointment, and guilt filling Mista's soul.

Bruno just took the magazine and left. He needed time to make sense of all of it... "geeze Mista... nice to know who you really are!" Giorno snickered as he took a seat at a near by table.

"Guys, I wasn't talking of myself!!! Come on, I would never!"

~~~~~

Bruno wondered the town, just processing it all. All this attention wasn't out of the kindness of people's hearts. It was some lousy list that said he had perks... To now have to wonder if he was being used was a terrifying thought.

"Please, let me go... I don't want this at all!" Bruno was returning to reality. Overhearing 2 people talking in the alleyways.

"Oh come on beautiful, I've got a lot to offer!"

"I'm sure you do, but I am not wanting a relationship! Please for away! I don't even know you!" Her hands try to wiggle free but she was what Bruno could assume was pinned.

"Look missy, think about your answer real carefully. If you don't date me ill-"

"You'll what?" Bruno stood firmly at the alley entrance. The man turned to see him, catching a glimpse of the girl as well. (H/c) hair laced with small flowers, (s/t) skin, as well of (e/c) eyes.

"Its none of your business buddy! So how about you leave me and my girlfriend alone!" Bruno continued to walk closer, his expression as blank as he could manage. "H-Hey! I said stay back!"

"You know I find it amusing when scum like you exist in this world. The least you can do is accept the girl has no feelings for you."

"Like you know shit pal!"

"I heard it all, the entire conversation. As well, the fear upon her face right now speaks wonders." Bruno's steps were heavy, each one making a distinct clack.

"I said stay back you bastard!!" He dragged the poor girl by the hair restraining her arms. Sliding a knife from his own pocket, placing it above her throat.

"Sticky Fingers!" The girl closed her eyes as the blue figure hit the man square in the face. Knocking him down the alley. The guy cowards back, confused beyond belief "next time don't try to force yourself upon a harmless girl. Or do I need to beat the lesson into you?"

"No! No no no! I'm sorry I'm sorry! Please spare me!!"

"Then run." The man ran off in a rush, terror riddled his face as the bruises started to solidify. The screams echoed as he ran into the darkness. Bruno turned back the the girl, she stood against the wall paralyzed from fear. "Hey, are you okay? Did he hurt you?" She shook her head. Taking a good look the most harm was some scratches and maybe a few bruises, nothing life-threatening. Bruno tilted his head, she looked familiar.

"Uh.. mister, thank you for your help. I was really scared that guy was gonna hurt me." She clutched to her basket filled with different flowers. She picked out a small white lily from the batch, extending it to him. "Men back and forth have been cat-calling me all day. It's quite overwhelming." Her smile showed a sparkle of pure innocence. Bruno clutched his first, glancing at the magazine he held. It struck him, it was her, the flower shop's daughter.

"I believe I can show you why this is happening. Come with me and we can tend your wounds as well." The girl looked up in admiration. A shy smile as well as heated cheeks. She took his hand as a quiet acceptance. "Pardon my manners, I'm Bruno Bucciarati. It's my pleasure miss?"

"(L/n), (y/n) (l/n). I owe you my life, Signore."

AN: I might make a part 2... not sure

#bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno buccerati #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo bizarre adventure #jojos part 5 #golden wind #x reader #mama bruno

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c-c-cherry · 4 years ago

Note

I got it, what stuffies do the bucci gang members have?? Cause no matter WHAT they say, each of them has a comfort stuffy

Hell yeah Bucci gang comfort stuffies Bucci gang comfort stuffies (because even our boys in Passione have at least one)

Go give @jjadegreen a follow because her thoughts make up 99.9% of the head canons I post!!!

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Giorno

-Our boy’s got one medium sized plush ladybug. Narancia definitely gave it to him (he probably got it when he was sick or something just like what happened in The Unknown!)

-It was definitely the first stuffy he’d ever owned and he had no idea why they were giving it to him at first

-He has this external mindset that toys are for children but he literally loves this thing so much

-He’s too ashamed to tell anyone even though Narancia practically has a collection and he knows no one is gonna judge him for it

-It usually sits on a shelf but when Giorno has tough nights he hugs it to comfort himself and fall asleep

-It’s extremely well-kept because it’s Giorno's first stuffed animal. He adores it

-On one of his worse nights, Narancia walks in on him curled up under his blankets just—full-on crying into this poor ladybug. He skeets out of the room real quick and Giorno thought he’d completely fucked up and starts freaking out a bit only to see Nara run back in with more than an armful of stuffies and just dumps them all onto his bed

-They eat chocolate and take the best nap ever. This becomes a nice little weekly routine for the boys where the two of them can just sit and spill all their secrets and all that bro shit

-When Bruno catches wind of this via Narancia, he makes sure that they all give him a new plushie for his birthday

-Giorno acts like he could care less about it and politely thanks them, but Narancia gives Bruno all these little updates about how much Giorno loves every single one of them :’)

Bruno

-Surprisingly? Beanie baby collection

- He started collecting when he was a kid and paused the collection for the beginning of his time in Passione but started it up again about 3 years ago

-Beanie baby attic? Beanie baby attic

-When Fugo first moved in with him and just saw like—a room full of beanie babies he had no idea what to think but it's become a ritual at this point for each new member of the bucci gang to stare longingly at the vast collection when they first move in with them

- None of the beanie babies are exceptionally rare but he takes very good care of each and every one (like a good parent should)

- Although he doesn’t really have favourites, he does have a certain attachment to Smoochy the Frog because it was a gift from Leone (who begrudgingly denies that he has anything to do with the frog whenever one of them asks about it)

-What he DIDN’T know was that Polpo had a massive one. Like, a huge one because he was Polpo and of course he did

-Once he inherits all of Polpo’s shit he’s handed like, a million beanie babies and he is overjoyed

-He still keeps his own special collection separate from those ones, though. Because that shit’s special

Narancia

-Enormous plushie collection. Seriously.

-He cuddles with a different one each night like a devoted bro

-He has super tiny ones and huge ones that are bigger than him and a whole variety of them and they’re just fucking everywhere all over his room

-He can literally nap anywhere thanks to vast amount of comfiness in his room now

-They all have names which no one else can seem to remember other than Bruno.

-He always has special ones on hand specifically for lending out to the others (usually Giorno or Fugo) whenever one of them gets sad or overwhelmed

-Whenever he gets a new one he always asks everyone for name ideas (Mista is the best at coming up with names)

-Whenever one of his old animal plushies gets too old/can barely even function as a toy anymore, Giorno will turn it into an actual animal for him so it can still live on in a way :)))

-His favourite is a dirty, crusty, old plush lamb named Pecorey that he got from his mother when he was 2. When I tell you this thing is crusty, it’s CRUSTY

-But it’s very dear to his heart so it doesn’t matter ;-;

-Bruno has tried to clean her a few times but it seems like the grime will never come off. Narancia thinks the dirt gives her personality though.

Abbacchio

-Refuses to admit he has any plushies

-He has 2. One teddy bear he found at a garage sale that had Bruno’s hairstyle, so obviously he bought it.

-The second one is a tiny plushie that Narancia made by hand. Yes, the plushie also looks like Bruno. Abbacchio claimed it was ugly when narancia made it but he takes very good care of the tiny Bruno.

-Will not bring them out of his closet under any circumstances. Even when he’s sad ;(

-He helps Bruno dust off his beanie babies, even though he swears that he hates doing it

Mista

-His plushie is... can you even call it a plushie?

-It’s a teddy bear he got as a baby, but mista never took good care of it so it’s just.... a stuffingless husk. Just skin.

-Mista claims the bear is named Cattivo but the rest of Team Bucciarati usually refers to the bear as ‘it’. Abbacchio keeps trying to throw it out but he always fails.

-They always wonder why Mista still keeps it around and one night they find out that his eldest sister found him after he came out of jail and gave it to him and it's the only item that he has left that stuff connects him to his family (and also the last time he saw his sister)

-They start calling the bear Cattivo after that

-It sits on his bookshelf and he puts it next to his pillow when he gets sad

Fugo

-Has no plushies of his own, though he used to have hundreds back when he lived surrounded by wealth

-When he turned seven, his parents took away all toys that he owned and replaced them with books and school supplies, telling him that he’s fated to do well in academics and doesn’t need any distractions

-He still has it drilled into his head that he doesn’t need them or doesn’t deserve them and makes it clear to everybody that he doesn’t want any (even though he kinda does)

-He does frequently steal plushies from Narancia though

-He always returns them in the end because he just ends up feeling bad for wanting one but Narancia doesn’t mind.

-He usually takes this one huge dragon that’s big enough to hug with his entire body. While fugo will never admit it to his team, he really likes affection with those that he trusts, so having a huge plush (even if he’s just borrowing it) to hug is nice.

Trish

-Collects those tiny Japanese plushies which are like... food, drinks, etc,,but with those cute little eyes.

-She buys like, 4 of them a week.

-Her favourite changes almost daily, usually just whichever one she bought most recently :)

-Fugo and Giorno don’t really see the appeal in food with faces, but Mista and Narancia LOVE Trish’s collection

-If she orders one she ends up not liking, she gives it to Narancia for his collection (and sometimes Mista if he begs hard enough)

- Trish has an entire LED display wall in her room for her collection. Her impulse buying of these plushies knows no bounds. She tries to save up for huge ones but she ends up buying a bunch of small ones on impulse.

-Bruno did get her a few huge ones for her birthday, though!

-Whenever Abbacchio is out shopping and runs into one of them that she doesn’t have, he kind of just,,,sneakily buys it and puts it on her bed while she’s not there for her to find later

-She has no idea who keeps gifting her these blessings, but she has a feeling that its him hehehe

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

I still have this cat stuffy in my room that Jade got me when I was 3 or 4 (but she was like 2 when she “gave” it to me so it was more like our mom bought it lmao) and I named it Kitty because I was super original. When I was 5, I lost it once and refused to sleep for days without it so my parents “found it” which really meant they went and bought me a second one and right after that WE ACTUALLY FUCKING FOUND IT LMAO

But like 6 months later my parents split and now I have one at each of their houses so it works! No Kitty is more superior than the other, I love my children equally😌😌

Listen, I know all y’all have at least ONE toy/item/memento somewhere, even if you haven’t seen it or thought about it in years. And I wanna know what it is.

#ask-c-c-cherry #headcanons #jojo's bizarre adventure #bucci gang #jojo's bizzare adventure golden wind #jjba #toys #plushies #bruno buccellati #bruno bucciarati #leone abbacchio #pannacotta fugo #trish una #giorno giovanna #guido mista #narancia ghirga

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