#leone abbacchio fluff

[chronicallyonline101]

OH WAIITERRR!!! May i have your finest glass of leone abbacchio x reader pretty please! One where the reader finds Abbacchio beat up on the curbside only to find out he got into some kind of bar fight! So she pulls up and is like "Again??! Get in," and takes him home, patches him up, FLUFFY STUFF!! WITH A CHERRY ON TOP

ORDER UP!!! Here is your glass i do hope you enjoy! (i wrote this on mobile so if the formatting is weird thas why soz pooks(

Nights of White Satin

Leone Abbacchio x reader || Oneshot, Fluff

You traced your thumb along the bottom of his bruised lip; bloody, illuminated by nothing but an old, flickering streetlamp in the midst of a sad, gloomy night. His purple lipstick had long since worn off, but the mottled blue's of his injuries did well to replace it. Despite how you tried to peer at him, his eyes always managed to evade yours - glued to the ground in what was a mixture of shame and fury welling together in an ombre cocktail.

Cars flew by behind you. Tires screeching against wet concrete, the thrum of engines and splashing puddles but none of it mattered. You fixated on the man in front of you with clear concern. Concern that only had him biting his cheek with disinterest.

"Leone... what happened?" You leant closer to him, a frown settled across your lips as you gently moved your hand to cup at his delicate cheek and redirect his gaze toward yourself.

For a moment, Abbacchio allowed himself the comfort of your presence; leaning into your touch like a feline starved of affection, but when your fingers brushed across a stinging open wound he hissed in a breath through his teeth and reeled backward. Now grounded, he reprimanded himself for getting so comfortable and took to curling his hands into fists.

"It's nothing," He grouched, turning his gaze to the floor once again. "Just some work things. You know how it is."

You leant back a little, swallowing thickly. Of course... Abbacchio's 'work'. The thing you would call organised criminal activity was just a normal Tuesday for him - to no avail, looking at him here, sat in the gutter with a broken wine bottle to his side... you felt that perhaps what had happened was less serious than what he was making it out to be.

With a short, frustrated huff, you stood upright. Hands on your hips as you looked up wistfully. The sky was clouded, not that it mattered; you could never see the stars in the city, but the sight of such gloom reminded you of how unsafe it was to be on these streets of Napoli late into the night.

"You got into another fight again, didn't you?"

He winced at your question. Tensing when he felt your gaze turn accusatory. There was no way he could deny it. The amount of times you'd find him in this condition - or worse - had made such a task impossible. Instead, he let out a groan and while burying his head into his hands mumbled:

"He made fun of my hair."

His words were followed by a shameful silence.

You sighed, pinching at your temple before decidely shoving a hand into your pocket and fumbling about for your car keys. Abbacchio lifted his gaze to watch you. After a few seconds, you pried the jangling things from your pocket and pressed at a button to unlock your car which had been hastily parked atop of a curb only a few feet away.

You turned toward the vehicle with a fervent urgency. "Come on then."

His brows furrowed, and for a moment he remained still, watching with an intense glower while you clicked open the door to the drivers seat and hopped inside.

Upon realising he hadn't followed, you honked the car horn at him with urgency. It was with that, he slowly arose to his feet; wobbling unsteadily for a few seconds. Glass crunched beneath his shoes as he walked toward the passenger seat to your car, and as he took his place beside you.

You stuffed the key into the ignition, twisted, and soon the two of you were off. At first, the atmosphere in the car was silent. Filled only by the gentle rumbling of its engine, but it was too much for Abbacchio. Silence meant thought, and right now he didn't want to deal with his thoughts.

So he spoke: "What are you doing?"

"Taking you home." A small huff left your nose, condensating against the cold air. Your grip around the wheel tightened, praying to anything out there that he would drop it at that.

You wanted to help him, but he was so damn stubborn. When his brows rose in distress, you knew he'd put up a fight:

"You don't know where I live." He griped, and crossed his arms over his chest in disobedience. He cocked his head in the direction of the window, watching with hazy yellowish eyes as the flashing world passed by.

Another sigh passed your lips as you admitted defeat. "My home. We're going to my home, Leone."

"Why? I don't want to---"

"---I'm trying to help you. Please... let me help."

For a moment, you risked peeling your eyes away from the road. Wide and pleading, you watched longingly while he glared out the window beside him. His silver hair glimmered prettily against the night sky; the moons shadow befell him like a cotton blanket and even in a roughed up, bloody state he was so... perfect. So radiant. An image of tragedy yet glowing with hope.

"Your my friend." You decidely went on. "And I like you."

And at your words, Abbacchio bit into his bottom lip to hide a whimper of utter sorrow.

A friend. His friend. You were his friend.

The venomous thorns of guilt coiled around his heart like a snake; he was wreaked with shame. You were so good to him, such a kind, loving person and here he was - a criminal. A delinquent.

How many times had you found him at the side of the road? How many times had you welcomed him into the warmth of your home? Bathed his wounds in salt? Patched him up with a hug and a pat on the back?

It was sickening, to think of how often you opened your heart to him and how little he gave back. Every night he found himself here with you he put you in danger, it was cruel and selfish, and yet he loved every second of it. As nonchalant as he tried to be, he loved the attention you gave him.

Such is why, though he grumbled and complained, he never once stopped you from taking him home. Never halted his footing as he traipsed along behind you and never snatched your housekeys from your palms; he watched curiously all the while you welcomed him into your abode, sitting with compliance on your couch as you ushered about in the dark to try and a first aid kit.

When you finally settled down beside him, there was a small cotton ball clutched between your fingers. Doused in isopropyl alcohol; you lifted it up to gently press at an open wound. He winced and flinched backward,

"You need to stop getting into these fights." You tutted at him, relocating the cotton ball to his lip where you then cleared away his smudging lipstick.

There was a huff, but he moatly stayed silent. Leaning into your touch. Your eyes lifted to meet his, curious and attentive; he swallowed thickly, adams apple bobbing against the curve of his neck. The room grew warm while you held each others glaze, and with a light, awkward cough you broke away from the stare to dash the now red cotton ball to the side.

"Did you get hurt badly?"

He scoffed, turning his head to look to the side. "No. I left him worse for wear."

There was a short laugh. A rare sound, coming from him; and though it was quiet, it was honest. It told you he wasn't as grumpy as he made himself out to be and at that, you smiled.

"Mm. I feel bad. Maybe I should go back and help him out too, eh?" You laughed at your own joke, reaching down to grab at some gauze for his wounds.

You heard him grunt above you and failed to notice the expression of discomfort that befell his face. "I'd rather you stay, actually... I like you being here."

You paused. Lifting yourself up to look him in the eyes, brow quirked in a smug perplexion.

"You like it when I patch you up?" You leant closer to him; you could feel his breath fanning against your face, his breath once again hitching at your sudden closeness. He could feel heat rising to his cheeks.

His lips parted for a moment. He thought that perhaps you were going to go further. That maybe, you'd press your lips to his... but you didn't. He was left sourly dissapointed when instead you took to pressing the gauze against his wounded cheek.

"I do." He mumbled.

He went quiet, after that. Growing shy, unsure of himself or what he was even saying. He was pretty drunk, to be fair; he'd likely regret how mushy he was getting, but right now he was happy. He was content. His body ached like a battered banana, but every touch your fingers danced upon his fair skin had him leaning closer with serenity.

When you were done cleaning him up you packed away the first aid kit and he watched for a while as you teetered about putting things away and preparing both of you tea. He hovered behind you for a while and once you were done, wormed his way into your bed; the two of you shared it for the night because, well, he was injured and needed the bed and it was stupid to let you get a bad back on the couch because of stupid societal norms regarding bed sharing. And if he did reach out to hold you in the night, so what?

Abbacchio liked you a lot. He hated having you worry for him so much, but... he also loved how you treated him. It was gentle. Loving; thing's he could never have as a skilled mafioso. It was selfish for him to seek you out like this but at the same time, he knew he wouldn't stop. He'd get into more bar fights, he'd find himself in more scuffles and at the end of each day, he'd find himself in your house; your embrace; he'd find himself wrapped in your love.

(I HOPE THIS IS GOOD!!! IF NOT I CAN CHANGE IT PLS LMK!!!! to the ppl that sent in the Kira and Melone reqs I'm almost done with them! :) im just being lazy)

[danddymaro]

A sweetheart | Leone Abbacchio x reader

idek. 

Based on the most mundane parts of The golden wind boy’s daily activates. 

No angst

Word Count: 2742

A sweetheart

The day has gone by normally, which didn’t bother you too much. 

Most of the gang was all gathered at Libeccio, the reserved table you sat in attended to with the utmost dedication as a form of gratitude offered by the owner, moreso to Bucciarati himself than anyone else.

Everyone is there, all aside from your leader who had informed you he had to take care of a matter before you left for your upcoming assignment. 

So you had time to sit down and enjoy the moment with your friends.

Narancia and Fugo are huddled close, going over a new handwritten assignment the blonde had taken the time to create.

 Mista sits to one of your sides. 

He occasionally listens, a bored look to his face as he calmly eats his favorite dish, though finding it lacking since it’s the same thing he orders every time he goes.

Abbacchio sits to your other side, his cheek pressed against his knuckles as he enjoys the personal concerto his headphones provide. 

- Nothing interesting happens until a pencil snaps.

It’s all tranquil until Fugo erupts, his voice obnoxiously loud as he glares down at Narancia who challenges him back, making you grimace. 

You can feel a cold sweat of embarrassment coat you, and you just hope no one has to come back and remind you that this is a respected establishment and not some dingy back ally.

The two men on your either side each have their own reactions. 

Reluctantly, Leone pulls the left side of his headphones back, listening while Mista seems just a bit more enthusiastic. 

After all, he’s getting dinner and a show, and he seems grateful for the entertainment.

“Dibs on Fugo,” Guido says quickly, nearly stumbling over his words, making Leone grumble, “ I guess I’ll take Narancia,” He says, having no other option.

“What are you betting on this time,” you tiredly ask, your expression lightly soured. 

Mista keeps his eyes on the two across while he speaks, “ We’re betting on who’s gonna lose their cool first and swing,” he says. 

“You’re kidding right?” you ask with wonder. “ Once Fugo snaps, he’s defiantly striking first,” you say, looking at Abbacchio. 

“- And you think Narancia is the one to go with?” you say with a raised brow, making Leone huff. 

“Only other option was taken,” he says annoyed. 

Meanwhile, the other two continue to bicker.  

Fugo stands first, looking down at Narancia with a violent gaze that unexpectantly melts. 

As quickly as it heated, it suddenly turned cold, just as his voice, 

“I don’t even know why I bother with you,” he then said, surprising everyone with how collected he seems. 

“-You Idiot,” he huffs “You’re a lost cause-” and Narancia has nothing to say. 

Instead, he stays quiet, looking up at Fugo with wide eyes that soon dash away, which is yet another surprise to all of you.

“Whatever...” he says back, not knowing anything else better to say.

The blonde then shakes his head, stalking away and leaving the room filled with a thick tension that felt suffocating.

“That was new....” Mista said while releasing a low whistle, scratching his cheek.

.

.

.

"What a fucking idiot," Leone grumbled, the insult making Narancia's shoulders sink, the snapped pencil in his hand held tightly after he took hold of it again, and as you suspected he was left sensitive over the argument.

It takes a lot to quiet him down, that’s for sure, and when he did it was serious.

"Abbacchio," you started, disappointment in your tone as you eyed him. 

You were ready to stand and go to Narancia to comfort him when Leone stood from his seat instead, his hands in his pockets as he released a low, tired sigh that made it seem like it took everything out of him to rise.

As he came to Narancia's side he spoke, " Not him, I mean Fugo." he clarified, surprising both Narancia and you. 

"Of course, he knows what he's doing," There was no question about it. 

"He's a genius...so The way he's explaining it to you makes sense to him, but not you right?" The long-haired male asked as he loomed over Narancia.

At that, Narancia nodded, "yeah..I swear Abbacchio, I'm really trying this time," he says while craning his head back to look at the other male.

 Granted he messed around, but not then.

He’d managed to learn his multiplication tables, and had advanced quite a bit, moving on to a bit of the harder parts where new formulas were involved.

"But I don't think Fugo believes that," he added, dejected.

"Well, That's what happens when you fuck around so much," Leone responded his words tarty, understanding how the other man could get so frustrated.

"Still..." he then added because he didn’t entirely with the way fugo chose to express it.

"Make sure to take notes this time, And if you're lost ask because I'm only giving you this one chance," he warned as he started, his finger skimming over the first question. 

His voice was firm, clear, yet somehow... soft as he verbalized a walkthrough of the steps needed.

You listened as Abbacchio went through the material with Narancia, and if you were being honest, there was something endearing about it.  

- maybe even sexy.

'he's a good tutor...' you mused, your eyes drawn to him, the entire time forgetting about your food.

You were stuck in a trance, one that broke once you heard Narancia's elated voice break through the tranquil atmosphere. 

"No way!" he said as he looked down at his answer, his eye shining as he saw Abbacchio's pleased smile. 

"it makes sense!" he cheered.

"You did good," Leone then praised before he decided to move back, "If you get lost just look back at your notes," he recommended as he traveled back to his former seat beside you.

He brushes shoulders with Mista as the dark haired male stands before the dessert cart, eyeing it with a pout as he considers what would be a good dessert.

- He’d lost interest the second he heard math.

Throughout the move, you couldn't help but stare, perhaps too intensely.

‘Big meanie did something nice...’ you inwardly mused with a tiny, suppressed giggle.

"And just What are you laughing at?" Abbacchio grumbles while he takes his seat again, his stare narrowed as he challenges your gaze. 

It doesn't scare you in any way as the hint of bitterness is so obviously a mask to hide how flustered he is.

"Me?" you huff, trying not to smile any harder, especially as out of the corner of your eye you see Narancia continue to look down at the sheet before him, scribbling down his new answers.  

A triumphant look is worn in place of his usual, pensive one that more often than not morphs into exasperation.

At the sight, warmth fills your chest and it’s a wonderful feeling.

"-Nothing," you finally say while  the spongy sweet before you is delicately picked at with consideration to what will be your first bite. 

"nothing at all," you add as you finally find the right start, slowly dipping your fork into your little dessert. 

"I just thought it was cute..." you casually admitted while continuing to look down at your treat, missing the immediate flourish of color that filled his face. 

Before he can find something to say fugo returns, his expression softened from the previous agitated one he'd sported, "Hey....Narancia," he softly murmured as he walked in. 

He seemed sheepish, moreso regretful and you supposed a 40 minute break would do that to anyone.

"About what I said..." he added, "I'm...sorry," he said while taking a seat next to the older male. 

"I didn't mean it ; you actually have a lot of potential." he complimented, taking back his earlier comment. 

“especially for someone with such a limited amount of education... In fact, I have to admit you've improved in every other subject. " he insisted, and the praise had the dark-haired boy's entire demeanor perk.

“ It says a lot that we’re working on this now,” he further adds. 

"Y-You mean it Fugo?" Narancia asked, his voice touched with excitement that someone as smart as Pannacotta had praised his intellect - something that had never happened before. 

There was a reason why he hadn't been too concerned about dropping out of school in the first place. Amongst many other things, it frustrated him when he didn't understand much, and he had no trouble letting go of that headache.

"Of course I do, That's why I get so annoyed," the blonde spoke, "I know you can do it, and it seems like we’re both falling short of our capabilities,” he expressed. 

“ I'm just sorry it gets the best out of me," he said before looking down at the sheet Narancia had been working on. 

"Anyways, lets ke-" his words fell short as he picked up the practice work, then the notebook on its side where new notes had been added. 

New handwriting decorates the page, and it catches his eye. 

His violet eyes brightened as he skimmed over the pages, and even as they were directed back to his friend, "Narancia, you did this?" he said with an obvious swell of awe as he finds himself going over each new answer.

"I sure did," the teen said with a sure nod, briefly turning back to the eldest male that sat with them, " Abbacchio helped me with it. He broke it down for me just a bit more," he elaborated. 

“He gave me different examples too,”

"You're kidding..." Fugo breathed as he looked at Leone, his face melting into true gratefulness. 

" I didn't know mathematics was a strong suit for you," he said, amazed at the notes that showed a full comprehension. It was one thing to get the answers right, it was another to show such detailed work in more ways than one.

- enough to dumb it down so much.

 Abbacchio softly sighed, "- I was top of my class too..." he revealed.

It's not like he expected anyone to know since he's never mentioned it, but even then he always assumed everyone else would catch on that he wasn't just some  idiot.

 "An overachiever," he added with a bit of embarrassment, not mentioning how much of a dork he really had been.

"And every now and then I had to tutor some idiot after class," he recalled.  

"so...You could've been a teacher, or had gotten some other lame job, " Narancia pointed out, "- like at some boring bank," he snickered,  making Abbacchio chuckle. 

The number of times his mother had tried to talk him into working in finances had, had him weary.

"I could have..." Leone started, "But I wanted to do something else with my life," he admitted while looking down at nothing. 

"I thought I..." he couldn't finish, his lips pursing as he thought about how he'd messed up. 

He shook his head of the incoming thoughts before he leaned back on his seat, "Anyways, don't get used to it," he said while glaring at the two other males, his tone changing in just a second.

"I'm not here to babysit anyone, or hold anyone's hand," he grumbled, his tarty words flying over Fugo and Narancia's heads as they simply grinned, realizing that no matter what he said, at the end of the day, he'd helped out. 

"so you got the hang of it?" Pannacotta then asked Nararancia. 

"Yeah, yeah," he responded, waving him off and continuing with what was left of the worksheet.

Meanwhile, you stand, making your way toward the dessert cart. Instantly, you eye the vibrant red that sits over a coat of creamy frosting.

'perfect,' you think as you reach for it, beating Mista as he finally decides what to get. 

"Hey!" his complaint is ignored as you make your way over to your seat, but not without a stop.

As Abbacchio continues to listen to his music again, he has his eyes closed, drowning in the sound before he feels a tap on his shoulder. To accompany it is a familiar scent of perfume that gently tickles his nose, and instantly perks his chin up. 

A warm body brushes him, and without any other indication, he knows the presence, reacting to it with the most subtle hint of warmth. 

 Upon opening his eyes, he's greeted with the sight of a dessert being served, and as he turns slightly he sees you reaching over him from behind.

As you begin to retreat, he sees your smile and much more the darling twinkle in your eye that has him in awe.

The question in his gaze is too easy to read, and to give him some ease you linger close, your voice both coy and secretive, 

"That's for being a sweetheart," you say as you decide to pull back, walking passed your seat with the intention of leaving.

Perhaps you wouldn't have had the boldness if you weren't sure you were moments from leaving, already having someone waiting for you. 

You had noticed the new arrival just a minute before, letting you know it was time to go.

Bucciaratti stands at the doorway with his arms crossed, leaning against the arch, looking over with amusement as he watches your interaction with the other man. 

And while to everyone else at the table, you seemed to saunter away with all of the confidence of the world, Bruno could see the absolute fluster that consumed you, making him turn away with a little snicker. 

You seem almost dazed as you reach him, and he softly tuts.

 " I see you’re enjoying yourself," he comments, giving you space to walk out first, choosing the gentlemanly route of following behind. 

"Enjoying what," you say while battling a smile, trying to look cool and unaffected. 

"Teasing him so much," the dark-haired male says with a huff, briefly looking back to find Leone being shaken by mista as he takes the man's shoulders in his hands, moving him back and forth with an animated way of speaking. 

- and while Bruno can't really hear what he's saying, he just knows he's praising him. 

It all happens as Fugo and Narancia laugh, pointing at the elder male's face that blooms red.

You just know that the others are messing with him, and A flash of guilt hits you before it morphs into delight. 

"you don't know all of the things he does to me," you say while shaking your head. 

Abbacchio plays with subtle cruelty like he enjoys watching your stomach knot and your mouth dry in response to him. 

- Just recalling makes you feel less guilty.

,

,

Leone's face is practically glowing, the smile that stretches over his face unbelievably exaggerated as he continues to come closer. He's so distracted he doesn't notice that Bruno is on the opposite end of the hallway, forced to come to a halt before they bump into each other. 

"Well this is a surprise," Bruno mutters with a raised brow. " you're in a good mood," he teases while taking a step back to admire his friend's jovial mood. 

"If I'd have to guess, I'd say it has something to do with the message I just received," he remarks, going as far as to bring it out of his pocket. 

"Bucciarati, he's such a jerk," he reads your message out loud, briefly bringing his eyes back up to the man who continues to smile. 

"You,  I assume," he said with certainty, and it makes Leone smirk. 

"What can I say," he proceeds to say, the way his entire face is glowing proof that whatever just happened between the two of you had left the man with plenty to think of.

"- She looks so damn cute sometimes..." Abbacchio mutters moreso to himself, as though it's all the justification he needs.

Bruno can’t help but let his shoulders fall with a touch of disappointment. 

It’s not that he didn’t approve of their relationship, but he did find it a tad frustrating that the two chose to keep playing such mindless games with each other rather than just mature and admit their feelings.

"I think I have an idea, " Bruno replied, not feeling so bad for the other man after all,  considering all the times he’s gotten the best out of you. 

“Anyways...” he starts, moving forward and explaining to you your destination.

 You listen attentively, hoping you’ll come back sooner than expected.

[inkpot909]

How They Text the Reader Headcanons #2

↳ Characters included are Giorno Giovanna, Pannacotta Fugo, and Narancia Ghirga. Gender neutral Reader; implied everyone lives AU.

A/n: Thank you all so much for the support on my last text headcanon list. It was so fun to write, and I hope that y'all enjoy the second-half of the main part five cast. Once again, I had a blast while writing this!

Warning(s): None.

Giorno Giovanna

You expected him to be a dry-texter, in all honesty. Straightforward and to the point; only ever texting out of necessity. You couldn’t really imagine him as the type to sit down, and have a silly conversation over text.

And at the beginning, that was certainly the case.

Being introduced to the team all at once is certainly overwhelming, and although Giorno adjusted well, he still didn’t know you or the others.

Within the team’s groupchat, he only ever spoke up about important matters as that were being discussed. Whenever a more lighthearted conversation arose, usually because of Mista, he would grow completely radio silent.

Does he really read those texts at all? you recall yourself wondering, Or does he tune us out completely? Can’t really blame him if that's the case; this team... takes time to adjust to.

And eventually learning that he always read those conversations, it was one of the first indications you saw of his character. One of the first times you realized he can and will find his place on the team.

So, while you were in the process of just getting to know Giorno, you developed low expectations when it came to communicating with him over the phone. Hell, you hardly expected him to text you at all.

Oh, what a fool you once were.

As the relationship blossoms, Giorno still texts you as usual. With proper grammar and punctuation, as well as the occasional emoji or two.

But he's far from being a dry-texter. On the contrary, he’s rather cheeky.

And because of his position in Passione after a certain point, work soaks up a lot of his time. He’d much rather call you, but that’s simply not an option most days.

So he simply pokes and teases you over text. Sitting alone in his office, he almost always wears a tiny yet pleasant smile on his face when he reads whatever you send him.

Giorno doesn’t send memes or funny pictures often, but when he does, it’s either pure gold or ridiculously unfunny. Merely doing it every now and then to get a little bit of a rise out of you, of all things.

And he loves it even more if you’re the type to tease him right back:

Pannacotta Fugo

Practically the inventor of double-texting.

He’s got no shame in it either, and if anything, he would argue that him sending multiple messages means you ought to reply. He’s not exactly impatient with you, though.

He usually uses proper grammar over text as well. More than that, he’ll lecture anyone case for not doing the same. He even once pointed out a simple mistake Abbacchio made.

It’s merely lighthearted teasing if you’re the type to not use proper grammar over text, though. Fugo wears his favoritism for you on his sleeve whenever he gets on Narancia’s case for the same exact reason.

That said, when he’s angry, forget about grammar- you just want to be able to understand him.

He complains to you over text... a lot. The outlet is good for him, in a sense. Fugo’s incredibly grateful to have someone like you who will listen to him so earnestly, and he expresses that often. Considering his temper, it really does mean so much more to him than he knows how to express.

It makes knowing whether or not he’s genuinely upset or just playing around easy for you to figure out, at least. Are his text messages legible? If so, there's no reason for concern.

Once, he was ranting to you about a disagreement that arose between him and Abbacchio. His texts were steadily becoming hard to understand, and you prepared yourself to talk to your boyfriend through his anger.

But before you could, he stopped texting you all together.

That was rather confusing, as he’s the type to continue blowing up your phone when frustrated. It wasn’t until almost twenty minutes later, when you saw Mista’s contact pop up for a phone a call, that you found out why.

It was Fugo on the other end, calling from Mista’s phone to bashfully inform you he chucked his own phone out of anger and ended up breaking it.

Later that year, you got him one of those expensive cases that could likely protect a phone falling from absurd heights for Fugo’s birthday. He seemed a bit embarrassed over it, but appreciated the gift nonetheless (He won’t admit it but it does come in handy).

You just cannot stop yourself from teasing him a little bit, especially over the phone. His indulgent reactions are worth it every single time:

Narancia Ghirga

He’s bound to make you cry from laughter over text. Whether it’s his words alone or a meme he sends you from his vast collection (His phone is almost always on the brink of running out of storage), making you laugh comes naturally to him.

It’s a source of pride for him, so reacting bombastically over text is exactly what he’s looking for.

Narancia is also a major sucker for gossip, so he loves sharing everything he hears with you over text. From a random conversation he eavesdropped overhead while out, to drama taking place within Bucciarati’s group.

Doing the same in return is greatly appreciated, as he adores hearing your input.

He’ll also text you at random asking questions like “What did Buccarati want me to do again?” and “Do you happen to know where I put my notebook?” Whenever he racks his brain and cannot find an answer to a dilemma, he’s almost always going to voice his confusion to you with little hesitation.

He’s sent you those types of texts... while on missions. Snitching to Bucciarati is not advised.

You’ve tried telling him he could type those sorts of things down in his notes, but he either forgets to do so or wrongfully assumes that he’ll remember.

Narancia, Mista, Fugo, and you have a groupchat separate from the others on the team. Considering the madness that regularly occurs on it, Narancia’s proud to mention he’s the one who originally suggested the idea.

That said, as much as he likes to text you, he’s not the type to text you good morning and good night every day. Rather, he texts you only when “he has something to say.” Which... is often enough on its own.

He will also complain to you over text often as well. Although, it's not usually out of outright anger:

[babypinkbruno]

Unplanned Pregnancy Drabble as usual i have no idea what this is, i was just very curious as to how i thought Abbacchio might react to his love announcing an unplanned pregnancy... this is just total fluff because i have no time for angst (the anime fucked me up, man). i literally would do anything for this man. pairing: leone abbacchio x fem!reader wordcount: like 3k warnings: pregnancy is a warning

After a month of feeling utterly exhausted, I finally realise why I had been feeling that way. I stand in our bathroom, my bare feet cold against the tiles, staring at the test in my trembling hands. A cold shock creeps over my skin.

Abbacchio is in the bedroom, sorting through a box of records. His voice is curious as he calls out. ‘Babe? You alright in there?’

I stumble to the bedroom, staring blankly at the test.

He looks up as I enter, his eyes widening with concern. ‘Babe? Hey, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘I… Um… How do I put this…’ I hand him the test.

Abbacchio stands up and takes the test from me. He looks at it with a frown, confusion drawing his brows together. It takes him a moment, but the realisation of what it means sets in, and the colour slowly drains from his face. ‘Are you… I mean…’ He glances at me, before looking back down at the test, then back to me, his voice shaky, ‘Is this…?’

‘Leone…’ I murmur, unable to look at him. I lean on the doorframe for support, my knees trembling. He puts the test down on the bed, not breaking his shocked gaze from me. He had not given much thought to the idea of having a child as he was always so focused on work and then, of course, Passione, as well as just managing to get by each day. Now, he does not know what to do. What the hell is he supposed to say to the woman he loves, who he has just found out is pregnant with his child?

I do not say anything as I stumble to the bed and sit down. I stare at the floor, my mouth forming a little ‘o’.

Abbacchio sits with me in silence for a moment, his mind clouded by thoughts. After several tense moments, he finally speaks again. ‘So… You’re really… pregnant?’

‘I–I guess so…’

‘Holy shit…’ He sits, stunned, absorbing the news. ‘Wait, how far along are you?’

I finally look at him. ‘Well… I must be six weeks…?’

He nods slowly, doing some quick mental math. ‘So that means you were pregnant when we… y’know…’

‘Leone, we have sex almost every day. It’s yours,’ I say, somewhat angrily.

‘Christ, I know it’s mine. I wasn’t accusing you of anything…’ He puts up his hands in a placating gesture. ‘That’s not what I was trying to imply… I’m just thinking that we weren’t being careful a month ago…’

‘Sorry…’ I murmur, blushing. ‘I’m so… there’s a lot of emotions right now. I didn’t mean to yell at you, I’m sorry.’

‘It’s fine, it’s fine… I get it, honestly. You’re probably feeling a lot of things right now… hell, so am I.’ Abbacchio scoots closer to me, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into his side. He lets out a shaky sigh.

‘It is yours, though… I just… What the fuck are we gonna do?’ I gasp, leaning into his side.

‘Listen, try to relax. It’s going to be okay, I promise. There’s options.’ He runs a soothing hand down my back and presses a kiss to the top of my head. In truth, his mind is a flurry of anxious thoughts but he is doing his best not to show it.

‘Options?’

‘I mean…’ He falters, stumbling over the harsh reality of what options we have. ‘We have two options. We either keep the kid, or we… don’t keep the kid.’

Abbacchio’s grip tightens on my arm slightly as he says the latter, his mouth twisting into a slight grimace.

‘We… what?’ I say absently.

Abbacchio turns to me, realising I am not really listening. He puts a hand on my chin, gently guiding my gaze up to his. ‘Are you hearing me? We’ve got only two options here, babe. Keep the kid, or don’t. We can terminate the pregnancy and that’ll be that… or, we can have the baby. It’s your decision.’

‘Leone…’ I breathe his name, searching his face. The anxiety in my belly lurches. ‘I… Yes… Right. Two options.’

He continues to hold my gaze as if he is desperately searching for the answers. ‘Babe… I know this is a lot. I know you need time to think, but… what are you leaning towards as of this moment?’

‘I… I don’t know…’ I say, averting my eyes. ‘What do you want…?’

Abbacchio gently takes my chin again, his warm fingers on my skin. ‘That’s not what I asked. I want to know what you want to do. I don’t want you to think about what I want. Forget me. This is about you. I don’t want you to make any decisions based on what you think I want,’ he says firmly.

I frown. ‘What are you talking about?’ I scoff softly. ‘This is your baby, just as much as mine… You have a say.’

‘Yeah, technically it is my kid as well, but this whole thing is happening inside your body,’ he says as he takes my cheeks into both of his hands, his expression becoming frustrated. ‘God damn it, why do you always do this? Why are you always putting your own wants and feelings on the back burner whenever anyone else is involved?’

I feel my cheeks squish between his hands and a small tear rolls down my cheek. ‘Leone, you have a say,’ I reply stubbornly.

‘I know I have a say. I’m aware of that. This is happening to you, though. That’s what you’re not getting. I don’t want you getting stuck with one option or the other just because you think it’s what I want..’

Slow realisation dawns on me and I pull away slightly. ‘You–you want to keep it, don’t you?’

Abbacchio falters.

‘You just won’t admit it because you’re scared…’

His hands land on my shoulders firmly. His breath is slightly shaky as he exhales an anxious sigh. ‘God damn it, I do, okay? Yes. Happy?’

‘I–Leone…’ I pull him in, wrapping my arms around his neck, a strange sense of relief mixing with the anxiety in my belly.

Abbacchio pulls me against his chest. Despite the stern look on his face, it is obvious he is struggling to accept the situation. ‘Why’d you have to go and get knocked up, woman?’

‘Because I love you… and I love your… well, you know,’ I laugh weakly.

His laugh is shaky and strained, as if he is trying to make light of the situation. ‘Ah yeah, that’s the problem. I love you, and, you know… How the hell are we gonna pull this off…? We’ve got Passione bullshit to deal with… and now, we’ve got a baby in the mix.’

‘I have… absolutely no fucking idea,’ I murmur into his neck, his hair tickling the side of my face. ‘Bucciarati is gonna kill us.’

Abbacchio lets out a dry chuckle. ‘Oh, yeah. He’ll chew us out. This has got to be the worst possible time for this to happen.’

‘I’m sorry, honey…’ ‘I say, pressing a kiss to his temple.

‘Don’t be sorry, babe. This is just as much my fault as it is yours,’ he sighs softly. ‘God damn it, you really know how to put a wrench in my grand plans, huh?’

‘Ha, what grand plans are those?’ I laugh, pulling back slightly.

‘Well, I mean,’ he murmurs, pulling me back against him, burying his head in my shoulder again. ‘Getting you an engagement ring. Asking you to marry me… you know, all that crap.’

‘W–what?’ I blush furiously.

He laughs, lifting his gaze to mine. He tilts my chin up, an amused grin on his face. ‘You know, asking you to spend the rest of your life with me, and all that.’

‘I had no idea you even wanted that…’

‘Of course I want that, dumbass. I’d be damned if anyone else got to have you. You’re mine.

‘You really want to marry me…?’ Excitement adds to the overwhelming rise of emotions in my belly. My lip trembles slightly.

Abbacchio glances at my trembling lip and leans down to kiss me. In the warm moments that pass, unspoken words are shared between us. Gently, he slips his tongue into my mouth, soft and sweet.

‘Baby, this is how we got into this mess…’

‘He laughs, resting his forehead against mine. ‘Yeah… that’s right. That’s where we fucked up.’ He slides a hand over my belly.

‘Y–yeah.’

Abbacchio rests his gaze on his lingering touch. ‘There’s a kid in there… our kid. I can’t believe it.’

‘Yup. A little bean sized gremlin just waiting to meet you.’

‘Bean sized gremlin?’ Abbacchio laughs. ‘That’s how you want to refer to our spawn?’

‘Spawn? That’s so much worse!’ I laugh behind my hands, almost rolling off the bed.

Abbacchio grins, grabbing my waist and pulling me back towards him before I can fall off the edge of the bed. ‘Okay, okay. Baby. Is that good enough?’

I rest my head on his shoulder. ‘Little baby. Holy fuck. What the hell.

‘Little baby… Tiny ass baby… What the hell are we going to do with a baby?’ Abbacchio asks wryly, resting his chin on my head.

‘I don’t know, put it in a stroller, I guess?’ I wipe tears of laughter and anxiety from my eyes. ‘We gotta feed it, change it, cuddle it…’

‘Can we just… return it to the spawn factory and get a different one? This one seems too high maintenance.’ Abbacchio grins against my forehead, pressing a gentle kiss to my skin.

‘You are just the funniest person ever,’ I say wryly. ‘I hope this baby has your sense of humour.’

‘If it’s got my sense of humour, you better hope this kid never figures out how to run its mouth.’

‘Oh, we know they’re going to be the most smartass kid in the neighbourhood. It’ll have two gangsters for parents, kinda hard to beat that at show and tell day.’

‘Yeah, and when his teachers ask what his parents do, and he responds with ‘mafia’, things are going to get wild. We’ll be meeting him down at the station for all the trouble he’s going to get into.’

‘Oh my god, we could just ask Bucciarati to bail us three out?’ I laugh.

‘Yeah, just ask him to pull some strings and get us off the hook for our five year old’s “my parents are gangsters” show and tell presentation. I’m sure he’d love that.’

‘Do you know what, though I think he would totally chew us out for being irresponsible… I think the second Bucciarati meets this baby, he’ll be absolutely doting over it. Best uncle in the whole world.’ I press a soft kiss to Abbacchio’s cheek.

He smiles, leaning into my touch. ‘Oh yeah. As soon as Bucciarsti gets the chance, he’s gonna be spoiling that kid rotten. He’s probably going to buy baby booties the day we tell him.’

‘Absolutely, that sounds exactly like something he would do,’ I nod, breathing in the scent of him as I nuzzle into his neck. ‘You know… I know we’re not exactly… in the safest jobs… but I’d say we have a pretty good bunch of friends around us.’

Abbacchio grins, his hands tracing gently circles against my waist, he smiles wryly. ‘The most dysfunctional group of idiots I’ve ever met, but I’m sure the baby will fit right in…’

‘Well, if it’s anything like us… We’re going to be fine, right?’

‘Yeah. We’re going to be fine, babe. We’re going to be fine.’

[rougepancake]

Take care.

How they deal with you when you’re on your period (hcs)

Ft. Leonne Abbacchio and Bruno Bucciarati

WARNINGS: Fem!reader. Period cramps, mood swings. Fluffy stuff. These hcs are all over the place btw. There is no order whatsoever-

BRUNO BUCCIARATI

Don’t doubt him, he’s done his research and then some

He knows exactly what to get you when you’re cramping badly, and treats you as if you’re the most fragile thing on earth

Prepares you the BEST herbal teas and plays with your hair while you drink them

Sadly, he doesn’t cave when you beg him for whatever you’re craving, giving you stuff that he knows will tone down your cramps

He definitely gives you massages if you’re tense

I feel like he’s said something along the lines of “we’re in this together” and immediately regretted it afterwards

He makes everything about you for sure

There’s a movie you’ve been wanting to watch? He just bought it on dvd and you’re watching it tonight

You’re hungry? Tell him what you want and he’ll cook it to the best of his abilities

Need a heating pad? If you want, he’ll lay on top of you while you cuddle. If you don’t, you bet your ass he’s got a heating pad on standby

Prepares you nice warm baths and showers and enjoys being able to take care of you like this

Has the fridge stocked with various different fruits and vegetables for you, hand picked to make sure that they’re to your liking

Also has a secret stash of dark chocolate that he bought specifically for when you’re on your period

(he has to move it every month to prevent you from finding it)

Is amazing at comforting you through your mood swings. He’s a real champ for sure

Like if you snap at him, he’ll sit there and take it, because he knows you’ll cave and apologize later. He knows that it’s not your fault that your moody, so therefore he has no need to return your sudden anger

At the start of your relationship, he was definitely much more antsy whenever it came to your cramps and such, but the longer you’re together the more comfortable he gets

He has done all the research he can, and has even gone as far as to ask some of the older women he knows for pointers and such

100% rants to Abbacchio in secret

“I just don’t know what to do! She won’t even let me hold her-“ Bucciarati rambles, his hands waving around madly as he speaks. It’s uncharacteristic for him to be so worked up over something that’s so easily solved.

“Just give her some space.” Abbacchio shrugs and rolls his eyes at his friend. It makes perfect sense, really. You wouldn’t let him touch you, and you seemed moodier than you usually were. You just wanted space. Duh.

“Oh… Yeah. That might work.”

LEONE ABBACCHIO

He has done some research. Like just enough to know what’s healthy for you and what he should do

This guy has a wonderful poker face, because not once have you been able to pick up on the fact that he’s panicking inside

Listen, he loves you, and he’s seriously doing his best here, but damn-

He has to fight back the urge to argue with you for fear that he’ll only upset you further

Like he really, reallyyy wants to piss you off, but he knows better than to do that (plus Bucciarati would never let him hear the end of it-)

While he doesn’t know a whole lot about what to do, he tends to cuddle you until you sleep, or make you whatever you ask for

Sorry but he can’t cook to save his life

Expect slightly burnt food every time he hands you a plate (you love it anyways)

Like Bruno, he’s got a stash of dark chocolate for you, except it’s sitting out in the open and he eats it with you while you’re watching cringy rom coms

I wholeheartedly believe he lets you do his makeup (and vice versa)

Like if you’re feeling up to it, he’ll walk in with his makeup kit and let you go crazy with it

Typically leaves it on until you fall asleep

Whenever he does your makeup, he’s very careful to not upset or hurt you. It’s one of the few times you get to see him so gentle

Has water bottles and heating pads within reach at all times just in case your cramps get worse. He also carries a bottle of Midol in his pocket for extra caution

Refuses to tell you that, however

Had the mindset of “not my womb, not my problem” until he started dating you

The first time you brought it up he died inside. You were suffering and there wasn’t really anything he could do about it. It sucked

Because he has done very basic research, he has no idea what to feed you other than your cravings

I mean yeah he looked up what to give you, but forgot within an hour once he saw how much pain you were actually in

Strictly refuses to ask questions about it and does not want help from anyone.

He gets incredibly flustered when he has to go out and get you pads/tampons. His brain always seems to short circuit on him while he’s in the isle. “What size does she prefer?” “Does she bleed heavily or not?? Fuck I can’t remember-!”

Snaps at anyone who looks at him funny when he buys them

Let’s you do his hair for sure, but WILL NOT go out in public with whatever hairstyle you give him

Braids? Cute, but not in front of Bucciarati

Ponytail? Actually he’s kind of digging it, but he knows he’ll never hear the end of it from the others, so no

Pigtails? You sounded excited about them, but he’d literally rather die than have anyone seen him with his hair like that ❤️

“Can I do your hair?” You ask softly, looking up at him from your spot on the couch. “I think you’d look good with Dutch braids, and I’d like to try it out on you.��

“Fine.” He grabs the hair brush and sits with his back towards you, allowing you full access to his hair. “Just don’t rip it out or whatever.”

“Thanks Leone.” You smile and begin parting his hair. “You’re gonna look amazing when I’m done.”

“I’d better.”

[fandoms-are-my-friends-1321]

Adoring Stands

Here’s another JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure fanfic! I love Mista with my whole heart, and I came up with this idea the other day and had to write it down. As always gif and characters are not mine, and if anyone would like to make a request, please feel free to ask!

Description: Guido Mista’s stand, Six Bullets, absolutely adore the reader, and they love to show the bullets affection in return. When Mista tries to rest after an exhausting mission, he is greeted by an adorable sight.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of fighting and violence from the mission, otherwise none (if I miss something though, don’t be afraid to point it out!)

After a successful mission, the Bucciarati gang loved to go back to the Libeccio for a five course dinner. Bruno spared no expense when it came to boosting the moral of his comrades, and each person took their seat in their usual spots. Abbachio sat to Mista’s left, his headphones playing classical music as he drank from his wine glass. To Mista’s right was Y/N L/N, the newest member of the team, followed by Fugo and Narancia. Bruno and Giorno sat across from Y/N and Mista.

“Excellent work today, Y/N. I must say your fighting skills continue to impress me.” Bruno commented as he took a bite from his garlic bread.

Y/N gave a slight smile as they bowed their head in respect. “Thank you, Bucciarati, but the mission would have failed without the help from the rest of the team.”

“Come on, don’t be so modest! You totally kicked that stand user’s ass.” Mista playfully nudged Y/N in the ribs, and they returned the favor by punching him in the shoulder. Narancia snickered at Mista and Y/N’s antics, and the rest shared knowing looks. The chemistry between the two of them had always been present, and the others loved to tease Mista about when he would make an actual move.

“What are you laughing at, uomo idiota?” Mista asked as he glared at Narancia. 

The younger boy laughed even harder as he twirled spaghetti around on his fork. “It’s nothing, Mista. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

The group continued to eat in silence, or it was silent until Mista’s stand, Six Bullets, complained about their own hunger. They all tried to climb up onto Mista’s plate to steal some of his food, except for Number Five, who had been punched by Number Three and knocked back onto the table. Number Five rubbed his swollen gold cheek as he started to cry, but Y/N quickly scooped them up into their hand.

“Easy now, Number Five, there’s no need for tears. Number three may pick on you, but you are just as valuable as the other bullets. Here, I saved you a little something.” Y/N offered part of their tiramisu cake to Number Five, and the bullet squealed happily as it pulled the dessert off the fork. Number Five quickly shoved the coffee-flavored cake into their mouth before the others caught them in the act.

Number Five hurried back to the group, and they whispered to Number One the kind deed that Y/N had done, hoping to earn some brownie points with the leader of the group. Of course, this wasn’t the first time that Y/N had slipped the Six Bullets desserts or extra snacks on the side apart from what Mista gave them, but it still excited each of them every time.

One by one, the other bullets sneaked off to steal some tiramisu from Y/N, trying their best not to catch Mista’s attention, but he wasn’t a fool. “Y/N! I told you not to sneak extra snacks to these guys! The last thing they need is coffee, especially since I will be the one dealing with the aftermath.” Mista shook his head, but Y/N simply giggled as they looked towards the Six Bullets.

“Do you all promise me you won’t trouble Mista? I would appreciate it if you take it easy on him, and if you behave, I might be able to spare a macaron or two.”

“We promise, Y/N!” The bullets replied in unison, causing Mista to shake his head at them, but Y/N noticed the start of a smile on the Italian’s face. After lunch came to a close, the Bucciarati gang headed back to their secluded hide out to rest. Bruno told them that it would be better if everyone lay low for a while in case other enemy stand users were still searching for them. Fugo and Narancia sat down on the couch in the common room of their hideout since Fugo promised that he would help Narancia with arithmetic problems. Bruno sat at the table by the window drinking a cup of tea and recording the details of the mission. Abbacchio sat across from Bruno listening to Monteverdi, taking a moment to reach across the table and take hold of Bruno’s hand. The capo smiled at the gesture and rubbed his thumb against the back of Abbacchio’s hand. Giorno worked on trimming a bonsai tree that had been a basket a few moments earlier before he transformed it with Golden Wind. The atmosphere radiated with tranquility, that is until Mista started pacing the floor.

The flirty interaction between him and Y/N was not the first, and yet the more time that passed the more that Mista felt something growing deep in his chest. It felt warm and comforting, but at the same time it made his stomach twist into nervous knots. The others told him numerous times that the feelings he experienced each moment he stood beside Y/N was love, but Mista still had some uncertainty. What if Y/N flirted with him for fun? It wouldn’t be the first time someone played with his feelings and left when boredom took over. “I’m going to go lay down for a while. Maybe some rest will help clear my head.” Mista walked down the hall and opened the door to the room he typically slept in.

Mista expected to see an empty bed, but the sight in front of him made his heart leap with joy and astonishment. Y/N laid on their back, their favorite blanket tangled over their legs as their eyes remained closed. The Six Bullets were curled up on Y/N’s chest, also in deep states of sleep. Number Five snored lightly as they nuzzled into the soft fabric of Y/N’s shirt. Mista grinned from ear to ear at the sight in front of him, and he thought to himself that this moment was sweeter than the chocolate cake he had for dessert that afternoon.

Trying his best not to wake Y/N or any of the Six Bullets, Mista crept over to the dresser and sat his hat on the oak furniture, running a hand through his curly locks. He crossed over to the side of the bed that looked the most spacious and settled into the spot. Mista leaned over and lightly touched Y/N’s shoulder. “Hey, you’re hogging my bed, bellissima.”

Y/N let out a groggy mumble as they opened their eyes. Their chest felt heavier than usual, and as soon as they looked down to see what was causing the weight difference, they noticed that the Six Bullets were still snoozing away. “I’m so sorry, Mista,” Y/N apologized. “I thought you were busy, and these guys were ready for their nap, so I offered them a comfortable place to rest. It appears I dozed off myself.”

Mista brushed the back of his knuckles against Y/N’s cheek, causing them to blush. “No need to apologize, especially after the ass kicking you did during our mission today. You deserve the rest, and clearly my Six Bullets are in the same boat.” It was Mista’s turn to blush as he glanced away to look out the window. “They really seem to like you Y/N, adore you is more accurate, and they aren’t the only ones who adore you with all their heart.”

Y/N gasped at Mista’s confession, but they could feel their heart swell with joy from his sentimental words. Y/N had developed feelings for Mista months ago, but after so many failed relationships, they thought that it would be impossible for someone like Mista to reciprocate the feelings. They reached for his hand, and Mista turned back to face Y/N. “I think you should lay down and rest a while too, Mista. I would say that you look even more attractive when you are exhausted, but I wouldn’t dare lie to the person I’ve had a crush on for months.”

A chuckle rumbled from Mista’s chest as he reclined on the bed and wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling them closer into his warm embrace. The Six Bullets seemed to enjoy the extra warmth from Mista’s sweater as well, and for once in a long time, Mista felt at peace. “I’m glad to hear that you would not lie to me, tesoro, because now that you have confessed your feelings too, I will be by your side for as long as I live.”

Tag list: @pansexualtimcurryvampireelf

Y/N hummed as their eyes drooped shut, sleep taking over once again. Mista fell into his own peaceful dreams, but none of them could compare to his current reality where his dream had already come true.

[bellarosethefangirl]

What Lip Stick They Buy You 💄💋

Bucci Gang x Reader Headcanons

Narancia Ghirga

He picks out cutesy ones for you because he thinks the gloss will look nice.

He saw it online, The Crème Shop x Hello Kitty Kawaii Kiss Moisturizing Lip Oil - Vanilla Mint Flavored. He didn't care about the flavor. He cared more about the appearance and color

He would choose various cutsey lip glosses and the kind that are flavored hence why he got you dippin dots lip balms or Jolly Ranchers but expect different flavors he thought would taste best

His favorite would be fruit flavored glosses on you. Various would be given to you but he'd get a better brand

"Oh tesoro/tesorina! You're wearing the lip gloss I bought you!"

"Please can I have a kiss? You look so sexy/beautiful and kissable!"

"Only one kiss? You're wearing the tangerine lipgloss!"

"No fair! I wanted to try it from your lips."

Fugo Pannacotta

He loves the pink strawberry lip products on you! They make you look ever so kissable and he can't resist your lips

He buys you “Strawberry Kisses lip scrub” from Fourth Ray Beauty

Glosses are a must too he wants to pick the cutest ones for you

Yes all of them would be strawberry flavored or themed

He'd pick out pink strawberry themed lip sticks as well

He's so happy seeing you put them to use. He'll smile so much

Politely asking for kisses like the shy gentlemen he is

He would also get you a balm too if requested or if he see's a good one

He'll bite his lip hoping he could kiss you. The sweetie wants all your kisses when he see's you put it to use. He can't help it

He's shy about PDA so he'll ask you privately

"Mio prezioso/preziosa, I need to kiss you.."

"You're so cute. I smell strawberry. You used the lipstick I got you. It looks great on you, as expected."

"Bella/Bello please kiss me.."

"You're simply irresistibile."

Guido Mista

He's getting you lip products he think would make you more kissable. He can't wait to use a pick up line on you to earn a kiss

Mista buys you watermelon sugar lip gloss. It’s called, “this is juice gloss” by NYX

Much like Narancia he's getting you flavored lip products but I feel like he'd get the soda flavors. He'd totally get them to make some sort of cheesy pick up line. The fruity and coke flavors would be his go to but if you prefer other soda flavors he’d pick them out too.

Mista loves lipstick on his partner too. He thinks it looks so pretty attractive. He might buy you some in red since he thinks its sexy. He'd make sure its a good brand

If you don't like red lip he's fine with other colors but of course he'll like them natural too. He's still wanting your kisses constantly

Too bad he doesn't realize lipstick don't taste good but it's a sacrifice he's willing to make

He would like different colored lipglosses too. I can see him picking purples and pinks

He's going to be begging for kisses when you wear lip glosses since they draw so much attention

"Looking good handsome/gorgeous. Where's my kiss?"

"Is that red lipstick I see? Gimme kisses!"

"You look so sexy. I'm going to need some kisses. I hope I earned them."

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno likes pink lipsticks and he'd love seeing various shades on you too!

He buys you lipstick from Sephora for you. He likes their products because they carry good quality expensive brands.

The Rose lip scrub is his favorite on you

Hot pinks are also a favorite choice of his

He’d be sure to pick out a shade that would compliment your complexion

Dior would be another brand he would love to buy for you

Lip glosses would be the other type of lip wear he’d pick out for you. Pinks and purples. The glosses would look so cute on you

"Bello/Bella I'm happy to see you wear the lip gloss I've given you."

"Scusi but you're looking so divine today. I must kiss you, cara/caro."

"You're wearing the pink lipstick I bought you, aren't you stella (star)?"

"Carino/Carino are you only giving me one kiss?"

Bruno Bucciarati

He likes the red lipsticks for you! Any shade is fine with him.

He’d pick out a good brand like Dior or maybe Sephora

Other shades I can see him choosing would be browns or orange colors

Bright colors would compliment your eyes but he thinks brown shades look sexy too

He’d be delighted to see you wear the colors he bought you. Anything to make you happy

He isn’t opposed to other types of lip wear I feel like Bruno doesn’t know them too well

“I see you’re wearing the red lipstick I got you. You look very breathtaking~”

“I never get tired of your lip prints. They make my day, amore mio.”

“So beautiful.. I know I’ve already kissed your hand. Would you be opposed to a kiss?”

Leone Abbacchio

He’s the perfect one to pick out lipsticks for you. He knows makeup very well and enjoys picking them out for you too. Maybe he could do your makeup too if you like?

Of course he’d want to twin with you by getting you purple lipsticks. He’d get various shades so you can experiment with a color you’d enjoy most

He’d also like blacks and dark greens on you. Red is also a pleasing sight to see as well. Getting brands off of shelves while he’s shopping for himself but it’s most likely he’s shopping for you

He’d love to pick out lipsticks with coffin packaging

He’d get some Nightmare Before Christmas lipsticks as well. He enjoys their shades of lipsticks and would also enjoy the look of the design

He isn’t opposed to other colors. These would be his favorites he’d like to see on you.

He always has a smug look on his face at night when he sees your lip prints on him before washing it off his face or other body parts

If he had to pick his favorite it would be black. He secretly thinks it’s sexy

“The black lipstick really suits you.. better seat you on my lap before you run off.”

“Where’s my kiss, my dark empress/emperor?”

“Need to kiss you, my sexy vampire.”

"Getting lip prints on me whore?"

[milkyway-gaily]

[Bruabba] My gift for dear Teeth Sponge, for a Discord Gift Exchange🥰 I had a lot of fun drawing JoJo again! Sorry for some wackiness I was sick and sleep-deprived💦) Happy holidays to everyone reading this!🎄🎁✨

(Read panels from right to left pls!)

[starry-snippets]

thinking about soft abbacchio. you're having a rough day for whatever reason, and you can't get your headphones to work. you haven't come down for dinner so bruno sends abbacchio to check on you, knowing you are crushing on each other, and he sees you crying while holding your broken headphones. he can tell immediately from your heaves it isn't about just the headphones. abbacchio's first thought is to leave, maybe fetch bruno since he is the only one (besides you) who can calm him down, but when he hears you call for him that thought leaves his mind. abbacchio can't run away when he can help you. he'll sit besides you, turning on the playlist you made for when you have to drive extensively on missions. abbacchio watches your breathing steady as he uses the same techniques bruno does with him when things get too bad. halfway through the playlist you're smiling while he whines about nothing important, mainly just to see your smile. that's when abba really realizes he loves you. anyone else and he would of let someone else handle your distressed state. but seeing you broken and sobbing – for some reason abbacchio couldn't bare it. as your shared tunes continue blasting and you ask if you could explain why your day went so poorly, abbacchio just stares at you with an expression that reads "fuck what do I do?" you may think he doesn't know how to comfort you further, but really he's just dreading the possible hurt that can come from loving you cause he's #traumatized

[jjkamochoso]

I’ve Loved You a Leone Time

Angst, fluff

Leone Abbacchio x gn!reader

Abacchio just cannot get past the day’s events and wants to rewind them over and over.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol/being drunk (not reader), slight cussing

The bitter taste of wine was everything but unfamiliar to Leone’s lips. The half empty bottle swung around in his loose hold, sloshing burgundy droplets on the carpeted floor beneath him. It was pathetic—he was pathetic, really—but he didn’t care anymore. If he weren’t this drunk, there was no way he’d be indulging in something like this; something so juvenile. He scoffed as he thought about how utterly ridiculous he was acting, as if he were a schoolboy with a crush. He was a gang member. He had killed people, for crying out loud.

Why was he holed up in his hotel room using Moody Blues to reenact every move of yours that day?

First, he rewound to the moment you greeted him in the morning. Abbacchio was not a romantic but the way your eyes sparkled in the sunlight gleaming through the window of the hotel restaurant as you ate breakfast was enough to melt the icy exterior of his heart.

“Good morning, Leone.”

God, if only those sweet words from your mouth were the first ones he heard upon waking every day.

He paused Moody Blues, cautiously approaching his Stand’s recreation of you that was sitting in the middle of his room. Your hair, still slightly tousled from your sleep the night prior, made Abbacchio let out a gruff chuckle. There were times he wished his Stand had a more physical power, but being able to bask in your presence without fear of embarrassing himself was quite possibly the greatest ability he could’ve been blessed with.

He pressed the fast forward button, zipping through the rest of breakfast and hitting play at a moment in the afternoon. You had just landed the finishing blow to a rouge member of Passione, your team’s orders coming directly from the boss to take him out. Everyone gathered around you in excitement, slapping your back and telling you job well done, but your gaze landed on Abbacchio, who had been watching from a distance. You were just as breathtaking now, with Moody Blues as your stand-in, as he remembered from earlier. Your skin had a slight sheen of sweat from your fight and though you were roughed up, you still looked as perfect as an unblemished flower to Leone.

The man took another large gulp of his drink of choice as he clicked fast forward once more, this time stopping at dinner time. You had sat next to him and began to talk (you always did), and he had taken off his headphones and started to listen (he does… most of the time). Tonight, though, he was glad to have been paying attention. As Moody Blues started acting out what happened, Abbacchio sighed. He would love to be the one to treat you to dinners like that all of the time. You deserved someone who could treat you like the royalty you were, love you the way you should be loved. He’d be a stain on your reputation, a dark cloud looming over you. He wouldn’t do that to you.

He couldn’t.

With his emotions heightened from the contents of the now finished wine bottle, Leone desperately craved another drink, wanting to drown his sorrows, but he settled on getting drunk off your words.

You had just finished laughing about something Narancia and Mista had done when you turned quiet, your eyes trailing over Abbacchio in a comforting manner.

“You know,” you spoke softly after a moment of silence, “you’re a good man, Leone. I’m extremely lucky to have you by my side.”

Abbacchio remembered how your sudden confession caught him off guard then, and even though he knew what you were going to say this time around, it still made his heart go crazy in his chest.

Rewind.

“You’re a good man, Leone.”

Rewind.

“You’re a good man, Leone.”

Rewind.

“You’re a good man, Leone.”

Rewind.

“I’m extremely lucky to have you by my side.”

If Moody Blues had a physical rewind button, he was sure that his fingerprint would’ve been embossed in the plastic with how many times he rewound those sentences. Soon enough he paused the scene again. Adoration was oozing from your irises; it was a look Abbacchio hadn’t received from anyone in a very, very long time. Your little smile made his stomach swell with nerves, even after the millionth time of seeing it. You were giving him a look that was seemingly reserved just for him and he had no idea why. He wasn’t worthy of your affection or gratefulness. He was just a depressed drunkard with a screwed up sense of morality, yet he noticed that you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He would never want to sully your purity; he’d have to quell his soul’s yearning for you by watching you from afar and hoping Moody Blues would be an acceptable stand-in for you.

Leone couldn’t help but reach for you in that moment—he was a selfish man, you know—and he felt his fingertips brush against your cheek. The sensation was much too cold since Stands aren’t warm like humans, but it would have to do. Maybe if he believed it was you standing in his room, he could be satisfied.

Fuck, he really needed another drink.

Abbacchio reluctantly pulled his hand away from your face, committing the kind expression you held toward him to his fondest memories (there weren’t many and you made up more than half of them). Stumbling out his hotel door, he barely walked into the hallway when he ran into something.

“What the hell-” he started saying, but quickly shut up when he saw who it was he slammed into.

It was you.

The real you.

“Oh, Leone!” you said in a saccharine voice, “Bruno sent me up here to give you this.”

You presented to him another bottle of wine, the one he was about to go search for.

“I didn’t think you needed another one to drink all by yourself, but boss’ orders, right?” you chuckled lightly. As you were handing him the bottle, his outstretched hands grateful he didn’t have to brave the winding hallways in his drunken state, you saw movement from his room.

“Are you that out of it that you didn’t realize there’s someone in your room?” you asked, irritated, pushing him out of the way and calling out your own Stand. Abbacchio’s eyes widened in fear as he realized what was going on, but it was too late; you had apprehended the supposed enemy.

“Stop right there!” you had shouted, your Stand seizing the person who dared try to hurt Leone, but when you finally took note of who it was in your possession, you let out a tiny gasp. You were looking at… you? You were witnessing your dinner from a few hours ago. Right now, you were chattering away about whatever, and you looked at Abbacchio to explain. His purple lips were set in a slightly open expression of shock. Leone was absolutely, positively, mortified.

Had he been so stupid to forget to call in his Stand? He could hardly stand up straight as it was and the piling amount of stress and embarrassment was doing nothing to help.

He chose to say nothing, instead taking the cork out of the freshly delivered bottle and did what he did best—avoid situations with alcohol.

“Um… Leone?” you called out, both of your Stands no longer manifested. “May I ask what you were doing?”

“You may,” he responded gruffly, his back to you as he sat on his bed.

“Which was?”

Abbacchio sat tight lipped, not wanting to give anything else away. He was sure you hated him, thought of him as some sort of freak or pervert. He didn’t want to dig himself into a bigger hole than he was already in. He was expecting you to run out, tell the members of the team, and maybe leave Bucciarati’s gang for good. He wouldn’t be surprised if you put a hit out on him at this point. He deserved it…

“Leone.”

He didn’t register you nearing him until he felt the bed dip with your body weight.

“Were you replaying today with Moody Blues?” you asked. Of course, you knew the answer was yes, but you wanted to get the information slowly since Abbacchio was definitely in a haze.

The tall man said nothing, opting to nod in affirmation.

“Were you…” you hesitated. “Were you watching me?”

No answer this time, verbal or nonverbal, though he took a big swig of wine which was a glaringly obvious sign that you guessed correctly.

“I’m not mad or anything. Depending on what you were replaying it for, I find it endearing.”

Abbacchio stopped mid-drink. Were you joking? Could you really be that messed up where you thought his actions were acceptable? He still couldn’t face you but decided to speak up.

“Nothing nefarious, I promise.”

Your small laugh worked wonders to ease his nerves. “I was just teasing you. I know you better than that. Like I said earlier, you’re a good man.”

There it was again, that sentence from you that made Leone feel like he could climb out of the deepest depths of the Atlantic. However, he wasn’t so sure he could take it as the whole truth. You’re a kind person—you might just be taking pity on him.

“Stop saying that. We both know that isn’t true.”

He went to take another sip but the wine bottle was yanked from his grasp.

“Don’t say stupid shit like that,” you reprimanded, holding the bottle out of reach. “I know you think I’m just saying it but you know me better than that. I don’t say things just to say them. I mean everything that leaves my mouth. You’re a valuable team member, but more than that, you mean a great deal to me. I wish you realized how much value you bring to this world. To my world.”

Leone brought himself to meet your eyes. You were looking at him with a sort of desperation, like you were begging him to understand your words. Even in his inebriated state, he recognized the subtle urgency in your tone. There was no way you were going to confess that you had feelings for him… were you? He had to put a stop to that, quickly. He wouldn’t let you waste your life on someone like him.

“You don’t want me, not like that. I’m not the man you think I am.”

“No.” You were more stern than he had ever heard before. “You’re not the man you think you are. I don’t want to fix you, Leone. You’re not broken. I just want to be with you as you are now. And if Moody Blues could show you the future, I would want it to show us together, taking on the world.”

“I can’t give you everything you deserve,” he mumbled.

“You already have,” you replied, letting your hand slide over to his and holding it gently. “Since the day I met you, you’ve brought me a sort of joy that I can’t describe. I want you, and only you, if you’ll have me.”

While Abbacchio thought of the right thing to say next, you leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Don’t worry, I’m not expecting an answer right now, especially not when you’re in this state. I’ll bring you some water before I go. Clear your head and get some rest. There’s no hurry, either. I’ll forever be waiting for you, Leone.”

As soon as you stood from your spot on the bed, Leone’s hand darted out and took hold of your wrist. He wasn’t going to screw up his chance with you.

“Save me a spot at breakfast tomorrow, would you? Preferably… next to you.”

You couldn’t fight the grin that appeared on your lips.

“Always.”

[bucci-cookies]

A Trip To Naples - Bruno Bucciarati x Reader

Here is a commission piece I did where the reader goes on a trip to Italy and falls in love with a lovely stranger :)

Naples: the birthplace of pizza, home of the famous Amalfi Coast and, of course, the destination of your impulsive getaway. With the stress of work pushing down on your shoulders, you needed some sort of break; those winning tickets couldn’t have come at a better time. Three weeks living in the bustling Campanian city in an all-expenses paid hotel was a perfect way to spend your annual vacation time.

One of the highlights of Naples was its colourful markets: picturesque stalls and shops lining the cobblestoned streets selling various trinkets, clothing and flowers. You found yourself in the Market of Antignano, deep in the centre of Vomero. The jovial sellers beckoned you over to look at the various slippers, cosmetics and linen sitting on the displays, eager to squeeze some money out of you before lunch. An elderly woman with thick black hair selling keyrings waved at you, shaking one of them in her hand. It was a cute little thing, a brown plastic bear holding a red heart between its paws, all connected to the metal ring. You figured that you might as well replace your old worn-out one with a new souvenir.

“Questo è perfetto per voi zucca!” She smiled, placing the ring in your hand. To your knowledge, she said it was perfect for you.

“Il mio Italiano…non è buono” You laughed awkwardly. The only fault in this seemingly perfect holiday was that you only had very little knowledge of the language. You could say enough to scrape by, but in this case, you found it easier to say you don’t know the language well.

“Ah! You speak English, zucca?” The woman asked, not phased by your inability to speak her Italian.

You sighed loudly, thankful that you could converse in a language you understood. “Yes, I do. Sorry, this is my first time in Italy.”

“Oh? How lovely!” She beamed, giving you a toothy grin. She looked down at her watch, 1 pm, almost time to close up for today. "Have you got somewhere to go for lunch?"

"Nowhere, in particular. I'll just walk around and see what looks nice." You had researched local places to eat earlier. Most of them were within the same vicinity so you planned to go to whatever seemed less busy to avoid long queues.

"Zucca, you must go to Libeccio!" She shook your hand, almost like her life depended on you going there. "It's marvellous, oh you'll love it!" She squealed. "Plus," She said with a  smirk, "it's owned by such a sweet young man, Bucciarati. He's so graceful and kind, you’ll love him!”

You remember searching up Libeccio - it was a beautiful restaurant, though you were worried it was a little out of your price range. It screamed expensive from the pictures you saw online. Well, you were on holiday, you might as well allow a little bit of luxury. You paid for the keyring, placing it in the side pocket of your bag before waving the kind woman off as she packed up her stall for the day.

Libeccio was about a ten-minute walk away, allowing you to explore parts of the region a bit more. You took note of some stylish boutiques along the way, thinking about how your wardrobe could do with a revamp. As well as some grocery stores for if you ever needed a snack.

Libeccio, unsurprisingly, was an Italianate-style building. Bay windows with pink and shamrock-like decorative window trims along both stories of the tawny-coloured building. The inside had half-cream half-dark oak walls, and a soft crimson carpet covering the entire dining area. It was a little intimidating to see so many well-dressed people sitting together. Eating meals you probably couldn’t pronounce and drinking wines you had never heard of. You felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb. You swallowed the lump in your throat and made your way to the waiting table where one of the floor workers stood, writing some notes in a large black book. He greeted you with a wide smile as his hazel eyes and tanned skin shone under the bright lights that reflected off his silver name badge that read ‘Alejandro’. He held up a finger, presumably asking you if you were the only diner, to which you nodded. Before you could get a word in, he placed you on a two-seater table near one of the windows with a menu and a glass of water to get you started.

You opened the sleek black booklet, revealing extensive lists of appetisers, starters, mains and desserts, all in clean, fancy, Italian writing. The best thing you could do was whip out Google and try to search for all these meals. You tried to note what sounded best, whittling down the list as best as you could, but you barely scratched the surface of the menu when the waiter returned, asking if you would like to order. With an embarrassed blush, you tried to explain how you were struggling to read the menu. But it seemed like he couldn’t understand you, especially over the noisy restaurant.

You didn’t notice that this interaction had caught the attention of a group of men who sat a couple of tables down from yours. “Scusi.” A sultry voice said. You looked up to see a tall man with darker skin standing next to the waiter. The mas w `A`1as dressed in a cropped sweater and sleek black jeans, offering a perfect view of his toned abdomen. His hair was thick and curly, framing his roundish face and drawing attention to his dark eyes. The man whispered something to the waiter, making him run off, before pulling a chair next to you.

“Buongiorno signora. Are you having trouble with your menu? I see you switching between it and your phone.” Before you could begin to question who this man was and how he knew you would speak English, he took the menu from your hands and began flicking through the pages before tapping one of the options. “This is gravlax bella, it's just cured salmon, comes in thin slices.” He turned over the page. “Ah and capricciosa! You’ve got mushroom, artichokes, baked ham, olives, my absolute favourite!” He said with gusto as he scooched a little closer to you. Truth be told, you didn’t feel too comfortable in this situation, a strange man in a strange country acting so familiar with you made you uneasy. And the way he so easily managed to get rid of the waiter rubbed you the wrong way, who knows what his intentions were? You simply tucked your lips in and nodded at his rambling about the menu, thankful that you at least had some options to order.

You avoided eye contact with the strange man until suddenly his voice stopped. You looked over to see another man standing behind him, one with lighter skin and short black hair. “Mista,” He sighed, his voice a smooth baritone, “la stai mettendo a disagio.” He whispered with a smile, squeezing the man’s shoulder. Instantly he looked back at you, bowing his head.

“I’m so sorry signora, I’ll get out of your way!” He dropped the menu back on the table and walked back to his original seat. He was met with the disapproving headshakes of the third man on the table. The new man moved the chair back to its original place opposite you before holding out a hand.

“Bruno Bucciarati, I’m the owner.” He shot you a dazzling smile. Thankful that he was at least affiliated with the restaurant and not another stranger, you calmly shook his hand. You had to admit, the woman from the market was right, he was handsome. His frame was tall and lean and he had a certain youthful essence in his speech and gestures. His hair was cut to his shoulders, neatly styled to form bangs that reached his thin black eyebrows. His eyes were the most noticeable feature on his face, soft blue ones surrounded by long lashes. If you had to guess, he was probably in his mid 20s. Part of you wondered how a young man like him could own such a lavish restaurant. “You’ll have to forgive my friend, he was only trying to help and he got a bit carried away.” Bruno turned around to face the man you now know to be Mista, presumably staring him down, before facing you again and rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward laugh.

“It’s fine, thank you for clarifying.” You smiled back. “I’m really glad we can speak in English, my Italian isn’t good at all.”

He cocked his head to the side, thin eyebrows furrowed. “You weren’t able to request a menu in English?”

Your jaw dropped slightly, realising this could have been resolved if you simply asked for a different menu. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know I could!” You pressed your hands against your cheeks in shame.

Bruno laughed gently, his shoulder relaxing, grateful that this wasn’t a staff complaint in the works. “It’s okay, I’m glad you know for next time, I will go get you one.” He came back shortly with an identical menu, this time with everything in English. “We get a lot of tourists here, so we print a couple menus in different languages, mainly English and French.”

“Thank you so much sir, it helps a lot.” You waved him goodbye as you flicked through the new one, picking up all of the meals you had missed out on earlier. You decided to give Mista’s suggestion a go, after all, he was just trying to be nice. A different waiter met you this time, a woman with her hair tied back in a long, blonde ponytail and an exuberant expression across on her face, ready to take your order: the capricciosa pizza, and a slice of chocolate cake with gelato for dessert.

By now the restaurant had more customers, different groups of people huddled around the tables, filling the room with the smell of their meals and another layer of noise above the soft music in the background. Couples, families and friends chuckled and chatted together, enjoying the lively mood that the Naples summer put into them as they shared glasses of wine and scrumptious desserts. It didn’t take long for your waitress to return with a piping hot thin crust pizza on a large round plate with a rich cheesy and meaty aroma exuding from it as she placed it in front of your nose. She refilled your glass of water, adding a few blocks of ice to cool you down as the weather had begun to increase, before leaving you to enjoy your meal.

You took a bite from one of the slices, enjoying how the base crunched in your mouth and sighed, it was incredible. The meat was perfectly seasoned and paired wonderfully with the assortment of vegetables. This particular version had an additional drizzle of olive oil, but to your delight, it didn’t make the dish greasy at all. You had never had a pizza as wonderful as this, you saw why that nice old lady recommended Libeccio to you, as well as why Naples is known as the pizza hotspot. It’s like the meal had some sort of hold on you, its smell wrapped around your body, making you focus on the rich ham and savoury sauce. You ordered one of the smaller sizes, making sure you had enough space for dessert, which was just as delightful. The cool vanilla gelato was a perfect pair for the thick, warm chocolate cake. You always tried to limit your sugar intake, not wanting to sacrifice your health for a few treats, but it didn’t take long for your sweet tooth to activate and completely devour the rich cake.

“Did you enjoy your meal?” Mr Bucciarati returned once your plates had been cleared, sitting on the chair opposite you. “I hope everything was to your taste?” He placed his elbow on the table, resting his head on his hand.

While wiping your lips with a napkin, you nodded enthusiastically. “I did! I guess your friend was right about the capricciosa, it’s really amazing!” You definitely planned to return to Libeccio soon, especially since it wasn’t as expensive as you thought it would be.

His cerulean eyes lit up as a toothy grin formed. Libeccio had been his favourite restaurant since he was young. When he bought the establishment from the previous owner, he spared no expense to continue to do its name justice, not wanting to cut any corners regarding the quality of service or food as some would do. “Well I’m glad you liked it, it’s one of my favourites too.” He leaned in a little towards you, clearing his throat. “Can I ask, is this your first time in Italy?”

You paused a little before replying. “Yes. I never travel much, it’s far too expensive these days. I actually won these tickets in a lottery.”

He gave an understanding nod before switching to another beaming smile. “Ahh well that’s lucky, Naples is one of the best cities here. Call me biased since I grew up here, but I thoroughly prefer it to cities up north.” He folded his arms against his chest with a jokingly smug expression on his face. To Bruno, no amount of glitz and glam in Florence or Milan could match the warm pleasure that Naples made in his heart.

“Well, I’m glad I’m in the right place.” You smiled, turning to face him a little more.

“May I ask where you’re from?”

With slight hesitation, you revealed your home country to the kind stranger, watching his eyes light up at your words.

He leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table. “Oh? I hear how beautiful it is there, especially in the Spring. I have an old friend who moved to,” He snapped his fingers as he tried to recall the name. “It’s escaped me now, but you know the small town in the south, the one with all the mountains and forests? I had a friend who moved there when we were younger. We would send each other postcards when we were little.” Bruno didn’t have many friends his age, especially as he grew up in a quieter area with an older population. This meant he cherished the few he had greatly. When his friend Mikhail moved away due to his father getting a job abroad, they vowed to always send each other letters and postcards. Sadly, this was cut short when he was twelve. You were familiar with the town he was referring to having visited there several times. It was a gorgeous area, filled with a lively artistic and historical culture, as well as being one of the largest cities from your home.

“Were you given any sort of activity list? Things to do here?” Bruno asked, fiddling with his fingers.

You shook your head. “Nothing, in particular, I don’t really know where to start.” You simply planned to rely on whatever the Internet suggested.

“If you would like anyone to go with you or show you some nice places, I’d be more than happy to show you around.”

“Oh no that’s completely fine! I don’t want to intrude on your schedule.” You grit your teeth, not wanting to inconvenience the lovely owner.

He scoffed with a light-hearted tone, shaking his head. “No, it's fine! You won’t be interrupting anything, I promise.” He paused, briefly before pulling a pen out of his shirt pocket and writing something on a napkin. “Here, this is my number. If you would like to go anywhere or need an idea, I would be more than willing to help.” He neatly folded it and handed it to you. “You don’t have to agree, this is just a suggestion! I know that being in a new country can be hard and sometimes daunting.” He quickly explained, holding his hands up as if to prove that this was just an innocent suggestion. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel as overwhelmed by a stranger as you did when Mista approached you.

You took the napkin from him, placing it in your purse. “Thank you Mr Bucciarati.” There was something about him that made it easy to talk to him: maybe it was his calm body language or his soft facial expressions, but it felt nice talking to him. In your gut, he seemed like a good guy. Besides, it would be nice to have a native speaker around to guide you.

“You can just call me Bruno by the way.” Usually, he was fine with being referred to as Bucciarati, but something in him felt like being less formal with you. “What can I call you?”

“y/n.”

He smiled and tilted his head to the side, causing his hair to fall slightly as he slowly repeated your name. “That’s such a beautiful name.”

**************************************************

It had been two days since you visited Libeccio, and still, the kind man’s napkin sat in your bag, stuffed underneath your purse. Bruno did seem nice, and at least he was the well-known owner of Libeccio, so he wasn’t a completely random stranger. It would be nice to have a personal tour guide, especially someone native to the area, it would also make your trip a lot less lonely. You pulled out the napkin and used the hotel phone to call him. After two rings, he picked up.

“Salve, Bucciarati parla.” He said, his voice was deep and groggy like he had just woken up and you could hear the sizzling of a frying pan in the background.

“Mr Bucciarati - Bruno?” You cleared your throat. “It’s y/n, I hope I didn’t call at a bad time.” You heard ceramic plates clanging against each other as well as the opening and closing of wooden drawers.

Bruno yawned before replying, rubbing his neck, soothing it after an uncomfortable night’s rest. “From Libeccio right?” His voice sounded a little chippier as he placed some bread in the toaster. He couldn’t deny that he was hoping you would call, at least this was something pleasant to start off his otherwise boring day.

“Mhm…I’m sorry I responded so late I-” 

“It’s fine, it was a bold move on my part.” He cut you off with a light chuckle as he spread some butter on a crisp slice of toast. He was never usually so forward, especially with new people, the last thing he wanted was to make you feel pressured or preyed on. “Does this mean that you’ve decided to take up my offer?”

“Yes.” You nodded, perching on the end of your double bed.

He was thankful that you couldn’t see the wide grin that spread across his face. “How do you feel about pasta making?” The kettle whistled in the background, steam bursting out of the spout before settling. “There’s a place in the Spanish Quarter, they do pasta-making sessions for pretty much anyone, they’re supposedly quite fun.” Bruno poured himself his usual morning drink, a cup of coffee with a little milk and a dash of honey. He had visited his area several times before, though never to attend a class.

The opportunity to be taught how to make a true Italian pizza did sound intriguing, and a public session would be a safe option to go with a stranger. You concluded that this would be a decent idea. “That sounds great! How much does it cost?” You eyed your purse, knowing that you put yourself on a reasonably tight budget.

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll cover you.” He said nonchalantly, taking a sip of his warm coffee.

“No no, I can’t just let you pay for me!”

Bruno let out another soft chuckle as took his usual seat on the sofa. “Don’t worry, the owner owes me anyways. So how does this afternoon sound?” He asked before taking a bite out of the soft buttered bread.

You turned to face the clock on the nightstand. “I can do two o’clock if that’s okay.”

“Meet me at Libeccio then.”

Bruno sat on a long wooden bench just outside the restaurant, arms resting on the back with his head tilted backwards. He wore a blue button-up shirt, opting to leave the top few buttons, exposing the top of his toned chest. Today was a lot warmer than the rest of the week, hence the cool lemonade sitting next to him with already melted ice cubes.

“Sorry I’m late!” You waved shyly, placing a hand on the bench. “I took a wrong turn and ended up at a marketplace.” An awkward laugh left your lips as Bruno sat up to face you, holding a hand above his eyes to avoid the glare of the Sun.

“No problem, the next bus will be here in a few minutes.” He smiled, looking down at his watch. You took a seat next to him, crossing your legs as you waited for the next bus to arrive. Libeccio was even busier than the last time you were there, the chatter from inside the restaurant poured out into the busy streets. This particular street seemed to be the centre of food service in the area, with cafes, bakeries and restaurants lining the road. Across from you was a small coffee shop with outdoor seating, while a dessert parlour with a white and lilac interior sat beside it. Through the window, you could see a group of kids and adults sitting in a booth enjoying an array of ice-creams and milkshakes, the perfect treat for such a hot day.

“That place does incredible cheesecakes,” Bruno’s voice caught your attention. “Probably the best you can get in Naples.” He pointed to the dessert place you were staring at.

“Do you go there often?” You asked, turning to face the man as he sipped his drink.

“Sometimes, when I have the chance. You should try it one day!” He gave you an enthusiastic grin. Libeccio only had limited dessert options, mainly a couple variations of cake with a simple scoop of vanilla gelato, but that wasn’t enough to soothe his sweet tooth. His usual order was a chocolate milkshake with a slice of either cheesecake or a brownie. The positions of Libeccio and  Più Golosi (Sweet Tooth) complimented each other well, a savoury and sweet place just across the street from each other, a perfect, tempting pair for customers.

Before you could respond, the small yellow bus pulled up to the stop, stuffed to the brim with a flood of travellers. The double doors swung open, releasing a swarm of people as they rushed to jump off the stuffy vehicle. As Libeccio was in the city centre, the majority of the travellers were ending their journeys here, leaving the bus nice and spacious for the two of you. Bruno led you to a seat in the middle of the bus, slightly behind a group of teenagers chatting away about whatever trip they were on. The bus drove slowly along the street, giving you a chance to gaze at the array of bright and beautiful buildings lining the road. Naples really was a gorgeous city, decorated in bright buildings of various styles: gothic, classical, italiante, modern. Its proximity to the water not only guaranteed you a few nice days at the beautiful beach, but it also meant that you would get some of the best seafood around. As schools were closed for the holidays, you weren’t surprised to see so many kids and teens walking around. Some were in swimwear, most likely from the aforementioned beach, while others were in various summer wear, laughing with friends over smoothies as they moved from shop to shop.

It didn’t take long to reach the place, a large stone building with several cars parked in front. Near one of the entrances was a tall man with cropped black hair, treating himself to a smoke break. “Cardinale.” Bruno waved at the man, causing him to look up from his lighter. On closer inspection, the man, Cardinale, had a large tattoo on his forearm reading “Frederica.”

“Bucciarati.” Cardinale nodded with a smile, walking towards the two of you. “Oh, you brought a friend?” He faced you, looking you up and down before reaching out a hand towards you. “Cardinale, as you have heard.”

You took his hand, noting his strong grip on your hand. “Y/n, a pleasure to meet you.”

“Lovely to meet you too,” He let go of your hand, looking down at his watch. “If you’re here for a class, the next one is in about five minutes, Angelica is leading. Just put on an apron and wait in the hall with the rest of the group.” He pointed you in the direction of the large entrance next to him. “Don’t worry about a fee.” He took a puff of his cigarette as he waved the two of you off.

Contrary to its rustic exterior, the inside of the culinary school was extremely modern and polished. In the long hallway stood a group of about ten people, presumably the other people joining the class, chatting amongst themselves. Along the wall was a line of aprons, well, what would have been a line of aprons if they hadn’t been taken by the rest of the group, you and Bruno helped yourselves to the last two.

The wooden door at the end of the hall swung open, revealing a young woman with thick curly hair, beckoning everyone in. “Welcome welcome! Come inside!” She held the door open for everyone, greeting each member as they entered the pristine kitchen. She was quite tall, with dark skin and hazel eyes, all complimenting the friendly smile spread across her face, revealing a set of pearly white teeth. “Two people to a bench, please wash your hands before you touch anything.”

By default, you and Bruno stayed as a pair, choosing one of the benches near the large arched windows. The woman introduced herself as Angelica, explaining that she was a final-year culinary student and would be leading this session. She took you through all the steps, from making the dough, to forming the various shapes and preparing the sauce. Bruno seemed to be a master already, calmly forming little portions of perfect gnocchi, enough to get some praise from Angelica as she walked around the benches. At first, you were dreading this, worried that you would be the only one to mess up the shapes. The first few pieces of garganelli came out rather flat or irregularly folded, but after the fourth one, you started to get the hang of it. You decided to mix it up with some gemelli, they were much easier than the radiatori which Bruno made.

“You’re so good at this.” You laughed awkwardly, eyeing the array of styles Bruno had made.

He scoffed in return. “I’ve been doing this for a long time, trust me when I say that I was worse than you when I first started.” He tutted loudly, realising he had squashed the riccioli in his hands. “As you can see, I still make mistakes.”

“I don’t think I’ll even attempt the ruote or the spighe.” Angelica had a camera set up at her station, it projected a birds-eye view of her work onto the screen slightly to the left of her. On her board were roughly thirty different types of pasta she made on the spot, ready to be cooked. They were all perfectly shaped with no sign of imperfections.

“Well, maybe when you return from your holiday you can continue practising. Being able to make pasta from home can save a lot of money sometimes.” 

“Do you make all of yours from scratch then?” You asked, using the pasta machine to flatten out a new section of dough.

“I try to if I have the time.”

You shook your head. “Owning a restaurant must take a lot of your time, I can’t imagine how much work goes into it.” You began sectioning out the dough for a batch of casarecce.

“Well yes…sort of.” Owning a restaurant was time-consuming, Bruno wouldn’t deny it. But it wasn’t the only thing that limited his time and availability. His position with Passione didn’t concern you, after all, you were a tourist and a stranger. Before the conversation could continue any further, Angelica called everyone’s attention to the front where she took everyone through the sauce.

It was a simple cream sauce with bacon, parmesan and swiss cheese, a perfect match for the pasta. While the food simmered in the separate posts, the opportunity arose for the group members to mingle with each other, only for a few minutes. You ended up conversing with the couple behind you, a pair of 19-year-old university students on a date. The four of you talked about the summer, they shared their plans to travel around Naples before returning to Rome for their studies. While you and Bruno explained that you were also on holiday here and he was showing you around.

Once everything was cooked and plated to Angelica’s standards, everyone made their way to the dining area just down the hall from the kitchen. You both sat by a round wooden table situated by a window, helping yourselves to the freshly squeezed juice offered. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the worst as you took a bite of your dish. To your surprise it was delightful! The thick creamy sauce paired wonderfully with the light pasta, and the bacon gave an extra savoury crunch to the dish.

“See, I knew you weren’t as bad as you thought.” Bruno asked, topping up his glass of juice.

“I surprised myself honestly.” You laughed, collecting another forkful of food. “How is yours?” You noticed that he had already eaten half of his plate.

“As you can see, I thoroughly enjoyed it, it was lovely if I do say so myself.” He smirked proudly, his expression making you giggle. “Though I think I’ll add more vegetables to it if I remake it.” He ate another forkful.

The two of you conversed a little more as you cleaned up your plates and washed them up. Bruno was a real gentleman, even with the smallest things like holding the door open for you, he was a good listener and showed genuine interest in your stories about back home. There was something about him that made you very comfortable, he genuinely seemed like a friend to you, despite how little time you had known him for.

“Thank you so much for inviting me,” You said as you walked towards the bus stop. “I’m very grateful that you did this.” You rubbed the back of your neck shyly.

Bruno gave you a smile as he dug his hands into his pocket, “It’s no problem.” The bus back to Libeccio arrived and you both got on board. It was just as empty as it was when you got on it earlier, allowing the two of you to speak openly. “Y/n? While I enjoy your company and would love to show you more interesting places, I just hope you don’t pressured to meet with me. I know that being in a new country can be daunting and I don’t want you to feel unsafe around me.” Bruno said, squeezing the fabric of his trousers.

“Well, I’m thankful that you appreciate boundaries. I’d like to think I can trust you, I would like to see more places, its better than travelling all alone. You replied, resting your back against the window so you faced him.

The corners of his lips upturned lightly. “I would like that too.” He cocked his head to the side. “Just give me a call whenever you feel like meeting again.”

**************************************************

Today marked two weeks of your trip, and of those fourteen days, ten of them had been spent with Mr Bruno Bucciarati. After the success of the pasta-making class, you met up the next day to try out that dessert place you were looking at, Più Golosi. He treated you to an ice cream sundae with a fluffy waffle, while he had a tall glass of hot chocolate with a slice of carrot cake. The day after that, he took you through the underground world of the Napoli Sotteranea, through the ancient labyrinth of aqueducts, passages and cisterns, weaving through the narrow passages by candlelight. Later you visited some of the other marketplaces, trying out some of the local street food like cuoppo and graffa. Graffa was a kind of fried fluffy, potato-based doughnut covered with sugar. Cuoppo came in land and sea variations, with the land version consisting of potato crocché stuffed with cheese and ham, pasta zeppole, zucchini flowers, ricotta and scagliuozz, arancini rice and more. With the sea version contains squid and shrimp rings, seaweed fritters and fried fravaglietti. You both shared a love for music and art and expressed these through trips to the Museo e Real Bosco di Capodimonte and the busy busking-rich streets where guitarists and pianists were often found entertaining crowds dotting the area.

You and Bruno had grown closer over time, sharing more intimate sides of you over cups of coffee and walks through the shopping centres. You ended up meeting some of his friends, Giorno, Fugo and Mista. The latter you had already met through the awkward encounter in Libeccio, but you were thankful that now you had a more pleasant encounter with him. Mista was quite the comedian, loud and unhinged, while Giorno and Fugo were more mellow and casual like Bruno. You hit it off with them immediately, you bounced off each other quite well. You learnt about his childhood, how his parents were separated and he bought Libeccio just a couple of years ago; while letting him in on details of your life back in your home country. Bruno never pried into your personal affairs, always tiptoeing around anything that could seem intrusive (he didn’t even know which hotel you were staying at), respecting the boundaries set as new companions while remaining amicable. That little connection you felt to him when you first met had increased over time, and something inside you wanted to see him more and more. Maybe it was just a silly little crush, after all, having a handsome Italian gentleman showing you around the city would make anyone blush. And besides, you were on holiday, maybe the new scenery had changed you in a way. Regardless, you were not going to act on anything, you’d had enough bad luck with past relationships, no need to cripple yourself with a fantasy-like ordeal with a strange man in another country, and it’s not like you knew if Bruno felt the same.

Today you were at the beach again, for the third time this trip, basking in the Sun and soaking up a nice tan.

“Fancy a drink?” You pulled off your sunglasses, looking up at Bruno as he stood beside you, holding out a chilled can of Coca-Cola. You thanked him for the beverage and cracked it open, enjoying the refreshing drink. “I have to leave soon, a friend is coming to pick me up in a few minutes.” He said with an apologetic tone as he packed up his belongings. “We can drop you off at Libeccio if you would like us to?” He folded his towel, placing it in his small travel bag.

You had grown a little tired of today’s beach trip anyways, with it being a Saturday, more families were free to visit the beach making it more crowded and louder than normal. “If you could that would be great.” You began packing up your own items, making sure to not leave anything behind like your water bottle or sunscreen. The two of you walked over to the parking lot after changing, where a black Honda sat with the driver resting his head on the open window.

“Who’s that.” The man looked up, pointing to you.

“She’s a friend, y/n, I need you to drop her off at Libeccio.” Bruno opened the back door for you to get in, before making his way to the front passenger seat.

“I’m not your personal driver Bucciarati.” The man scowled, starting the car and pulling out of the parking space. Bruno scoffed and leaned on the window.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve done a lot more favours for you Abbacchio,” He turned around you face you, “don’t mind him, he’s just bitter for no reason.” He gave you a reassuring smile before facing forward once more.

The journey was short, just a few minutes of driving with very little traffic. Bruno and Abbacchio talked for most of the journey, presumably about something important as they only spoke in Italian, despite them speaking in English earlier. The man Bruno was with looked about your age with pale skin, long greyish hair tied back and a few bruises on the back of his hands. You assumed this was just a friend, or maybe someone he worked with at Libeccio. They dropped you off outside of the restaurant and Bruno waved you goodbye as the car drove off.

“So are we not going to address her?” Abbacchio asked, a sly smile creeping onto his face. “I didn’t know you liked picking up foreign girls, I guess this is the person you show around.” 

Bruno rolled his eyes at the teasing, refusing to let it get to him.

“Oh? Trying to act like the bigger man now?” Leone turned into the next street. “I thought you’d given up on dating after Ambra? Or Esta? Or even Genevieve?” He looked at Bruno through the corner of his eye. He picked up on the way Bruno’s jaw clenched slightly after hearing his exes' names brought into the conversation. Despite what many people would assume, Bruno Bucciarati never had any luck with girlfriends. Yes he was sweet, outgoing, polite, a great cook, loving, he checked most if not all boxes on the typical ‘perfect boyfriend’ list; but his involvement with Passione was enough to render his pros useless. Ambra and Genevieve were both frightened by this connection, cutting the relationship short and eventually just ending communication with him as a whole, while Esta ended up using him for his money, despite knowing that Bruno was in love with her. These three relationships were enough to crush his spirit and deter him from dating as a whole, not wanting to have his heart shattered by anyone else. His coping mechanisms were focussing more on Passione and buying a restaurant close to his heart, Libeccio.

“She is just a friend, that’s all.” Bruno shrugged, eyes focused on the traffic lights up ahead.

“Ha! That’s rich!” Leone snorted, stopping for the red light, he paused, considering his words before saying them. “Does she know you’re in Passione?” Abbacchio had known Bruno through two of his relationships, and as one of his closest friends, he could also tell that Bruno was already interested in you and he didn’t want him to make another mistake. 

“No, she doesn’t.” 

Leone sighed, his skepticism growing. “Why not?”

“Because she doesn’t need to know.” Bruno snapped, winding down the window slightly for air. In his gut, he was sure that Leone knew his feelings for you, he was good at reading people. But still, Bruno was stubborn and would rather avoid such an intrusive conversation.

They had reached their destination, an old motel on the outskirts of the city. “It’s very clear that you like her Bucciarati, she’s the one you’ve been touring the city with right?” Leone sighed, knowing that he would be treading on an uncomfortable, but necessary conversation. “How do you know she’s not using you? Taking advantage of a rich guy to improve her time here, how much have you spent on her?”

“Not much.” This was technically true, anytime Bruno paid for anything, you paid him back or simply split the fee.

Abbacchio grunted, stepping out of the car and making his way to the motel room with Bruno right behind him. “Jeez, you never learn do you?” He scoffed, trying to find the right key for the room. “Don’t give me any of that ‘I don’t like her’ crap, you know you do that’s why you spent all your time with her.” He managed to unlock the door. “Just don’t let her break your heart again, I can’t say I’m expecting anything good from this.”

**************************************************

“Do you know the Amalfi Coast?” Bruno asked, poking you lightly.

You tapped your chin. “I’ve seen a few pictures, it looks beautiful.” You turned back to your plate of lasagne, cutting another piece of the dish and piling some salad on top.

Bruno cleared his throat, poking his carbonara as he tried to figure out how to word his next comment. His words were stuck in his throat leading him to continue tiptoeing around the topic as he had before. “There’s a very nice hotel that I go to sometimes, its so close to the water.” He looked up at you, trying to gauge your interest. You simply nodded and sipped your water, humming in response. “I think it's the kind of place to go with someone.” His voice upturned slightly, almost like he was asking a question. You still didn’t react much as you sipped your lemonade. Bruno huffed and placed his fork down, leaning towards you. “Y/n, I’m asking if you would like to join me.” He blurted out, making your eyes widen.

“Oh.” That was all you said as your hands paused in the middle of loading another forkful. There was an awkward pause and the air grew thicker. A bead of sweat trailed down the back of Bruno’s neck as the regret pooled at the bottom of his stomach. How could he think you would even agree to this? You had only known each other for just over two weeks, him suddenly inviting you to a hotel in another area just made him look like a creep. Now you knew he had some sort of interest in you and there was no backtracking.

‘I just want to curl up in a ball and-’

“I would love to go with you Bruno.” You said, cutting off his thoughts. You folded your lips in, fiddling with your thumbs as you stared at your plate bashfully. With such close proximity, Bruno could see the slight redness of your cheeks. So it looked like you both shared similar feelings towards each other, Bruno wondered how long the two of you had been in this state without knowing.

“I’ll drive us there tomorrow then.” He smiled, refilling his mocktail.

It felt like forever for Saturday morning to arrive, you spent hours fretting over what to wear. You hadn’t been on a date in a while (was this a date?), even longer since you went on a trip with someone you were interested in, and that most certainly didn’t end well. But you felt like Bruno was different. Despite his classy sense of style or his popularity among the locals, he never came across as judgemental or arrogant and that made it easier to get ready for the trip.

At 10 am, Bruno arrived at your hotel. This was the first time you ever told him where you were staying and you would rather he picked you up than you took a suitcase with you to meet at Libeccio. This was also the first time you ever saw his car. It looked expensive, a shiny black convertible that people kept looking at as they walked in and out of the hotel’s front doors. He wore a plain white t-shirt and had a pair of gold-rimmed sunglasses on his head. He shot you a confident smile as he waved at you, getting out to help you put your suitcase in the back.

The journey was a little longer than expected, around three and a half hours with the traffic that clogged the highway. Bruno had a designated travel playlist, burned onto a CD which he played for any long journey. It was a mix of American and Italian songs, mainly different variations of jazz or romantic songs, he made sure to sing along to most of them, even when he fumbled the lyrics. Bruno had a very smooth singing voice, his baritone voice made every word sound like honey as he sang, you could listen to it for hours.

You and Bruno conversed for a while, passing the time as you sat in traffic once more between Trecase and Torre Annunziata. Bruno told you how Mista and Giorno had asked about you, hoping to see you again before you leave, carefully excluding how they teased him for planning this trip to Amalfi, well aware of your shared interest in each other. Abbacchio was still skeptical, this spontaneous trip to Amalfi, which was completely covered by Bruno, didn’t help his gut feeling about you using him. But seeing how the two of you acted around the rest of the group made him a little more optimistic about the situation. He just hoped you wouldn’t run back home and block his number instantly.

“We’re here!” Bruno pulled up in front of a grand hotel, ‘’. It was a large classical building with pillars along the front, all coated in bright white. The inside was a soft gold colour with a gorgeous chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Being here was breathtaking, you always thought your hotel in Naples was fabulous, but this was extraordinary, does Bruno really make so much money to afford this just through restaurant owning?

After Bruno checked you in, he handed you the key to your room. You and Bruno were staying in separate large rooms next to each other on the sixth floor which gave you the perfect view of the water. After a couple hours of settling in, you took a tour around the coast. Amalfi was an interesting place, it was made up of thirteen towns, all clinging to the cliffs, reaching all the way down to the beautiful shore. Tourists traipsed up and down the area, some hiking on the Path of the Gods, while others explored the Blue Grotto caves in Capri. Bruno told you that when he was younger, he assisted his father with his duties as a fisherman: from gathering bait, to fishing, to following him on deliveries to the local fishmongers. He arranged a boat for recreational fishing just off the coast of Postiano, but for the sake of preserving the natural ecosystem, participants were asked to just catch and release.

The small boat rocked slowly on the water as Bruno guided you through fishing, holding your hands in the right position to be able to reel the fish in properly. It took a couple of tries, but you managed to catch a few small sardines.

That evening, Bruno had arranged dinner at a small restaurant near the hotel.

**************************************************

La Galleria was a cosy little place specialising in seafood from the local fishing ports. Your table was on the roof with a breathtaking view of the water below as the cooler evening breeze hit the back of your neck. You wore a simple red dress, while Bruno wore a red turtleneck with a black blazer. You both had bowls of chicken caesar salad, drizzled in a rich sauce, followed by a miso-glazed black cod on white rice for Bruno, and shrimp scampi with pasta for you. As the soft jazz from below wafted up to the roof, you and Bruno reminisced on your time together these past couple weeks, from strangers in Libeccio to sharing a meal in Amalfi. Your knee brushed against Bruno’s innocently as you talked, the close proximity making your heart race. Bruno was so handsome, and even though you told yourself that you wouldn’t let a crush grow to anything more, you couldn't help but feel the urge to have his muscular arms wrapped around you or run your fingers through his soft black hair made your stomach twist. You could listen to his voice for hours on end, enjoying his cute hand gestures and his rich accent. He was so kind to you too, planning so many trips, including paying for this one. He was way too generous to you and the last thing you wanted was to come across as a golddigger of some sort, Bruno was a genuinely nice guy, so patient and attentive.

Bruno’s heart was racing too, worried he would trip on his words or forget how to say something in English as he had before when talking to you. You always looked so beautiful to him, no matter what, you always took his breath away. He couldn’t imagine the last time he had felt so at ease around someone, much less a stranger he met a couple of weeks ago.

“Thank you so much Bruno, for tonight, for everything.” You said, your fingers lightly brushing against his on the table. He wanted to hold your hand badly, to kiss it again like he had before and tell you how much you meant to him.

“You’re welcome bella, I’ve really enjoyed these past-” He was cut off by the ringing of his phone, “please excuse me.” He got up immediately, excusing himself downstairs in a rush. You didn’t see the caller ID, but usually, Bruno was fine with answering calls around you, but his behaviour made you worry. The call was short and Bruno returned within a few minutes, facing his meal as if nothing happened. Ordinarily this would be normal, but it seemed like something was on his mind, like his mood was suddenly soured. You noticed how the space between you had grown slightly bigger than before, you were no longer lightly brushing against his knuckles, and nor were your knees connected. 

“Bruno, is everything okay?” You mustered up the courage to ask, worried that you would be prying too much into private affairs. You hoped he would just tell you everything was fine, that it wasn’t anything serious, but you knew it must have been.

“Y/n…” He sighed, biting on his bottom lip, “there’s something I need to tell you. I haven’t been completely honest about myself.” He avoided making eye contact with you, which was more than enough to elevate your worry. Your stomach dropped, a million possibilities racing through your head. Maybe he didn’t really like you, maybe he was using you for attention, reeling you in with a charming persona? Maybe he had a partner and was using you to cheat?

Bruno turned to face you, clutching your hand in his as he looked earnestly into your eyes. “I’m still Bruno, bella, I’m still the same person who owns Libeccio, and likes fishing. And I do like you, so much, but I can’t keep hiding this from you and I understand if this means you don’t want to be around me anymore.” His breathing was rapid as he squeezed your hand tightly. His mind was prepared for the worst scenario, he was ready for you to scream or run away from him, locking yourself in your room and finding your way back to Naples without him. He was ready for you to get angry or upset at him for not telling you sooner. Part of him regretted bringing it up already, feeling like he had thwarted his best attempt at love, but it wouldn’t be fair to keep you in the dark if he genuinely cared.

“Y/n, do you know what Passione is?”

You exhaled deeply, yes, you had heard of Passione, a hub for organised crime in the south of Italy. Was Bruno really part of them? When you think of mafiosi you imagine much older men, using laundered money for drugs, weapons, and exploiting women, at least that is the stereotype, was Bruno really one of them? Sweet, kind, generous, optimistic Bruno who you adored being around? The same Bruno who always helped anyone he saw? Who showed the utmost respect for all the older citizens and acted with integrity? You 100% believed that not everyone involved in crime is inherently bad, many people fall into it at low points of their lives, you knew that Bruno was a good man, regardless of his affiliation with the group.

When you didn’t respond, Bruno let go of you. “I knew this was a mistake, I should have just listened to Abbacchio and stopp-”

“Bruno,” You placed a hand on his, making him lose his train of thought, “I’m not upset that you’re in Passione.” You whispered, interlocking your fingers with his. “I don’t think less of you for it, I know that people can be put in situations that make them choose that path,” your eyes darted to the side, “but I believe you’re a good person Bruno, I really do. I’m not exactly in the safest position as a woman in a foreign country, but I feel so safe with you Bruno, regardless of Passione.” You meant everything you said, keeping your eyes locked on him to show your sincerity. “I-”

Before you could speak, Bruno’s lips were on yours.

His hand remained holding yours, though squeezing slightly tighter now, while his free hand held the side of your face. His lips were soft against yours as his thumb pressed against your cheekbone. Slowly he pulled away, rubbing his nose against yours slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologise, really.” You squeezed his hand gently.

Bruno’s hand found itself fitting perfectly in the curve of your waist. “I want to be with you y/n, not just for this trip.” His voice was shaky, he tried his best to not push too hard. “It’s okay for you to say no, it is.”

“I want to be with you too Bruno, I really do.” Without thinking, your hand moved up to hold the side of his neck, feeling the heat radiating off him before moving down to his shoulder. “Can I ask, Bruno…why are you with them?”

He took a deep breath, already regretting what he was about to say. Bruno never liked talking about this incident, he never told anyone this story, not even his old girlfriends. “My father was in an accident when he was 12. He was in the hospital and one night some people tried to…to kill him.” The sympathetic look in your eyes made it easier for him to talk. “He wasn’t in a gang or anything, he was just an ordinary person. I was in the room when they snuck in, two men, I-” His words got trapped in his throat.  “I killed them.” He could tell from the small changes in your breathing, your posture, the glint in your eyes, that despite keeping an open mind about Passione, you couldn’t fully wrap your head around him being tied to murder. “If I didn’t they would have killed my father and come after me, there was nothing else I could do.” He begged, pleading for you to at least hear him out, scared that you would leave him after such a confession. “I had to go underground, I can’t do anything with something like that on my record.” The silence that followed was deafening, the sound of his heartbeat rang through his ears as his chest heaved slowly.

“It’s okay Bruno…it really is.” You whispered, “You’re the first person to know this and not run away or use me.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, I’ve had my fair share of bad relationships. You’re the first person I’ve been able to actually feel happy with, Bruno, the first person to actually make me feel like you care.”

“Of course, I care about you bella, you mean the most to me. I hate that people have treated you that way, you deserve everything I could possibly give you and more…everything.”

The rest of dinner carried on smoothly, with Bruno’s seat much closer to yours and his hand resting on your knee. His eyes were more focused on you than the delicious food in front of him. His heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest as your leg brushed up against him and your perfume wafted into his nose. Bruno really did think you were beautiful, the way your dark hair fell to your shoulders, contrasting your crimson dress. How your cheeks turned rosy when you laughed, or your tendency to fiddle with the hem of your clothing when you were tired. There had always been something in him that knew he had feelings towards you, but kissing you, even though it was brief, solidified his feelings.

Neither of you pushed any further about the kiss, nor did you talk about your beat-around-the-bush confessions. Instead, once dinner was over, you made your way back to the hotel silently.

“I guess I will see you in the morning then?” Bruno asked, letting out a soft laugh as you stood in front of your respective doors.

“Yeah, I guess I will.” You smiled as you waved each other goodbye. It wasn’t until you had both returned to your rooms that you were able to release the tension in your body. The kiss still lingered on your lips as you pulled your night shirt over your head and you could feel your face get warmer. You couldn’t deny that the idea of him kissing you was something buried in the back of your mind, especially when he would hold you in close embraces and his natural scent would waft into your nose. There was a part of you that wanted to continue, that wanted to go to his room and lie with him on this warm evening in Amalfi. To feel what it would be like for him to hold you in his arms as more than just a friend. You shook your head, feeling like a young teenager having their first kiss.

With a heavy sigh, you turned your attention to the TV opposite your bed and flicked through the channels, landing on what looked like a random soap opera. By your bed was a small menu with all the items available for room service and decided on a jug of lemonade to cool you down. When there was a knock just two minutes later, you were a little surprised by the speed of service. You were even more surprised by seeing Bruno standing by your door.

Bruno had been standing outside your door for the past five minutes, contemplating knocking on your door. Would he be intruding? Jumping to conclusions over a simple kiss?

Ah, but it wasn’t a simple kiss was it, you had confessed your feelings to each other.

But you only had three more days in Naples, maybe this was your way of getting some sort of closure, getting your feelings out on the table before you disappear and never cross paths again. Even on the off chance that anything came from this, it doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be weird for him to approach you like this.

While Bruno reasoned this in his head, his body had other plans. It wasn’t until you swung the door open that he realised he had already knocked. 

“Hi,” He swallowed, awkwardly placing his hands behind his back. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

You shook your head as you opened the door wider, welcoming him into your room. “No no, I just haven’t been able to sleep.”

“Me neither.” He perched on the edge of the desk, watching the television next to it. “What are you watching?”

“I have no idea, I couldn’t figure out how to put it in English.” The silence from both of you overpowered the noise from the TV. Usually you would bounce off each other better, but the events at dinner seemed to leave you both somewhat shy. Deep down, you both wanted more, but neither of you had the confidence to make the first move.

Bruno walked over to you, sitting next to you on your bed, knee brushing against yours.

“Y/n…” He started, taking your hand in his, “I meant everything I said earlier, about how I feel about you.” His slender fingers traced the lines of your palm slowly. “In a perfect world, I’d want you to be with you, properly. But I know that you have to go back home soon, I understand if this has to end here.”

“It doesn’t have to.” The words spilt out of your mouth before you could even process them properly. “I mean…I can always come back, maybe sometimes you can visit me.” A long-distance relationship wasn’t something you ever really thought you would find yourself pursuing, but you couldn’t miss this opportunity with Bruno.

“I like that idea.” Bruno smiled, interlocking his fingers with yours before ducked down for another kiss, this one was shorter and sweeter, the type that gives you a warm feeling in yout gut. It was like a bridge had formed between the two of you and any worries about intimacy had been crossed out. “Out of curiosity, when are you next free?” His enthusiasm made you giggle.

You tapped your chin, recalling what you discussed with your boss before you left for Italy. “I have to use up my holidays within the next three months, maybe I can come back before they’re over.” You grinned widely, enjoying the way he his face softened at your words.

“Can’t you stay a little longer? Use up your holidays now?” He pulled you onto his lap, kissing all over your face. His demeanour had suddenly changed, knowing that he might only have to wait a couple of months to see the woman he cared so much about. You giggled as you held his broad shoulders, squeezing them lightly as you tried to pull him away from your face. He ducked down to nibble where your neck connected to your head, trying to coax you into staying.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, “I can’t afford it Bruno, and besides, I signed papers with my boss saying I would be back to work next week.” You felt him sigh against your neck.

“How much more time do you have left to use on holidays?”

“10 days I think.”

“I’ll book you a flight.”

“Bruno!” You pulled away, pinching his soft cheek “Do you not trust me?”

“Of course I do bella, but I just think it’s easier to book now that the prices are cheaper.” He wrapped his arms tighter around your form. It didn’t take long for his lips to fall back on yours, moving between them and your neck, only to be broken by a knock on your door.

“So sorry for the wait signorina, the machine wasn’t working.” The waiter apologised profusely as he placed your lemonade on the table.

“It’s no problem, thank you.” You smiled, closing the door behind him. You both shared a few glasses of the cool drink, talking more about the possibility of you coming back to Naples. Despite his earlier energetic behaviour, Bruno was quite understanding of the situation. He knew that compromises would have to be made and that things may not always work out, but regardless, he chose to be optimistic about the situation.

Once the jug’s contents had been thoroughly depleted, you found yourselves tucked under your bedsheets. You didn’t realise how tired you were until you fell asleep so quickly against his soft t-shirt, to the sound of his heartbeat. Cool air blew through the window, making you press up against him in your sleep as his hands moved down to hold your waist. Bruno’s heart was pounding like it wanted to leap right out of his ribcage. Being here, holding you, this was all he wanted. For the first time in so long, he felt like he was happy again, like you were the one for him. He gave up on this feeling ages ago, not wanting to risk another heartbreak, but now he couldn’t resist it.

He was in love.

**************************************************

Sunday was quite simple. Breakfast at a lovely little cafe, a bike ride through Sorrento and lunch back at the hotel. This was certainly not the first time you and Bruno had gone out together, but this time was different. The way he held your hand, your waist, hugged you, everything felt different now, a good type of different.

This “good different” continued to Monday and Tuesday, with Bruno being even more of a gentleman to you. He made sure to cherish every moment with you like he was making up for lost time.

The sun peeked through the window, highlighting your body as you hummed in your sleep. Bruno had been awake for a while now, the lump in his throat and the twists in his stomach making it harder to enjoy the warm summer morning.

Today was your last day, the last time he would be able to see you for who knows how long. He always knew you would leave, Naples wasn’t your home after all, and there is a chance it may never be. But now that the dreaded day had come, it just made his chest ache to the point where it made his head spin.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer until your back was pressed against him, allowing him to nuzzle into your neck. You groaned quietly, fidgeting in your sleep before settling once more. Bruno used this as an opportunity to place a kiss on your neck, enjoying the sweet natural scent emanating from your body. He slid his other arm under your body, hugging you properly as your legs tangled together under his sheets.

“Bruno…” You grinned, feeling the pressure of his body against you as he had you in a tight embrace. “I need my sleep you know?” You patted the side of his face lightly, enjoying the warmth emanating from his soft cheek.

His heart hurt even more hearing your voice, knowing this would be the last time he would hear it in person. “y/n…” He whispered, holding your hand gently in his, bringing it down to the soft mattress and interlocking your fingers with his. “When is your flight?” He mumbled into your neck, eyes locked on his thumb stroking your skin.

You inhaled sharply, realising why his tone had been so mellow this morning. “6 pm, there’s been a car arranged.” You bit your bottom lip, feeling Bruno lean away from you with a deep sigh. His arms left your body cold air hit your back.

“I’ll come with you, I’ll see you off at security.” Bruno said, laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. You turned around to face him, watching the sun highlight the lower half of his face and chest, coating them in a pale yellow glaze. His lips were downturned slightly, forming an involuntary frown as his eyebrows furrowed. His expression made your heart sink to your stomach, you knew you would miss him so much.

You scooched closer, resting a head on his flattened shoulder as your fingers traced his chest gently. “I’ll come back Bruno,” You dragged your fingers down to his navel. “I promise.” You looked up at him, catching how his eyes shifted from you as soon as you made eye contact, realising that you caught him staring. His cheekbones were softly dusted with pink as he cleared his throat.

“I know you will, and I’ll find time to visit you.” He cupped the side of your face, “but you can’t blame me for being a little upset that you’re leaving.”

“I know, I am too.” You gave a half-smile, holding his wrist. Seeing you frown made his heart sink even more, it wasn’t his intention to dampen the mood so early in the morning.

“Y/n, why don’t we go to Libeccio? For your last meal here?” Bruno asked. Ending the trip with the place you met seemed perfect. It also gave Bruno the opportunity to make sure you received the best service possible.

“I’d love to.”

You both laid in bed for a while, enjoying each other’s warmth until noon when you finally got up for lunch. You wore a simple sundress with a red flower pattern along it, something that Bruno absolutely adored on you. Hand in hand, you left his home for the restaurant, deciding to have one last walk through the streets you grew to love. Libeccio was slightly quieter than usual, what with it being lunchtime on a Wednesday, this at least made it easier to talk to each other.

“Oh? If it isn’t the two lovebirds!” A familiar voice called, you looked up to see Mista leaning on the back of Bruno’s chair, much to his dismay, poking his nose into his menu. Bruno had made the mistake of being open to the group about his feelings for you, this ultimately left him vulnerable to childish teasing which would surely get worse when you weren’t around. “Y/n, Bucciarati says you’re leaving today?”

“Mhm, I need to leave for the airport in a few hours.”

“Ah, this one will certainly miss you,” He nudged Bruno with his elbow, “he goes on and on about you all the time anyways.” He scoffed.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Bruno asked, not bothering to look up from the menu.

“I actually came to collect an order,” He lifted up the black bag in his hand, that explained the sudden smell of shrimp. “But I might as well give Y/n a goodbye hug.” Mista walked towards you, pulling you out of your seat and hugging you tightly. Bruno knew what Mista was doing by pressing his palms on your lower back and hugging you for much longer than what was needed. But it was in his nature to tease people like that, after all, you and Mista grew to be quite good friends, and you both knew he was playing around. “Make sure to come back soon!” Mista waved as he left the restaurant.

Bruno turned back to you to see a smirk across your lips. “What?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Your face when Mista hugged me, I didn’t think it would get to you.” You laughed, flicking through the calzones section of the menu.

“Can you blame me for being a little jealous?” Bruno sighed, closing his menu and placing it on the table. He waved at one of the waiters, a tall, slender young man with long wavy hair, eager to take your orders.

Over lunch, you discussed plans for when you went back home: how to fit your schedules around each other, the possibility of sending each other gifts, and Bruno travelling to visit you. The thoughts alone brought butterflies to your stomach, the idea of Bruno being in your home, visiting your favourite places, your family and friends even. You already had a list of things to do with him buried at the back of your mind.

Once the plates were cleared and the bill was paid, you found yourselves in a small park, wandering along the footpaths that weaved along the luscious green grass, between the thick oak trees.

“Y/n…we need to get to the airport soon.” Bruno whispered, pulling your waist towards him as he sandwiched you between him and an old tree.

“Mhm.” You rest your head on his shoulder in a warm embrace, his rich cologne flooding your nose with a scent you would soon miss.

“Y/n…mi bella.” The pet name made your heart well up. “I know we haven’t been together for a long time but…the feelings I have for you, it’s like I-”

“I know what you mean Bruno.” You cut him off quietly, tugging his soft cotton shirt. You felt the same way Bruno did, the tingles you got when he held your hand, the way your body perfectly moulded into his, how your stomach twisted and turned anytime he looked you in the eye. Somehow, somewhere, along the line, you realised that you had fallen in love with the kind mafioso that swept you off your feet.

“So you love me too bella?” Bruno asked, a teasing tone to his words as his lips met your forehead.

You rolled your eyes playfully, enjoying how his soft lips felt against your skin. “Well if I have to put it in words, then yes.”

Bruno’s heart pounded in his chest, he could feel the shakiness in his breathing from the relief of knowing that you felt the same way he did. It was almost laughable how quickly the chains around his heart loosened when you appeared. How his vows to never give in to another person were discarded as he got closer and closer to you. You were perfect to him, everything he wanted and more, and he knew he couldn’t just let you leave without letting you know how much power you had over him and his weak heart.

“Bella, I love you so much, more than I’ve ever loved anyone. Please remember that, always, even if I’m not there with you.”

“I love you too Bruno, truly I do. I haven’t felt this way with anyone in so long I-” Bruno’s lips pressed gently against yours, stealing your breath away.

“I’m sorry to cut you off but you just look so cute, why do you have to leave today bella, stay here with me a little longer.” He groaned, placing a soft kiss on your forehead, knowing how much he would miss this.

“Believe me, I want that more than anything, but I have to go back, Bruno.” The thought of not being able to hold him like this, to not stroke his soft black hair or look into his warm eyes, ate away at you.

“We should probably head to the airport soon then.”

Within the hour, you were at the airport, waiting in the busy queue to check in your luggage, while Bruno held you from behind, chin resting on your head. You ended up with one extra bag, filled with gifts for your friends and family: trinkets, snacks, clothing, as well as things that Bruno bought you.

“When you land, let me know okay?” Bruno hugged you one last time, his hands memorising the curve of your body, ingraining everything from your scent to the softness of your skin in his memory. His lips moved to kiss your forehead gently, “Y/n…I won’t pretend like I’m not going to miss you every day. I want us to work out bella, I’ll take time to visit you whenever I can okay?” The slight sniffles and breaks in his voice made your heart sink. Bruno loved you so much, more than he could contain, and you felt the same way about him as you inhaled his rich cologne.

“Bruno, I’ll miss you just as much, if not, more.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’ll call you as soon as I get back mi amore.” Hearing you use that name on him made his stomach twist and turn. Being called that, by you, in your voice that soothed his soul made his heart beat even faster. At that point, he just had to steal another kiss from you, a passionate one that stuck on your lips even after you pulled away.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, letting you cross the barrier to find your gate, and with tears welling in both of your eyes, you waved each other goodbye, thankful for this spontaneous trip that brought the two of you together.

[danddymaro]

In that Instance | Abbacchio Leone x Reader

Kinda fluffy? 

flashbacks

Mentions of Death | Sorry lol

Word Count: 1290

In that instance

It was an instant ;  a single moment that could be measured by a sole heartbeat where it all transpired.

 - There wasn't any time in between, yet somehow, before him, various instances flashed. 

He thought about the first time he met you, how that little greeting of yours had made him anxious... flustered. 

It’d been worse when Bucciarati took notice, because the knowing smile he shot him was a lot more mortifying than all of the encouragement it tried to provide.

“Did your heart just skip a beat?” the other man dared to ask as he brushed past him, following you into the restaurant before Abbacchio stumbled forward, trying to find a way to steady the awful, obnoxious drumming of his heart.

In a single second Abbacchio remembered how your expression had melted at his offering of flowers for your birthday.

It was unforgettable how the very patterns of your features reacted to his gesture.

 -Flowers. 

The last time he'd offered a woman flowers was at his nonna's funeral way before then. 

And it'd only been a single blossom, not the assorted bouquet that had been nervously held before him as he tried to spit out a casual, 'Happy birthday' after everyone else had already done so.  

He felt that it were nothing in comparison to the lovely pendant Bruno had picked out for you, or as meaningful as the assortment of things Fugo had given you which Narancia had piggybacked off. 

Mista had gotten you something simple, but from what he’d bragged about, it’d been something you’ve been eyeing at that the mall for quite some time.

 Leone had thought thought his gift was practically nothing to fawn over, but to his surprise you’d seemed much more affected by his own, simple gift than any other.

He couldn’t stop staring at the lovely heart shape that sat right at your collarbone, the light haired man biting his inner cheek as he cursed himself for not getting you something better.

-Something you were worthy of.

-Something that other people would look at , and know it came from someone that cared about you.

"You got me flowers..." you said, your voice soft as though you couldn't believe it, like you were being given something much more valuable than a few colorful blossoms that would wilt in a couple of weeks.

Either you couldn't fathom that Abbacchio Leone had been kind enough to offer you flowers, or you'd never gotten them before and he couldn't tell which was the case. 

Well, there was also the thought that it’d been such a shitty present he actually brought you to tears, but he tried not to think of that.

Anxiously, he watched your eyes as they slowly flooded with tears, your lashes misted by a soft dew as you tried to hold back,

 "- no one's ever gotten me flowers," you say with a quiet chuckle, feeling silly for being so emotional over it. 

No one had ever done so, but you’d always desired it.

Because, deep inside you were a helpless romantic who's, unfortunately, never been treated as such.

Your confession took him by surprise.

It was the first time he'd seen you cry, and surprisingly, it'd been a sight he smiled at. 

He'd smiled in a subtle manner, his face touched by just the softest blush too.

 He'd given you a first, and he wanted to be the only one to continue to do so, even if he’d yet to win your heart.

- He though you deserved it. 

 Romanticism had never been his forte, and yet,  according to you , it was like he'd written the book on it. 

You swooned at his affection, glowed under his attention and he'd never heard anything but praise from you making him feel like he'd done so much right. 

- And after feeling like an utter screw up it was something he couldn't get past.

The restaurant was lit by only a few candles, and the fragrance of freshly sprouted roses tickled your nose. 

It was a scene you hadn’t expected.

Looking down at the ground you looked at the scattered red petals as they lead to a table set for two, yet another surprise.

“What...” your breath was cut short as you looked at the man beside you who had brought you to the restaurant. 

“What’s all this?” you asked him as he got that teary eyed, yet happy expression from you. 

“ I told you... I wanted to take you out for dinner,” he told you while stepping forward before turning back, his hand extended to you.

At that very moment, it dawned onto you that Abbacchio meant it as a date.

It’d been to your surprise that he asked out, but you’d accepted it none the less, truly grateful, not thinking about it for even a second, especially when he’d called it ‘ his treat.’

-His gift to you since the year before he’d given you nothing but flowers for your birthday, and he wanted to make the current one much more special.

When he’d mentioned  Libeccio you hadn’t been too surprised, but you’d been happy to accept either way, expecting a simple outing, not an empty venue.

 You also hadn’t expected the candles. 

Nor  the flowers that waited for you on your seat after you traveled through the petal decorated ground.

You hadn’t expected him to hold your hand throughout it, or even pull your chair out for you. 

The wine that had been poured for you had caught your eye, because it wasn’t his regular brand, though you’d recognized it as a higher quality, it being yet another surprise.

But nothing had been as impactful as his confession that lead to a proclamation of love. 

“You’re in love with me?” you said back with stunned surprised, your entire expression touched by that awe. 

He released a little sigh as his shoulders dropped, a sheepish smile gracing his dark tinted lips, “ I was so worried I was too obvious,” he revealed, making you laugh.

Of course you told him how you felt, how wonderful you thought he was, and how you never imagined he’d see you in the same light.

.

.

.

They say that when a person's life is at its end, their life flashes before their eyes. 

He'd always wondered what would be true, and he'd give anything to tell you that at that moment he hadn't thought about his past, the one that had haunted him for so long. 

He hadn't thought about his decent childhood or even his one weighing burden that had spiraled him into darkness.

He hadn't even thought about the undoubtable pain that came the moment his body registered the brute strike. 

Instead, he thought about how happy you'd been when he got you those flowers. 

He thought about how wonderful it felt to kiss you, how you felt when molded by his hands, how you smelled of your signature perfume he felt honored to have cling to him. 

He'd thought about how he could feel your smile during those little presses, how much his heart raced when you pushed further, wanting more from him. 

"-I need you," never before has he been so eager to please anyone. 

"Come on," you didn't need to pull him anywhere because he'd follow you blindly, because life with you felt like an entire adventure.

"I love you," it was instinct to pull you close and repeat the words.

"- Don't go," Your little pout always had him trudging back to bed, unable to just say no. 

“Please...” that single word could make him do just about anything.

His eyes tiredly trailed towards his stand, watching it take the form of the last face he'd seen, one he could only hope would come nowhere near you. 

He knew he wouldn't be able to tell you how much he loved you, how much you meant to him;

 How much his family meant to him.

There was no time. 

However, there was just one thing left, one last act that would sum it up. 

And the single stone shard clutched in his cold hand was the precious missing piece that would lead you to his final message.

[inkpot909]

How They Text the Reader Headcanons

↳ Characters included are Bruno Brucciarati, Leone Abbacchio, and Guido Mista. Gender Neutral Reader with they/them pronouns.

A/n: I’ve always wanted to try my hand at doing x Reader text messages! This was very fun to make, and I do plan to make more of this kind of headcanon list for the rest of Bucciarati’s team.

Warning(s): None.

Bruno Bucciarati

Bruno’s text messages are straight to the point and utilize proper grammar like the mother he truly is deep down.

Not the type of person to send emoji’s… ever, really. This is because he views texting as a simple tool to use when he can’t just speak to you in person or over a phone call.

However, you prefer the funnier explanation of it actually being because he’s secretly very inept at using technology (this is very much so part of it he just won’t ever say so).

In all honesty, he prefers to call you and hear the sound of your voice more than communicating over text. He’s the type to call in order to converse about whatever mundane thing is on his mind instead of sending a text.

That said, he’s definitely the type to always tell you good morning or wish you goodnight with a sweet text message.

Also, because of his job, he’s often put into long-term situations where calling isn’t exactly ideal. That’s when he’ll text the most; he just wants to check up on you regularly when he can’t be there in person do so! This became especially true after rising to the position of Capo.

His text messages may seem… bland to those unfamiliar with him.

But since you know him as well as you do, they always ring as genuine and an extension of his polite kindness.

Admittedly, it is hard to argue against the fact that his straightforward style of text often leads to misunderstandings. This is due to his sometimes unreadable tone:

Leone Abbacchio

Hardly ever texted you at the beginning.

Since the two of you started going out, he’s gotten a bit better, though. Before, he was very adamant that if he has something to say, he’ll wait when he’s face-to-face with you.

But when he eventually let it slip that he often forgets what he even wants to talk to you about, you slowly began getting him to text you more.

Arguably the best method of doing so is to get him to tell you about something he feels strongly about. Whether it’s something positive like asking him about the music he’s been listening to recently, or it’s something more devilish like bringing up subjects that really bother him.

Leone is at least very reliable.

Meaning that, although he doesn’t often start a conversation over text himself, he will respond to you reasonably quick.

Tease him by claiming it’s because he has a soft spot for you and he won’t text for an entire day (you know he loves you).

He also prefers to use proper grammar and punctuation in his texts. That said, Leone does use emojis (usually just to express disappointment) and sometimes can seem more expressive in text than he is in actual conversation.

One sweet thing he does over text is that he always sends you a message after he makes it home after a particularly dangerous mission, informing you that he’s safe. He knows you worry, and although he often puts up a front claiming it’s annoying, he truly does take note of that concern.

Abbacchio’s just not completely used to having someone like you in his life who holds a special concern for him. He is adjusting; slow and steady.

And although he forms the habit of texting you more, it’s you and only you he has the energy to do this for (outside of probably Bruno). This leads to other’s on Bucciarati’s team to text you when they want to get a hold of him:

Guido Mista

Real talkative over text, especially in the evening after he’s finished with his dinner. He’s pretty expressive and uses a decent amount of emojis.

Will plop down on his couch with an exaggerated bounce, pull out his phone, only with the purpose of talking to you and doing nothing else on the device.

The two of you actually had to work on how late you’d stay up texting one another.

Hours disappearing in the blink of an eye and leaving you both extra tired the next morning. And on occasions that it was decided to take the conversation into a call… it’s easy to see why you both have slept in late more than once.

Although not as frequently as someone like Narancia, Mista will send memes every now and then. Not only that, but he always replies to the ones you send him.

He prefers to send you embarrassing or funny pictures of others in the group over memes, though. You’ve seen photos of Abbacchio and Fugo in particular that Mista could honestly use as blackmail.

This has bitten him in the butt quite a bit, though.

After discovering Mista’s been doing this, the others now send you every single unfavorable image they own of the gunslinger. Even Bruno’s sent his fair share.

And although Mista often forgets to say good morning to you through text, he always says goodnight to you.

Not only that, but Mista will text right after he’s completed with a mission. Although a bit of a goofball, he always takes work seriously, and will leave you on delivered on hours at a time depending on what he’s up to. But the minute things have calmed, he’s letting you know.

Mista will certainly ask one of his common out-of-pocket questions designed to get a conversation going via a text message.

This isn’t a bad thing per se, except for the fact that he has a bad habit of doing so at three in the morning.

Even still, they’re not the weirdest variation of texts you’ve ever received from him:

[bloomingdayswithyou]

Can you do a Giorno x reader x Abbacchio ? Many thanks!

Morning routine with Giorno and Abbacchio

Pairing: Giorno x Abbacchio x gn!reader (poly)

Words: 559

Warnings: real world au, just a lot of fluff🩷

The soft hues of dawn filtered through the curtains, painting a gentle warmth across the room where Giorno, Abbacchio, and you lay entangled in the embrace of sleep. As the first rays of sunlight kissed your eyelids, you stirred, your senses gradually coming alive to the world around you. With a contented sigh, you shifted slightly, your movement causing Giorno to nuzzle closer, his arms tightening around you. Abbacchio, nestled on the other side, let out a soft grunt before his features relaxed into a peaceful expression. You smiled, taking a moment to relish the simple intimacy of the morning. Gently extricating yourself from Giorno's grasp, you slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb his slumber. The wooden floorboards felt cool beneath your feet as you made your way to the kitchen, where the promise of a new day awaited.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee permeated the air as you set about preparing breakfast. The rhythmic sounds of a soft jazz tune played from a record player in the corner, creating a soothing backdrop to the morning's activities. With practiced ease, you cracked eggs into a bowl, the satisfying sound punctuating the quiet tranquility. Soon, the sizzle of eggs hitting the pan joined the melody of the jazz music. Abbacchio emerged from the bedroom, his hair mussed and his expression still half-lidded with sleep. His presence brought a sense of familiarity and comfort, and you greeted him with a warm smile.

"Morning," he muttered, his voice still rough with sleep as he shared a soft kiss with you before he reached for a coffee mug.

"Good morning," you replied, the corner of your lips quirking up. "Coffee's ready whenever you are." As the rich aroma of coffee enveloped the room, Giorno's voice joined the symphony of the morning. His tousled hair and sleepy smile made your heart skip a beat as he entered the kitchen, his gaze finding yours with an affectionate glint.

"Am I just in time for breakfast?" he asked, his tone playfully teasing while he hugged you from behind after sharing a kiss with Abbacchio. "Of course," you said, your heart fluttering as he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

The three of you worked together in a synchronized dance – eggs sizzling, toast toasting, and coffee pouring into mugs. Abbacchio's quiet efficiency complemented Giorno's innate grace, and your own contributions wove seamlessly into the rhythm of the morning routine. As you sat down at the kitchen table, plates of scrambled eggs and buttered toast before you, Giorno offered a toast. "To another day together."

"To us," Abbacchio added, raising his mug of coffee in agreement. The clinking of mugs was accompanied by shared smiles, the morning light casting a golden glow across your faces. As you savored breakfast together, the conversations flowed effortlessly – from plans for the day ahead to nostalgic anecdotes that brought laughter.

After breakfast, the three of you gravitated toward the living room, settling onto the couch in a tangle of limbs and shared blankets. Giorno's fingers intertwined with yours, Abbacchio's head resting against your shoulder as you enjoyed the simple pleasure of being together.

The morning hours slipped away in a haze of companionship, the soft cadence of your laughter filling the air. From whispered confessions to stolen kisses, the intimacy you shared was a testament to the depth of your connection. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, bathing the room in a warm glow, you found yourself lost in the embrace of their love. The worries of the world outside seemed distant and insignificant compared to the sanctuary you had created together.

In that tranquil morning, as Giorno's fingers traced gentle patterns on your skin and Abbacchio's steady breaths mingled with your own, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. The moments like these, filled with love, laughter, and shared moments, were the true treasures that defined your unique relationship. And as you basked in the glow of that morning, you knew that no matter where life's journey took you, the bond you shared would remain unbreakable.

.

.

.

[giggly-squiggily]

TickleTober Day 5 ~I'm Not Ticklish~ (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure)

For the wonderful @gladdygirl18 :3

“You’re full of merde!”

Abbachio raised a brow above his wine glass, sipping slowly and drawing out the tension. “Rude- watch your mouths. And it’s true; I’m not ticklish.”

“That’s a load of sh-crap! Everyone’s ticklish!” Narancia argued, slapping his hands on the table with a huff. “Even Bucciarati’s ticklish!”

“Yeah! I bet you even the big boss is ticklish!” Mista added. The trio paused at the thought, humming. “But yeah- there’s no way you’re not!”

“There is a way- I’m simply immune.” Abbachio finished off his wine with a flick of his wrist, leaning back in his chair as the pair before him huffed. “There’s not a spot on me that’s ticklish.”

“Ribs?” Narancia darted over, jabbing them repeatedly.

“Try again.” Abbachio leaned his arm back further against the chair to prove his point.

“Waist?” Mista pinched it. Nothing.

“Oh, you know what? Fugo’s BAD here!” Narancia jabbed him under the arm with a giggle. Abbachio merely raised a brow. “What?” “GioGio’s really ticklish here!” Mista clawed at his belly, and still- there was nothing! “Or was it…here?” He squeezed his thigh.

“Come on- it’s got to be somewhere!” Narancia poked and prodded along his torso, looking for giggle spots.

“You're wasting your time. Just take my word for it and leave it b-EH!” Abbachio went to swat them away when a stray finger jabbed his hip, making him spasm in his seat. Mista and Narancia gaped like fish.

Then they were grinning.

“Oh Abba~” Narancia cooed, wiggling his fingers.

“Looks like we found your tickle spot~” Mista was already reaching for his hip.

“Oh no- don’t you dare you pieces of shi-hhihihiihiihihihit!” Abbachio had no time to run- he was immediately attacked by twenty busy fingers, jabbing and prodding at his hips. “Stahahhahap iihiihihihit, yoohohoohohu ahahahahhahsshohohohohles!”

“Now who’s got the potty mouth?” Narancia laughed, kneading Abbachio’s hip as Mista tapped against his other side. “Hey- Mista; check his ribs again!”

“Huh? Oh okay.” Shrugging, the gunner did just that.

“GEHahhahahahahha! Shihiihihiht, gehehhheht bhahahahahahck!” Abbachio nearly flew out of his chair at the new spot being attacked, sinking back in his chair as he laughed and wheezed.

“Holy crap he IS ticklish here!”

“See? I knew he was hiding it! Still not ticklish, Abba?”

“Aheahahhahahha! Screhehehhehw yohohoohohou!” When the fingers came back to his hips, Abbacchio gave in almost immediately. “Fihihihihine, Fihihihihine I’m tihihihihicklish, now stahhahahap!”

“Hehe, new it!” Narancia laughed as the two pulled away, high fiving each other overhead. Abbachio groaned softly, pushing back his hair with a soft laugh. “We got 'em!”

“Hell yeah!” Mista grinned. “Now- who’s next?”

Just then- they’re next target walked right into their web.

“Mista, Narancia- Bucciarati’s looking for you two. Said something about a…um, what’s going on?” Giorno blinked at the sight- Abbacchio flustered and exhausted with Mista and Narancia staring back at him. “Guys?”

“Get him?” Mista raised a brow.

“Get him.” Narancia agreed. Within seconds, they were running at Giorno, the blonde flying out the door with a startled “Merde!”

“Heh…good luck, you damn brat.” Abbacchio grinned as the sound of laughter filled the room once more, pulling on his headphones.

[icerisotto]

⟡﹒ spuntino ' ꒱

⌦ genre: smut with light fluff and light angst.

⌦ type: oneshot.

⌦ status: finished.

⌦ couple: bucciarati﹢ mista﹢ abbacchio.

⌦ warnings: prostitution, mentions of violence, sex, one-night stand, poverty.

☆ plot:

Abbacchio gets more than he bargained for when he sends his boyfriend out to buy their dinner. Or, Mista leaves their place with the promise of a snack and returns with a prostitute.

★ where to read: here.