Jojo's Bizarre Adventure | Imagines | Requests CLOSED

| Imagine #22 | Bruno Bucciarati

Brandishing your blade, you hold it tightly, "I'll let you leave unharmed if you go now."

They glance at the knife and into your undaunted eyes.

"Man, let's just go, it's not worth the trouble."

"Yeah, she's not even hot or anything."

You refuse to react. You don't want scum like them thinking you're attractive anyways.

Breathing evenly, you lock the door as soon as they walk out. Tears spring to your eyes as solace wells within you, easing your anxiety.

They left without hurting you physically but they certainly harmed your usual trusting demeanor.

|||||

After a solid ten minutes of sitting in a stupor, you finally get up and lock up everything for the night before hesitating at the back door. Habitually, you leave without fear, walking for ten minutes to arrive safely at your apartment.

Tonight is different.

You feel frightened.

What if they're still out there, waiting for you to let your guard down?

Paranoia eats away at your mind but you can't just stay here.

Cautiously looking around, you step outside, bag slung over your shoulder.

The sun is gone now, the bright moon replacing it. Street lamps offer their services, attempting to keep darkness at bay.

You walk with your eyes peeled, staring at every shadow, praying that nothing hides within them.

Turning a sharp corner, you almost run into someone.

Squeaking in panic, you are quick to step back, stumbling over your own feet. Fallen on the cold ground, you bring your hands up to protect yourself before you realize who stands in front of you.

Concern is etched in his features, his blue eyes reflecting moonlight, "Are you alright, Y/n?"

You sigh, visibly relaxing, "Oh, Bucciarati, you scared me."

He offers you a hand, short black hair rustling in the light breeze, "Apologies. I didn't mean to. But, you're not usually this jumpy."

Damn, he's perceptive.

"Well, uh, it's not that important," you excuse.

You've known the gangster for years, long enough for you to actually consider him a friend.

Granted, you don't exactly have many friends to begin with. You've even met his group of mobsters on occasion.

He raises his brow, "Please don't lie to me, cara. Something upset you."

You gaze into his sincere eyes, breathing shakily as you relive the harrowing experience.

"How are you so good at uncovering my lies?" You joke half-heartedly.

His lips twitch into a small smile as he waits for you to continue.

After explaining the situation in great detail, tears threatening to spill again, you look down at the ground.

His warm hands cup your tear stained cheeks, "Oh, mio caro, I'm so sorry."

You chuckle lightly, "Why are you sorry? It's not like you did anything."

"Exactly. I should have been there to protect you."

"That's unrealistic, you can't spend your days in the library. A gangster like you? You'd be a laughing stock," you joke, smiling. "It's a nice sentiment, though."

You begin walking, with Bucciarati falling in step beside you.

After a minute of silence, he asks, "Does it bother you?"

"What bother me?"

His expression seems pained, "That I'm part of a gang."

"Not in the slightest," you tell him earnestly, "I know you're different than most. You care about people and you want to make Italy safe. I admire you, Bucciarati."

"Truly?"

You nod firmly, entwining your arm with his.

He freezes for a split second, making you scared that you made the wrong move. He relaxes into your hold, though, erasing your worries.

"I admire you too, Y/n."

You look both ways before crossing the street, "Really?"

"Yes. You're always kind and compassionate. Even now, you're acting like your life wasn't just threatened by two thugs. You're amazing," he looks down at you with a serious expression.

Blushing, you turn away to hide how flustered you are, "Thanks..."

As you get to your apartment, you halt and release your grip on his arm.

He misses your touch already, yearning for you to hold onto him again. Truthfully, you feel the same way.

"Y/n, if I may be so bold to ask... would you like to get dinner sometime?" He asks softly.

Your heart thumps erratically, "M-me?"

He smiles at your antics, "Yes."

"I'd love to!" You beam happily.

"I'll pick you up after work tomorrow."

"Sounds good."

He leans in slowly, pressing a tender, chaste kiss on your cheek, "Goodnight, mio dolcezza."