Title: "Library"
Pairing: Bucciarati x (librarian) reader
Type: angst/fluff
Warning: drug use (don't do drugs, kids)
Word Count: 1263
~
Music quietly plays through your earbuds, soothing your soul as you shelve books in a happy daze. Not many people can say that they truly enjoy their occupations, but you certainly can.
Working at a library is peaceful and relaxing for the majority of the time. Occasionally, there may be some hiccups, but those are often few and far between.
At the moment, there are no people within these walls apart from you. So, you decided to work on some shelving to help out the page who couldn't work today.
Faintly, you hear the door open, quickly pausing your music, but leaving the devices in your ears. Two teenagers enter, tumultuously walking to the far corner.
They're not like most patrons who usually attend the library.
Glancing at your watch, you see that there are only ten minutes left until closing. You go back to shelving the books, smiling at the thought of going home to relax.
Even if you love work, it's still nice to be finished for the day.
The teens go quiet all of a sudden, alerting you. The hairs on the back of your neck raise as you peek through the shelves to watch in horror as you see what they're doing.
Sharp silver needles dig into their arms as they unabashedly shoot up in the corner of this esteemed establishment.
Should I call the police?
You silently walk to the front desk, reaching for the phone before it is knocked away from your hand.
The boys laugh as you stare at them in fright. Alarm bells ring in your mind, telling you to put space between you and the high teenagers.
"Don't come any closer," you warn in a surprisingly steady voice. "If you leave now, I won't call the police."
"You hear that? She won't call the police," one of them mocks, stepping close anyways.
Your gaze hardens.
If they want a fight, you're more than willing to give it to them. Needless to say, this isn't exactly a fair fight, but you're young and capable of inflicting some damage.
"I'm warning you," you say, slowly wrapping your finger around the heaviest thing on your desk - a stapler.
"Ooh, we're so scared."
Heart thumping wildly, you allow your instincts to overcome you, swinging your makeshift weapon with all your might into the boy's head.
He cries out in shock and a bit of pain, although the drugs in his system alleviate most of the sting. His buddy is unimpressed, lunging for you.
You dodge, reaching for the phone again. Not making it in time, you curse as the male stomps on it, rendering it useless.
"Act nice and we might not hurt you," the one you hit says. "We're just looking for a good time."
"Well, you're not gonna get it here," you state forcefully, rushing to the back room to grab a better weapon.
Hand closing on the handle of a large kitchen knife, you brace yourself for more conflict. Certainly, you've never had to deal with this sort of behavior before, but you've seen street brawls and have a good idea of what to do.
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."