The story of the seamstress who dressed the Bucci gang.
Takes place before the events of part 5.
Mostly a Bucci x oc but Mista slips in there sometimes 🤭
Curse word warning: contains lots of f-bombs
This book is not about horses 🤪
The neighborhood gradually changed from an older, run-down area with empty warehouses to fancier, newer streets and buildings on the walk to Libeccio. Lira was practically begging Fugo to meet his crush, so he finally caved and agreed to pick him up on the way.
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Lira was surprised that this Narancia kid was nothing like Bucciarati, and despite being almost the same age as her, he looked 12. He fidgeted in his seat and casually munched on appetizers. The three of them chatted while they waited for Bucciarati, with Narancia excitedly asking for every detail about how Fugo and Lira knew each other. All of a sudden, they heard a clamor in the restaurant.
"Bucciarati!" "Hi Bucciarati!" "Buon giorno, Bucciarati!" It was clear that the tall mafioso had finally arrived.
"Sorry I'm a little late," he cooed casually as he sat down and straightened his jacket.
"Bucciarati, what the fuck's on your head?" Narancia asked immediately, glaring at the pins in his hair. Fugo and Lira looked at each other with looks of complete disbelief.
"Oh these?" Bucciarati patted his head softly, a coy smile emerging. "Lira gave them to me earlier. Do you like them?"
"Yea! They're so cool!" Narancia said, surprising Lira, who thought shit was about to go down. "I want something cool on my head! Lira, can you come up with something for me?" He beamed earnestly.
"Of course," she smiled. "Just give me a couple of days to think, ok?"
"Wooo! Ok!"
"Narancia, calm the fuck down please," Fugo said, clearly annoyed.
"Lira," Bucciarati said seriously and turned to look at her with his deep blue eyes. "I realized almost immediately after I left your shop how completely fucking ridiculous I look with these things on my head."
The color drained from Lira's face as she processed what the gangster had just said. His face was completely calm and emotionless, giving no hint at what he was thinking. God damnit, he was so good at that.
"I guess your stand's range is pretty limited, then. 7 meters at best," Bucciarati continued once she hadn't said anything. He sighed and took a sip of water. "The effect wore off once I was out of range."
"You're still wearing them," Lira said meekly, afraid of getting her jaw grabbed and licked again by the frightening mafioso. Or maybe she was daring him to lick her.
"Mm," Bucciarati hummed. "I actually like them, cara" he said as his grin became as wide as a cat's. "They really intimidated the fuck out of this guy I just had to shake down. I could tell how confused he was staring at them."
"Oh, um, alright then," Lira stammered and shifted her gaze.
"But don't use that stand on me ever again. If you do, I'll consider it a breach of trust. And you want the famiglia to trust you, right? It's the easiest way to stay alive around us, bella." Bucciarati's threatening words crept out like smooth velvet. Lira couldn't help but briefly fantasize what it would be like to get absolutely murdered by the handsomely smooth mafioso.
