It was me, Diego! JJBA X Reader (One shots)

Touch (Gyro Zeppeli)

Ever since you were young, your mother drilled into your head to avoid falling in love if at all possible.

"Men will only use you, make you think they really want you, and then leave you with nothing but a broken heart." She would say.

She was a harlot. You would often hear people at the Inn whisper about how beautiful she was. You agreed, but they never talked about the dull look in her eyes, her permanently straight expression, or her monotone voice.

When she attended to a client, you had to wait outside of your shared bedroom, leaving you to wander around the tavern. There were always people that could teach you something. How to cook, sew, play poker, shoot a gun, fist fight, spit a loogie really far, and whatnot. You even got the chance to ride a horse, but only if the owner of the Inn was there to keep an eye on you. He was also there to tell you to return to your room once your mother was done.

You've never seen your mother look indecent after a job. Her hair wasn't disheveled, no smeared make up, not even a bit of sweat. She made sure to always look presentable around you so you wouldn't think lowly of her. It didn't stop you from noticing the occasional bruises on her skin.

"Did he hurt you?"

She would only give a forced smile in reply, further fueling your distrust in men.

In 1889, your mother grew sick. By the time the doctor checked on her, she was only left with a few days to live. You stayed by her side for the remainder of her days, your hands casing around one of hers.

"Run away." She croaked from her death bed. "The only future for you here is one like mine."

She was right. A small town like the one you grew up in didn't have opportunities for women.

For the first time, she looked at you and let a weak, but genuine smile stretch across her lips.

"I don't regret raising you the way I did. It makes me happy to see you now."

"You did a fine job." You said in the most humble way possible.

With that on her mind, she sighed her last sigh before her hand limped in yours. The owner of the inn, who was standing behind you the whole while, placed a hand on your shoulder.

"She has some money saved up for you." He whispered. "There's something going on in California. Something big. Maybe you would like-"

You held up a hand, cutting him off.

"We need to put her to rest, first."

The funeral was short and simple and only the staff from the Inn attended. Just how your mother would've wanted it.

The owner and you headed straight back into his office to discuss your inheritance.

"Ten thousand?" You eyed the banded money in shock.

"She had eight, but I wanted to put in my two cents." He admitted sheepishly.

"Then just give me the eight." You demanded.

"No, I want you to take ten or nothing." He replied. "You're like my own child and I'll be damned if I let my kid take off without any of my help."

He smirked, knowing that your hands were tied.

"Fine." You relented. "But I'll pay you back later. Now what were you saying about California?"

"There's going to be a cross country race, starting at San Diego all the way to New York, New York. Steel Ball Run, they call it. I've seen you ride a horse a couple of times, and I want to say you got a bit of a knack for it."