JJBA Oneshots

Bruno Bucciarati; God Complex.

A/N:
Hello! I just want to start off by saying these stories are formatted on mobile, since my current laptop is from the stone-age and will barely boot up Google Chrome without overheating and turning off, so apologies if the composition is odd on desktop, or if there are grammar errors. With that out of the way, requests are OPEN! I would love character suggestions with a plot/prompt and I'll @ you with credit when it is published! But I'll only be doing x readers, so no character x character or x OCS, sorry :/ there may be smut/lemon or suggestive fluff(borderline lime) oneshots in the future, as of now im not so sure so it'll be marked as mature anyway. So far I have 3 more fully written oneshots, and 9 or 10 drafts to work on, so uploads may be erratic depending on when I get a work finished. I'll stop blabbing and get on with this oneshot! Thanks for reading :D
Please enjoy♡

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Bucciarati, Bruno. A name that everyone knew all too well. The man, the myth, the legend.

“Bucciarati will save us! Bucciarati will protect us! Bucciarati will rid all who is bad!” The people would converse in the streets of your neighborhood. They believed he was a hero, they believed he was a God.

On the otherhand, you didnt even believe he existed. The way they described him was so fairytale like, as if he was a savior, the Chosen One of sorts. Only few had seen him, but word had spread like wildfire. But thats how rumors spread, fear and false hope. Thats part of why you didn't believe it, why you thought it was all bologna. If he was such a hotshot, such a gallant man, a member of the mafioso sworn to protect the innocent- why had such few seen him? Why had others seen him but some not, when we all needed help. When we all needed protection, when we all needed to feel safe walking the streets of our neighborhood and sleeping in our homes without guns under our pillows and bats by our beds?

Why was Bruno Bucciarati so special? It never made sense to you. But if it instilled hope and security in those who need it, why was it so bad? Because its going to hurt when they get their homes ransacked and the Amazing Bucciarati wasn't there to stop the intruder, to protect the victim. Here, we have to take matters into our own hands. Everyone should know that, its a shame they don't.

Just food for thought.

You jostled your pocket knife into your pocket, and got going. The grocery list crinkled in your hand. Milk, bread, butter, sugar and tea-bags for your Granny.

The streets bustled, filled with all people alike and not so much. Elders, homeless people, teenagers, adults, junkies, all sorts. The diversity never seemed to amaze you everday, even though here is where you were born and raised. The only thing it lacked in your area was Tourists, and you were a bit thankful for that. Your neighborhood was quite a bit a ways from the town, markets and shops, a 45 minute walk, so you walked a fast pace- you wanted to get there and back as fast as you could, you didn't like going out much. You walked pockets in hand, head down, to not attract any attention. It was noisy, the people wouldn't shut up. Talking, screaming, whatever- it annoyed you to your core. You did your best to block it out and ignore it for the remainder of the walk and back.

Your journey had gone by pretty fast, it hadn't felt like almost an hour and a half at all. You had grabbed the contents of the grocery list from the stores and now were almost home, ten to twenty minutes away. The sun had begin to set, but it was still light outside- not the best circumstances, this is when everyone was indoors, and all the inexcusable activity began. But you were almost home, you would be fine. Although you had an odd gut feeling, you took your usual route home, a small alleyway shortcut, which may not be the best idea given the time but, you'd get home faster.

You kept yourself knitted together tightly, holding the grocery bags close to your body and shrinking down as if to ease past detection.

The hairs on your body stood straight as you eased down the narrow alley only to find a group of, apparent thugs, hanging out by an upcoming dumpster. Fine, you thought. They looked young, maybe they wouldn't envoke? You hoped. But you were wrong. Two had already began eyeing you up, you paid no attenion, letting them know you were scared would make matters worse. The knot in your stomach eased as you passed by, but it soon returned when a voice, belonging to one of the thugs, called out to you.