Star Struck (JJBA x Reader Oneshots) [COMPLETED]

Bruno Bucciarati | Do You Trust Him?

MALE READER ANGST

~language and blood warning~

(Art is not mine cred to click_burgundy on twitter)

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I came home late that rainy night, bringing home some ingredients for (f/f). I unlock and open the door, only to be met with darkness and the smell of iron. I knew taking the long rout was a bad idea, but my friend told me the main road wasn't all that safe today. I dropped the grocery bags at the door and ran in, feeling a sickening squish when I entered the kitchen. With shaking hands, I turned on the light, bracing for the sight before me.

"(Parent/n)!" It came out before I could stop it, and I ran to them. I knelt down, not caring about the amount of blood soaking my pants. The tears wouldn't stop streaming down my face as I heard a slam. Whipping around, I saw a man on all-fours, crawling out the door. He looked back and laughed. I wanted to scream, but I only changed my pants and shoes and trudged through the rain to the spot known for one man.

Bucciarati.

I opened the door and asked the waiter for the mystery that was Signore Bucciarati. The waiter nodded and scurried off to some corner of the restaurant before coming back with a lean man with a bob cut. He looked at my soaked and despaired visage and mumbled something to the waiter. He scurried off again and Bucciarati placed a warm hand on my icy shoulder.

"I- I'm sorry for barging in, but I-" I bit my lip, begging myself not to break down now, "my only family has passed under abnormal circumstances. I doubt you would know much about the psycho- sorry, I just... need a place to stay. I'll work if you need me too, just say the word. I-"

He pulled me into a hug, surprising me. "Shh, fratello, I understand." The waiter returned then with a towel and handed it to Bucciarati. "Here," he said, wrapping the towel around me, "let's go sit and get you some food. Is spaghetti alright?" I nodded, at a loss for words.

We walked over to his table and he sat me down across from a platinum haired man dressed in all black. "Bucciarati, who's the kid?" His voice was deep and demanded respect, and frankly scared me.

"I honestly don't know, but he's been through enough today. It seems he's lost all his family to a gang member if I understand correctly."

"Yes, he- he walked on all fours and had a weird brown jumpsuit that covered his head. He- he turned and laughed at it." Tears began pooling in my eyes, and I could tell the darkly dressed man was rolling his eyes, but I wasn't done. "If you can't take me under your wing, at least give me something on him. I want to kill him myself." I looked into Bucciarati's eyes for the last sentence, wanting to get my point across. He looked shocked but then looked to his friend.

"Listen kid, there's more to this guy than some Stockholm's and a pet fettish-" the friend started.

"If it's about a ghost, I've got one too." They both froze when I mentioned him, and he decided to make an appearance right then. Bucciarati has one too, as his came out too. "He won't fight you. He only fights when I tell him to, but he likes to come out sometimes." They slowly relaxed, realizing something.

"You don't know how to really control it do you?" Bucciarati asked, sympathy laced in his voice.

"He's his own person though. He's my little brother from what I can tell, but I can't control what's not me." I look up at my ghost, patting his head.

"Kid, that's called a stand. It's your fighting spirit, not your little brother." I looked at him with wide eyes before looking back at my ghost- no, my stand.

"Is that true?" He turns and nods, confirming that he is, in fact, part of me. "Well I'm sorry for my rudeness then. But, like I said, I would like to kill him myself and ghosts- or stands- aren't all that foreign. Just give me some information on the guy and I'll owe you my life."

They shared a quick glance and Signore Bucciarati spoke up, saying, "I'll take you in under my wing, but there's more to our team than just me and Abbaccio. Just wait here and the waiter will bring your food. I need to speak with Abbaccio for a moment.

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"Do you really trust that kid?" Abbaccio said to his capo, worrying his short fight with the boss made him desperate.

"Not entirely, but I trust his anger. That look in his eyes, the fire burning in his soul. It's what we need to destroy the boss. Not to mention that he deserves a shot at them as much as we do." Bucciarati looked out into the rainy night. "Plus, he's got nowhere to go. He came to us instead of the cops or anyone else. He's at the end of his ropes."

What Bucciarati didn't say was that he felt his heart leap a little at the sight of the man's peircing (e/c) eyes and damp (h/c) hair. He could only be dragged into the story of his past and made it his mission to find out more.

Part 2?