Fate and Destiny decide the path that rest ahead, but who's to say someone can't save you from either of those?
Who's to say your story ends there?
(Team Bucciarati x Fem!reader)
Disclaimer:
There will be spoilers. (Following the anime)
I do not ow...
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─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
"So, favorite colour?" Having asked that Narancia once again leaned among the table, for the past few minutes the group had been asking small questions such as favorite colour, food, what you'd be reincarnated as in your next like,
You know, very mundane things. Though you didn't really mind.
"Hm (F/C). I think it looks nice." Humming that out and raising your to-go cup up to take a sip you continued to hum softly afterwards. Your anxiety seemed to have quickly subsided as the others remained friendly, making an effort to keep themselves from being overly weird.
The last comment mainly aimed towards Mista and Narancia seeing as they were the ones asking the more...offhanded questions. Whereas Fugo chose to ask more practical ones.
Abbacchio had yet to enter the conversation but seemed perfectly content with just watching from along the sidelines taking sips from the glass of wine set before him.
"(F/C) is a pretty colour." Nodding his head at your answer the black haired teen went to ask another question before quickly being cut off.
"Say I'm supposed to be getting to know you all too aren't I?" Having stated that it seemed as though they understood what you were getting at right away waiting for whatever question you wanted to ask. "I just wanted to ask how long you've all been a team?"
Leaning back into his chair and pursing his lips, Mista tapped a finger along his chin, "You know I never really bothered to remember how long it's been. Maybe a year?" His tone of voice came out unsure and it wasn't really till the others started chiming in with their own answers did you quickly realize they probably couldn't remember.
"No, it was two years. I remember it being two years." Firing out his own answer Narancia raised a hand pointing a finger towards Mista accusingly.
"What do you mean two years?! It was one, maybe two. But I'm saying it was most likely one."
"It was two!" "One!" "Two!" "One! And says the person who can't do math."
Shaking his head as the two began bickering Fugo chimed in, "I'd say one and a half years, it'd make the mo-" "Shut up! Nobody was asking you!" Abruptly being interrupted by the two the blond took in a deep breath before the three of them began arguing. The verbal insults and threats slowly became more physical.
Trailing your gaze away from the three and to where Abbacchio was, your eyes quickly landed on the wine glass once in the man's hand being knocked down onto the ground. The culprit of which was the others now having resorted to showing and the likes.
The accident quickly got him involved leaving you to sit and watch the scene unfold. Your mind prayed that Bucciarati would walk in then and there, but that would've just been sheer luck.
