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danddymaro · 11 months

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Icy | Bruno Bucciarati x Reader

mm...zombie mommy

I know the events take place back to back, but lets pretend we have some free time after the beach.

Angsty?

Word count: 2017

Icy

You wake up with somewhat of a start, a little gasp escaping you out of pure instinct as you come to.

It's not a sound that wakes you, or even a movement, but rather, a strange feeling that has you uneasy.

In a daze, you rub one of your eyes as the other skims over everyone else, making sure they're there ;

And they are...mostly.

Every one of them is asleep aside from the one you've realized has been staring at you for far too long. In fact, he seems to hold your gaze for an entire minute without so much as a say, concerning you.

"Bucciarati?” the single address left you, and as it did, it was an immediate snap back to reality for the man. The distant look in his lovely eyes vanishes in that moment before they lightly squint at you as he offers you the gentlest smile, a pleasing expression that’s a mirror to his most inner tenderness.

At the sound of your voice, the intense and stern gaze of his royal blue's deters. Soon, in place was a more softened look that had you even more worried.

Perhaps you were reading too much into it, but It was almost like he was sad.

Though, it wasn’t something you would be too surprised with, because even if none of you had talked about it since...the haunting image of Abbacchio tormented your every other thought.

After all, it'd only been hours since then.

The definite order in Bruno's voice when he ordered you to leave him behind was present in each recollection too, reminding you that you would mourn him.

You'd do so after you completed your objective ; after you made sure his sacrifice wasn't in vain.

- Because that's what Leone would have wanted himself.

You were certain of it.

' Do you think about it too?' you wondered, not knowing the many thoughts that existed within the man before you. Of course he’d seen so much throughout his young life, and has had his fair share of filthy jobs... but it was different when it was someone you loved.

- Someone you considered family.

'Is that what's on your mind?' you continued to silently question, knowing he was stronger than you were, aware that while you could barely hold back tears, he'd been the glue to hold you all together.

Narancia continued to openly cry as Mista looked far in the distance, his typical jovial demeanor turned sour as he fisted his hands and remained silent throughout.

You could hardly see through the tears.

In fact, you didn't even want to scoot an inch farther than where you were as you held onto Leone's cold hand, cradling it as you tried to share some warmth.

"w-we can't...." you tried to protest, your voice completely drowned out by Narancia's sobs and plea’s to not abandon the man.

“Please...” you could hardly form a word without a hitch.

'I wouldn't blame you,' you went on, still admiring him even while wondering if his collected behavior was all a mask as the leader of your group. Regardless, he’s done everything he’s had to to keep you together.

"Are you alright?" you finally asked him, your voice still soft, not wanting to wake anyone else up as you'd finally found a place to rest.

"- Of course," he answered you in a tone that slightly teased you for asking such a question. Meanwhile, his eyes slowly drift away from you, soon traveling overhead to where he could see outside your hidden safe zone.

A small smile still graced him, a lingering of something lamentable still there and making you feel uneasy, even if his voice was nothing but warm comfort directed at you.

"- Don't worry about me," he assured you after.

"You should continue to rest," he then said, surprising you because you hadn't even seen him take an extended blink.

"Aren't you tired?" you asked him, moving closer, and as you did your hand moved, coming near his laying hand that escaped the touch just as it nearly came in contact.

There was a soft pang of hurt within your heart, but you brushed past it, simply looking at him with that persistent worry you couldn’t overcome.

silently, his fleeting hand found refuge over one of his knees as he mused over the question, not knowing how to tell you that he didn't feel much of anything.

- Not since his confrontation with the boss.

he simply nodded his head in denial, choosing to keep gazing up at the clear ceiling with a sudden stern look, the same stern look that had you worried and begging to ask more questions you were sure he'd dismiss.

He had always been frustrating in that way.

He’d always been so easy to talk to while simultaneously sharing none of his own woes.

"You should take the opportunity," he lowly murmured, the advice one you didn't consider much before you responded.

"But...I want..." you nearly fell into silence in the attempt to word your desires, but somehow you managed to gather your courage together, catching the fleeting feeling with everything you could muster.

'It took a moment...' you reminded yourself. 'Just an instance and he was gone,' a nagging voice persisted, reminding you how suddenly your friend had passed without being able to say goodbye.

'- But you're right here,' you thought while looking toward Bruno, your heart fluttering at his very sight, just as it always did.

'The only thing I should be afraid of is losing anyone else... is not being able to say what I feel.' you added with just a touch of hope, a gentle smile gracing you as the thought visits you.

"Bruno...I want to stay awake with you," you voiced, simple and to the point, something that hits him with surprise, much more when he realizes your gaze doesn’t flee.

In fact, You’d never seemed so certain of anything before in your life.

His response was a thick swallow that occurred as his hand tightened over his knee.

You could see his lips purse, the light tension there soon dissipating as he emitted a soft breath that released more of that strange, new sorrow he carried around with him.

The truth was that Bruno hasn't felt much of anything since he came back, at best faint echoes of what was once there, but he was certain it would soon fade away too.

Frequently, he wondered if that gentle flicker in his chest when he looked at you was only a phantom feeling, an echo of what was once there, or if it was truly the love he felt for you existing against all else.

That feeling... was it just a memory? was it something like his heart beating?

He had too many questions, but from what he could gather ; not enough time.

'It's stopped...' he reminds himself, the space in his chest soundless, motionless.

And yet... you inspired something in him, especially as your eyes look at him with that loving light he’s only just realized has longing.

Leone Crossed his arms as he leaned against the doorway, his eyes closed in deep thought.

“Chances are...we won’t all make it back,” he told Bruno as they were earshot away from everyone else.

You were the only one in the room with them, unconscious as you laid on the large mattress, placed there by the dark haired man after Giorno had been fortunate enough to put you back together after an unexpected attack.

“We’ve already had too many close calls,” Leone says with little optimism, though he hadn’t had any other grievances if it meant he’d be able to accomplish something.

Meanwhile Bruno’s hand cradled one of yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles before he gently let it settle down.

“That was the risk you all took when you joined me.” Bucciarati replied, responding back just a bit to icily as he looked down at you, his gaze set on the remnants of blood that still soaked your lips.

“Of course,” Abbacchio said while pushing himself off before staring at Bruno. “which brings me to my point now,” he said while his eyes settled over you.

“ This is for you,” he said with an apology gaze sent to you as he handed Bruno the envelope he’d crammed in his pocket.

“She’d told me to hand it to you in case anything happened to her... but I don’t see the use in giving it to you after,” he scoffed.

“I'm pretty sure I know what she meant by ‘Anything,’ but if we’re being technical ….this is constitutes as ‘anything,’ “ he said rather smugly as he handed the letter to Bruno.

As Bruno sat beside you on the vacant spot of the mattress, he looked up at Leone with surprise.

“...what is this?” Bucciarati asked softly, and as a response Abbacchio shook his head, chuckling.

“You defiantly need to read it,” he said while giving him a short wave, deciding to leave you two alone.

Leone just knew the contents by having only looked at the way you’d held it to your chest before you planted a soft kiss on it and handed it to him.

Bruno had been so blind, so oblivious that it had had him stunned as he read the contents that had been written down by your very hand.

Yet, what was something that should bring him an immense joy only saddens him furthermore because he knew that it was only a matter of time before the husk he inhabits suddenly shuts down.

'Thank you,' he doesn't say it, but he leans in, his arms pulling you close to him, bringing your body so close to him, you immediately fit together without a struggle.

It’s surprise to you, and your voice catches in your throat. Soon, your chin is right at the bridge of the muscle between his neck and shoulder, resting as you let out a small gasp of surprise.

You try to dive into the feeling of him embracing you, yet find it difficult.

He's cold to the touch, even as he's holding you so close, so tightly you should feel some transfer of heat in between.

Your arms that have crossed behind his back and have been pulling him impossibly close shake, as does the rest of your body.

It's immediate, the way your eyes flood with tears is dreadful, but not much more than the ease they begin to fall at.

For that moment you don't question why he's so cold, instead, you wonder why you're crying, why such a moment feels nearly dreadful, like something grim looms over you both and threatens to pry you apart.

‘Why....?’ its a single question that could take many roads.

The way he pulls you close nearly hurts you, but rather than voice discomfort, you say his name in a way that’s eerily soothing.

Gently, you whisper it by his ear, at a loss for any other words.

"You... feel cold..." it's all you say, managing through the short breaths without a sob, and he says nothing in return.

Instead, he softly shushes you, his hand pressed to the back of your head, cradling you like a terrified child, which is just what you feel like.

A gentle kiss falls on the crown of your head, lasting as he closes his eyes.

He doesn’t dare to try for anything more, finding it insulting to graze your warm lips with his numbed, cold ones. He’s concerned over the scent he emits, about all of the wonderful things you’d written down that now couldn’t possibly be true.

He was even sure that his eyes have lost much of their luster, and he’s just sorry that the last of what you will remember of him will be the grotesque form that now weaves through your lovely strands of hair.

It’s a shame, though with a little smile gracing him he lays his chin over your head,

“Don’t worry about me...” he says again,

“you’ve already brought me joy...”

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danddymaro · 2 years

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Kisses From Bruno

This is How Kisses from Bruno go // somewhat nsfw.

Wordcount: 590

Kisses From Bruno

His lips are not only plush but soft as they descend onto yours, and even after all of the yearning between the past week that has made you fantasize of a single smooch with prior memories used as fuel, it's almost like it's all been wiped out from your memory the second he touches you.

The entire experience is almost indescribable.

Somehow, you feel as though the first that descends upon you that day is the first of a lifetime.

It's always just as breathtaking, just as special, and never falling short of blissful.

Every kiss brings forth a sweet flavor your mind automatically resisters as his, and it's something dear, something you can't place but is close to a mixture of vanilla and sugar tickling your taste buds, urging you for more spoils.

One of his forearms lays beside your head, used as support while the hand at his other side takes a tour down his own body before it falls onto his manhood.

His thumb touches the base first before his other fingers land seconds after, curled over the hardness that had been previously strained by the costly, black-spotted white trousers now forgotten somewhere between the bedroom door and the mattress.

He continues to kiss you while he strokes himself, the longing he's possessed slowly sedated by your very presence, the warmth that your every breath fills the home with being the same one he's missed terribly while he was away.

The head of his cock teasingly brushes your folds, smoothly sliding over your slick so easily that part of you wants to shrink in shame because it was all from a kiss of his.

A single press had you ready, intoxicated by the sweet savor of your dear Bruno.

he hums, the sweet, low whirr warming your insides like a warm drink during the winter seasons, and your heart delicately flutters at the soft sound he makes just as he finally sinks within.

Involuntarily, you clench at the full length, and it's something Bucciarati responds to with a deep, baritone moan, and he's nearly winded.

The tension that knits between his dark brows melts along with the stress his mind had been plagued with from the previous days away, and he could only envision it as a mist that evaporates from him the second he finally fully holds you.

He doesn't quite understand what it is that creates the reaction from you, what it is that he does that brings forth such a sensual flutter around him every single time, but he loves it.

He loves it so much that the luscious lips that press against your own slide off to the side and land right in between her ear and jaw.

And he praises you, in between the soft pants that escape those beautiful lips there are sensuous words of praise that make your face steam hot, but also make your heart bounce happily.

He loves you, and he's missed you, terribly.

- And there's nowhere else he'd rather go.

"Tesoro..." he whispers softly, and there is so much tenderness in that single word that you feel the gravity of all of his adoration.

The address has another meaning, and it translates to ‘I love you.’

Between the rapid beats of your loudly pounding heart you can hear him say it again, and like a lovesick fool, drunk on the divine sound of his sensual voice hotly spoken in your ear, you almost melt into a pool beneath him.

More kisses follow within the lovemaking, and they all taste sugary, addicting.

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