Screaming Crying Rn!!!!

i want him to lay in my lap while i play with his hair!!! i love him so much!!!

ugh look at my baby😕😕😕 i love him so much it’s not funny anymore

AHHH MY BABYYYYY

L LAWLIET X Y/N HEADCANONS!!

(not my picture!)

Sorry this took me so long to get around to!

I hope you enjoy it <3

• Will wake you up to bounce ideas off of you. Doesn’t even care if you give him feedback - he just wants to yap about his thought process.

• doesn’t cook often but is surprisingly good at it. That is… when he’s not too lost in thought… good thing he keeps a fire extinguisher in the kitchen…

• he doesn’t sleep very often, but once the sleep deprivation starts getting to him, he can get a bit clingy. He needs convincing to slow down and get some rest, but cuddles are a good method.

• likes to closely observe you, taking in all your details. He knows every intricacy of your being. He always notices instantly if anything has changed.

• likes to play games of luck with you, since strategy games against him are pretty much useless and he knows this.

• a sore loser. Pretends to pout to make you feel sorry for him. He’s childish and he knows it. Then again, the pouting usually ends up in him getting a forehead kiss, so… maybe he’s onto something…

• Again, will wake you up at stupid hours of the night just to have your company. somehow he finds his way into your room even when you lock the door… but of course, he’d stop if you asked him to.

• can occasionally be found in a dark room with headphones on blaring the loudest most chaotic noise possible. Also likes 2000s scene pop.

• if not the chaos music, he is also fond of ocean sounds… that is, until he gets so absorbed in it that he feels like he’s drowning and freaks himself out…

• likes puzzle games like sudoku or crosswords. He frequently sends you his latest records and challenges you to beat his scores

• goes through your spam emails and cleans it out for you.

• yes, he will buy you pads/tampons if needed. He doesn’t see what the fuss about it is.

• seems a bit distant, but you better believe he gets secretly anxious about you. When you’re out late, when you’re sick, when he doesn’t know where you are, if youve been sleeping or eating properly… it’s not that he’s a control freak, he’s just overly concerned for your well-being.

• is either calm and collected or acting as if somebody is dying. There is no in between.

• too much caffeine knocks him out.

• Enjoys flustering you on purpose, finding it cute when you get slightly embarrassed. Only about trivial things, though.

• is a good listener. He adores hearing you talk, and all the things you could possibly say. Be ready, though, sometimes he asks a lot of questions.

• the type of guy to actually stop tickling you when you say stop.

• watches tv with you but ALWAYS falls asleep halfway through. He’s basically never made it through a movie without falling asleep. Though, it’s usually only for a few minutes. He pretends he didn’t.

• his ears get red when hes embarrassed.

• is always hungry. Will 100% be a snack buddy at any time you want, just say the word.

• doesn’t understand insecurities you have and actually is surprisingly uplifting when you’re upset.

• he likes to buy you stuff to spoil you.

• gets irritated when you spend your money on useless stuff. “You coulda just asked me, Yknow…” // doesn’t pay you back when you go off by yourself.

• holds things over your head in a teasing sort of way.

• laughs around you

• enjoys resting his head in your lap.

• he once claimed to be allergic to dogs just to avoid going to your friends house with you. Lies.

• Shares his sweets with you, but he gets another dish for you, not really liking to share the same dishes/utensils.

• if you meet eyes from opposite sides of the room, he will wink at you. Every time. It’s a bit funny. Sometimes he ends up making himself laugh doing this.

• sometimes when he thinks no one is watching, he will be muttering to himself until he makes himself laugh.

• can’t stand getting a stomachache. He is such a baby deep down. In fact, nobody knew this about him until there was you.

• plays minecraft with you. Sucks at survival mode for some reason. Immediately built a castle out of pink wool after discovering pink sheep exist.

• is very grateful that you put up with his quirks. He knows he can be hard to deal with. He apologizes a lot.

• Goes on park dates with you. Mostly enjoys messing with the ducks. Does not enjoy getting chased by the geese.

• hides behind you when he sees a bee.

• his hands are very soft and gentle. He has the softest most careful touch of anyone you’ve ever known.

• uses a disproportionate amount of emojis. He only uses them when messaging you, though.

• play fights you when things get too quiet.

• Unexpectedly very emotionally available.

• doesn’t really like pet names, but sometimes calls you buttercup.

i’m screaming crying this was gorgeous

a moment in a bottle

Neuvillette wishes he could preserve this moment forever: the aquarium; the blue light; you.

(Everyone knows that Neuvillette adores you. Except for you, of course.)

(additional, more helpful description: u & neuvillette go on an aquarium date and he pines after you like a fool)

modern, college!au

NEUVILLETTE ♡ GN!READER

@2024gisecretsanta gift for @aquatik !! ♡ i hope you enjoy this piece, and happy holidays!!!

it was so fun to participate in this event ^^ thank u to the hosts and everyone involved for making this so special!!

Neuvillette has always noticed you. 

But he notices a lot of things; like the musk of the earth after it rains, like the light that dapples the campus sidewalk, seeping in between the gaps of the leaves. Neuvillette notices a lot of things, some more than others—he muses, nearly tripping over an uneven slab of the concrete floor, periwinkle eyes fixated on nothing but—

You, similarly to him, are stumbling through the crowd. You, unlike him, are entranced in your own world, eyes darting to and fro, searching amongst the sea of people while he has only ever searched for you. There are too many people in this world, Neuvillette thinks, for him to notice every one. So he notices only one. He notices—

You return his gaze (and Neuvillette feels something shiver in his chest), your lips tugging into a smile (and Neuvillette thinks the sun has shifted, that the sun has reworked itself, tunnelling all its light towards you), your figure suddenly coming closer (and Neuvillette thinks that there is nothing left; he is complete; he is yours absolutely and that is enough). 

You return his gaze. You look at him! Oh, you see him! Neuvillette thinks, This is it, this must be it. This—this… 

(What is it? Neuvillette is no longer capable of thought. He is no longer sentient. He looks at you, and something slams against his ribs: this-is this-is this-is…)

“Neuvillette! I was looking for you!” you exclaim, your voice occupying his mind for much longer than it does the air. Your voice—its unfathomable timbre, its incomparable and fantastical sound! It’s enough, it’s enough!

Neuvillette opens his mouth to respond. There’s a word. He feels himself about to vomit. He feels it: the rush, the suffocation, the gag and the swallow and before he can utter it into existence he clamps his lips shut. There’s a word—or maybe three, or maybe there is no word, nothing in verbal language that is enough to liken your unutterable radiance. 

(What is it? The three words? The rush, the suffocation, the gag and the breathlessness? Neuvillette feels it sinking down his throat, ebbing, reduced from a violent blare to nothing more than a whisper, it goes…)

“[Name],” Neuvillette acknowledges. Maybe, that is enough. “May I ask why?”

Why are you looking for him? Why are you searching for him? Neuvillette wants to hear you say it for himself, to hear the words—which are, after all, nothing more than words—in your fantastical and wonderful timbre. He wants to hear you speak his name—which is just a word, which is just his surname—to feel the revelation, the awakening, the surge! 

“Just because,”—you say, and maybe that’s enough—”I was wondering if you had any plans over the weekend?”

Neuvillette blinks, astonished. Your smile is unwavering, your eyes—your eyes! Neuvillette briefly looks away. The image remains with him still; the color, the glint, the fraction of the sun that is vested within your soul. Neuvillette looks at you, your image devoured by periwinkle. 

“I don’t,” he replies. (He had promised Furina that he’d help her with her case study.) Momentarily, his gaze averts from yours. (He had told one of his professors that he’d volunteer during office hours—who was it, again?) The lie is bitter on his tongue; but Neuvillette isn’t lying. (He’s going to send an email to the professor later, once he remembers who he promised.) Your expression glows. (Maybe this is enough.) Your gentle smile evolves into an excited grin. (He’s going to have to draft a text to Furina, too.) This is enough.

“That’s great!” You reach for your bag, sifting through the various pockets, your hand emerging with two humble, paper tickets. “I won a raffle for aquarium tickets! Do you want to come with?”

He’s whole. He’s complete. This—this is it! This is the surge, the rush, the incomparable and unutterable word! Neuvillette feels it now; the spasm of his heart, the stutter of his throat, the shrink of his figure when you do so much as perceive him! 

Your gaze sinks into his skin. Neuvillette lets it. Your smile sears his brain. Neuvillette replays it. You blink. Neuvillette’s heart follows. 

(Do you ever realize the way he lives? The way he finds meaning only ever because it dances within you?)

This-is-this-is-this-is…

“I would love to,” he replies, unable to contain the smile that tugs at his lips, the smolder in his chest, the primal constriction of his lungs, heaving, desperate to breathe the air you exist in. A breath! A tinge! A fraction of your incomparable existence! This-is-this-is-this-is…

(Neuvillette wonders if you caught it: the word. The word, although pale in comparison, assigns meaning to the enormity that swells within him, the colossal creature, the colossal completion, the vitality; you! Oh, you! When he cannot say your name, he must say this word; this—this fraction, this tiny, insignificant thing: love, love, love! You, you, you!)

“Really?” you say, eyes growing wide. Your lips hang slightly agape, your expression wild and fantastical and bright (Neuvillette thinks this is it); but the shock dissipates into that of utter joy (Neuvillette thinks this is it), and you grin that grin of yours. That grin, (Neuvillette wipes his sweaty palms against the fabric of his dress pants), a simple little something that amounts into an enormous everything. 

“Of course.” Neuvillette knows that this is it. What else, if not this? 

You look at him. His heart surges, his veins beginning to flare, his arteries spasming, flowing without an ebb, overwhelmed and incomparable (Neuvillette doesn’t need to return your gaze; he was already looking at you), insignificant and worldly. 

All you have to do is look at him! All you have to do is perceive him!

“Does noon work for you?” 

Any time works, Neuvillette thinks, any time at all. You could ask for him at four in the morning and Neuvillette would respond; you could stir him from his sleep, from his stupor, from his life. (Take him! Take him from his life! Take him, already!)

“Yes,” Neuvillette says, unable to contain the waver of his voice, the way his fingers instinctively reach to fiddle with his sleeves, “that’s perfect.” 

You look away. His heart surges, his veins beginning to flare, his arteries spasming, ebbing without flow, overwhelmed and incomparable (Neuvillette wishes you would look at him; he wishes you would perceive him, for just a moment will do), insignificant and worldly.

“Alright,” you say, grinning. “Noon it is.”

This-is-this-is-this-is…

It is, Neuvillette thinks. This is it.

Neuvillette has an unspoken routine.

Every day, he wakes up at six, even if he has no morning classes. Every day, he takes a morning walk around the city, admiring the most mundane of sights, like the glow of the lamplights, reflecting off puddles that congregate along sidewalks, like the airplane that soars by, smoke trailing in its wake.

Every day, he returns to his apartment and drinks a warm cup of water. Every day, he opens his laptop, and he sifts through his inbox, responding to different emails and updating his calendar accordingly.

Every day, he saves a slot for you. Today, he fills it in officially; the weekend; the aquarium; noon.

Every day, Neuvillette shuts his laptop, and he takes a sip of his warm water, and he thinks. Sometimes, he thinks about legal cases. Sometimes, he thinks about assignments that are due. Sometimes, he doesn’t have any thoughts at all. 

But every time, he thinks of you. You weave yourself into his daily routine, the legal cases and the assignments. You appear! Even when you’re not there; even when he hasn’t seen you in a couple days, you’re terribly real and terribly vivid. 

And somehow, despite everything, you’re unfathomable. (But Neuvillette fathoms you so often, so poignantly, it’s as if you’re tangible. As if you’re worldly when all you have ever been, to him, was esoteric. Unable to be comprehended. Unable to be conjured within thought, in any comparable magnitude to the colossal vitality that is, so undoubtedly, real. So, undoubtedly, you.)

Today, Neuvillette dons his finest coat. He fits the warmest scarf around his neck. He pats his pockets, and he adjusts his wristwatch—what time is it, again? He looks down—ten o’clock, he should start leaving now. 

The door to his apartment swings open. Neuvillette glances up.

“Neuvillette?” Wriothesley remarks, shrugging off his work uniform haphazardly, strands of his obsidian hair sticking to his skin. “You’re still here?”

“Wriothesley,” Neuvillette acknowledges, “indeed, I am.”

“That’s a surprise,” Wriothesley says, pale blue eyes drifting over Neuvillette’s outfit. “What’s the occasion?” 

Neuvillette coughs into his fisted hand.

“I’m meeting with [Name] later.”

“Ah,” Wriothesley replies, smirking, “that adds up.”

Neuvillette has never considered himself to be transparent, but at the same time, he has never made it an effort to be enigmatic. But the knowing look that Wriothesley gives him is enough to make Neuvillette wonder: has he always been so plainly obvious?

Then, he thinks of you. Have you noticed how plainly obvious Neuvillette is? Have you known all along, yet never brought it up in an effort to spare his feelings?

(Have you ever wanted—for just a fraction, for just a moment—him to be so obvious? Have you ever looked at him—and held his image within your irises—when he hasn’t been looking at you (Which Neuvillette thinks, frankly, that’s impossible; he’s always looking at you)? Have you—have…)

Wriothesley chuckles. “Don’t think too hard about it. Who knows,”—he shrugs, his expression unreadable—“maybe you’ll be in for a surprise.”

Wriothesley has always known more than what he lets on; it’s just in his nature, as a part-time security guard and a student of criminal justice. 

He has never been wrong, Neuvillette thinks—his mind shifts. His mind forms an image, vivid and bright and fantastical; it’s you.

This time, however, he might be. Neuvillette thinks Wriothesley’s implications are outlandish. How could he expect a surprise from you, when you already do so much as exist?

Still, Neuvillette replies, “Maybe.”

There’s a magic that follows after your existence. It’s like the petrichor that swarms the earth after it rains; like the inevitable belief that night follows after day; like the certainty that vests within time; the fact that tomorrow will come, the fact that you are, despite everything, real. It’s unfathomable, really. Your existence. 

And Neuvillette has wondered when everything began, when the world started to shift, when the sun became more than the sun: when it became you. Maybe, it started when he was your partner in a group project back in physics class (which he barely managed to pass with your late-night tutoring and guidance). Maybe, it started when he realized that you were there throughout everything—through the years of his worst, when he loathed everyone, when he had no love in his heart, when the most mundane of things remained as they were: mundane.

Maybe, it doesn’t matter when things begin. All that matters is that they exist now.

“I should get going,” Neuvillette says, taking another peek at his watch.

Wriothesley nods. “Have fun. Let me know if there are any breakthroughs.”

Neuvillette blinks, echoing, “Breakthroughs?”

Wriothesley flashes another one of those knowing expressions. This time, all he offers is a hum. And this time, Neuvillette doesn’t pry; he gives in. Neuvillette does a lot of that—he thinks of you—giving in, and pressing onwards, and living in the unknown despite the answer being right—he thinks of you—in front of him.

He arrives at the subway station an hour and a half before noon. Neuvillette sneaks another glance at his wristwatch, thinking, I’m right on time. After taking a seat on a nearby bench, Neuvillette begins to observe, periwinkle gaze drifting across the sea of people, anchorless and free, his senses reborn as the world reincarnates anew. The air is crisp, the cold stinging the tip of his nose, puffs of condensation escaping his parted lips—Neuvillette feels everything. The fabric against his skin; the surge of life; the rush of the passerby; the frantic and erratic breath that life exhales with each gust of wind.

“Neuvillette!” a voice pierces the crowd, passing through the canal of his ear and stabbing cleanly through his heart. Although it’s just a sound, Neuvillette hears it wholly: the timbre, the tone, the familiarity of his name (which is, after all, not even his first name), the way the syllables sound sacred (and Neuvillette must attribute the fragility to the owner of the voice, not the name) despite it being uttered many times before. 

This-is-this-is-this-is… You. You! 

At your call, Neuvillette stands. His hands, unsure of what to do, reach for the sleeves of his coat, fiddling with the hem while his gaze fixates on you. Once more, periwinkle drowns in your figure. Once more, the world is right. 

“[Name],” Neuvillette replies, unable to contain the gentle smile that possesses his lips. “You’re early.”

You laugh. “You’re earlier!” 

“Yes,” he admits—this-is-this-is-this-is—“you’re right.”

The subway ride to the aquarium is peaceful. Neuvillette couldn’t have asked for anything else, because there you were, and there was the world, and there was the sun, and there you were, and—oh, did he mention that already? 

Neuvillette thinks you were the most wonderful of them all. You; your eyes, focused on the scenery outside. You; your voice, dipped into a whisper as you speak of precious little nothings which, to Neuvillette, seem to be worth everything. 

You’re radiant. Fantastically so. Neuvillette has this realization time and time again. Every time periwinkle swallows your image, and every time his heart shivers at the proximity of your presence, Neuvillette is made aware of how colossally significant you are. You’re like the world. Sublime. Wondrous.

“Neuvillette,” you suddenly say, and Neuvillette feels his ribs shudder. “Thank you for coming with me today.”

He swallows thickly—the way you say his name; oh, the way you, the way you—somehow, he finds his voice, breathing out, “It is my pleasure.”

“Neuvillette!”—and there you go again, calling his name, unaware of the spasm of his heart, the binding of his lungs—“come over here! Look, these are whale sharks!”

Oh, that’s right, Neuvillette thinks, this is your domain. Before he can open his mouth to respond, you usher him in the direction of the spotted creature, its wide mouth stretched agape while it drifts throughout the blue waters, followed by a squad of smaller fish. 

“Those are remoras,” you explain, “they attach themselves to sharks and feed off of parasites that grow on the shark’s skin.”

Oh, Neuvillette thinks, noticing the glimmer of your eyes under the aquatic light, noticing the way your words begin to slur together out of sheer excitement, unable to keep up with the tempo of your thoughts. 

You’re beautiful. 

“What are those?” Neuvillette asks, pointing towards the manta rays.

“Those are manta rays!” you exclaim. “Like the whale shark, they’re filter feeders!” 

“What does that mean?” Neuvillette queries. “To be a filter feeder?”

“It means both whale sharks and manta rays filter out the free-floating plankton drift in the water!” you say, and oh, Neuvillette thinks you look ethereal. This is your domain; the great ocean; the blue light; the knowledge; the passion. You own the sea. The world. Oh, the world! 

“Did you know manta rays don’t have skeletons? They’re made of cartilage.” 

“No, I didn’t,” Neuvillette replies, despite knowing that fact from the plethora of articles he read about marine life a couple days back. Neuvillette didn’t want to seem ignorant in front of you, a marine biology major, but at the same time, he thinks this is a much better alternative. 

This-is-this-is-this-is… 

You smile at him. “It’s all good! I go to this aquarium pretty often, so I know a thing or two.”

You’re lying, Neuvillette thinks. You know more than just a “thing or two.” You know—you know everything, it seems!

(Still, Neuvillette doesn’t pry. He does a lot of that, he supposes—he thinks of you—in your presence, and with the realization—he thinks of you—that you are, unbelievably, here. Tangible. With him. With him!)

Neuvillette wishes he could bottle this moment and keep it forever. 

He observes this aquarium through your gaze, measuring all the creatures with the same joy that you hold them to, learning all there is about different fin types and different species groups. Orcas are not fish, they are marine mammals—Neuvillette knew that too, from an article titled “What Are Orcas Truly?”—sharks breathe by swimming and passing oxygenated water through their gills—Neuvillette learned that fact last night from a video titled “Sharks Sleep While Moving!”

If he weren’t a law major, Neuvillette thinks he would’ve gone into marine biology, too. (And he wonders what it’d be like, to have the same classes as you, to be able to share this knowledge with you, to be able to discuss marine life on a higher level than the rudimentary facts you’re forced to share with him, who is unfamiliar with this world.) 

Neuvillette wishes that he knew more than what he knew. He wishes he could crawl into your brain and adore the ocean with the same passion that you have. He wishes he could share your struggles with strict lab professors, and discuss answers after difficult quizzes—but the boundary between your major and his is too large. He knows nothing. He can say nothing. He is nothing. So he opts to remain silent and stare. 

Can he ever return to this moment again? You; the blue light; the whale sharks; the manta rays; the world! Can he ever revisit this aquarium? Will you ever want to go with him again? Will you speak to him in the same, lovely voice? Will you call his name with the same, lovely timbre?

Oh, Neuvillette wants! He wants! He wants this moment! This aquarium! You!

His heart shudders.

This-is-this-is-this-is…

And the moment is ending. Everything returns to where it started. Neuvillette finds himself on the subway once more, sitting by your side, watching you watch the window, the sun setting in the horizon, the day slipping away.

He wants to bottle this: the pink hues, the orange glimmer, the blue memory, the aquarium, you. He wants to grasp this scene and slip it into his wallet, like a charm, like a reminder of the world and all that has meaning. He looks at you. He wants—and he stops there, because he’s overstepping his boundaries and that’s too much to ask for. 

A yawn escapes your lips, you apologize, muttering, “Sorry, I’m a little tired right now.” 

Neuvillette notices the lull of your head, the flutter of your lashes as you struggle to stay awake. 

“It’s alright.” His leg begins to bounce, his fingers reaching to fiddle with the hems of his sleeves once more. “If I may offer my shoulder, if you would, um… In case you would like to rest.”

Although you don’t seem to mind, or notice, the filler word that slips into his speech, Neuvillette is already questioning himself, berating his sudden inability to speak, reduced to nothing in your colossal presence. For how could he ever amount to anything if you are already everything?

“Thank you, Neuvillette.”

His heart lurches. His lungs heave. His brain falters, unable to form any coherent thought that isn’t composed, in its entirety, you.

Your eyes flutter shut, and your head comes to rest against his shoulder, and Neuvillette thinks—while his leg bounces up and down, mad—that, if he could, he would bottle this moment, and—while his breath shutters, coming to a stop—and, and he would preserve it. And he would love it. This light; this subway; this world; you. Forever. 

Neuvillette has always noticed you. From the moment his periwinkle eyes first beheld your existence, from the moment the world incarnated anew, from the moment—which he wishes he could bottle—your gaze dawned upon him, when dusk dawned upon the two of you, when everything dissipated into darkness, he noticed you then. Even without sight. Even without speech. Even without his senses.

He notices you now, too. He notices the way your brow furrows when the sun’s light slips across your face, the world illuminating and perceiving your irrevocable beauty. He notices the way you turn away slightly, burying your face into the fabric of his coat, trying to escape the radiance which pales in comparison to your own.

His hand comes up to block the sun. Your expression eases. Your breathing evens out and the world is right again. 

This-is-this-is-this-is… 

Neuvillette rests his head against yours, his touch featherlight—the bounce of his leg comes to a stop—his lungs pausing, capturing the breath which holds the essence of your existence—and the moment is preserved—and the final incarnation is complete. 

This is… 

The sun’s final light disappears. The moment is over. 

Neuvillette feels your head against his. A new moment starts. 

And he supposes—without much deliberation—and he thinks—and he has thought this, for the longest of times—that this is love. 

(This is enough.)

abbacchio my baby☹️👩‍🍼👩‍🍼

Bucci Gang x Reader: How they act when they have a crush

CW: fork stabbing, Trish being a meanie 🥺, spoilers(does that still matter???)

Notes: Hey I decided to do a Bucci gang version of this prompt! I hope it doesn’t seem too rushed: it was supposed to be out BEFORE Valentines Day 🥴 oh well better late than never. 💜 Beryl

Bruno

When the love bug bites Bruno, he holds it in for the sake of professionalism and your safety. To the best of his ability of course.

He gets very protective and uses you missions sparingly. And when you are needed, he is there as your partner. He refuses to let anything happen to you, not just as your Capo but as your secret admirer as well.

He’s the king of chivalry when it comes to you. Of course he takes great care of his team but with you he takes greater care as if you’re as fragile as glass. He opens the door for you, pulls your chair out for you, pours your drinks first, and holds the umbrella for you and demands you stay under it—he doesn’t want you to catch a cold!

He planned on keeping this a secret and just moving on…but ever since that life changing revelation with The Rolling Stones, he must tell you one day before he perishes. He doesn’t want to leave this world wondering what could have been.

Giorno

When Giorno realizes that he has feelings for you, he doesn’t act any differently. But…your days suddenly become a little brighter. You’ll find your favorite flowers addressed to you from a secret admirer. You’ll see friendly stray cats/dogs follow you home from seemingly nowhere. You’ll find your favorite dessert in the fridge for you at the restaurant you all hang out at. So many different things that you can’t explain happening to you without any reason other than to make you smile.

Just being friends/coworkers and watching you from a distance to see your happy face is enough for him. Right now that is.

Abbacchio

When you melt this ice cold goth heart, he’s in denial and he refuses to address it…for a while. He gets jealous easily with seeing the other boys(just Giorno) being around you and interacting with you.

He’s going to swipe you away from the blonde saying he can’t be trusted and demand that he be put on missions with you. He says he’s all about “the mission” but when it comes to your safety, he’s going to put you first! He won’t say it but he definitely does. How many times can you count that he shoved you out of the way from the enemy’s grasp? 20? 30? You should really pay more attention!

Mista

This guy can’t keep a secret no matter how hard he tries. He tries to be a little more hygienic…mainly use more cologne and use deodorant. 🤦‍♀️ He’s tries to be smooth and tries to hit you with a nice pick up line but it he ends up botching it, leaving you in stitches. It’s not what he intended to do but making you laugh works too! He’ll try to refrain from asking weird questions during dinner time. The last thing he wants to do is gross you out and ruin your meal. Trish already thinks he’s gross and he doesn’t want you thinking he’s gross too. He’s a simple guy and will take things slow. He’ll continue to try and woo you simply by being himself, and if you’re meant for him you’ll fall for him in time.

Narancia

This pure boy wears his heart on his sleeve. When the single brain cell in his head signals that he’s in love, he can barely contain himself. He gets very needy and clingy around you!

He wants to do just about everything with you. He wants to have missions with you, eat meals with you, hang out with you, shop with you, study with you…well, if you call him staring at you and not at the book studying. Fugo is running out of forks you know, you should stop distracting Narancia!

Fugo

It’s pretty obvious that this nerd likes you. His face is always red and he can’t stop stuttering when he tries to talk to you. He’s the smartest member of the group but when it comes to relationships and friendships in general he struggles.

No matter how uncertain he may feel, he’ll do everything to get in your good favors! He wrangles his temper to the best of his ability, (usually by dragging Nara outside where you can’t hear him screaming and beating up the poor boy) and whatever you have a difficult time with or if there’s something you want to get better at, he’s quick to volunteer to be your tutor! Don’t worry if you get any answers wrong, he wouldn’t dream of ever stabbing you with a fork! He has nothing but praises for your hard work and effort.

Trish

When this spicy girl gets a crush on you, she starts to act a bit…spicy. She’ll get annoyed every time you talk, and complain that you’re being annoying. 🥺

She’ll complain about everything even though she, of her own FREEWILL will sit next to you…At the restaurant , the car, the plane, and the sofa. She’ll say you’re sitting too close too her and you’re touching her. Your perfume/cologne is too strong, your music tastes suck, and whine whine whine—-she “doesn't like” you yet she’ll fall asleep and lean on your shoulder like you’re the comfiest pillow ever.

She’ll stop being a little ass and address her feelings eventually.

OKAY SO IM MAKING A STAND FOR MY JJBA OC

i wanna call it One Last Breath

reference to Creed🙏🙏🙏🙏 i love creed

anyway idk what it’s ability would be tho and idek how to design it ughffghghgh heeeeellllpppp idk what to do what the farrrtttt

OMG YK WHAT PMO SO BAD????

so i have pretty bad social anxiety, and presenting in front of people is one thing, but presenting in front of people i’m not comfortable with/don’t know well is another. In this case, I’m presenting in front of people i’m not comfortable with or don’t know well. Sometimes while i’m presenting, i’ll be talking, then all of a sudden in the middle of saying a word, i’ll just stop speaking unintentionally. it’s like, for example, “I love Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure so mu-…” AND THEN I JUST STOP SPEAKING??? It’s like my breath gives out or something??? idk but it pmo so bad and i’m so tired of it😭

Another thing with my social anxiety is that it takes me a while to actually get started on talking when presenting something in class. I just stand there and look dumb. I look around the room and at the floor then back to my teacher and they’re just like, “It’s fine. Whenever you’re ready” and then I try again, but i just CANT DO IT. So of course my classmates get impatient and start looking at their friends with THOSE kinds of facial expressions while they wait for me to finally start talking. Then when I do the other problem I talked about before starts up☹️ idk what to do you guys ugh this is so annoying

sorry for the yap

ugh guys i love abbacchio so much like i just wanna lay in bed with him and hold him close to my chest and play with his hair and give him smoochies and hold his hand and do the THUMB THING ohmygosh i love him so much he’s such a cutie patootie i literally cannot!!! he did nothing wrong!!! i love my baby abbacchio!!!👩‍🍼

LIKE JUST LOOK AT HIMM AWWW CUTENESS AGGRESSION 🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

THIS IS SO REAL GN

Me when a song has honestly nothing to do at all with a character but I played it a lot while thinking about them

HAGAHSHW HELP ME I LOVE THIS

If I'm allowed to request a scenario where the bucci gang meet a new recruit who literally looks sweet/innocent but is chaotic beyond belief. I just re-watched asobi asobase and in one of the episodes where hanako sets fire to the restaurant by accident. But in this case the new recruit, whose stand is similar to avdol(but with blue flames, cuz blue=hotter more dangerous fire) does it on purpose while looking the boys dead in the eyes with a 'innocent' smile on her face. It'd be even more crazy if by the time police, firefighters, ambulances arrive she just cancels out the flames entirely and the only thing burned in the restaurant are the curtains she set fire. And all this cuz abbacchio decided to be an asshole and tried to do her dirty like giorno. Lesson learned, latom😔😔🙏🏿🙏🏿.

Sorry I just thought this would be funny. Bye

Masterlist here <3

Hello! Sorry for the extremely late reply, I hope you enjoy this <3

Lesson learned, latom

The restaurant was lively, filled with the clinking of silverware and the low hum of conversation. Bucciarati’s team occupied a corner booth, their usual energy simmering beneath the surface.

And at the center of it all sat their newest recruit—sweet, polite, and seemingly harmless.

She smiled as she stirred her drink, the very picture of innocence. But underneath that facade lurked something far more dangerous.

And Abbacchio? He had no idea what was coming.

He had made his distaste for her obvious from the start, treating her with the same level of hostility he once reserved for Giorno. Every snide remark, every passive aggressive comment, every pointed glare.. it all led to this moment.

The moment she tilted her head, smiled sweetly, and set fire to the restaurant.

The flames roared to life, an unnatural blue that burned hotter than anything natural. It licked at the walls, raced up the ceiling, and bathed the entire restaurant in a deadly glow. The air shimmered with heat, screams erupted around them, and chaos exploded as civilians scrambled to escape.

And there she stood. Completely still. Watching Abbacchio.

Smiling.

Her expression never wavered, not even as the fire raged around them. She leaned slightly forward, resting her chin on her hands.

“Oops,” she said, voice light, playful. “My bad.”

Abbacchio’s breath caught in his throat.

The others?

Mista pushed back from the table so fast his chair nearly toppled over.

Narancia’s jaw had practically hit the floor.

Fugo looked seconds away from having a nervous breakdown.

Giorno, on the other hand, was unfazed. He merely sipped his tea, as if he had been waiting for this exact moment.

Bucciarati pinched the bridge of his nose, already exhausted.

And Abbacchio?

His soul was ascending.

“What. The. Fuck” he rasped.

Outside, the sirens blared. The sound of approaching fire trucks and police cars filled the air. The restaurant doors burst open, and emergency responders stormed in—only to find the blue flames vanishing in an instant.

One second, the fire raged. The next, it was gone.

The restaurant stood untouched, completely unharmed.

Except for the curtains. They were still burning.

The firefighters stood frozen in place confused as hekl.

The officers exchanged glances, unsure of what to even report.

And Abbacchio? He turned his wide, haunted eyes back to the new recruit, who was now happily sipping her drink. As if nothing had happened. As if she hadn’t just committed arson with intent and gotten away with it like it was a casual tuesday.

Let me know if you’d like anything tweaked <3

If you enjoyed this make sure to check out my other posts, and if you’d like anything specific written for a jjba character/squad you can request it if my requests are open!

YOU GUYYYYYYYSSSSSS OHMYGOSHHHH!!!!

ITS ABBACCHIO’S BIRTHDAY AAAAAAHAHAHA

I LOVE MY HUZZ ABBACCHIO SO MUCH!!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR HUZZY ABBACCHIOOOOOO

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUUUU!!!!

YAYYYYYYY CAKE AND PRESENTS CAKE AND PRESENTS LOTS OF CAKE AND PRESENTS FOR ABBACCHIO

LOVE HIM SO MUCH!!!! (i’m his #1 fan.)

HELP I LITERALLY WROTE THIS AND I WAS AB TO POST IT BUT I THINK I GOT SIDETRACKED NOW ITS 1AM OF THE 26TH😭😭 JUST PRETEND ITS STILL THE 25TH SHHH🤫

anyway i love the huzzy sm💜💜💜💜