In Bocca Al Lupo

1- Local Troublemaker Goes to a Party

AN

Alright, for reference I'm going to be taking things a bit slow storywise for the purpose of building up relationships. By that, I mean reader joins Passione a solid few months before Giorno.

Reader's stand is stupidly powerful in its own unique way, along with bullshit luck. Quick note- most of Reader's outfits are based off of Persona 5 Dancing Star Night.

~*~

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Swinging my fist down onto my alarm clock, I wake up with a start and let out a sharp hiss of pain at the stinging sensation on my hand. Shaking it out to try and lessen the pain, I turn to glare at the damn thing, grumbling to myself, "Fuckin' shitty ass alarm clock... gotta get one that doesn't break my damn hand in the morning..."

"Piccola! Breakfast is ready!" Hearing my mom shout from downstairs, I respond quickly, "All right! Lemme get dressed first, I'll be down in a few!"

Not bothering to hear a response, I swing myself off my bed and stretch out to shake off the cobwebs of sleep. Hearing my shoulders pop soothingly, I roll my arm and begin to walk towards my closet, swinging it open.

"Alriiiiiiight... what to wear on this fine mornin'?" I said to myself, scanning over the various articles of clothing I owned. Eventually spotting something I thought worked nicely together, I smiled to myself and began getting dressed. A loose fitting white tank top with the galaga logo displayed on the front, short black leather shorts with a chain connected to two of the belt loops for fashion purposes, fashionably shredded black thigh high socks, blue converse, a pair of expensive wireless black headphones around my neck, and an oversized blue bomber jacket with black faux fur trimming on the collar, various pins and patches pinned and sewn onto the jacket.

Checking myself out in the mirror for a moment, I winked playfully at my reflection and decided it was good enough. Sliding down the wooden railing- even though my mom was constantly telling me not to on a daily basis- I jumped down the last few steps and skipped into the kitchen. My mother, who had seen me slide down the railing, pursed her lips into a tight, disapproving frown, her eyes narrowed into threatening slits.

"(Name), piccola, how many times have I told you not to slide down the railing this week?" My mothers voice came out passive aggressively, making me cringe both internally and externally in shame and slight fear.

"... Four times," I answered truthfully, hoping that she wouldn't be too upset with me.

"Correct. And, piccola, how many times did you slide down the railing this week?" Keeping the tone of fake kindness, my mother placed her hands on her hips and smiled down at me.

"Four?" I felt the sting of regret and cringed, knowing where she was going with this.

"Correct again! So, for how many hours are you going to clean the house?" My mother smirked at me, pushing a plate of toast in my direction with a satisfied look on her face.

Feeling the consequences of my actions bite me in the ass, I grabbed my toast and ate it pitifully, giving a half-assed, "Four hours."

"Good. I have been meaning to clean this place up... now, I won't have to!" my mother chirped happily, putting her hands on her hips. As sweet as she was, she was moderately terrifying, even to me. Knowing that the cleaning wouldn't take four hours anyway, I looked up at her hopefully and asked, "'Kay, so, in the event where I finish before four hours passes, what do I do?"

My mother's face twisted into a deep look of contemplation, before she answered me, "If you do, text me, and I'll have you go pick up groceries. We're running out of things."