Apparition (Vento Aureo x Reader)

Looks Like It's Time To Isolate Myself From Everyone Who Cares About Me

"Since fucking when was (Y/N) part of Bucciarati's group?!" Melone ignored the confused murmurs of the computer on his lap, narrating his fight with the other newbie. He knew it would be going splendidly, so he let his attention wander to the two standing in his doorway. "I thought she was transferred!"

"Yea, into Bucciarati's fucking group! Get your stand's filthy hands off her!" Prosciutto grabbed the scandalously clad man by his shirt strap and violently shook him, the computer landing with a thud on the ground. They didn't seem to notice the sudden use of uppercase letters from the stand, voicing his concerns to those who weren't paying attention at all.

"Wait, so was she the one that fought Illuso and Formaggio?! They just disappeared off the map!" Melone picked up his computer and set it on the seat, the neon green lettering beeping angrily with key smashed letters.

"She let them live, I was able to call them both up. She broke Formaggio's ribs and stole Illuso's clothes and his hand. Pesci lost a finger and got shot, I got my leg cut open." He gestured to the gash they had wrapped up as tight as possible on his calve. "She wants us to stop targeting Trish, she seems to be convinced that the girl really doesn't have any correlation with boss."

"And you listened to her? What did she do? Hang you one hundred stories above the ground?" He gaped, Prosciutto was second only to Risotto in stubbornness, how did she manage to convince him so easily? It took months to even convince him to do this crazy plan, and then they believed that their team was dropping like flies, what was going on? "And why should we trust her? She's on Bruno's crew now, how do we know she wasn't just ordered?"

"Bruno didn't even know that she was trained under us. Polpo didn't say anything of the sort, apparently. If not for her, all of us would be dead. That group is ruthless." He rubbed his forehead, drawing in a soft breath.

"Shouldn't we tell Risotto?" Melone whispered, taking his stand and scanning over the plethora of rude messages.

"Dick head, I'll kill you, turtle shit, burn burn burn burn burn burn burn burn burn...ing..." He read allowed, raising an eyebrow in confusion. "The newbie.... He defeated it...?! We didn't even learn what his stand power is...!"

"Like that's important! The others are alive, and you've already sent the others to kill (Y/N) off!" Prosciutto raised the phone, pointing to the groupchat with the remainder of the team. "Ghiacchio and Risotto?! You know they won't even hesitate to kill no matter how close they are to them!"

"And what about you? Why did you not kill her?" Melone hummed, hand swaying limply in the air. It was a shame that Babyface failed, but it wasn't like he suffered any losses. They would just stay in the train until it arrived. That gave them plenty of time to think. "If anyone, you're one of the least likely to hold back."

"That's... confidential." He grumbled, sitting back and staring at the blank screen. No one needs to know except him. "I owed her one for saving the others, is all."

(Y/N) slowly emerged from the table alongside Bruno, Trish materializing from the seat besides them. Unfortunately, the carvings in her throat and spine were still very much missing, leaving the two unharmed very distressed. (Y/N) had been knocked out from the pain, her legs limp. Without the central nervous system connecting to them, she could end up paraplegic. "Fuck! This much damage already...!"

"What happened?" Giorno peeked over, still in quite some pain despite the inserts he had replaced his body parts with.

"(Y/N) was attacked, part of her spine and throat is missing." Bruno calmly stated, setting the girl on the table and peeling the bloodied shirt off to assess the damage. In his professional opinion, this wouldn't heal properly at all, not with such a big chunk gouged out of her back.

"No, this fight has helped my stand evolve. I understand what must be done. Bruno, if we can switch places, please." He reached inside the turtle, landing superhero style on what was formerly (Y/N) and Bruno, the table. Bruno, although skeptical, did as told and went to go meet with the others, who were still having trouble with hotwiring the car. In their defense, it is much harder than what the movies. With Bruno out talking with the others, he summoned his stand and checked inside her bag for anything he could use. There was some trash, an empty orange juice can and her other shirt that had been stained with the apple juice. Bundling them both, Giorno summoned Gold Experience and created her missing throat and spine, inserting the one into her back before carefully turning her over and freezing. "(Y/N)'s abdomen..."

"Giorno! What the hell are you doing?!" The angered cries of Abbacchio thundered outside of the turtle, all five males entering to find him hovering over the partially undressed girl. His body blocked the view, but Trish's astonished expression was enough for them to pounce. "Ordering around a Capo, are you out of your goddamn mind-!"

"Please remove your hand. I only want to help my friend. Her throat was taken by an enemy stand, and I am able to replace it." As calmly as he could without his voice betraying him, he raised the cube of flesh to her throat. The weight on his shoulder steadily lifted, and Giorno knew that he had seen it too. Her stomach had been cut to high hell, scars trailing almost across her entire abdomen in ugly, discolored stripes, perfectly carved deep into her flesh. They were different from normal scars, worse, as if the edges had been seared and stitched together. This work was something of a professional's, but it was much too gruesome to be considered so.

"What... what the fuck...?" Softly, as if anything louder would be a sin. Was that what it meant to be tortured? Torn apart and stitched together like a broken ragdoll, pieces taken from you bit by bit until nothing remained? Reaching forward, Narancia extended a trembling hand. It couldn't have been real, could it? Before his fingers could even brush against the skin, her hand gripped his wrist, fear and alarm dilating her irises.

"(Y/N)! Your... your..." Without the heart to complete the sentences, they let her silently slip by to put her shirt on. "Are you okay?"

"As fine as I'll ever be." Pivoting on her feet, (Y/N) gave the group a gentle smile. She had gotten far enough on her own. What was just a little farther?

"Bullshit." No longer. Why did those who suffer always have to stay silent? Why did they never voice their pains? It was so fucking stupid. "We asked you a question, (Y/N), are you okay?"

"I'm fine, jeez, don't worry! What's gotten all your panties in a twist?"She waved her hands in surrender, backing away from the group that closed in on her. She always made them smile and helped them during tough times, so why did she never expect them to return the favor? What was so hard about asking for help?

"The scars, (Y/N)! Who did that to you? I'll beat him up!" Narancia ran forward, shaking her rather aggressively.

"You really don't have to, it isn't your fault-" her voice wavered back and forth as she did her best to pull her shirt back on over the scars, hiding them once more.

"Oh shut up! We're here for you, you idiot! Take our hugs!" Narancia threw his arms around her, enveloping the girl in a tight hug as Mista joined, then Fugo and Giorno, and finally Bruno. Abbacchio grumbled, ruffling her hair despite the protest. "You can always come to me if you feel bad, okay? My arms are always open! I swear!"

(Y/N) never asked others for their sympathy. It wasn't because she didn't like the ask, she just feared the pain she would suffer when someone she opened up to suddenly forgot her. But this time... Would it be okay? Could she rely on someone else for once? "Are you sure?"

"Duh! It's not like you're ever gonna leave us. You promise, right?" He leaned closer, pulling on his best puppy eyes in hopes of guilting her to stay.

"...Yea. I'm not ever gonna leave you guys. No matter what." She glanced at Bruno, resting her head on Fugo's shoulder. Even if he ordered it, he wouldn't be able to get rid of her now. Not that he wanted to anymore. This was where she belonged. He understood this now, and they would never let her go.