Apparition (Vento Aureo x Reader)

If You Think My Room Is A Mess You Should See The Rest Of My Life

"Massimo Volpe is dead." The five of diamonds sat before them, recounting all that his brothers have recalled. From the death of the Narcotic's team leader, Vladimir Kocaqi, to the overwork of Angelica Antanasio, to the crazed, idotic suicide of Vittorio Cataldi, and to the destruction of the stone mask that supposedly turned those around them into creatures of the night. And finally, the support that the Narcotic's team grew from, the source of Passione's rapidly expanding power and wealth, Massimo Volpe, and his Stand, Manic Depression. "Death from Fugo's stand, Purple Haze."

(Y/N)'s mouth fell open, uncrossing her legs to pull forward in her seat. He did it. "His stand. His stand? How is his stand right now? Has he improved? Him? Is he hurt?"

The card didn't answer, falling back once again. Its tiny limbs disappeared, reverting back into a small plastic sheet. Biting her nail in worry, she leaned back in her chair. So far, she was the only one in the room, keeping watch for any updates on the situation while the others were busy with other things. But this would be the last message. It was all over, and they had no need to fear anymore. But she was still worried about her friend. Did he still have no control over his stand? No, Giorno was sure this journey would give him the sense to control his Stand. He sent (Y/N) because she was the one who survived the stand that meant instant death and comforted him. He knew she wouldn't treat him that differently, he knew she wouldn't fear the face of death. Or at least, that's what he said.

Perched on top of the Don's desk, Polnareff surveyed the six males who sat in a heated debate. While this time was usually spent on important matters regarding the state of Passione, with everything finally stabilizing, there wasn't much to talk about. So what, pray tell, could cause such a disaster?

Simple. The workload and tasks they were given. Well, not them. (Y/N), mostly. Because she both had to be outside for her job, and was exceptionally fast at it, she spent a lot of time out and about. That wasn't the problem, however. The problem was that it gave her more time with La Squadra than with them. Yes, it sounds petty. It IS petty, but is it so bad to just want someone's focus entirely on them, to be selfish enough to wish to be the source of their smiles?

(Y/N) had an infectious smile. She held onto them with such vigor, they wanted to hold her as tightly as possibly too. They didn't want to lose her, they didn't want her to turn her head away towards someone else. Having grown so comfortable with her presence, they couldn't bear the thought of it being torn from them.

Throwing open the doors to their little meeting room, her throat bobbed, trying to figure out how to word such tremendous news worthy of interrupting an important meeting. "The Narcotics Team is no more!"

"What...?!" Narancia rose from his seat, eyes as wide as saucers as a bright grin bloomed. "No way, Fugo did it?? They defeated him?"

"The whole team!" (Y/N)'s fingers brushed against the doorway, rapidly tapping the wood in a melody for Giorno only. The mask was no more, Canolo did his part. With this shocking development, he leaned forward in his seat, a sort of gleam in his eyes. It wasn't of greed, but of knowledge. He predicted this all, but he just couldn't wait to see how it would play. "Fugo managed to survive his own stand! He can control it!"

"He survived his own stand...?" Bruno's eyes widened. Such a thing shouldn't be possible. Fugo wasn't immune to Purple Haze, and it wasn't like it would evolve to give him select immunity. Just like (Y/N)'s corrosive acid, he couldn't survive it. But... his anger, his fear, he conquered it. "Fugo... he evolved."

"So when can we see him? He can help us now! He won't hold us back!" breaking into a refreshing smile, (Y/N) couldn't wait to tackle him in a much deserved hug. She remembers their first mission together, when he was far too afraid to use his stand under any circumstance. No, it wasn't exactly afraid. She knows he's killed dozens with that stand. Polpo used him countless times to get rid of the dregs of their little hierarchy, so Fugo knew exactly how deadly his stand was. He was simply too cautious. Far too cautious. An overthinker through and through. He had trouble taking risks
It's why he feared the leap.
  It's why he wanted to skid to a stop.
   It's why he couldn't get in the boat.
But he threw himself into the sky.
  He broke free from the perfectly incorrect reality.
   He controlled the one aspect of himself that he hated more than anything else.
There was no way he would hold them back.

"Hm. Whenever is possible, then." Giorno's lips curled up into a soft grin, leaning into his hand as curls of his golden locks shifted over his shoulder. "Where is he?"

"Dunno." (Y/N) stuck her tongue out. "He sustained some damage though, so he won't be out and about, y'know? I can go check out... what hospital he is in."

"Yes. Do that, please." Giorno paused, finger raised to tap his chin as he watched her turn to leave. "Wait, no. (Y/N). You are much more important than some lower tier mafia member, you understand this, right? You shouldn't have to do these missions. We will find something for you to do. Foreign relations, perhaps..."

"???" (Y/N) tilted her head, confusion in her eyes. Then what about all the seeds she had planted and grown over the course of years? Her connections? Did she have to discard it all again? Well, this time was just annoying! "But..."

"(Y/N)." His voice was sharp and filled with authority, and she paused.

"Fine... I'll go read up on that then..." She grumbled, slouching forward and collapsing in the seat next to Abbacchio. "Abba... Can you believe this? So cruel to me..."

"It's your fault for staying and watching the Capo's pledge their allegiance. You should have left like me. Called too much attention to yourself, so Bruno is taking your place as our undercover intel." He shook his head, eyes following her figure as she leaned back in the seat and scrunched her face with annoyance. Chuckling softly, Abbacchio reached forward to brush a lock of hair out of her face.

"Still... It should be easy enough to locate him. Fugo, that is..." (Y/N) shut her eyes, reaching up to grab his hand and place it over her eyes for a nap. Hospitals... She despised them. Every part of them.

Unknowingly, her leg began to shake.