#passione

𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐎 𝐁.

✦ | The capo truly believes that if his stand wasn’t so well behaved, that it would’ve dragged you into the zipper dimension and kept you there so you could shower it with praise forever. He won’t allow that to happen though, so don’t worry. Bruno still finds it adorable when you praise his stand for good work, it almost feels like he’s receiving the praise himself.

───

Tonight was a rare occasion, your beloved Bruno was able to be home for once. The past weeks had been full of countless missions that needed to be taken care of, and only he was trustworthy enough to be in charge of them. As frustrating as it was being away from home, he enjoyed the time he was able to spend with his little group. But, as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. He was eager to see you and hold you in his arms again, to give you all the love you had been yearning for during those few weeks. Letters were simply not enough to express it.

As soon as he entered the front door to your home, he was met with a warm embrace; an embrace reminded him of the days when you were both young and newly in love. Childish, passionate, and so utterly infatuated. With a light chuckle, his arms snaked around your waist, whispering, “I’m home, bella.”

It didn’t take him long to acclimate back into the calm atmosphere your home exhibited, he was finally able to delve into the book he had been itching to read. As he did so, you decided to take on the duty of preparing dinner. He, of course, had offered to do it himself, but you insisted he needed to rest and relax. He couldn’t deny his fatigue, but he still felt guilty for having you do all the work yourself.

He wasn’t too far in his book before he heard soft humming coming from the kitchen followed by the occasionally clanging of pans. A soft smile spread across his face; these were the sounds of home he had been missing. He couldn’t help but look up from his book and into the archway that invited guests into your kitchen, catching a glimpse of the little dances or actions you would take to entertain yourself as items cooked on the burners. You were so sweet and he adored that about you, even simple, domestic moments like this one.

Without even realizing it, his stand had somehow been released during his lovesick staring. It had opened a portal to the zipper dimension and entered through the wall into your kitchen, right next to you as you stirred the pot of pasta. Its sudden appearance startled you, but only for a moment as it merely stood there and admired the cooking process. Sticky Fingers could be an odd one, but it was a useful and dependable stand and friend to have.

Soon, it was time to make the sauce for your pasta. After some rummaging through your fridge, there was no garlic to be found. You swore you purchased some at the store earlier that day, but you supposed you simply overlooked it. “Damnit, I forgot to grab garlic at the store.” You sighed.

Next to you, your husband’s stand immediately perked up; almost like this was the moment it had been waiting for. Quickly, it created an opening in the wall with one of its zippers and swiftly entered and closed the zipper. A few minutes went by, and then came back the stand. It seemed it had nothing, like it had just disappeared for no apparent reason, but then you noticed it was holding an item in its hand. Upon closer inspection, it was exactly what you had needed. A clove of garlic.

Your mouth shaped into an o, then slowly formed into a thankful grin. “Oh, thank you, Sticky Fingers.”

Before it returned to its user, you gave the stand a quick peck on the cheek. A simple way of giving it your thanks, “I swear, as kind as Bruno is, he doesn't give you enough praise.”

If stands could blush, Sticky Fingers was doing exactly that.

Having been listening to your conversations from his comfortable seat, Bruno released a quiet sigh, “Please tell me you paid for the clove.”

───

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀.

✦ | For a while, he thinks you're genuinely insane. You’re fawning over his stand, an extension of himself that can’t even properly communicate with you or talk to you. It can only rebroadcast the past events that Abbacchio asks it to, yet you still consistently shower it with praise when it replays the information he needs. He would never admit it, but he does find it endearing when you do so.

───

Once again, Abbacchio was drowning his sorrows in liquor. This habit had begun to dissipate when his relationship with you began, but old habits do die hard. He found that it would happen more when you weren’t around; around to see how fucked up of a man he really was. He was never what you thought of him to be, at least, he didn’t see himself that way.

In your eyes, Leone Abbacchio was a stern, but caring man. He hid his true feelings with anger, hoping to avoid attachment and sentiment, but the people around him couldn’t help but get closer to him. Without even trying, he was a magnet to the teens in Bucciarati’s group; them seeing him as a figure to look up to. At times, he would even crack small smiles at them simply acting like normal teens. If brought up, he would only deny he ever did. But, you knew the truth.

Even with your constant worrying and check ups on him, his depression would never disappear. It wasn’t something that could be fixed, it simply was; and he knew that all too well. On nights when he did get rest, it would be interrupted by nightmares. Scenes of his days as a cop, money being shoved into his hand, the gunshots, and the blood of his partner on his hands would play over and over. Sometimes, it felt like Moody Blues was tormenting him in his dreams. He knew that wasn’t true, but that was what he wanted to believe.

That feeling was familiar as he sipped on his booze, sitting in loneliness at your dining table. He would drink and drink, believing it would make the pain go away, but it never did. He recalled a saying he was told as a child, “If you believe hard enough, your wish will come true.” Abbacchio never wished, but if he were ever able to muster one up, it would be to wish that you were home right now. Not to see him in the sad state he was in, but to deliver the affection you decided he was worthy of. Your kisses were like blessings and your words were like sugar, it almost felt he was being healed from just your presence alone. Maybe that was why he would replay your mornings with him, when he was his loneliest.

As he rewinded Moody Blues once again, the sound of keys entering the keyhole could be heard. Soon after, you gently opened the door with hands filled with bags of groceries. Your eyes traveled up to meet his gaze, then turned to catch the bottle in his hands. “I’m home, Leone.”

“Welcome back.” He muttered, his grip tightening on the bottle. A tell tale sign of his nervousness.

As you sat your bags of groceries on the table, you took notice of the double of yourself that stood behind you. The stand quickly turned back into its true form, giving you a welcoming nod. You gave it a peck on the cheek as it made staticky noises spout from its audio player. “Were you using Moody Blues to replay this morning, again?” You questioned as you took away the bottle of liquor.

This time, he didn’t utter a word. He only looked off into the distance, a part of him shameful of his actions. You never liked that he coped this way, but it was about the only way he knew how. But, instead of berating him, you gave him a sweet smile, cupping his cheek with the same gentleness you gave his stand. “You can just say you missed me, y’know?”

He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed you right now.

“We can work more on helping you find a better coping outlet. I won’t have you do it alone, Leone.”

Before you could say anymore, Abbacchio took a loose hold on your wrist, pulling you down closer to his face. He stared into your widened eyes for a moment, then roughly pressed his lips onto yours. His hands soon wove their way into your hair, keeping you steady for an onslaught of kisses; each more passion filled than the last. His light purple lipstick had smeared, part of it now smudged on your face. He didn’t care.

You were in his embrace, you were home. The drunken wish he had made came true.

As he finally pulled away from you, he stared at the purple now present on your lips and the light red hue that rose to your cheeks. It almost made him fall in love with you again, almost. “Leone-”

He had shut you up with another kiss, with a quiet murmur, “I don’t deserve you…”

───

𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐎 𝐆.

✦ | Golden Experience shares the same adoration for you as its user does, often it grows flowers or plants for you as a thank you. However, it can be overwhelming at times. Sometimes, Giorno’s heart rate spikes when you do nice things for him, such as when you give him kisses or pick up his favorite snack from the store. Those simple actions mean much more to him than you think and make his heart beat quicken, resulting in a sudden patch of flowers growing beneath him. Trust him, that was all Golden Experiences doing.

───

Being a mafia don was terribly exhausting, each day was filled with more tasks that needed to be completed and assigned. Giorno knew that from the beginning when he first took on the journey to achieve his dream, but there was a piece of the puzzle that he had acquired during that time; you. You were one of the members of Bucciarati’s group, and the first to treat him with an ounce of respect. The bond the two of you formed during your mission to protect Trish became unbreakable. That bond eventually formed into something more than just friendship, you became his first love. Now, the love of his life.

He loved coming home, to see your beautiful face greet him with the same adoration he had for you. Even though he would come home exhausted, more often than not, he would always stay up into the late hours of the night just to spend as much time as possible with you before he had to return to his duties in the morning. Just like today.

The moment he walked in the door, you greeted him with that kind smile of yours. You wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tightly, trying to pour all your love into a single embrace. “Welcome back home, Gio.”

Giorno soon returned the embrace, his arms snaking around your waist as he rested his head against your shoulder. “Thank you, love.” He murmured.

After a moment of sweet silence, you released yourself from his hold. You could barely contain yourself, judging by the fiddling of your hands. You slowly inched yourself towards the dining table, quickly hiding an item behind your back. “Guess what I got you while I was out today?”

A chuckle left his lips, “That’s quite a hard question to answer.”

“Then I’ll spare you, just this once,” you then pulled out the treat behind your back, excitedly presenting it to your beloved. “Two of your favorites combined, chocolate pudding!”

“Why thank you, dear. I take it that this is from the sweet shop you mentioned.”

You smiled cheerfully towards your beloved, “Of course, Gio! You deserve it for working so hard.”

As soon as you uttered those words, the man felt his heart beat become faster than it had been before. Below him, ferns and weeds began sprouting from your floors along with flowers of various species, primarily ones that spoke “I love you” in the language of flowers. It was like a mini garden had suddenly grown in your own home.

This didn’t go unnoticed by you either, an eyebrow raised in concern. “Um, Giorno, I hate to cut this romantic moment short but there’s a flower patch growing beneath you.” You spoke, pointing to the floors below you.

“I’ll pot them later, love,” he whispered, pulling you ever closer to him. “I want to continue to enjoy this moment with you.”

He was utterly smitten.

───

𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐀 𝐅.

✦ | Fugo is extremely concerned for you, but Purple Haze loves it! Due to the stand's unpredictable nature, and possibility of one of its bulbs breaking, it’s rare that Fugo even lets it out around you. It’s rare that it’s even let out in general, but Fugo takes extra precautions so as to not hurt you. However, on the rare occasion that his stand does make an appearance, you are quick to praise it.

───

Fugo could only stare with concern and distaste as you stood a little too close to his stand, arms crossed as his hands formed into fists of frustration. This was his own way of coping, coping with your optimism and kindness towards him and the stand he had grown to despise. His aversion to his stand in the past could be considered so little compared to the precautions he takes now that you have become his beloved. The others within Bucciarati’s little gang had certainly taken the hint that Purple Haze was an unstable stand, but you just couldn’t stay away from it, now could you?

Battered and bruised from the battle that had occurred just moments ago, you still sought to give your favorite stand its well deserved praise. With both your hands cupped around your mouth, a celebratory shout left you. “Good job, Purple Haze!”

Your excitement caused the stand to look directly at you as it drooled, its eyes mimicking a puppy asking for treats. Then suddenly, it began to clean the drool off itself erratically, almost as if it were trying to look presentable for you. It was adorable.

A grimace spread across Fugo’s face, disgusted by his stands attempt at cleaning itself. It was utterly fruitless and only made him more embarrassed by the situation. Seeing this, he gently took hold of your wrist and pulled you closer to him, farther outside his stands 5 meter range. “[Name], please refrain from getting too close to it,” he sighed.

In response, you wrapped an arm around him as you pointed to his stand. “But, it’s so cute! Just look at it.”

Fugo, however, did not share the same sentiments. “I’m being serious, please avoid getting close to Purple Haze. It’s unstable.”

“It reminds me of you, y’know.”

He huffed, “Of course it would, it’s an extension of me.” Only Fugo could see it that way, but there was much more to Purple Haze than meets the eye. It’s nature was that of its users, yes, but its actions reminded you of how much your Fugo meant to you. His supposed “annoyance” towards your behavior to his stand was never what it appeared to be; his feelings and actions were only a means to protect you. His anger was a mask for the softness of his heart, a side only you were permitted to see.

It hurt your heart to know he found it hard to see himself the way you do, but you could try to. “Sure, but its habits reflect the true nature of your soul. You act all tough, but you can be a really sweet person. I love that about you.”

For a moment, you could feel Fugo freeze in your arms. You didn’t even have to look up to know he was fighting off the blush rising to his cheeks.

───

𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐎 𝐌.

✦ | Mista adores you, and so do his Sex Pistols. The countless times the bullets have fought over your attention is enough to prove that fact. You can never truly say who is your favorite because they can and will fight over it, for several hours. Or maybe even days.

───

All you and your boyfriend wanted was some rest, any number of hours would do at this point.

As you laid against Mista’s chest, little voices kept bringing you back to consciousness. Bags were beginning to form under both yours and his eyes. Combined with the excessive work you had both received during the week from Giorno, rest was the best possible date the two of you could have. Unfortunately, the Sex Pistols just weren’t ready to settle down.

Their chittering was adorable, that you could not deny. It was difficult to tell them no, even when they were asking for an item as simple as a piece of your food. However, when their cute conversations developed into arguments, their lovable nature turned into not so lovable behavior. Their attitudes would become worse towards their user, but never towards you. After all, they love you just as much as Mista himself does. Nevertheless, it still got on both yours and Mista’s nerves if it went on for too long.

Finally, Mista had had enough. After a long, drawn out groan, he released an annoyed shout, “Guys, can you stop with the racket? You’ve been at this for 3 days now!”

This got his stand’s attention, and they quickly fired back:

“But, Mista!”

“[Name] has yet to pick one of us!”

A sigh left your lips, a pout of frustration soon following after. “You lot should know I don’t like to pick favorites.”

Your little companions however, did not agree with your words. Like clockwork, you could see the wheels turning in their brains to come to the conclusion that you absolutely had to choose. They then released a shout in unison, “There can only be one!”

Once again, you released a sigh before sitting up straight and wiping your tired eyes. “If I pick, will you please let us rest?”

A nod was given by each bullet.

Mista observed as you sat, thinking carefully upon your answer. Then suddenly, you spoke. “Number Five.”

Immediately, a joyous shout came from the little stand which was then followed by disappointed groans from the others. Before you knew it, Number Five was even doing happy laps along the hallway as the others chased it. The sight could only make you laugh and at least they brought their little fight into the hallway. You quickly rose from the bed and shut the door before they could come back in.

As you laid back down, an arm wrapped around you to bring you back into your boyfriend's arms. You then gave him a poke on the cheek. “Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite.”, you whispered.

A haughty scoff left his lips, a smirk following in suit. “Obviously.”

Truthfully, all of them were your favorites.

───

𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐀 𝐆.

✦ | Sadly, you can’t exactly love on Aerosmith like some of the other stands in the Bucci Gang. It’s quite literally a mini airplane. Instead, you can give your boyfriend double the love to make up for it.

───

“Just one, please?” He begged.

“Nara, I am not giving Aerosmith a kiss.”

Narancia’s begging had been going on for several hours now, and he was not going to let up any time soon. Your relationship with him had always been sweet and loving, it was hard to ever find him without you by his side. Abbacchio and a few others liked to joke that Narancia was like a koala with him always clinging to your side, but you never minded it. You had always found it endearing that he loved you so deeply. But, there were a few times that his acts of affection were a little too… interesting for you.

Your boyfriend’s arms then wrapped around your waist, desperate for a positive answer. “But everyone else’s stands get loved on like crazy, and it’s starting to get jealous!”, he whined as he slid down to the ground.

This was ridiculous, yet adorable all the same. You playfully ruffled his hair, using your other arm to wrap around him and keep him off the floor. “I think you’re speaking for yourself, hon.”, you giggled.

Narancia looked up from your stomach with the saddest, most heart-wrenching puppy dog eyes you had ever seen. No puppy you had ever met had managed to sway your heart like the boy who clung to you did nor made you fold so quickly. He had to have been cursed by some witch.

“…fine, but just one.”

He immediately perked up, eyes filled with pure joy as he nearly jumped from how pumped he was. “Yes!”

Aerosmith soon appeared next to you, awaiting its affection. You didn’t waste any time and gave it a quick peck on its nose before quickly standing back. For a moment, you swear the plane's frown that was usually present on its face turned into a grin as it spun around in the air to make a heart shape with its smoke. For a stand that was meant to scare, that was one of the most adorable things you had ever seen.

Arms then wrapped around you from behind, nearly making you fall as Narancia glomped you. “It loved it!”

You couldn’t help but smile, “Now, it’s your turn!”

Before Narancia could react, you turned around and pressed a kiss on his lips. Then another, and another. As you began pecking his cheeks, he broke out into a fit of giggles as he inched you even closer to him. If he were to ever pass, it would certainly be from your affection.

───

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐔.

✦ | Trish finds it a bit odd at first that you give special attention to her stand, but then she eventually comes to like it. Sometimes she’ll catch you putting make up on Spice Girl, even asking the stand if it likes it or not. Trish thinks it’s cute.

───

Spice Girl was a diva, that much you knew. Much like her user, she was particular about her fashion and her tastes in general. Where others would see only part of the picture, your girls saw the whole masterpiece. It was something you admired about them, their complexities are what made them unique and you loved them for it. Even when they could be difficult at times.

As you sat with your girlfriends stand at her vanity, you carefully dabbed the larger brush into the pink powder. Then, with a gentle hand you patted the brush on the stand's face. It remained quiet and still as you did so, trying not to ruin your hard work. You then repeated the same actions with a darker pink blush, being just as careful.

After you finished, you sat back and admired your work. It was a hard choice, both blushes looked beautiful against its pale pink skin. So, you decided to get up and spin the stand’s chair around so it could look in the mirror. “So, a lighter pink or darker pink for the blush?”

Before the stand could reply, a voice came from behind you. “I think a darker pink, it looks nice against her skin.”

There stood your Trish, who had recently just woken up judging by her sleepy eyes. Her pink hair was still messy from her beauty sleep, but she looked adorable nonetheless. A smile creeped up on your face as she approached your side, and you were quick to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Goodmorning, sweets.”, you whispered.

“Goodmorning to you, too.” She murmured, then she took more notice of what exactly you were doing. You were doing make up on her stand, a past time only you and her participated in. Even with Trish’s particularities when it came to her routine, she eventually let you do it for her at times. Over time, you had memorized her routine and she found it cute that you did so.

Pulling up a chair, Trish sat next you as you continued to do her stands makeup, occasionally giving pointers to you. If this was what she woke up to every morning, she wouldn’t mind waking up early.