#stand user reader

If anyone asked you how your relationship with the Great Sage Equal To Heaven is like, it can be summed up as 'theater masks'. What this means is that the both of you often take over each's flaws.

Sun Wukong isn't a cuddly person even with people he'd close to. Comfort from him can be summed up to hugs that are awkward half of the time or a gift. He often looks up to you to help with this particular role.

Your issue actually came from comradeship surprisingly. Before meeting the group, you were just a lone wanderer that never stayed in one place for too long. It wasn't just because of your 'illegal' immortality though.

For some strange reason, danger always followed closely behind. Opponents aiming for your head and don't care about the casualties they cause either. Zombie Mouse was the only one who could survive better than anyone else.

Sun Wukong helped you reclaim that lost feeling the most. He of course had help from Liu Er as the sage was also a bit rusty. Seeing the boy show Dashēng something new was a very cute and sweet sight that would never tire.

Fighting was a thing you and the Monkey King rotated. Despite how powerful Zombie Mouse is one on one matches against strong opponents weren't exactly the best. Your partner was a swarm type combatant so his plushies gave him an advantage.

Thanks to Sun Wukong's shackle sealing away his most of his magic, he had more difficultly fighting multiple opponents. Thus the rotation system was offered surprisingly by Zhu Bajie. You and the Monkey King switching opponents.

Any one on one battles would be handled by him while swarms were handled via Zombie Mouse. This also help protect Liu Er, An-An and Zhu Bajie as someone could defend them if an attack got through.

Overall the two of you worked incredibly well. Although arguing still happens from now and then or plans get thrown out the window. Nothing is exactly perfect, not even a relationship. Especially with two stubborn people like you and Sun Wukong.

Zhu Bajie, a self proclaimed romantic, said that people are like puzzle pieces. Some fit together while others didn't. A bit of advice that held very true as you and Sun Wukong think about the road ahead.

That's it for now! I hope this turned out well as things have been hectic lately and it screws up my writing. Until next time folks, I'll see you back on the journey west. Happy holidays!

The life of a mafioso was not as idealized and romantic as many would come to believe. Bruno Bucciarati learned that the hard way when he was young and driven to join Passione as a boy. The money he and other members of the famiglia earned wasn’t their own to take, instead sent their former capo’s (and now his) way, then to other higher-ups until it was finally sent way to the ever elusive boss. He didn’t sleep in the grand bed or indulge in the comforts of his home, very rarely returning to it and when he did it was never for long. From meager bruises that went away in a few day’s time to gashes that made him want to scream from the burning heat as he stitched the torn skin together in the bathroom of whatever establishment he could stumble into first, Bruno was no stranger to brutality. He could find that special person the elderly ladies always giggled to him about, but how willing was he to involve an innocent person in the affairs of a mafioso? How willing would they be to even start something knowing that his life would be robbed one day and that he has taken many himself, or that there was so much blood on his hands he could no longer name who it was from. One day, he would die, and natural causes seemed like less of a possibility with each passing day. Losing someone abruptly like that wasn’t a torture he liked to think about, but it came with the job. The life he chose to make for himself was one full of violence, but most importantly: loyalty.

For a traitor like him, something like this was to be expected once they all but one departed from the church. Being targeted and attacked by another Stand user became common within the few days he and his team traveled for, despite their attempts at staying hidden. Of course their foe would end up in humiliating defeat on the ground and covered in a blanket of their own blood, but the longer they stayed the easier it would be for La Squadra or someone else to track them down. Aerosmith proved useful time and time again while they traveled to and from, pointing out potentially suspicious figures around them, but it was only a matter of time until they were ambushed. Bruno was the one who volunteered to keep their hidden follower at bay and away from their next destination despite Abbacchio’s harsh concerns and Giorno’s offer to take his place. As appreciative as he was, there was no time to argue and he was off fairly quickly. While he kept an eye out over his shoulder and around his surroundings, it came as no surprise when a former member of the famiglia crossed his path. He knew him by face alone and the few times they’ve passed by one another in the streets of Napoli, but recognized the lanky and oddly dressed man as someone who worked beneath Leaky-Eye Luca. A traitor like him, yet bound to another path of life by the hands of fate that resulted in him being discarded in a jumbled mess of limbs.

It didn’t hurt, his wounds. He no longer felt the searing heat or the adrenaline rush that came with such deep gashes and thick punctures, and that anxiety of dying in a pool of his own blood was no longer there. He didn’t notice the tear in the side of his hand until they were in a rental car and he was given a moment to collect himself and his thoughts. He was thankful that his team had such faith in him and trusted his words when he told them I’m fine, but he wasn’t oblivious to the way their newest member’s eyes would follow him in silent curiosity and confusion. This was why he volunteered in the first place: you can’t kill what’s already dead. Someone else getting injured would only delay them more than they already were and potentially draw their enemies to them like moths to a flame, and that wasn’t something Bruno would risk. He was still coming to terms with the fact that he was quite dead, his lack of a heartbeat said as much, but he roamed the world as if nothing happened at all. In truth, he didn’t feel it at all after Giorno miraculously resurrected him from the dark and numb clutches of death just yesterday, but his body reacted to it nonetheless. His organs were undoubtedly failing if they hadn’t already and whatever blood he had left was just being carted around rather than to supply him with oxygen and nutrients and so on. And yet he stumbled from an injured leg, clutched onto his opposite arm, and bled all the same but refused to let any of that stop him.

The capo hesitated stepping into the public eye in such a condition, warily watching the sea of people wander left and right along the sidewalk from where he lingered in the shadows of an alleyway. Golden zippers trailed around his body, the oversized tag dangling and remaining in place where he pulled the gaping holes in his arms and torso shut. He wasn’t worried about them being seen and unless a civilian happened to be a Stand User (which was just his luck), he knew that he could effortlessly move through the crowd if he kept his head down and kept moving. But with the blood that stained his clothing, someone was bound to stop him regardless of if they had unique powers or not. The gestures of kindness from Italy’s citizens and tourists were usually genuine and always appreciated, but he didn’t have the time to stop for so long and he certainly didn’t have time to worry. Clasping a hand around his bicep and over one of the many zippers, Bruno merged into the crowd and slipped from the darkness he considered a temporary safe haven. He kept his head down but high enough to watch where he was going and who was around him, from children to young adults to the elderly. Those who were closest to him gasped and asked him if he needed an ambulance or for them to call for help, only to be quickly thanked and have their offers denied as he picked up as much speed as he could with a leg that worked against him. He wanted to sigh and rip their arm from their grasp.

Just as he was about to turn the corner and make his way down a less populated street, a pair of hands wrapped around his wrist to pull him to a slow halt. Their hold on him was gentle as if they would make things worse if they were rough at all with him and while he knew that wouldn’t have been the case at all, they didn’t. I don’t have time for this, Bruno thought in growing frustration that was starting to slip through the cracks of a calm facade. He stopped in his tracks for only a few seconds and turned to face them with a deep breath before he could lose his composure, ready to pull away and thank them for their worry. But when he turned to face them, his breath became caught in his throat and he couldn’t help but stare back at the person in front of him. The sun above them graced them with enough light to highlight their features, their skin taking on an alluring glow beneath the star’s beams as if they were some kind of ethereal being in a sea of mortals. What was going on with him? Why, and frankly how, was he so starstruck? This has never happened before! He wondered if he was in the hold of a Stand and that brought his guard up in seconds, but quickly realized he could breathe properly and blamed his initial reaction on shock. Their lips—perfectly shaped, he would like to add—moved and he had to snap himself out of his stupor to realize they were trying to speak to him and he was so rudely lost in his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

“Are you okay? You’re bleeding,” they asked again, glancing between his eyes and his body. Bruno quickly picked up on their accent and how careful they were with how they chose their words. A tourist, he surmised. “I’m not a doctor, but I can help.”

“Ah, right, I’m fine,” Bruno said with a strained smile. “Thank you, but I must be-”

“Not until you’re healing!”

They released him with one hand as the other moved down his wrist to take his and tug him behind them. They were determined, he would give them that, but now wasn’t the best time to be wrapped up in this. Anything that fell from his lips to get them to let go or convince them he was alright was ignored (or simply not understood) as they moved through the crowd of people and off to the side. Their hands fit perfectly within his without so much as trying and if they thought the same they didn’t voice it. Their fingers were curled around his calloused ones with a secure grip that he knew wouldn’t have hurt if he could feel it but kept him from pulling away unless he put some force into it. It was bizarre for him to think that, let alone take some kind of twisted comfort in the touch of a literal stranger to the point he didn’t want to let go. Fortunately they drew to a stop in front of a bench and he was sitting before he could say so much as another word or realize it until the back of his thighs pressed up against something. It was cold, but the coolness of it felt so distant. They sat beside him and faced him, his arm trapped in their grasp as they minutely observed his wounds and murmured under their breath.  Bruno bit his tongue when he realized that the blood gushing out was far too much for him to still be conscious, but kept himself calm all the while. He wondered what they would see. Open and deep wounds magically held together by an invisible force-

“You have many zippers,” they commented, tapping the tag of one of them but careful not to pull at it.

Bruno’s eyes narrowed and he watched them critically, but they didn’t seem to notice. “You can see those?”

“Yes?” They said slowly with a lighthearted laugh. “You have interesting fashion.”

A Stand user, that went without saying. The young man instinctively raised his guard and they must have noticed how tense he became because their hold on him softened in favor of squeezing his hand to try and comfort him. He hated to admit it, but it worked a lot easier than he expected and he soon realized that he was holding onto theirs. They seemed too casual to be an enemy and there was no reason to remain in the view of civilians unless they were cocky enough to use their power and make a scene in public. Just in case, he eyed his surroundings for any potential oddities, people, and his own men. For the better or worse, he didn’t see any of that but that didn’t stop him from checking around every now and again. He would never feel so comfortable around an enemy, either. Their eyes were focused on one of his arms and the seemingly never ending wounds, switching to his leg, then his torso and face. They muttered to themself under their breath in a language he couldn’t understand and he realized that rather than them calling for their Stand or whatever else they could possibly have up their sleeve that they were simply talking to themself. There was something oddly adorable about that. They were so gentle with him that for a moment he felt as though, after everything he had done, he didn’t deserve it. They left him speechless despite his attempts at appearing composed and not some weak fool. Swiftly, Bruno banished those thoughts out of his mind in favor of focusing on what really mattered.

“Are you a member of Passione?” He asked, keeping his words slow and simple for them to translate and understand.

“Passione?” They echoed, and by their confusion he realized they really had no idea what he was talking about.

Bruno released an easygoing laugh and smile as his opposite sleeve was rolled up, the zipper disappearing with the revelation of his skin. “I’m sorry. That was an odd question, wasn’t it? And I haven’t even asked for your name.”

It took them a moment to translate what he said and he was patient the whole time as he watched them work. They pulled a small towel from their bag and wet it with what he assumed was some kind of alcohol from a dark plastic bottle before dabbing it against his skin, starting from his hip after hitching the side of his jacket upwards. It soaked up the blood until it could no longer where they then switched to another side of the cloth and only jolted when he realized he was a little too still for someone who was gushing a vital liquid. Bruno wasn’t ignorant, he could see the odd and bizarre looks they got and easily had passersby turning their heads with a sharp glare. He would have barked at them to mind their own business, but he wasn’t trying to scare off the person in front of him. By the awkward ankle his leg was turned at, they didn’t need to say anything for him to know he wouldn’t be walking properly for a good while unless he snapped it back into place and that was something he was willing to do afterwards. It was too risky for him to do in front of the kind but firm tourist without more questions being raised. For someone who wasn’t a doctor, he had to admit that they were rather efficient and they easily made their way up his body starting from his torso to his cheek that he only then realized was injured when they stuck a small patch to it. Their focus remained undisturbed despite the car horns that blared and the chatter of passerby, but they would occasionally glance up to him to make sure he was okay.

“[Your name],” they introduced with a warm smile, attention shifting between him and the final gash they were working on.

“And that?”

Looming over [Your name]’s shoulder was a humanoid figure not unlike his Sticky Fingers. It sported a body type similar to its user, but its alienish features were all for show with a round head and a disproportionate torso. Sprouted from where its ears would be and its mid-back were elegant and feathery white wings that extended outwards proudly, the pair connected to its head smaller but both stiff. Tattooed into [color] skin were golden snakes that weaved together and ended by its shoulders where each head sat, and by the gleam he caught from the angle he sat at he guessed it was symmetrical on its back. Beneath round blackened eyes highlighted by a mimicry of cat eye eyeliner were two red droplets painted into its cheeks, a white plus sign in the middle of each. But what caught his attention the most were the multitude of acupuncture needles poking out of the skin that wasn’t covered by a loose toga like a cactus. A Stand, he recognized without a shadow of a doubt, but unlike his it was transparent like it struggled to take a full physical form. He only then realized that its lower half was missing like it was a ghost, but he supposed a comparison like that wasn’t too far off from the truth. They must not have complete control over it just yet, he thought. Bruno sensed no ill-will from it and if they meant to attack, they were definitely taking their time or lacked the will to do so. The Stand looked away from where its attention lay on his body, but he struggled to understand where its eyes were focused on with no pupil to guide him as if it was looking deep into his soul.

“You can see it?” [Your name] asked in surprise and blinked owlishly at him. When he nodded, their surprise turned to joy within seconds. “No one’s seen it before! I call it…er, how do you say…? Right! Odds and Ends! It’s like a magic guardian angel. It takes the pain away from a wound, but I feel it instead.”

As if on cue, Odds and Ends reached out with a hazy hand and set its fingers by the edges of the wound just below his shoulder, moved to his lower arm, and then down his wrist before switching to the opposite arm. The pink around each gash faded and the color of his bruises did the same like they weren’t there to begin with. It took the pain away (he supposed that also included inflammation), but there was nothing to take away in the first place. Bruno warily watched them both from the corner of his eye as the Stand user retrieved a needle and thread from their bag and got to work closing what their fighting spirit finished. He bit his tongue before he said anything that gave himself away and instead feigned surprise and ghosted his hand over his injuries. Would this be what exposed him and his little secret? Their expression turned to much more genuine shock for a second, their Stand pausing alongside them before getting back to work but with a bit of a hesitance that lasted for only a few moments. Their brows furrowed and while they inspected his knee (to see how bad it truly was, he guessed) they seemed distracted and confused. A few strands of hair fell in front of their face and he slowly but daringly reached out to tuck it behind their ear. His touch must have caused them to snap out of their thoughts because their head flung upwards and they jolted in surprise. They laughed and apologized in what he assumed was their native language and sat upright.

“How strange. I don’t feel anything. How do you feel?” [Your name] asked, looking up to him with eyes he could have gotten entranced in. “Oh, I don’t think I know your name, mister…?

“Bruno. Bruno Bucciarati,” he supplied and followed that with a flawless lie: “I feel perfect, thank you.”

[Your name] didn’t look completely convinced and gazed him up and down as he unrolled his sleeves and pant leg, returning the zippers back into their places as subtly as possible. By the way their eyes lingered on the injuries on his body, he could tell they were curious. Even so, they didn’t ask. Perhaps they were afraid of the answer, or even desensitized to the sight, or were just being polite and staying out of his business. He appreciated the lack of interrogation, regardless of the reason, but found their perception to be noteworthy when they eyed the zipper closest to them. They took the tag into their hand and rubbed their thumb against it and when their gazes met briefly, his desire for them to not pull it must have shown because they let go despite any of their curiosity. Now wasn’t the time to reveal he had a magic guardian angel of his own. He’d leave that as a surprise, and he found it strangely adorable and endearing to see how happy they were to know someone else could see Odds and Ends. They opened their mouth for a moment, translating their upcoming words that hung onto their lips as they released him. Don’t let go almost fell from his own mouth but he bit those back with a vengeance before it could slip out faster than he could catch it.

“You know, Bruno.” The way his name glided across their tongue nearly had him shivering in the middle of the heat. Why? Why was a mere stranger making him act so oddly? He had little time to think about that when they paused in favor of leaning close to him. Just as he was about to lean back, their hand met his face with a feather-light touch and completely unlike anything he had experienced before. Their thumb rested on the soft back of the patch they placed on his cheek earlier, making sure the adhesive was strong enough and that any blood was being soaked by the hidden cotton. “You should be careful. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“But we’re strangers.”

“Maybe,” they hummed, the corners of their lips rising, “But I know your name, yes? That means we’re not strangers.”

“That’s quite naive, don’t you think? I could be someone out to hurt you.”

“If you were, you would have already.”

“Unless I plan on taking advantage of your kindness.”

[Your name] thought for a moment. “But you’re not. My gut never lies to me and it says to me you’re a good man.”

“Bucciarati! Bucciarati! Come on, man! Where are you?!”

The callout surprised the two of them and reminded them that they weren’t, in fact, the only ones in the world, that they were still very much in public, and that he had a mission to carry out. If he could stay here, he absolutely would. Being on the run wasn’t something he ever dreamt of doing and if the Boss was any easier to find he would be initiated in a fight between Stands already. He was known for how elusive he is, and this wild goose chase only proved that even more. Bruno knew that voice and could point it out in a heartbeat so it wasn’t a surprise to him when he recognized it as Mista’s, but to the person beside him, their jumpiness was understandable. He felt a little bad, especially when they became a bit flustered by how obvious they were. He wished for a moment of relaxation, a moment to breathe and tranquility within the utter chaos that was the travels around Italy, and he wished for exactly that in this moment. With them, with the person who made him feel so calm and piqued his curiosity so much without so much as realizing it. Someone who he could listen to all day and was so gentle with him that it made him crave even the smallest of touches so he could experience that spark of kindness and affection he missed out on for most of his life. God, that made him sound like he was in love. The traitor paused. He wasn’t in love, not with someone he just met. That would be ridiculous and he liked to consider himself a rather pragmatic man, not some lovesick fool.

Bruno nearly sighed as he raised himself up onto his feet. He couldn’t delay the inevitable more than he had already and if one of his teammates had come to find him, it only proved to him he took too much time. He should have been upset with himself and scold himself for being so slow and letting this happen to the point that his direct orders—”If I take too long to regroup with all of you, go without me. I’ll catch up. But whatever you do, don’t wait behind me for too long or look for me.”—were broken. His name being called out would only draw attention to their whereabouts, but Mista being so loud was just what he was expecting from him that even if he said something it probably wouldn’t change much. He should have seen this coming and he loved his famiglia, but he was about to smack the gunslinger upside the head for going against his orders. At least it wasn’t Trish. As he was about to excuse himself, he stopped in his tracks when he felt arms wrap around his hips and looked down to [Your name] in clear bafflement. It took him a second, but he realized that they were helping him support his weight and the sight of his leg in such a gnarly state would leave anyone wanting to help. In truth, he could probably walk by himself and ignore the glances, but he couldn’t find it in himself to deny them. The rational part of his brain yelled at him that he didn’t have the time for this, that he had to separate himself from them before he gave in. Unfortunately, he already had and couldn’t find it in himself to want to let go or push them away. Though that didn’t stop his confusion and whatever surprise made that itself known and made them laugh.

“What are you..?”

"Take it easy, you could open your stitches,” [Your name] lightly reprimanded. “That’s a friend, yes? The person who said your name? I’ll help you to them, and then I’ll get out of your pretty hair.”

Bruno blinked before chuckling and nodding, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to convince them once they made up their mind if earlier didn’t prove such. The tall young man curled an arm around them and allowed his hand to brush down their back to their hip where it comfortably sat. It was an innocent touch and action, gently touching your side and making no attempts at moving any lower. He intently watched their reaction to make sure that he wasn’t bothering them or that it wasn’t a sore spot, and if it was he was quick to move his hand a bit higher until they became comfortable. He gaze he sent the tourist from the corner of a blue eye moved past them and to their pockets and bag that hung over their shoulders where a zipper formed. The ghostly form of Sticky Fingers formed behind them and swiftly removed a small wallet that was dropped into his back pocket before his ability disappeared. The person beside him moved to look behind them but the sound of his voice starting a simple conversation drew their attention up to his face where he smiled down at them.

As he walked by their side, Bruno had the feeling you would be seeing one another much more than you both would realize.

© cryo-regalia, all rights reserved. do not edit, translate, or edit my work.