#Instead we could of seen more of how Giorno takes care of Passione...

[volfoss]

how about ranking bucciarati's team?

regret to inform you that ur gonna get a very long answer bc i have passionate feelings about them all! also trish is in this bc she is part of the team and no one will tell me otherwise and will also include some rambling bc it is me and i have so many feelings towards these characters and none of them r cohesive

under the cut just in case (post writing yes it was long)

Giorno Giovanna:

way way more complex than ppl normally give him credit for (i will not go into feelings on how a majority of the fandom treats him unless ppl want me to then i will in fact make a very long ranty post and will not be stopped)

mildly op (esp at the beginning with how hes kind of able to just use his stand really well w no problems altho i think thats true of most of the jojos that we have seen animated?)

i am emotionally attached to him and want to give him a big hug

hes just a kinda goofy kid and is maybe a bit not good with figuring out hey this is a semi dangerous situation maybe i shouldnt be taunting him (leaky eye luca for example)

has the actual best theme

i love how he works off the rest of the team so well (even w members who do not like him)

is in my top 3 jojos i love this kid sm i would adopt him if he was real

7/10

Bruno Bucciarati:

the fucking way his character develops from licky man to best dad material is my favorite thing

his outfit is so so so good i would die to wear it

in general this man is one of my fave jojos characters and i get a lot of comfort from him

hes just really neat and has a good taste in music

he did his fucking best and i will always love him for that

imo the way that his death was drawn out was genuinely one of the most heartbreaking deaths in the entire series and fucks me up each time i think of it

i feel like he really is the one to hold the team together in a way that everyone feels cared for and saved

def has a savior complex tho for sure

dilf but im ace

also manga superiority bc he either makes the stupidest faces or looks very nice (anime has a lot of weird animation in regards to his face) and also because its lingerie there instead of a tattoo that changes thickness and placement every second

10/10

Leone Abbacchio:

guilty pleasure liking man

i am obsessed with his vibes and wish to become him

i cannot physically express just how much i love him but hes one of my faves of all time (not obvious by my theme at all wdym)

i miss his manga palette but also the colored manga isnt my beloved but also black lipstick abba

hot take maybe but anime abba looks better than manga minus the lipstick debacle

hes so so tall and i will steal his height in a nice way

his past man his past it fucks me up

his death fucks me up normally but when i was rewatching recently, i saw he gave this tiny lil smile after helping the kids get their ball and i could not take it anymore

him and brunos relationship (canonically and out of canon too) is one of my favorites in the series

also fandom hot take as i guess i am doing those for everyone- but ppl either have him as cosntantly trying to murder giorno or being like good son and v out of character, and it is really weird? not sayign that ill do better when i write them but also like im convinced some ppl havent seen the show or smth

i will steal both him and bruno and marry them both <3

this man is beloved i love him to death

10/10

Pannacotta Fugo:

i cannot spell his first name to save my life

also fandom take- ppl make him constantly only angry boy all the time and it really irks me. ik araki did not give him 2 much to work w in terms of canon personality but its frustrating

the light novel purple haze feedback is so so so good and adds sm to his character and i really like it for that!

fugo is one of those that imo deserves a lot and didnt get that

genuinely the vibes between how he treats narancia is v interesting to me, like its clear he cares about nara but nara not doing great w math really frustrates him

i love their interactions and how he is genuinely a kind person at times

the manga colors r superior here, my strawberry boy <3

i just really love and appreciate him a lot and wish that ppl gave him more love

i keep getting assigned him on kin quizzes

very smart good boy

ALSO ok fugo did not do any wrong by leaving

unsure if thats a hot take but i genuinely dont blame the character one bit for leaving and again purple haze feedback really delves into that and why he did it

if ur a fugo fan go read it

his past is really upsetting esp in the anime i will cry over it

his stand is adorable and i wanna hug it

his vibes r fun and i wanna gift him strawberry dangly earrings

8/10

Narancia Ghirga:

this boy i am also adopting (i am adopting most of them sorry)

i really hate how ppl act as if hes stupid bc bad math skills do not equal stupid like did ppl not see the fight w formaggio??

the way he just fucking dove into the water after the boat and how brunos face went all soft and happy it will never not make me cry

he is constnatnly making me wanna cry if i think too much about him for 2 seconds i love him sm

how can anyone not adore him when he set an entire street on fire yk

hes just happy despite his past and it makes me sad i love nara sm

torture dance is one of my favorite memes from the show

ALSO ok the way he died so suddenly absolutely broke me bc the remaining team members r really just seeing everyone die in front of them so quickly

his goofy and laid back moments r my fave

i love just how loyal and caring he is to his friends

his stand is really cool and again the fight w formaggio was so fun to watch

8/10

Guido Mista:

probably my least favorite member of the team for a semi good reason:

the jokes towards trish are really really uncomfy and how fugo doesnt wanna be involved but he is pushing him to do something that makes him uncomfortable did not make me like him a lot

hes goofy but not goofy enough for me to be ok with the repeated jokes about that esp in the body swap episode (ik it was supposed to be funny but it just felt off)

his vibes r good but i wish we got to see his hair

the fandom interpretation is normally pretty good of him overall?

despite not loving him a lot, i really enjoying writing for him (one day might open up headcanon requests or smth but unsure)

hes someone id wanna watch movies w but his taste in movies and mine r very different

love how he and his stand get along

honestly has very very good comedic potential

i really like how he and giorno interact as the series goes on (in a platonic way i need to clarify that i love their friendship)

again him in purple haze feedback was really interesting

probably a 5/10?

Trish Una:

beloved and deserved better

her first outfit in the manga > outfit in the anime

actually in general i believe in manga trish superiority like her hair in the manga looks so cool

her stand her stand her stand i love sm

if u dont include trish in the group i am murdering u <3

HER CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT!!!! IS SO GOOD!!!!!!

fandom gripe is how people either pretend she does not exist or has the trish first introduction thing where shes using her defense mechanisms and acting a bit spoiled

OK but her in purple haze feedback!!! mild spoilers but how bruno was taking care of her post the ending of vento aureo makes me so happy each time i think of it

very mad that she canonically didnt really get an ending and yet again PHF my beloved actually gave her that

how spice girl starts out as a stand thats helping her thru a very stressful situation is so cool and i love it

DAD BRUNO DAD BRUNO DAD BRUNO *frothes at the mouth*

but more seriously how she leans on bruno and begins 2 trust him and nearly point blank is referring to him as a father figure always fucks me up

esp because of the resulting fight afterwards

and the very ending of the arc that ends w bruno being like bye gonna go in the clouds and look ethereal now, oh man it makes me so sad

bc giorno is the only one that knew what happened and people that were closer to bruno due to knowing him longer didnt

i wanna see how trish coped w that personally

despite being introduced not at the beginning i think her arc and character in general were as well paced as it could be!

9/10

finally done! sorry that took so long but oh man i have so many feelings towards these guys its not even funny

#asks #wholesome mutuals #vento aureo spoilers #to add that bruno is one of my faves of all time is probably obvious by me putting him at 10/10 #fiance bullies me lovingly for liking leone so that is explanation 4 first bullet #he has not even met him but just calls him piss man #the fandoms treatment of most of these characters makes me really mad tbh

[moonbeamwritings]

la strada giusta

spoiler for part 5

Summary: You set off on your own, leaving Giorno and Mista behind in favor of spending the day on the beach, all in an attempt to find solace amongst the sand and golden yellow flowers. 

Author’s Note: Hello! Hope you enjoy! Just a death/grieving tw for those that are uncomfortable with that sort of thing! This hurt me to write just as much as it may hurt to read, mark my words. 

The sun streamed through your curtains, a soft reminder of the plan you had for the rest of your day. You pulled yourself up to get ready, shifting the curtains open to allow more light to enter your room, even going so far as to push your window as wide open as it could go.

It was peaceful. 

The perfect day, you thought.

With your bag slung over your shoulder, you wished Mista and Giorno a quiet goodbye. They didn’t know exactly where you were going and you didn’t want them to. You loved them both dearly, but this was something you needed to do on your own, something you wanted to do on your own.

You often felt disconnected, like a boat adrift at sea, relentlessly going through the motions for the sake of the people around you. You knew that Mista and Giorno would do anything for you, but a part of you vowed to clutch your emotions close to your heart, a secret of the utmost importance.

You caught the first taxi you could, desperately trying to avoid menial small talk with the driver. He was nice enough, friendly in a way that wasn’t overbearing, but you weren’t much for talking that day.

“Right here is fine.” You told him as the beach came into view.

“You sure? I can bring you farther up that way.” He gestured down the road and around the bend, but you shook your head.

“I’m sure. Thanks so much.” You dropped money into his hand and got out, stepping onto the side of the road to stare out at the expanse of the ocean. It was calm, gently lapping at the shore as if to add just one more thing to the perfection of the day’s weather.

Sardinia is very beautiful, you thought as you ventured down the hill and onto the beach, I guess I didn’t appreciate it the first time.

You stopped walking as you reached the sand instead choosing to close your eyes and take in the peace and quiet, save for the hush of the waves. After a few moments, you began your trek down the beach, your heart only seeming to sink further into your stomach as a certain landmark came into view.

You ran your fingers along the engraving, Costa Smeralda, committing the curves of each letter to memory. You could almost hear Narancia’s voice as you focused on the cool surface of the stone.

“Don’t ask me to abandon him, anything but that. Please.”

He’d begged you to turn around, to help, but you were well aware that it was no use. In his grief, he’d accused you of not harboring as deep of feelings for the man as you said you did. It hurt, but you would never hold that against Narancia. Not now, not after everything.

You shuddered at the memory, already feeling the prick in your eyes, your hands begin to shake. It was as if each pained cry, every plea, was calling to you on the wind, harsh reminders of the misery of that day. You hadn’t seen it happen, you hadn’t looked at his body for more than a moment, but it was enough. God, it was more than enough to fuel sleepless nights and the gnawing in your chest. The claws of sorrow gripping so tightly to your heart and mind that it almost felt inescapable.

You willed your heart to slow as you pried your eyes open, gaze falling onto the patch of yellow flowers Giorno had left behind. “Abbacchio,” you mumbled, holding a hand up to your mouth as tears began to slip down your cheeks.

You sat down in the sand then, close enough to the flowers that you could reach out and feel the soft, delicate petals between your fingertips.

It was quiet.

One shaky exhale later and you felt as though you were finally ready, despite the tears still racing down your cheeks.

“Hi Abbacchio or Leone, I guess,” you chuckled to yourself, “I never did drop that whole last name thing, no matter how many times you got angry at me for it. I’m sorry for that... Well, I’m sorry for more than that. I can practically hear you saying, “No, idiot, you didn’t do anything.” I still feel guilty for not being there to protect you when it really mattered, for turning my back on you.”

You didn’t even know where to start with what you wanted to say. You felt silly, sitting on some beach far from home all to talk to a dead friend, a lover even. You were thankful it was mostly empty. Giving yourself a brief moment of silence, you continued on, grounding yourself with the feeling of sand moving beneath your feet.

“Before we all left, Fugo told me you were in love with me,” you began again, fiddling with your hands where they rested in your lap, “I never said anything because I figured he was messing with me or something. I really regret that now.”

“I love you, Leone, so much. I think about you every day. Your laugh, the way you would scowl at everyone, but give me that small, gentle smile, the sound of your voice. Everything. I can’t even listen to Monteverdi anymore, not without you.”

You let out a whimper, mind reeling with the thought of what once was, what could have been. You brushed your hands along the flowers as you carried on.

“I just wish you were here, I wish things were different. Losing you was horrible enough, but to then lose Narancia? Bruno? I don’t think I’ve ever felt so lost in my life. It’s hard, to act like I can handle it, to act like nothing happened. I know Giorno and Mista look out for me and care about me, but it just...”

Trailing off, you shrugged before shaking your head and wiping at your eyes. You fell silent again, letting the salty smell of the ocean calm your frayed nerves. After a few moments of collecting yourself, you dove into the story of what happened after, where the boss ended up, the current state of Passione under Giorno’s leadership, no detail too unimportant to describe.

You lost track of time, lying back on the sand to listen to the ocean and watch the clouds. You relished in the solitude. Before you knew it, the sun was dipping below the horizon, bathing the beach in stunning hues of pink, purple, and orange.

“I need to go,” you said, “They’ll be looking for me.”

As you sat back up, you rubbed the stem of a flower between your fingers, plucking it from the ground so you could tuck it safely behind your ear. 

“I love you, Leone. I’ll visit again soon.”

On your walk back up to the road, you felt a warm breeze brush through your hair, warming the skin of your face as it passed.

Maybe you weren’t so alone after all.

#leone abbacchio x reader #leone abbacchio imagine #abbacchio x reader #abbacchio imagine #jjba x reader #jjba imagine

[lady-wallace]

Scars (Febuwhump Day 23: “Don’t Look”)

For today’s @febuwhump​ prompt: “Don’t Look”

Fandom: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind

Synopsis: (For Febuwhump Day 23) Giorno has done his best to hide his past, but it was only a matter of time before Bucciarati found out anyway.

Find me on Ko-fi! I do doodles for coffee ^_^

A/N: This is technically a sequel to my story “Our Burdens to Bear” but can be read by itself :)

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

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Giorno sighed with a wince as he pulled himself out of the car, heavy with exhaustion. This had not been an easy mission. How was he supposed to know that a Stand that took the form of vines and thorns would only get stronger when hit with Gold Experience's power instead of the usual repercussions?

Mista, Fugo, and Bucciarati followed him, also a little roughed up, but not as badly as Giorno who the user seemed to have a particular vendetta against.

"I can patch your injuries up if you want, Giorno," Fugo told him.

Giorno vaguely remembered that Fugo's method of patching up involved staples and duct tape and fought a shudder. It was a good thing his Stand could heal, as exhausted as he was. Besides, he would have to take his shirt off completely to treat some of the wounds and he wasn't exactly okay with that…

"It's okay, I'll have Gold Experience do it," Giorno told Fugo, making his way slowly into the house, wanting to shut himself away in his room as quickly as possible.

"Giorno?" Bucciarati called after him, but Giorno simply tossed an "I'm fine" over his shoulder and hurried the rest of the way up the stairs, as quickly as his battered body could go.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he closed his door behind him. Ever since Abbacchio had accidently seen his scars he had tried to be more careful. He just really didn't want to have to recount the story of where they had come from to his new family. Not yet.

He crossed the room to shakily slump onto the end of his bed, letting out a groan as he assessed his injuries. A lot of lacerations, pretty badly bruised ribs that he couldn't do anything about. And there was still a very sharp pain in his lower back for some reason.

No point in putting it off any longer though. He stood and unzipped his coat, pulling it from his shoulders with a wince. He had a pretty bad gash on his upper arm and another across his collarbone. He stepped over to the mirror by the closet and let the coat fall to the floor. Probably had too many holes to be worth saving, but it wasn't like the Don of Passione couldn't get a new suit when he needed one. He winced at his bruised side that was quickly turning black and blue and braced himself as he turned his back to the mirror and tried to see why it was hurting so much.

Giorno forced his eyes away from the scars, lurking under the fresh cuts and blood smeared across his pale skin and focused in on the spot that was giving him so much pain.

Ah, that was why.

There was a huge, probably five-inch thorn from that Stand buried under his skin. He thought he had pulled all those out already, but he guessed he had missed this one.

He summoned Gold Experience, his injured shoulder and side making it impossible for him to reach behind himself to pull it out. Even his Stand's fingers fumbled though, affected by Giorno's sheer exhaustion. It seemed that vine Stand had actually sucked up his energy instead of being repelled by it. His own Stand was usually so precise, but with his own exhaustion Gold slipped trying to get the thorn out and Giorno let out a sharp yelp, feeling fresh blood trickle down his back. He grabbed hold of the closet door to steady himself and took a deep breath. It must be pressing on some nerve to hurt so badly. "Okay, try it again," he finally commanded, a little breathless.

A knock on the door caused him to jolt. "Giorno? Are you all right? I have some bandages."

Bucciarati. Giorno didn't get the chance to tell him he was fine, he snatched his discarded coat up and slung it over his shoulders just as the door opened, revealing the capo, who had a concerned look on his face.

"Giorno?" he asked as the young man pressed himself against his closet door.

"D-don't look," he nearly begged, panic making him desperate.

Bucciarati stopped, frowning, holding a tray of medical supplies in front of him. "Giorno, what's wrong? What happened?"

Giorno felt his heart start to beat rapidly, Gold Experience hovered at his back, phantom hands on his shoulders, shielding him, and Bucciarati placed the tray onto Giorno's desk before taking a step toward the boy.

"Nothing happened, it's fine, I can heal myself." Giorno said firmly.

Bucciarati stopped, his frown increasing. He held out his hand.

"Here, at least let me take that coat of yours to get it cleaned up."

"No!" Giorno said, only holding the garment closer to him.

Exasperation flashed across Bucciarati's face, his hands went to his hips. "Giorno, you're being ridiculous. Tell me what's wrong so I can help you!"

His face turned to shock as Giorno cowered instinctively and slowly slumped to the ground, his knees turning to jelly. Bruno's face instantly softened to one of parental concern and he carefully crouched next to him.

"Giorno…" He reached out and Giorno flinched away, closing his eyes and clutching his jacket around his shoulders as he told himself he was okay, he wasn't back there. It wasn't him.

"Giorno." Bucciarati said again. "If you're hurt, let me help you. You're exhausted, and I would rather not see you suffer. I know what that Stand fight took out of you."

Giorno took a shuddering breath and finally looked up, even though he was still unable to meet Bucciarati's eyes. "I just…It's…complicated."

Bucciarati's face softened impossibly further, a look of understanding in his eyes. "Giorno, I have never judged anyone without knowing the full story, and whatever secrets you have are safe with me. I promise."

Giorno blinked up at him, remembering that even Abbacchio hadn't mocked him for his scars. How the older gangster had even recommended that Giorno go to Bucciarati if he needed to talk. Still…he had wanted it to be his choice, not like this.

Though, if left up to him, would he ever have gone to Bucciarati? Maybe it was easier this way after all.

He took a deep, shaky breath and finally allowed Gold Experience to dissipate. "Th-there's a thorn stuck in my back…" he said.

Bucciarati seemed to be relieved by this admission, having a purpose. He nodded, standing up and offering a hand to Giorno. "Why don't you come sit down then so I can get that out?"

Giorno gave a shaky nod and allowed Bruno to pull him to his feet, helping him over to sit on the edge of the bed. He went to get the tray of first aid stuff, obviously giving Giorno a moment to uncover his back. He didn't. He couldn't seem to stop clutching the ruined coat around himself.

"Giorno? May I see?" Bruno finally asked.

Giorno was silent for a long moment before he nodded. But he still didn't move. Bucciarati waited a second before he reached out cautiously and when Giorno didn't stop him, carefully wrested the coat from Giorno's grip, slipping it away to reveal his back.

Giorno ducked his head so he couldn't see the older man's expression, shuddering uncontrollably as Bruno gently gripped his uninjured shoulder and bent him forward to better see his lower back.

He tsked. "My, that does look nasty. Good thing I brought some tweezers."

Giorno flinched as cold metal hit his tender skin but Bucciarati steadied him and with just a little painful digging, pulled the long thorn out as swiftly as possible before he set to cleaning the wound and taping some gauze over it. He then continued up Giorno's back, and Bucciarati's gentle fingers brushing against his scars were suddenly too much. Giorno jerked away, burying his face in his hands.

"Stop!" he choked out.

"Giorno…"

"I know you see them!" he burst out. "I know they're disgusting. But I'm not weak like that anymore. I—I'm not!"

Bucciarati's hand stilled. "Is that what you think? That having scars makes you weak?"

Giorno jerked his head away, biting his lip until he could taste blood. "I couldn't stop it," he whispered, choking. "That makes me weak."

Bruno swiftly finished up with the bandages and came around to face Giorno, crouching to cup his face in his hands. "It doesn't. We all have scars in one way or another. It doesn't make you weak, it shows that you're capable of surviving."

Giorno blinked and a tear slipped down his face. Bucciarati gently wiped it away with a thumb.

"Mio caro ragazzo," the older man said gently as he reached for Giorno's robe that was lying on the bed where he'd left it that morning. He tucked it around him, covering him up again. "There's no need to feel ashamed."

"He was a bastard," Giorno gritted out. "My mother wasn't any better."

"I'm sorry," Bucciarati said sincerely. "If you ever need to talk about it, I'm here."

"I know," Giorno said with a sniff. "That's what Abbacchio told me."

Bruno looked slightly surprised at that revelation but smiled. "Well, I'm here whenever you're ready. For now, how about some tea…?"

He stopped when Giorno reached out and grabbed his sleeve before he could leave. He didn't know why but he didn't want to be left alone again right now. Didn't like the way his thoughts crashed into each other, weighing him down. Another tear slipped unbidden down his cheek. He must be exhausted.

"Giorno?" Bruno inquired gently.

"Thank you," Giorno whispered. "For—for everything."

He was already tilting but when Bruno stepped forward, he gratefully leaned into his warmth. Bucciarati's arms wrapped around him gently and held him close, rocking him slightly as Giorno's arms wrapped around his waist enjoying the kind of love he had never gotten from his parents as a child. Bruno's hand swiped over his mussed hair, his other lightly stroking his back in a soothing gesture. Giorno decided he was okay being weak right now. Whether he was the Don of Passione or not.

But, eventually Giorno loosened his grip, realizing how long they had been in this position and Bruno pulled away with a fatherly kiss pressed to Giorno's forehead.

"Let's finish getting you cleaned up, hm?" he suggested matter-of-factly. "Then, it's up to you whether you want to come down and join us for supper or if you would rather get some rest."

Giorno sat up a little straighter. He was tired, but even more, he just really wanted to be with his family right now. A reminder that he was no longer living in his past. That it was now nothing more than the product of nightmares and bad memories.

"I'm kind of hungry," he said.

Bucciarati smiled brightly and nodded. "Very well then."

He quickly finished up with the bandages and helped Giorno into a comfortable sweatshirt before allowing him to head downstairs. Giorno was instantly greeted with Mista and Trish arguing about something and Narancia whining to Abbacchio as he and Fugo worked on supper, but the chaos was welcome, and he couldn't help but smile. This was his life now and he wouldn't trade it for anything.

#jojos bizarre adventure #golden wind #vento aureo #jjba #fanfiction #febuwhump #febuwhumpday23 #don't look #scars #giorno giovanna #bruno bucciarati #mama bruno #hurt/comfort #angst #self image issues #tw: past abuse #crying #hugging

[danddymaro]

Before I Go | Jean Pierre Polnareff x Reader

Set during Part 5. AU Where sweet Baby Polnareff doesn’t get fucked and instead gets a happy ending, surviving Diavolo.  

Kind of, sorta angsty (???)

Thoughts are italics in quotations = ‘Example’

Flashbacks are in italics = Example

Word count:  2395

Before I Go

“ How was I supposed to tell him?” She said quietly as a soft, little look of remembrance touched with sadness melted onto her features as she remembered each and every time the question went over her head,

‘How Polnareff? How could I have even stood before you ?’ She asked herself, not knowing how she could ever come to face him again.

By then, the stark night was illuminated by the large glowing moon, the only light that could lovingly touch her now, something she detested with a passion, because it just reminded her of how seldom her life would remain while stuck lurking in the darkness.

Furthermore, it reminded her of  her loss of humanity,

“ How was I supposed to admit that the entire time we’d been together, I had been nothing but a monster,” She revealed, her (e/c) eyes glaring down at her open palm, her overgrown nails, both pointed and black coming into perfect view as she brought her fingers down, forming a tight, shaking fist.

“Every time he’d look at me, he'd know I was just as revolting as those two…” She said while sucking in a harsh breath, “ Those...two…” She added through her tightened teeth, unable to finish her sentence, woeful tears leaking from her (e/c) eyes as she recalled the events which took place many years ago.

Suddenly calming, she then let loose of her tightened fist, her shoulders coming down in a slacking state during the process,

“It's been years and I haven't heard a word from him,” she started, continuing to speak to the golden haired teen to reveal all of her truths, “ But to be fair, I hadn’t really searched much,” she admitted, “Because...well... I was too afraid he’d know I was still around. ”

It was then that she cracked a small smile, a very minuscule one that showed tenderness,

“ He'd no doubt found a wife,” She doted, certainty in her (e/c) drops. “... someone to share little moments with, just as he'd always dreamed of. - All like he said he would one day.” She said with a touch of amusement, remembering how everyone would roll their eyes at his flirtatious nature,

‘ He was such a romantic...’

“ And of course....I can imagine him with so many children,” she said smiling, her voice cracking in between the sentence, because she’d always wanted to have children as well.

“ I can see him playing with them, both arms outstretched as he spins them around,” she added with a hiccup, shaking it off with an unsteady chuckle instead to try and drive away the unbearable pain in her chest,

‘ Just like with sherry...like you said you'd done so many times…’ She recalled with fondness.

“ I miss those days, those few days we knew each other, because while they hadn’t been the longest, I can admit without a shadow of a doubt that I'd never been happier than I was at that point in my life!” She confessed, her arms tightly hugging her own figure.

‘Every day we struggled to make it to the next, and even then I’d never smiled so much. I’d never been so damn happy than when I with all of them... Especially you Polnareff,’  She thought while thinking back to all of the men she’d traveled with. 

She missed jabbing Jotaro until he grew annoyed, physically poking him out of boredom until he fought her back, doing just the same out of rebuttal. Occasionally, she’d catch his scowl take a turn, twitching into a smile during his own attack.

“Good Grief,” He’d mutter, “You’re so annoying!” He huffed in between his assault.

She missed hearing Kakyoin jabber on about his gaming strategies, promising they’d one day play together. There was a smugness to him during his talks that she found funny, because he was sure no one could really beat his technique, no matter what video game they’d pick. 

“You know,” Noriyaki started, “I’ve never really played against anyone else,” He admitted, “Not with a friend,” He added, smiling at her with appreciation for even bothering to take interest in something he had a passion for.

She missed Avdol’s calm, warm air, and the ease she had when she was around him. Out of all of them, he felt the closest to family, being the wise one, the level headed one she could ask for advise and trust with her life, 

‘I never had a doubt you’d give yours for one of ours,’ She thought as she remembered him with fondness, appreciating his sacrifice, the very one that kept her from falling into Vanilla Ice’s mercy. 

The same one that kept Polnareff out of danger more than once...

She missed Mr. Joestar’s pleasant company, always beaming as he’d lay a hand over her head as a little act of affection he’d grown accustomed to doing. She also enjoyed his stories, listening on attentively to them with amazement, 

“You know...” Joseph said while looking down at his prosthetic, feeling just a smidge bashful at his admittance, “ Sometimes I feel like no one listens to this old fool,” He confessed to her. “For a long time now, even Holly seemed to grow tired of me, focusing more on her own life,” He said while offering (f/n) a soft smile, “ Thank you for listening (f/n). Thank you for taking the time,” He added, laying his hand over  her head, scuffling up her combed (h/c) strands while she responded with a happy smile, truly at peace.

‘I even miss that gas machine Iggy,’ She mused, loving the tenderness he showed when they were left alone,

“Why can’t you be this sweet all the time,” she asked the creature while pouting, touching the little sensitive spot behind his ear, “It wouldn’t hurt to stop acting so tough,” She suggested, watching as the Frenchie scoffed, nonetheless staying still to keep being caressed.

And then there was Polnareff, the man who she simply could not let go of, no matter how much time progressed. 

- The same man who currently hid from her, the entire time sitting in disbelief as he heard her voice.

Listening on, the silver-haired male closed his eyes tightly, keeping himself hidden away from her, listening on to the woman as she poured her heart out to Giorno.

‘I hadn’t forgotten you either.’ He thought to himself, having spent nights with the same heartache, yearning for the woman he thought had died back in Cairo at the hands of the golden-haired fiend.

“ Is that why you helped us?” Giorno asked, his voice soft as he stared at the woman with interest, finally having understood her strange behavior. "Just to find him again," He added with a soft smile lifting up his features, truly taken by the dedication that existed within her.

With a somber nod, she confirmed it.

“It’s also why you only showed yourself during the night,” He added with understanding.

“Precisely,” She said with a soft blow of air coming out from her nostrils, “I did all I could to aid you,” She said lowly, " Just know, I’m sorry I couldn’t do more,” She added with regret, knowing there were none but three of them left.

"Yeah," he responded back with the same gentleness.

In the end, he couldn't blame her for what happened, especially not now that he understood her restrictions.

“ I  just wanted to see him one last time,” she admitted, “ One last time before…” stopping herself, she swallowed thickly, instead, trailing her eyes up to the full moon where in the morning the sun would soon arise,

“ Before?” Giorno asked her, urging her to continue.

Looking at him straight on, the woman smiled wholeheartedly, her eyes shut tight as  a large grin itched over her face, painfully being forced to stay,

" Before I let the sun rise over me. Before I turn to nothing but ash," She revealed to him.

" I wanted to see him one more time before I go.

 I haven't found happiness in all this time, and I doubt I'll ever come to hold it within my chest again." She added.

“ I don't mind him looking away from me, not when even I can’t stand the sight of my own figure.” She spoke with the same melancholy,  “ At this point, I don't care if he detests me, because I've lived with that thought every day for years.

I know he’d despise me.

The only comfort I have from that is that I know that once he finds out what I've become, he'd be much happier knowing I was dead. And then...then I could make him happy just once before I die. "

The teen’s Green eyes open wide as he heard her, his  mouth opened up to speak before another voice cut him off,

“Tch! Are you insane?” Polnareff said out loud, barking at her as he revealed himself to her, his arms straining to push his chair forward.

“P-pol…” she couldn't finish, her eyes grazing over the filthy murky silver of his chair, and then his artificial limbs that were now useless.

Stopping, she held in a breath, her heart stilled at his miserable sight,

"I don't care about any of that !" He cried out to her, having willed himself right to her, his two hands tightly grasping hers to pull her down.

"Pol-" she couldn't finish her surprised outburst before she fell down to him, his lips immediately latching onto  hers.

Through his shut eyes, crystal droplets escaped, mixing with her two falling streams as they traveled down, their paths once again coming together to taste bittersweet,

“I could care less...” He murmured between their mashed lips,  “Mon amour,” he muttered softly, drawing back slightly to gaze into her (e/c) colored eyes,  the pad of his thumb brushing over the flesh of her lips, both top and bottom, relishing in the softness of them, something he hadn’t been able to do in the past, despite all the overwhelming desire he'd had during those days.

“Do you know what my life has been without you?” he asked her, moving his hand to take a hold of the side of her face, collecting her tears and gently  wiping them away,

“Do you know how many pieces my heart shattered into?” he added, a shuttered breath leaving him as he thought back to the last night he'd seen her,

He moved too slow, his royal blue eyes watching with horror as her body curled onto the large arm impaling her, clean going through her.

Frozen, he watched while she was then  thrown aside, her beaten body rolling across the concrete ground. A trail of red was painted upon the empty road, starting from the woman’s carcass, and leading back to DIO.

"(f/n)! " He cried out, crawling towards her, his vision blurred as he stared at her longer.

Pushing himself he cried out in lament as he stopped, his sluggish body unable to move further,

"I couldn't help Jotaro," He mumbled, his cheek pressed against the chipped , concrete ground,

"I couldn't save Avdol.

I couldn't  save Iggy.

I wasn't there for Kakyoin.

I couldn't even reach out to Mr. Joestar .

And now....Now... (f/n)… I can't even make my way towards you,"  

He said while tightly shutting his eyes, the smothering embrace of slumber taking over, his last thoughts on the woman  slain a few feet before him.

Silently signaling both Trish and Mista, Giorno took his leave, deciding it best to leave the other two to themselves, sparing one last glance at them with a placid smile, wishing them the best. 

"- I searched for you," Polnareff  told (f/n), "The first thing I did was look for you when I woke up in the hospital," he revealed to her. " But by then you were gone. Jotaro said that you were gone when he went back, and we didn't know what to think of it." He went on,

"Last I knew you'd been struck by him... You'd been beaten bloody...

After that, I would have never imagined you alive," he said with relief.

"But here you are," he marveled at her, seeing how little she'd changed, retaining all of the beauty she possessed in the past, and in fact,  growing even more stunning now.

"I am, "she said back to him, " I am here...but I'm a monster nonetheless," She told him. "He'd given me his blood and whether or not I knew of it, it doesn't change the fact that I -"

"That I love you." he interrupted her, " It doesn't change the fact that I love you.” He flat out told her, “ It doesn’t change that I'd thought of you every day since then. That no matter how much time passed by, I could never find it in myself to even look at another woman." He went on,

"(f/n) ," he started, his face soft and uncertain, a gentle, rosy color rising over his face as he continued to look up at her, reminding her of the past version of himself that was still young,

"You're nothing like him.” he assured her, “ You're no monster, because all in all, you're still (f/n). You're still my dream, " He admitted.

Grasping both her hands, he took them up to his lips, kissing them sweetly, his blue eye gazing up at her with unwavering love,

"I've spent years without you, having been unable to tell you in the past how much I loved you.

I know I'm only a fraction of the man I was before, and so much time has gone by. 

But...

But (f/n), I'd still love to spend the rest of my days with you. Grow old at your side. " He told her.

Her hand rose to take hold of his cheek, caressing it tenderly before drawing in towards him, answering him with a sweet kiss in return,

'I can't grow old.

I can never live a normal life...but even so, even while knowing,

you still propose such a thing to me,' She mused.

"If you still love me the way I am... If you'll still want to spend the rest of your life with me, then I want nothing more than to live in that future,

With you Polnareff,"  She said with happiness.

The warmth of his body radiated to hers, and for a fraction of a second she felt the same as she did before, 

Alive and human… 

Happy and accepted...

“I love you,” He said while not taking his eye off of her, never wanting to go another day without his love.

“Forever... and always,” He said with evident adoration.

#Jean Pierre Polnareff #jean pierre polnareff x reader #jean pierre polnareff one shot #jean pierre polnareff x reader insert #jean polnareff #jean pierre polnareff x y/n #sdc x reader #sdc #jjba sdc #sdc polnareff x reader #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Stardust Crusaders #polnareff part 3 #polnareff part 5 #part 5 polnareff #Female reader #female reader insert #jojo viento aure #Jojo's #Vento Aureo #vento aurero x reader #vento auero reader insert #jojo kimyou bouken vento aurero #vento aurero polnareff #JJBA #jjba fanfic #jjba golden wind #jjba part 3 #jjba part 5 #golden wind polnareff

[smol-and-trashy]

Another JJBA vore fic? It’s more likely than you’d think (Vento Aureo)

A/N: I was going to write more, but died in the process. There might be another chapter after this... let’s see. Here’s some giorno vore because i hate myself ahah. It’s super OOC. GioGio’s canon fave food is chocolate and pudding sooooo….sorry for writing this. :) 

___________

Guido Mista was a man who preferred to live life stress-free. While betraying the mafioso boss wasn’t exactly the definition of living a peaceful life, when had his life since joining the Passione been totally easygoing? Ultimately, he trusted Bruno’s decision and followed suit. 

However, waking up in the dark amidst a sea of stickiness was more than he bargained for. Mista tried shifting his arms, but with each bit of movement, the substance would get heavier. His thick brows furrowed; whatever he was trapped in looked like mud, but... he sniffed. It had a cloyingly sweet aroma to it, almost chocolatey. That didn’t make sense though, did that punk the boss sent have a Stand able to turn liquid into food and then use it to trap their opponents? He couldn’t recall. Normally, he would prefer to not think of such troubles, deeming them as unnecessary worries, but being alone in strange terrain can do a number to a person’s mental state.

From what he could remember of the fight, the man they fought had some kind of defensive Stand. It shot some sort of unscented gas in his face before proceeding to punch him each time he tried getting near. He must’ve been off that day because even his Sex Pistols kept missing the man, he tried redirecting them, but they landed in various areas, everywhere but his target. Narancia was having the same problem, which made Mista begin to believe that this man had some kind of bullet defensive Stand instead. The only people who were able to get a solid hit on the user were Buccellati and Giorno. Though, for the life of him, he couldn’t remember who made the final blow. Was I knocked out? Mista remembered bleeding from his head and shoulders but never actually slipping unconsciousness. Shit, he must’ve been more formidable than I thought! Least we got him though! 

However, when Mista attempted to reach a hand to check if he were still bleeding or to at least wipe the crusted blood off, he found himself still unable to move his arms. They were submerged in the depths of the chocolate mud, he tried to at least wriggle his fingers, but the substance was unyielding. 

“Yo! Buccellati? Narancia? Giorno? Trish? Anybody?” he tried shouting but received no response. If he listened carefully, he could hear muffled voices around him, but no one was actively trying to break open his prison. Maybe they’re working on it? Or maybe I’ve been captured, and it’s one of the boss’ men around me? C’mon guys, where are you?

Suddenly, something metallic came from the sky and ripped the dark ceiling off. Mista’s heart jumped to his throat at the sight of a gigantic white-clothed table with various dishes surrounding his now broken prison. He could hear something shuffle from far above, and Mista looked up, way up, obsidian eyes comically widening as he caught a glimpse of a familiar pink suit and golden hair: everything began to click. 

Above was Giorno Giovanna, under ordinary circumstances, he would’ve welcomed the sight of his friend, but the young blond before him appeared to be reaching monstrous heights. 

His breath hitched as the metal spoon came closer, slowly digging near his shrunken body. How he wanted to maintain his cool, pretend like he wasn’t in any danger, and that Giorno would notice him with ease, but even for him, that was unrealistic. The teen’s sea blue eyes glazed over him, focusing more on a conversation from above than his dessert. Mista’s stomach turned, for someone as overly cautious as Giorno, especially after betraying the boss, he had to let his guard down at the worst possible moment. Mista couldn’t help but to let out a bitter bark of laughter, he could always count on his stroke of luck to get him into the strangest situations. 

“Oi Giorno! Look down!” While his hands were glued to his sides from the thickness of the pudding, he still had his voice. However, Giorno showed no indication of hearing him, not even taking a moment to look down as he took another truck-sized scoop of the pudding, thankfully missing Mista. 

“Watch it! This isn’t funny, man!” he snapped, desperation swirling with fear while his heart thrummed against his chest. How Giorno couldn’t see his blue hat contrasting with the creamy brown of the pudding was beyond him. 

“C’mon Giorno, please look down! I don’t wanna die!” 

He received no response from above, only the spoon coming back down. This time catching Mista and dragging the terrified gunslinger above. Time slowed down as Mista was brought up, moving past the teenager’s partially open chest and finally halting in front of slightly parted lips. 

Mista prayed that one of the other team Buccellati members could see his pathetic wriggles on Giorno’s spoon. Both Buccellati and Giorno had always been absurdly perceptive; they had to notice that Mista was amiss. Even though the latter was about to unintentionally kill him, they had to notice something was off!

While he couldn’t see much beyond the oversized blond and globs of pudding, his prayers were answered from a deep, familiar voice nearby: 

“Has anyone seen Mista?” Bruno inquired, and Mista thanked God, finally someone had noticed his absence! 

“Oh! He’s still passed out on the couch like a baby!” Narancia interjected. 

“In the turtle?” 

“Yeah—!”

There was a long pause, and Giorno thankfully lowered the spoon back down. Mista assumed one of them was peering inside the turtle’s pocket dimension. 

“Oh, it does look like he’s sleeping there. Giorno, you weren’t able to heal all of his wounds?” 

“He was badly beaten, he should be fully recovered in about an hour.” Giorno sounded apologetic, while the tiny brunette was about to have another panic attack.

What?! How could he be inside the turtle when he was clearly stuck in Giorno's pudding? 

The spoon shifted and rose up again, Mista’s blood froze. He was really going to die, and no one would notice he was gone. While he would be stewing away inside Giorno, they would believe he was healing from the previous fight. How could this happen? 

Unwittingly trapped in his increasingly negative thoughts, Mista didn’t even notice he was already pressed up to Giorno's lips. His eyes shot wide, cruelly brought back to his unfortunate reality. Before he could even utter a scream, he was promptly shoved inside the humid maw, darkness flooding his vision. 

As the light closed in, framed by rows of teeth and strings of saliva, Mista felt his stomach turn over. The sopping, crowded cavern of Giorno’s mouth was an experience Mista would rather die than relive. He was tossed and thrown about inside the stuffy mouth; trying to avoid sharp teeth from chewing him to bits but it seemed like the more he tried to struggle, the more soaked in saliva he got. Eech, this is so freaking disgusting! 

The tongue beneath him shifted and threw Mista towards the back of the throat along with the rest of the chewed-up muck. With a simple flick of the tongue, Mista was sucked down the crushing throat. 

He felt like a tube of toothpaste, squeezed until there was nothing left in him. The powerful muscles of Giorno’s esophagus were relentlessly crushing his tiny form. There was no room to squirm, so his cheeks were squished to the slimy, contracting walls. As Mista descended further down into the teen’s chest, he could hear a heavy, even heartbeat causing thumping vibrations all around him like an internal bass. 

For what seemed like hours, Mista was slowly descending down the tight gullet. He could hear the groans and grumbles of the acid pit below, and as he was about to let out a yell in retaliation, he found himself released from the suffocating constraints of the esophagus. 

Mista struggled in mid-air, one hand grasped on his hat while the other flailing about before dropping into a dark sea of stomach juices and masticated mush. Not taking a second to process his new environment, Mista swam to the nearest wall, banging and pleading to be released. The hot juices splashed at his bare midriff, while the walls constricted around him, unsure what exactly to do with him. He was thrown to the other side of the stomach, gasping for air, clean air, as he clawed onto the nearest wall, trying to maintain some balance, but failing as the stomach lurched unexpectedly and he fell face-first into the juices. 

“C’mon man!” he cries out, hoisting himself up and unsuccessfully trying to wipe off the gastric juices.

Mista sharply inhales, the creeping feeling of disgust cried under his skin, but he shoved it down; there had to be a way to get Giorno’s attention. He was not going to go down like this. 

Dark eyes nervously avert to his gun, his hands waver over the weapon. He didn’t want it to come down like this, but if there was no release in sight, and Giorno still had no idea where he was—what if he doesn’t realize by the time I become a pile of bones? Swallowing heavily and raising his gun, he takes a deep breath and finally pulls the trigger. Sorry, Giorno. 

“Sex Pistols!” 

—-

Pressing a hand to his flat stomach, Giorno paused, trying not to let his anxieties spike. If there were Stands who could spread viruses, produce mirror worlds, or even shrink themselves and others, surely there was a possibility that someone’s Stand may have infiltrated his own body. Giorno’s lips curled in revulsion. Activating Golden Experience, he tested for another soul. He knew the rest of the team were now shooting him perplexing looks and whispers at the notion of him bringing out his Stand, but right now, he didn’t care, he had to focus. Sure enough, he detected another life inside him. Giorno swallowed hard, trying to contain both his fear and anger into a mask of passive indifference. Useless, how could I let my guard down? It was an extreme invasion of his privacy and he wanted nothing more but to get this thing out as soon as possible. Now, it was more a matter on how to go about removing the Stand. He knew nothing about it other than it was currently inside him and wreaking havoc on his insides. Giorno had no idea if it was planting any explosives or plotting mind control from within. 

He looked up, finally facing the confused, worried faces of his comrades.

“…Is everything okay, Giorno?” Buccellati finally broke the silence, calm, slightly concerned blue eyes stared into Giorno’s uneasy blues. 

#JoJo vore #jjba vore #unaware pred #unwilling prey #soft vore #safe vore #vore writer #vore fanfic

[londonfog-chan]

Narancia Ghirga x Reader Part 2: Giorno

Y’all already know I’m up in here taking a hammer to the canon.

...

No one could ever love Haruno more than you, except for Narancia.

You’re so amazed, he has very quickly bonded with the little boy almost since the first few seconds he’s been in his new home. When you brought the baby home the first night, shivering and making soft whimpers in your neck, Narancia ran to the both of you and plucked the baby out of your arms. Haruno panicked at Narancia’s desperate attempts to take care of him, only reassured when you stayed right by his side.

It feels as though the events of the past never happened. Being with Narancia and the other boys he hangs around with, it’s like this is where you and Haruno have always been. The others have opened up to you when they saw Haruno in your arms, and the baby is a welcome addition to the home they’ve all built together.

“Haruno! Do you want some salami?”

“Can Haruno try a bit of spaghetti?”

“Haruno! Who’s that! Is that your sorella? Where’s sorella?”

Half the time he doesn’t know where to turn when there’s affection in all directions. Buccellati smiles and wraps the baby in his strong arms whenever you need to get something for him. Mista will watch him no questions asked. Stoic, abrasive Abbacchio smiles whenever the little one is placed delicately in his lap. Fugo is calmer when he helps to tutor Narancia, it definitely helps that Fugo has taken to balancing Haruno on his lap while he works with your boyfriend, and it’s amazing to see the love of your life understand the work for the first time when he’s got a young listening ear to explain everything to. When Narancia explains the problems to Haruno, a light goes off in his brain and he’s able to solve them easily. Haruno’s eyes widen when Narancia lifts him in the air, smiling and happy as he’s never seen someone be before.

So it’s no surprise when the little boy lifts himself off the blanket one day, and toddles towards an approaching Narancia who is laden with armloads of groceries for everyone.

“Hey! Look! He’s walking towards me! He chose me, he loves me more than you amore! Hahahaha!”

He teases you about Haruno loving him more without truly meaning any malicious intent, and he’s not above picking up the little boy and showering the both of you with kisses to prove it. One of many things that made you fall in love with Narancia is his heart. He has so much love to give, taking in a child that doesn’t really have any blood attachment to either of you and treating the baby as though he is the most precious treasure in the world. It’s even more amazing to see Haruno respond to this abundance of love. For the first few nights he wakes up and shivers silently in the darkness between you and Narancia, and you both start staying up late to make sure Haruno doesn’t wake up alone. After a while, he’s gotten better at communicating his needs. He starts crying when he’s wet or when he’s hungry. He’ll reach to Narancia while you’re feeding him, or if Narancia is changing him he will reach for you, taking your fingers in his tiny hands.

“Who gave him that stupid ass name, Sposina?” Narancia whispers.

It never fails to make you purr in pleasure when Narancia calls you his little wife, but you must be silent. Haruno is finally asleep. He smells sweet and clean, the clothes that Buccellati bought for him are warm because he just exudes heat, kicking off his new baby blanket as he dreams between the two of you in your warm bed. It’s been a long day, full of love and fun and delicious things to eat and beautiful things to see, and Haruno falls asleep quickly when you and Narancia are there to tuck him in.

The rash is gone, Buccellati took the child to the doctor at the frantic insistence of Narancia, and your boyfriend had taken over any administering of medications. You knew why he wanted to care for the baby, and it only endeared you more to your lover instead of making you jealous. Haruno couldn’t have fared better if another family had taken him in. They wouldn’t have been able to match that love.

“His mother.” You grumble. “I know… I hate it too.”

“She wasn’t Italian?”

“No.” you rub your hand softly over your brother’s soft tummy. “Really Haruno is my step brother, his mother is Japanese and she married my father when he left for a month.”

Narancia remembered that month. You’d been left behind with not much money, wandering aimlessly and trying to buy something simple for yourself with next to nothing. Counting coins left over in a line and almost about to walk away when he told you he’d like to treat you to something. It was when you both sat down together, his favorite pizza between the two of you, that he noticed your scarred arms and the sallow face. You were almost lost to a depression that had been building for sixteen years before he tore you away from that life.

“I think it’s a stupid name.” Narancia’s violet eyes sparkle with hate in the moonlight.

Calloused hands meet yours on Haruno’s tummy. With such tender love and affection, Narancia takes your fingers to his lips and kisses them. A loving gesture. One that relaxes you when Haruno is in the room and the both of you must be mindful of the noise.

“I’ve got a better one for him.” Narancia’s voice pierces the silence gently.

“Oh?”

You look up at him. There’s a mile wide smile on your face. He flutters his beautiful long eyelashes at you, and it brings such a sense of security to know that the beautiful young man laying across from you and your brother will never leave you two. Throughout the relationship, the first you’ve ever been in, he has been nothing but sincere and loyal to you. Narancia too knows the pain you both have endured. Back before Haruno came, when you and Narancia would be at your most vulnerable, he would hold you tightly against his chest, running a soft touch along the scars on your skin that had long since faded away. He used to tell you those scars were his, guiding your hands along his scars and telling you those were yours. Whispers that you both are one, will always be one, because the cuts and bruises will fade. But your love will always stay.

“Giorno. We’re going to call him Giorno from now on.”

Your heart feels like it will fly away. Propelled by love.

It’s a special name for him because that’s been the name he’s always wanted to give to his firstborn. If he’s told you once, he’s told you a million times: he wants a family of his own, and he wants it with you. The way he describes the life he will give you is so dreamy and makes your heart warm, he will show you pictures of gardens in magazines or books that Fugo brings him from the library and he’ll tell you the kinds of flowers he wants planted in the garden he will make for you. Sometimes when the two of you would walk hand in hand down the streets, he’ll point out the color of the buildings and tell you that’s going to be the color of the house he will build for you.

Of course Buccellati has taken extreme measures to make sure you and Narancia don’t become parents too early. Both of you are, to be frank, dumb ass teens with little more than your desperate passions on your minds, begging your Capo to let you both have kids when between the two of you, you maybe have one collective brain cell (that belongs to you the majority of the time). Stupidly you both thought that was the next step to take in a relationship when you were in love.

“Sposina?”

“Mm?”

He looks at you like he hasn’t been fed in months, but you know the look has nothing to do with food.

“Let’s make Giorno a big brother.”

A soft squeak catches in your throat, you can’t help it. He’s looking at you so intensely.

“Are you… Do you really want to?” you whisper.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” He affirms. “Come here. Come to me. I’ve got everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s time we took this further. Vieni qui, sposina mio…”

How can you refuse him?

Carefully, mindful of your little Giorno, you move him to the warmth of your side of the bed and lose yourself to the languid kisses of your desperate boyfriend. This is also why you love him. His passion. His intensity. It burns you like fire and you have to really try to keep yourself quiet as his fingers toy with the hem of your nightgown.

The soft sound of a zipper makes your face turn red. No turning back now. Narancia has his tongue in your mouth and his kisses are heated and frantic. You reach down to take Narancia’s manhood in your hands, totally excited at the prospect of it being freed…

And you’re met with a strong hand around your wrist.

“Get back to your side, now.”

You open your eyes to see you’re suddenly face to face with Buccellati in his night wear. Narancia is gaping on the other side of his friend’s body. Buccellati is between you both, like a wall, while Giorno is blissfully unaware of anything happening around him. Without question you obey, scooting back to your sleeping brother while Buccellati slips in between you and Narancia. He acts as a barrier, placing Giorno on his buff chest while Narancia is too red faced to focus or protest, turning his back to his Capo while you burn in shame on the other side.

“Both of you go to sleep.” He hisses.

You both do so.

But you still can’t help but smile, thinking that you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

#narancia ghirga #narancia ghirga x reader #every day i take the hammer and FIX THE CANON #jojo’s bizarre adventure vento aureo #bruno buccellati #jojo’s bizzare adventure #jojo’s bizarre adventure x reader #jjba x reader #jjba reader insert #you and narancia have 1 collective braincell #giorno giovanna #haruno shiobana

[star-birthmark]

Trust (The Giovanna Family)

Happy Birthday Giorno! For such a special occasion, I have written a fic about Don Giovanna and his sons (thank you @dongiovannaswife​ for the idea of the twin boys i love them sm) Note: This fic contains a fem reader insert, but it’s less a reader insert and more just a fic about the Don and his kids. Also, this was a doozy to write because it’s the longest fic I’ve ever written, but GioGio is so worth it

Anyway, without further ado: Trust (The Giovanna Family): 6.3k words

“And to this man, we must extend our utmost gratitude, for the strides he has taken for the better of the people, for his famiglia in Passione, and for the state of Italy as a whole. I, speaking for all present, congratulate you on thirty long years of reign. To many more… Don Giovanna.”

The man raised his glass, arm extending outward from his body, his whole form tilted up to adjust to his lower level. The rest of the partygoers followed his example and raised their glasses past their chins in pride, their nerves stiffening their whole bodies as to not upset their leader. Resting atop a flight of stairs at the front of the ballroom, sat the Don Giorno Giovanna, raising his glass as well. 

“Your words flatter me… I would be nothing without the loyalty, companionship, and dedication that each and every one of you provide on a daily basis to keep Passione going.” 

Upon his words, the now older Don stood up above the other mafiosos and joined in on the toast. The music picked up once more, people turning amongst themselves and beginning private discussions. Giorno watched over his followers, the 45-year-old Don finally allowing himself to slump back into his chair and relax. He had spent most of the evening keeping himself poised and upright in order to show his dominance over these people. Over their very lives. Until the Don of Passione realized that these people needn’t more proof of his strength in order to follow him. They all know the legends of Gold Experience Requiem, of the power their leader has at his disposal. And because of that, Giorno allowed himself to sit back, already feeling a headache come on. 

A strong hand gripped onto his shoulder, Giorno not needing to look up to know who it was.

“I’ve been doing this for thirty years, Mista. Thirty.” 

Guido sighed. “Well, you haven’t been alone. You’ve had your advisors, me, Trish, Fugo… (y/n). The boys.”

A soft smile came to Don Giovanna’s lips as he thought of his beautiful love and their children. Though the smile quickly turned to a look of concern. 

“Where are they by the way?” 

Guido looked around at the partygoers. “The Donna is speaking with a capo from Portofino. It seems she’s safe. Dante is speaking with a female soldato. I think she’s part of Fragola’s team in Venice.” 

At such a name, Giorno’s brow furrowed together in concern. 

“Call him over Mista.” 

Soon, Dante was by his father’s side at the top of the stairs at the head of the ballroom. Guido watched absently between the two of them, their appearances uncannily similar. There was no doubt of it. From the thick wavy hair that both men possessed, to the same captivating candy green eyes, and strong intimidating build. There were differences. Though Giorno wore his hair down in a long blond mane, his son preferred to keep his blond waves to a sharp bob, ending at his chin. When he first wore his hair that way, Mista joked to Fugo that the young man looked like a “blond Bruno Buccellati”, and Dante couldn’t help but catch the melancholy looks on the men’s faces. Still, it was clear as day that he was Giorno’s flesh and blood. A prince of Passione.

Giorno stood up, still somehow towering over his son. Dante, a young man of only 18 years, glanced up at his father’s movement. 

“Yes, sir?” 

Giorno allowed his son to have a small, public smile from his father, patting him on the back, his fingertips grazing his son’s star-shaped birthmark. 

“Are you enjoying the party?” 

Dante tried to stare into his father’s eyes. Though their luster had been dulled somewhat from how the young mafioso remembered them when he was a baby, he still found it difficult to maintain contact with Don’s intense gaze. It was the gaze of a Brando. Even if he knew that behind closed doors, his father was an incredibly loving and understanding man, the man before him at that moment was not his father. It was Don Giovanna. 

“Yes, very much. It’s the first dinner that you’ve allowed me to attend so…”

“Well, your brother and you are finally adults. I figured I couldn’t keep you hidden safely for too much longer. You need to see my world as well, not just hear of it.”

Giorno turned around, his back to the partygoers, leaning in to whisper into his son’s ear. He glanced at Guido as well, his gaze signaling for Guido to have his pistol at the ready. 

“You know, Dante, that I didn’t allow you to attend dinners until now to keep you safe.”

Dante smiled nervously at his father’s whispers. “Of course Dad.” 

“Who were you speaking to just now?”

“Her name’s Amara Rossi, part of Matteo Fragola’s team.”

“...Did you use Son Lux on her?” 

Dante nodded. “She’s safe to speak to. I checked Fragola as well. They don’t plan to attack. Your warning last night must have worked.”

Giorno let out a hearty laugh and a proud smile, patting Dante hard on the back and somewhat knocking the wind out of the young man. 

“Thank you… dad.” He smiled a bit, nervous but happy to make his father happy.

“You’ve put me at ease Dante. I knew I could count on you.” 

Giorno waved to Mista to put his pistol away and began walking out of the ballroom to go home to relax. 

“Come, tell your mother that we’re leaving soon. And let Jovi know as well… wait…”

Dante felt his breath hitch in his throat for his father’s incoming question. 

“Where is Jovi? I haven’t seen him all night…”

- - -

“Jovi? Jovi I can hear you, but I can’t see you…”

The young mafioso, his brother, mother, and father still remaining at the party, had walked the streets of Naples, climbed through fences and tiptoed through gardens, altering his body to flow like water in the tight crevices in his way. Nothing was going to stop him from his late-night rendezvous even if he was leaving the others to search for him. Thankfully, the ballroom hall was not far from his destination, the Una residence. 

Finally, the young man, Jovi Giovanna found himself in the familiar rose garden of his father’s trusted friend and advisor, his aunt Trish. But she was not who he had come to see that midnight in that fair-weathered spring. 

“Jovi, up here, at the balcony.”

Jovi looked up past his blond waves to find his visitee, his heart skipping a beat in his chest. He let out a broad grin and motioned a wave for her to go down to his level. 

“Come down!...”

“No, I can’t… I’m meant to stay up here.”

The young woman Jovi escaped from the party to see was a longtime childhood friend, Sienna Una. Years ago, when his father and mother were starting their family, and when his uncles Guido and Panacotta already had children on the way, a younger Trish Una decided to start a family of her own with her partner. Rather than use a donor, they sought to adopt, deciding on an orphaned baby girl that had been abandoned in Rome. Giorno had once told his sons that their aunt Trish saw herself in the baby, but instead of taking the route her father had taken, she vowed to be her daughter’s guardian alongside her spouse. So, Sienna Una was adopted in the famiglia, and treated like the princess of Passione that she was. Even if that meant she was heavily guarded against the outside world. Still, that didn’t prevent her dear friend Jovi from seeing her. 

“I’ll come up then… Hold on.”

Morphing the pads of his fingers to those of the pulvilli appendages of a spider, Jovi Giovanna climbed up the vine-covered wall of the Una estate with ease, until he dropped down onto his dear friend’s balcony. Her parents, Trish and her wife were out at the don’s party, so she was home alone with a guard. The moment Jovi set foot on her terrace, the 17-year-old mafiosa engulfed him in a tight hug. Jovi stared down at her mass of chocolate brown waves and smiled gently, relishing in the feeling of her tanned arms around his chest. Sienna couldn’t help but wonder how he has always been able to climb so high. Jovi couldn’t help but wonder when he could tell about Eleanor Rigby, his stand. When she finally pulled away, he gave her a glance up and down. 

“Don’t you look nice?”

Sienna snorted, turning to her nightwear of a lacy, baby pink camisole, matching satin shorts, and a black robe. Her hair framed her face as it cascaded down her back, and she had no makeup on, yet Jovi felt he should be ashamed of the thoughts he had when looking at her. 

“Well, Jovi, I don’t look nearly as good as you. I mean, look at you. I rarely see you in such clothes…”

She raised a hand to adjust the collar of her friend’s navy blue dress shirt, her fingertips lightly grazing his exposed chest as she straightened out his gold chain as well. Jovi watched her intently as she fiddled with the necklace, eyeing the ladybug emblem that hung at the end of the chain, the Giovanna family crest. Jovi held a breath in, trying to puff his chest out. He had always been wary of the way he looked. Though he was nearly the split image of his brother, he didn’t wear his hair in the bob, instead, he left it hanging around his ears , a few waves framing his eyes. He would stare in Dante’s face and look for the differences between the two twins. His eyes were more tired than his brother’s, his form more wiry he felt, no matter how many times his mother said it wasn’t so. Others would look between the two twins and only see the soft features and golden hair, speaking as if the boys were as angelic as their father. Jovi has found himself staring in the mirror before, sadly thinking that he merely looked human. More human than he needed to be for this world, but it seemed like the young woman before him didn’t care about any of that. He watched her beautiful honey browned eyes focus as she turned the small golden insect over to reveal the message on the other side. It read, “JG, born Mar. 15th, 2012.” 

The two young friends were so close now, both Jovi and Sienna were thankful that the dark setting effectively masked the reddening of their faces. Jovi cleared his throat nervously as Sienna took a step back to give him personal space. Jovi watched her move away, almost wishing she hadn’t. 

“I missed seeing you at the don’s party.”

Sienna smiled and rolled her eyes. “You know I can’t go to events yet. I’m still 17.”

“Not for long. Your birthday’s in a few weeks.”

“True, but still, I would hate to intrude on Don’s events.” She huffed jokingly. 

“Well, the don’s son would love it if you’d attend.” 

“Really? What has Dante said about me?” 

Sienna teased her guest. Jovi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“He’s covering for me while I visit you.” Sienna felt her heart flutter at such words but tried not to show it. 

“Why are you visiting me?” She asked softly, hopeful. 

“Well I promised you I would, didn’t I? Plus, I felt awfully cooped up at that party, wearing a suit and all…” 

Sienna bit her lip; she had hoped for a different answer. Instead, she moved over to stand next to Jovi at the railing, leaning her head on his shoulder as they looked out into the large garden. She let out an intrigued squint of the eye and Jovi turned to her. 

“What was it like at the party? Being near all those mafiosos at once… Is it like how my mother describes it?” 

Jovi grinned proudly as he listened to her excited tone, happy he could relay information to his friend about their parents’ work. The young man let out a teasingly standoffish sigh. 

“Well Signorina, Tesoro, Cara, Bambina - if you must know it-”

“Signora Una, is everything alright? I heard noise…” 

Sienna turned around to see her guard peer into her bedroom, but thankfully Jovi was out of sight. After he left once the young woman said everything was fine, Sienna closed the doors to her terrace and motioned for Jovi to be quieter. 

“Will you stop teasing me with your pet names and just tell me?” She giggled, Jovi cooly shrugging it off. 

“It was incredible Sienna. You grow up in these magnificent houses, wear all these fancy clothes, but to finally experience a taste of how your family came to such affluence was insane to me. My father warned Dante and me that we must remain on guard at all times, even if he was confident that those present at the dinner didn’t have any ill will towards him or us. But to see him sitting at the front of the room in his throne, atop all of the attendees, having them toast to him, it was all so surreal. To me, he’s always been just my father. And anytime growing up that he couldn’t come to a birthday or a party or anything really, I would give up hope that he would ever be present…” 

Sienna watched Jovi’s face develop a melancholy expression as he sat down on the balcony floor, leaning against on the railing. She sat down with him, staring into his green eyes with her brown. 

“...Jovi?” She placed a hand on his shoulder, waking him from his daze.

“But even so, the important thing was that he was much more present in our lives when Dante and I were children still. I suppose my mother guilt-tripped him.” Jovi chuckled a little, reassuring Sienna that he was alright. 

“And anyway, going to the party tonight made me realize the real power that he has. And it made me realize the real power I have. Since it was our first party, my father had everyone toast to Dante and me as the Princes of Passione, and I felt this giant weight placed on my shoulders. I don’t know how to lead anyone and now that everyone knows who I am, I’m meant to defend myself as well. He would always talk about keeping my brother and me safe while we were growing up but after tonight I could tell that he really meant it. If they wanted to get to my father, anyone in that room could kill either Dante or me with ease so…” 

Sienna shrugged a bit at the frightening statement, rubbing her friend’s shaking arm with a gentle hand. 

“Well… I for one, am glad they haven’t yet.” 

Jovi let out a loud chuckle at the dark yet snarky comment before Sienna rushed to quiet him down. 

“Shh… he’ll hear you.” 

“Sorry…  sorry… “ 

A quiet air hung over the two of them, neither wanting to ruin the intimate conversation. Sienna rested her head on Jovi’s shoulder, happy to just have a friend’s warmth. Somehow, knowing that Jovi wasn’t supposed to be there, that her mother could come home any second now, and that she would get in trouble, that only made Jovi Giovanna’s shoulder more comfortable to lean on. 

Neither of them needed to say anything, both just content with merely sitting there in the warm spring night. Occasionally, Sienna would tear her head away from her dear friend’s shoulder, scanning him over with her gaze. He almost didn’t seem… human. The young woman had no idea how those around her were capable of such inhuman things. How Jovi could make his way to her balcony through all the fences her mother had put up, or climb the walls so easily. How Dante always knew what she was about to say. Or how her mother always knew how to soften her fall when she was a baby. SIenna had grown up with these people and yet still, she felt that there was still something they all had that she simply… didn’t. Jovi had it, this strange thing, more powerfully that even he knew, she was sure of it. Perhaps that meant she wasn’t worth him. After several minutes of silence, Jovi carefully stood  up from his spot on the floor. Sienna watched him stand, noticing a strange shape on her friend’s neck. She stood up as well and touched the mark, startling Jovi at the sudden contact. 

“What is it?”

“That mark on your neck... “

Jovi reached a hand up and felt the spot she spoke of. “Oh yeah… I was born with it. Dante has one as well. Everyone in my family has one.”

Sienna stood up as well, inching slightly closer to Jovi, a small dusting of red on her cheeks once more. Jovi noticed the closeness of the two of them, gulping slightly. 

“Sienna…?”

“You all must be very special to have such a thing.” She smiled shyly. 

“Y-yeah… I suppose… Sienna I-” 

Jovi went to speak, so ready to throw caution to the wind, and tell her that she was infinitely more special to their world than him, without her even needing to try. Instead the young man was interrupted by a voice he had grown up with. 

“Sienna? We’re back from the party.” 

The loving voice of Trish Una rang from the front door to the house. Sienna scrambled to readjust her robe and pushed Jovi to a corner of the balcony where he’d be out of sight. 

“You need to go… It was amazing to see you Jovi. Some other time?” 

Jovi’s shoulders dropped at the realization that he wouldn’t get his chance. “Yeah… some other time…” 

He gave her a small smile, which she returned with a small hug before racing back into her room and closing the terrace doors behind her. Jovi climbed down from the balcony and stood in the private garden below, looking up into Sienna’s room. The young man’s heart lifted in hope, watching the young mafiosa speak with her mother briefly before briskly pacing around her room with a broad smile on her face, her form occasionally consumed by a giggle and a rush of emotion. Content with how the night transpired, Jovi began to saunter home with a lovesick smile on his face when he felt two hands grip tightly onto his shoulders. He turned around to see his mirror image, Dante, stare back at him, eyes blown wide in annoyance. 

“Jovi are you nuts?! You said you’d be back at the party two hours ago! Our parents are waiting in the car to go home. Let’s go!”

“Oh calm down Dante, I’ll be there in a second… Is dad mad?” 

“Furious!” Jovi glanced around and then covered Dante’s mouth with a hand.

“Shut up will you? Aunt Trish is home, she’ll hear you.”

Dante grumbled at his brother’s lack of awareness of the situation. “Come on Jovi…”

“Yeah one second.”

Jovi muttered before inching towards the balcony once more, careful not to be seen. Dante impatiently waited for him at the edge of the estate, panicking that their parents were still waiting for them. 

“Jovi hurry up!”

“One second!” 

Jovi rolled his eyes, peeking into Sienna’s window once more, watching her finally retire to bed before laying in her dark room, tossing and turning, clearly still awake, a giant smile on her face. Jovi smiled as well at the sight, turning around to eye Dante up and down. 

“Dante… can you…?”

Dante looked over at what his brother could be referring to before shaking his head. 

“No, I’m not doing it.”

“Please! Just tell me! You probably already know!”

“No Jovi I’m not gonna do it. Just figure it out for yourself!”

“But this is so much easier!”

“But then you’ll never learn!”

Jovi grumbled, turning back around to glance quickly at the garden and Sienna’s balcony. 

“Do you think she likes me, Dante?” 

Dante smiled a bit, lightly flicking his brother’s cheek for his childish, lovesick behavior. 

“I don’t need a stand to tell you that.”

Jovi’s face lit up, his whole body feeling weightless in ecstasy as he rushed to leave the garden, promising Sienna silently that he’d confess next time. The young man’s glee was short lived however when he entered the car, met with an impatient and annoyed look from his father. Jovi awkwardly shifted into his seat, ready for the Don’s questioning. 

“Ricotta, keep driving.” The driver left the Una estate with a sigh at his boss’ order.  

Jovi gulped a bit, sitting up and stiffening himself. “Look, in my defense.”

“Do you know how many people I spoke to tonight wanted to speak with you themselves after the announcement? Only for you to have disappeared off the face of the Earth?”

Jovi faced his lap, unable to meet the Don's gaze. “Look at me in the eye Jovi.”

Jovi rolled his eyes and looked back up, shrugging. “Well I just-”

“And then I hear these little whispers from people, ‘oh the Don can’t even control his own kid, is he getting soft?” 

Dante rolled his eyes. “Dad no one said that and you know it.”

“They thought it! I’m sure of it and I bet you know that from reading their minds!”

Dante pouted, his father not entirely wrong. Jovi sighed. “It’s not like I skipped the thing all together. I just wanted to see Sienna since she couldn’t go. She was sad that Dante and I can go to events and she can’t yet.” 

He shrugged, looking out the window, Giorno’s gaze boring a hole into him. Giorno shut his eyes tightly before shaking his head at his son’s reasoning. 

“Oh course she can’t go to events. And she shouldn’t be able to.” 

“Well she can go in a few weeks when she turns 18.”

“I don’t think Trish wants her to.” Jovi’s head snapped forward at such a comment. 

“Why not?” 

“She doesn’t have a stand Jovi, we can’t introduce her to Passione higher ups without a way to defend herself.”

“Well maybe so, but don’t we owe it to her to let her go to things? She can’t be caged away from the truth after 17 years! She has to find out about stands at some point. Plus, I thought you and aunt Trish were talking about giving her one anyway?”

The Don’s eyebrows raised at such a comment. “Who told you we were planning that?” 

Dante coughed a bit, and Jovi glanced over at him. Giorno got the hint and nodded with a heavy sigh. “Yes we’ve been considering it. And there’s a way we could do it. It’s a bit high risk though. Ultimately, I believe your aunt will say no.”

“Are you serious?! Why not do it?!” Jovi scoffed. 

“Don’t raise your voice at me Jovi.” 

“No! After seeing everything tonight, I realized that there’s so much that you’re not telling Dante and I. And you can go on and on about wanting to keep up safe but we’re not kids anymore! And you both owe it to Sienna to let her see our world just as much as Dante and I do!” 

“She’s just a kid. You’re still a kid Jovi. The only reason you think you’re not a child is because your mother and I have given you and your brother an easy life in the famiglia.”

“Oh yeah, a super easy life huh? To never have your dad be around to watch you grow? To give up hope that he’d ever show up?! An easy life, that’s ridiculous!”

Giorno snarled, a Brando’s attitude. “You think you’re so tough, raising your voice at me like that. There’s people older than you at the bottom of this organization that are getting killed every day over something petty because of decisions that I make. If you were there instead of here at the top you’d think differently. Your brother understands.” 

Jovi gritted his teeth, there was no winning in an argument with Don Giovanna, but he was daring to try. 

“That’s not the point of what I’m saying. I understand the situation perfectly, but you and I both know that she doesn’t. And she should, you don’t talk to her like I do! She’s not just a kid and neither am I! You should give her a stand, no matter how ‘high risk’!”

Giorno remained silent, staring into his son’s angered face. He saw so much of himself in his sons, each of the boys holding a different part of him within them. Dante had inherited his strategic mind, and always knew when to look at a situation pragmatically. But still, his resolve didn’t hold a candle to Jovi’s, whose spirit was lit up with all the determination and passion that he had. The don watched his son slowly calm down from his shouting and peered out the window. They were close to home. Jovi’s shoulders hung low as he cursed himself for even thinking he could stand up to his old man. Giorno, still calm, used to a little anger from those beneath him, finally decided to let his son know. 

“She could die if she can’t handle a stand.”

Jovi’s eyes widened as he suddenly realized the true weight of this conversation and stopped talking till the end of the car ride home. 

When the Giovanna family returned to their estate in the hilltops of Naples, none of them really wanted to speak to each other. Jovi just went straight to his room, followed by Dante, and the Don went to relax in his study. You, his wife and the boys’ mother were on his heels, tiredly tying your hair up and removing your heels after such a long night. Two parallel conversations ensued, each member of the argument in a tired yet argumentative mood. Giorno slumped into his chair, removing his maroon suit jacket in order to relax. You came up behind the armchair, delicate fingers carefully undoing the knots in the Don’s long blond hair. Giorno closed his eyes, leaning into your touch with a hum. He tried to relax, tried to only focus on your soft singing, your fingertips through his scalp and the softness of the material of your evening gown, but he just couldn’t. His shoulders tense up once more and he sat up straight. 

“Why can’t I ever get a hold on him (y/n)... he’s my son I should be able to show him our world, but he doesn’t want to see it…”

Jovi wasn’t having any better of a time calming down. The young man paced back and forth the length of his bedroom, muttering to himself about his father’s injustices. Dante sat at the edge of his brother’s bed, watching him for the next time he would burst in frustration. He knew when it was going to happen. Not from reading the other’s mind, but from the twitch of Jovi’s eyes, the fidget of his wrist upward as his hand came up to his face, the vein in his throat that flared just like the one with his father. 

“Doesn’t he understand I’m not any sort of little kid anymore?! The only reason he hasn’t seen what I can do is because he hasn’t given me a chance to do anything! It’s not like I can read minds or anything!”

You sighed, stepping in front of your husband and standing above him in his chair, holding his head in your hands. 

“This isn’t the part of our world that he wants to see… He wants to know you believe in him. And he’s not sure if you do because you’re always protecting him. He can’t read your mind. And lord knows Dante won’t tell him anything.” 

Giorno chuckled a bit and stood up from his seat, releasing Gold Experience from himself as well. You watched as the golden figure morphed into a hawk with the flick of Giorno’s wrist. The stand flew from the Don’s bedroom, scanning across the villa, the Don having let all the guards go home for the night to relax. When presenting to the world, he was rarely the warm and understanding man that those closest to him knew him as. But why couldn’t he show more of that warmth or understanding to his own son? You could tell he was struggling. When Gold Experience fazed back into Giorno’s body, you pulled him in for a quick yet intimate kiss, happily leaning in on his shoulder. Giorno rested his chin on top of your head, closing his eyes as he pictured Jovi and Dante at their 6th birthday party, the first one he attended after years of being unable to. They both had the same haircut that he had once. Giorno’s brow furrowed. The two of them are so different from one another...

Dante Giovanna had inherited his father’s ability to read facial expressions, and from that ability, his stand of reading minds, Son Lux, was born. The young man knew the emotional power of his stand, and promised himself that he would only let others know of the truth when he felt it was necessary. And looking at his brother’s struggle to come to grips with himself and with how their father perceived him, Dante found it necessary to tell his brother of the Don’s true thoughts when the family was driving home in the car. 

You finally let go of Giorno, the two of you having stood in the middle of your bedroom, no words needed in order for the Don’s worries to dissipate. You gave him a smile before finally getting ready to go to bed. 

Dante watched his brother’s face soften as he revealed his father’s inner words of praise at the young mafioso’s conviction and spirit. Though he has spent most of his life reading those around him, nothing could have prepared him for the look of tearful appreciation on his twin brother’s face. 

Dante stood up from Jovi’s bed. It really was just the two of them. Always had been. Always will be. You turned around from your wardrobe, slipping on one of Giorno’s crewnecks before saying his name to get his attention. 

“Give him a chance Giorno.” You smiled. 

“He’s going to give you a chance soon. I’m sure of it.” Dante grinned reassuringly, leaving Jovi alone to think. 

A week passed from the party. Jovi was sitting in the family garden, a certain Oleander stem having caught his interest as he sketched it into his pad of ethnobotany notes. His whole life, thoughts of the outside, natural world had always been at the very forefront of his focus. Such a focus was the basis of his stand, Eleanor Rigby. Only through studying the organic world was jovi able to expand the set of things that he could morph himself into. It was already easy to morph his body into sand to fit through small spaces and sneak into the Una estate. It was already  easy to turn his limbs into those of an ape’s to more properly climb, but there were still things he had to master, if he could only get the chance. Without realizing it, the chance was arriving right behind him at that moment. 

“Jovi! Come quick! Come quick!” The young man jumped at the sound of his father’s distressed voice. 

“What is it?” 

Giorno gulped down his need to chuckle at his son’s sudden worry. “Sienna’s in trouble! They’re holding her in Capri, let’s go!”

Without needing an explanation, Jovi rushed from his seat ready to take off from the estate. A ferry would take about two hours, but he figured he could use his ability to run across and be there to save here -wait…

“Why are you asking me?” 

Giorno looked at him confused. “What do you mean? You wanted a chance didn’t you? Mista is already on the way, go!”

Jovi’s eyes widened, a small but proud grin coming to his face. Soon, he was off, running down the hill from the villa, heading to the coast. His legs filled with energy, simulating the running patterns of a big cat as he sprinted and swerved between the tightly packed crowds and buildings. People yelled for him to watch where he was going, told him to slow down, but he would not listen. Sienna was in danger. Young Jovi Giovanna came upon the edge of town overlooking the water. Leaping past a woman with her child, Jovi heard her screams not to jump as he scaled the fence and landed upon the sharp rocky shore. Not yet tired, the stand user quickly adapted his feet to those of a basilisk lizard, an animal that his father often showed him and created when he was little, and the only being that can run on water. He was going to make it to Capri, that he swore. Finally, he reached the shore, his stand morphing his eyes into those of a hawk, the powerful tunnel vision allowing him to scan the island for either the people who might have captured Sienna, or Sienna herself. And Sienna herself he found… sitting, in a flowing pink lace dress, her hair neatly braided, her form peaceful and clean as ever. 

Jovi stood up from his hidden spot at the shore, looking around. Where was Mista? She wasn’t even in danger? What was his father saying? Jovi kept his guard up. If there’s one thing his old man taught him it was that everything is not always as it seems. She could be an illusion of sorts. From an enemy stand. 

Sienna glanced up from her table at the restaurant having spotted Jovi nearby. A bright smile came to her face. Quickly getting out of her seat, she ran over to him and enveloped her dear friend in a tight hug. Jovi released his enhanced vision and calmed down immediately. He hadn’t a doubt in his mind. This was the real Sienna Una in his arms. He could feel her humanity, her life rushing through her. Still, he was confused. 

“Sienna? What are you doing here?” 

Sienna looked up at him, disbelief on her face. “What do you mean? You told me to come here…. Why else would you be here as well?’

“I thought you were in danger.”

“In danger? Of course not! Uncle Mista escorted me to Capri and then told me to wait for you. And then he left me here. Seems like they’re all starting to trust me to be alone in the real world. Why would you think I was in danger?” 

Jovi looked around, finding no one he recognized on the boardwalk. No one was even looking at them. 

‘I don’t know… What makes you think I invited you here?” He asked, still stunned. 

Sienna rolled her eyes and playfully smacked Jovi on the chest. 

“Don’t play coy with me. It was something only you could have done. I was sitting at my balcony reading and then suddenly, this little shorthair kitten that I had never seen before came climbing up the vines before dropping down on my terrace, and it immediately reminded me of you. Before I could ask how the stray could have even gotten into the garden, just as I looked away to call my mother, it had turned into this small note. It was magic I swear! And I was sure no one would believe me but it’s true!”

Sienna reached into the pocket of her spring dress and handed Jovi the note. The parchment had the Giovanna of a ladybug on it, but the words themselves were written in a darkened gold ink. It was even in Jovi’s handwriting, uncannily. 

The note read, 

“Sienna Una, meet me at approximately noon today at the Ristorante Terrazza Brunella. Make sure to wear something you’d want people to see you in. You’ve always wanted to see our world, and I’m going to be the one to show it to you. Sincerely and Forever Yours, Jovi Giovanna.” 

Jovi read the note with a small smile before turning around and staring out at the vast waters between Capri and Naples. His father had just trusted that he would be able to cross it by himself, and he did. His father had just trusted that he would spring into action without fear, and he did. The young man smirked. He didn’t need to scare the shit out of him though. He knew something was up.

“Oh that’s right, I remember now. I didn’t think you’d really come though. A girl of your status should be more careful about mysterious notes.”

Sienna teasingly punched Jovi’s arm before rushing back to the restaurant for them to enjoy their lunch. Giorno remained back at the villa, pleased when Mista reported back to him of the kids’ safety. Sienna watched Jovi as the two of them sat and ate their meal. 

 “Can’t you tell me how you did the cat trick? I can’t read minds you know.”

Jovi watched her hopeful face, the young stand user so helplessly in love with this woman. “Not yet. Maybe later.”

Sienna snorted. “It’s okay. I don’t need an explanation really. I have no idea how, but you Giovannas are always able to do incredible things like that.”

#jjba #jjba writing #giorno giovanna #giorno #part 5 #vento aureo #ocs #the giovanna family #jjba hcs #Jovi Giovanna #Dante Giovanna #fem reader #Sienna Una #jojo #jojo writing #happy bday Don! #dongiovannaswife #long fic

[dongiovannaswife]

Legacy; Vampire!Giorno Giovanna x Fem!Reader (Teal and Burgundy prequel.)

Side note (READ AFTER, SPOILERS); Alright, here we go again :3c JJBA is highly characterized by mentioning and playing with concepts such as the correlation between fate, destiny, coincidences, opportunities and luck. In some way, this piece happens around these, playing and suggesting some things (I’m sure you’ll be able to identify which scenes play around which one, dear reader). Here’s a little statement I want to make; the scene where Giorno feels a headache is a callback to Dio using the stone mask. I’m sorry if Jolyne feels out of character, I haven’t read part 6 and for what I’ve seen, she’s portrayed like this by some fans? Idk, sorry. Last, “destiny” was wrote in June, and “Fate”, “Legacy and the unnamed sequel were written between October 23-30 (same year), so the change is pretty noticeable and I feel deeply worried about it, but I think that rewriting “destiny” would be useless, since I feel like the emotions poured in that won’t be replicated this time, and maybe the concept doesn’t ring too good. Anyway, enjoy! Warnings; PTSD mentions, body horror (light, but still, take care), nightmares, blood.   Feedback is always appreciated. The slow, pleading, arguing, begging and crying sound of Jeff Beck’ guitar solo during his interpretation of cause we’ve ended up as lovers fills the silence of Giorno Giovanna’s office, don of Passione for eleven years now, bringing a tone of presence to the enormous headquarters he’s in, after giving some of his soldatos a pair of missions and after a long and tiring meeting with La Squadra di Esecuzione. The young don behind the desk, the one who once looked thin and weak has come to hit a growth spurt after turning seventeen, looking like the man of the photo he still carries on his wallet, Dio Brando. A man he doesn’t know about, but one he’s created his own expectations in order to have an image to follow, even if he doesn’t say it out loud; it’s a secret he’s been keeping as deeply intimate, part of the child he never got to be, but that still resides deep within his heart. The non-so typical hairstyle form back then now replaced with his locks surrounding his shoulders, contrasting with the variety of well pressed suits he uses now.

Polnareff, Passione’s consigliere, pointed out his physical similarities with Dio Brando some time ago, proceeding to talk in little details about him, and if he was trying not to break down and scream at him for the actions of that man, it was clear by the way his voice wavered that he was still feeling the losses, maybe not because he felt culprit, but for the things that could have been about their lives. Maybe, Iggy would be with them now, or maybe not; maybe, Avdol would be still working on his shop, or maybe not. Maybe, Kakyoin would have been working as a CEO, maybe not. Everything about it was based around suppositions. Suppositions Polnareff could only think of, swallowing sadness and regret.

The Speedwagon Foundation found Giorno a couple weeks ago when unfortunately, one of the traces of the drug dealers they have just took care of leaded to him. Soon, a letter from Jotaro Kujo arrived three days before the actual events, signed by a cordial extent to meet him, alongside the members of the Joestar family; a petition of Joseph Joestar. In a way, it felt like destroying the stone mask through Murolo was useless, he could have easily done it himself, and all this cordiality could have been avoided. Giorno signed the last page of what seemed to be a directory, but it was, in fact, a compilation of the reports regarding the incidents with drug dealers around Naples when the doors opened and a well-known face appeared carrying the folders with the reports about each one of the members of the Joestar family. Getting up from his desk to greet her, Giorno took the folders and lay them on the mahogany wood desk, turning around to greet her completely with a kiss on the lips and a smile. (Y/n) straightened the collar of his teal dressing shirt, that seemed like a compliment for his eyes, the fabric making his eyes seem like the loveliest pieces of jewelry in all Europe. “Thank you, bella.” He says, kissing her lips again before turning around to take one of the folders, opening it and leaning on the desk behind him. Each report has annexed photographs of the persons and relatives, as well as the events mentioned, allowing him to get a more expanded view and judgment. The Joestar family didn’t seem to be a big family, but the links and powers associated with it were big and impotent. It seems like being born in that family is a sentence to do something big. Starting with Joseph Joestar, the older man that started all of this. Age: 93. Fought against an ancient and superior race of Aztec warriors found in a Mexican temple around 1939, their existence was linked directly to the stone mask, and the searching of a mysterious jewel. Joseph was a hamon —the power of the canalization of the energy residing in breathing, —  and a stand user. Occupation: real estate. His wife is Suzie Q, his biological sons are Holy Kujo and Josuke Higashikata —from a relationship with a Japanese woman, Tomoko Higashikata. — His adopted daughter is Shizuka Joestar. His parenthood towards Josuke Higashikata was recognized until 1999, when he traveled to Morioh with his grandson Jotaro Kujo. Humming to himself, Giorno closes the folder, taking the following, (Y/n) leaning on the desk, gazing at the folders casually. Jotaro Kujo, Age: 43. Stand user, killed Dio Brando in 1989. Giorno frowns at the line, of course he knew Dio Brando was dead, Polnareff have said it back at that time, explaining briefly that he was an evil man. His daughter is Jolyne Kujo and has an ex-wife. Marine biologist at charge of the Speedwagon Foundation. Josuke Joestar —Higashikata for his mother, Tomoko Higashikata. — Age: 30. Stand user, nurse at the Morioh hospital. Had a direct impact in the events in Morioh regarding a serial killer and the arrow. Jolyne Kujo, Age: 20. Stand user. Student. No further information.

A knock at the door makes echo in the office and the couple recognizes the three paused knocks as Mista’s message; they’re here. Looking down at his girlfriend, Giorno allows himself a moment of weakness by letting his eyes show how afraid he really is. The vulnerability is somethings he’s not accustomed to show, but that somehow always end up being one of the most comforting things he’s ever felt; maybe because he’s always looking though and untouchable that vulnerability allows him to relax a bit: more so, in her arms. Oh, her arms feel like home; if heaven could be represented as something the man knows, then that’ll be her arms: if paradise have to be summarized in feelings beyond the comprehension of words, Giorno could hold her, and feel in paradise.   (Y/n) looks up at him, gazing through her lashes lovingly, and noticing his expression, her lips curl upwards in what he interprets as an inspiring smile. Suddenly, it feels like everything will be okay as long as she’s by his side, holding his hand through whatever fate has to offer. Her gesture coaxes the resolve he needed and straightening his back and gifting her with a smile of his own, the boss sits behind his desk, posture proud and confident. And as (Y/n) stands by his side and puts her hand on his shoulder, Giorno speaks in that tone that screams power and determination; pride and experience. “Come in.” The door cracks open and with a nod, the first person in step in the office, now in silence after (Y/n) paused the music, is Jolyne Kujo. Jolyne smiles politely as she makes her way to the couch, but doesn’t sit and instead stays on her feet, crossing her arms. The next person is Josuke Higashikata, who smiles politely too, muttering a “Good morning” while his attention is posed almost completely in guiding Joseph Joestar to the couch. The old man nods and smiles brightly, looking tired and taking a seat in the expensive couch. Last but not less important, the one who he knows will be harder to treat with, Jotaro Kujo. The man looks at him calm for a second and then, when he seems to take on his features, his eyebrows rise and he freezes in the umbral. Almost instantly, his brow lowers and his right hand rises to point a finger at him; jutting chin and voice hoarse, violent with anger. Jotaro Kujo shifted to suspicion to shock to anger in less than Giorno expected. “DIO.” He says, angrily and with fists clenched at his sides and clenched jaw. His stand glaring at him, ready to attack. “I thought I killed you in Egypt, you bastard.” With voice filled with a dangerous determination, Kujo stays there, expectant. The tension in the room is overwhelming, and despite Josuke’s thoughts to stop Jotaro from getting hurt and hurting others, he’s not sure if he’ll be able to reach and surpass Star Platinum’s speed. Jolyne seems ready to jump between them, knowing way too well what’s happening; but she’s not sure either: Star Platinum is a though enemy, and with Jotaro blinded by rage and something more, it’s sure that it will be harder than that.

Lord knows what may happen if he attacks, we don’t know Giorno’s powers.

It may seem like a communal thought, and if there was tension surrounding them, now fear adds something to the mix, terrifying like a sniper hiding between buildings, pointing at a target surrounded by civilians. And in fact, it is; and more so, when the only opportunity to stop him falls in the minimal possibility of a coincidence or an opportunity gifted by whatever or whoever who rules the world. With her hand still pressed against his left shoulder, (Y/n) can feel the sudden and almost unnoticeable tension on Giorno’s shoulders and back, raising from the depths of his being. Perhaps Jotaro´s last statement hit something on his heart, or maybe on his moral. It’s not a surprise, but something praiseworthy, when Giorno remains on his don acting; straight back, shoulders throw back, head high and lifted chin. His voice holds respect and perhaps a bit of his charming nature slips in between his words when he speaks, not intending to sound mocking. “I think, Mr. Kujo, that you’re confused. And surely, I don’t need to explain to you that Dio Brando, my father, is dead. As you may already know, I’m Giorno Giovanna.” Jotaro stares at him, jaw clenched and brow still furrowed. Expression hard and far from calm, fueled with rage and a determination Giorno recognizes as the determination a warrior carries within him —however, this is not a coliseum and there’s not pride or luck to prove; there’s no battle to fight. —

If Jotaro had something to do or say, it all was stopped by Joseph Joestar. “You look like him.” His words are almost unrecognizable and his voice in general sounds way too raspier, his age not helping him to articulate as a young person would, but still, even if it takes a bit more of effort, it’s still not impossible to understand him. All it takes is a bit more of attention. Giorno doesn’t stop looking at Jotaro, aware of the stand still present. The don doesn’t show his own stand, merely because doing so would mean a fight. And he’s sure that fighting for the sins of a dead man wouldn’t bring him out of the bottle he’s in; of a bastard. Maybe he’s viewed by them as the same trash Dio Brando was. Perhaps they all are ready to kill him; maybe not. Whatever they want, Giorno knows it’s not about this. And if it is, then he’s ready to fight. “You look like my grandfather, just like grandma Erina described him.” Jotaro swallows hard and presses his lips in a tight line, his brow is still furrowed; silent, he steps back and struts away, Mista keeping a close eye to him until he leaves in the same way they came. “I’m sorry for that,” says Josuke, “he’s… deeply affected by that battle.” Giorno nods, looking at Mista and once the gunslinger catches his sight, Giorno looks at Polnareff. Mista nods and taking Polnareff he looks at (Y/n), silently according to take care of Giorno while he’s away. (Y/n) nods and Mista closes the door behind his back. Looking at Josuke, Giorno nods. “I understand.” Joseph Joestar looks at him with half lidded eyes and a polite but more sincere smile, and Giorno takes the opportunity to talk. “Please, take a seat. May I ask what business do you have with me?” Jolyne sits beside Josuke, who’s at Joseph’s right side. “It’s not business, actually. It’s a family matter.” Jolyne states, looking expectantly at her great-grandfather. Joseph takes his time to catch his breath before speaking. “The Joestar family can defeat anything as long as it stays together.” When Giorno arches an eyebrow questioningly, Josuke smiles brightly, trying not to laugh. Still, his cheerful nature acts. “Yeah, Giorno, you’re a Joestar.” When Giorno tries to pull up an argument regarding Dio Brando being an adopted son of Jorge Joestar, Joseph raises his metallic hand; and when he does it, it makes a clicking sound that startles (Y/n) a bit, her hand locked with Giorno’s now as she sits beside him, in another office chair. “Let me tell you about the family, Giorno. And you’ll understand.” Giorno nods and Joseph starts talking, mentioning Jorge Joestar and Mary Joestar; Jonathan Joestar and Erina Pendleton, Dio Brando and the stone mask, Robert Speedwagon, William Zeppeli; then it’s about him, Suzie Q, Caesar Zeppeli, Jorge Joestar II and Elizabeth Joestar and the pillar men; Jotaro Kujo, himself, Jean Pierre Polnareff, Mohammed Avdol, Noriaki Kakyoin, Iggy, DIO and the atrocities he committed, the families he broke and the innumerable lives he ended on his way; Josuke, Okuyasu Nijimura, Reimi, Arnold, Koichi Hirose, Rohan Kishibe, Hayato, Tomoko Higashikata, Kira Yoshikage; Jolyne, her mother and Jotaro. By the end of the story and since Dio Brando and his actions were explained, Giorno holds (Y/n)’s hand in a tight embrace, as if he’s trying to calm himself with her presence. When Jolyne excuses herself and goes out to look at her dad, Josuke turns to him, and as if he’s reading his mind, Crazy Diamond’ user speaks, “It’s not your fault, you know, I mean, everything Dio did.” “It isn’t my fault, but I know he did damage to all of you. Starting off with Jonathan Joestar, who could have lived a good and long life. It’s not my fault, but it makes me think and have a different vision of him.”

Joseph smiles, then, and with a certain wisely expression, comments. “I know how you feel, and no; it’s not your fault. None of it. In fact, I thought you were going to scream at Jotaro for what he did.”

Giorno’s shrugs, starting to feel more in some kind of confidence with them. “Justice may come for all; one way or another.”

Josuke smiles, deciding to lighten up the aura in the room, aware of Giorno’s thoughtful expression. “I like him.”

Joseph laughs, “Someone says something accurate about justice and you like them just for that?”

As father and son laugh, (Y/n) looks at him, and while doing so, he does look at her. Grasping his hand, (Y/n) tries to make him feel better. Even if she knows that he’ll talk about it later, when the privacy of their room brings peace to the don.

•••

When Giorno gazes at the photograph of Jonathan Joestar and Erina Pendleton, his heart sinks on his chest. (Y/n) sits by his side, her hand around his arm. Looking at her, Giorno’s lips open, but he’s not able to talk. (Y/n) leans backwards, bringing him with her and when he’s finally settled on top of her, hands locked and bodies fused in relaxation, he starts unraveling.

“Remember when I told you about the expectations I used to have about him?”

(Y/n) hums in approval, running her hand down his back, noting how his strong muscles shift under her touch.

“With the truth… All of them are shattered.”

His statement feels like a call for help, a desperate need to choose if the truth is better than a fantasy. Then again, the only thing that survives is the truth, righteous actions and the consequences will always come out; whether he was aware of this, the expectations weren’t created during his teenage years, but during those nights when crying was useless back at when he was six.

And now, in his adult life, Giorno feels like a child again. Discovering that he can feel something more aside from fake calm; discovering that he can be loved and love; discovering that he’s human after all,

and nothing will ever take his humanity from him

. Only fate could decide about him, but it was so damn desperate sometimes, to think that despite being powerful aside from his social position, not even his stand could ever rewrite his past or his future.

“I understand what are you trying to say, and I think, in all seriousness, that you know who you are. Your progenitors don’t define who will you be. You may have their genes, but the person you decide to be, it’s up to you.”

“I don’t want to be like him, (Y/n).”

“I know, Gio. And you will not be; who you are is up to you.”

♦♦♦

Gazing around the coliseum, he looks down and the first thing he notices is the pink suit. Then, the blood on his hands, the strong smell of the iron surrounding his face and the wet sensation on his mouth and lips; and then, gazing down when something soft shifts underneath him the terror of the pile of bodies under him is almost exorbitant. The first faces he recognizes are Narancia’s and Fugo’s. Then, Abbacchio’s and Bruno’s clothes, Trish skirt stained with blood; and then, Risotto Nero and his men; all of them dead, their bodies seeming rather absorbed off blood. Feeling his heart beating furiously, Giorno looks at his hands once again, but his hands are no longer there; what was supposed to be his hands are now a pair of mirrors; and when both mirrors are in front of his face, Giorno finally gets to see were the smell of iron comes from: his lips and mouth are full of blood; and it’s not hard to connect the points and realize that they all are dead because of him. Of the monster he really is.—

With shaking breaths and cold sweat, Giorno’s eyes open just to find (Y/n)’s worried orbs looking at him from above as she stands at his side, barefoot, her hands on his shoulders and when it finally clicks, Giorno’s breathing quickens again and as (Y/n) sits beside him, the tears don’t stop.

•••

It’s been two weeks since his hopes were reduced to ashes and the most horrible sensation of fear woke up when Giorno sits on his desk resting his eyes after the piles of paperwork he worked through the day. His teal eyes are fixed intensely on the sunset, noticing each orange and pink tone lacing the sky when a sudden pang of sharpen pain on his head makes him close his eyes and lean his head on his hand.

“Giogio, are you okay?”

(Y/n)’s voice brings him out of the exorbitant pain and seems to ease it almost instantly. “Yeah, I’m just tired… And thirsty.”

She smiles sweetly and entering the office, the sudden warm of her hand makes him realize how cold he really felt. (Y/n) frowns, and as she leads him out of his office, asks “Are you sure you aren’t sick? You’re cold.”

“Must be the lack of physical movement, cara.”

She hums, “Right then, We’ll walk to the restaurant, Mister Giovanna.”

Giorno smiles and as they pass besides the painting of the goddess of love, supposed to be the guardian of the Joestar’s in Joseph’s words, Giorno almost prays to her for not being like him,

even if the pain of his head felt like the welcoming ritual for a life beyond human understanding.

#Teal and Burgundy #vampire!giorno #vampire! giorno giovanna #giorno giovanna x reader #fem reader #fem s/o #sfw #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #JJBA Vento Aureo #guido mista #panacotta fugo #Bruno Buccellati #naranica ghirga #Leone Abacchio #Risotto Nero #La Squadra di Esecuzione

[moody-bloosh]

long pasts | 1

oKAY SO I REALLY WANTED TO GET THIS OUT, i had this idea for an urban fantasy modern au thing in my head for the longest time and i just NKLNALKA neEDED TO GET IT OUT OKAY. 

this thing was born from my love of cop procedurals and supernatural shows so behold, supernatural buddy cop au. another passion project of mine ;;; 

plEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT THIS, (only if you want to tho uwu) 

Characters featured: Dio Brando, Giorno Giovanna, Jonathan Joestar

Summary: Because even monsters learn to care for things. Because even monsters have something they want to protect. Because even monsters have things they regret. 

The light is scarce. Your only source a solitary light bulb that casts a wan glow over your dank cell. You pass the time by watching the shadows flicker and dance on the wall of your cell. When you inevitably tire of that you lean back on the ground, and muse about the end of your short life, how unfair it all was, how it all ended so fast. You feel the sting of sorrow, knocking at the door of your unfeeling heart. You would cry, but you couldn’t anymore. Because the pain leaves, like an afterthought.

What is sadness and regret for a vampire? What are feelings? Let me tell you. It is a void. A dull emptiness that consumes you. Whatever flicker of a feeling you might have burns bright for an instant, then it is drained away, and all you’re left with is an all-consuming hollowness that threatens to overtake you. You know can still pretend to feel, you know how to empathize, but it leaves in an instant. To feel is an exercise, one you must study and learn. To feel is a muscle that you must willingly use. You are lucky at least, you know what it’s like. And you know know this because you were human once.

You take a deep breath even though you don’t need to. But it gives you courage; at least, that’s what you assume it felt like. When you stand up, you resolve to leave your regrets in this cage. When you knock on the door of your cell and you try to remember all the times you felt courageous and confident. (To be honest, there wasn’t much to go off of.)

“I’ll do it,” you say even though you have no stake in whatever goes on with the world now. You say you will do it even though there is no point to it, because living in this dark cell would get boring and you’d go insane if you stayed cooped up in this cage. A fate worse than death. So you kill off the last vestiges of your old self, and commit yourself to this purgatory.

The door to your cell opens, and you half expect to recoil from it, hissing and scratching at the warm light. But you don’t. The warmth is there, but only for an instant. The man smiles. He is Jonathan Joestar, the man charged with defending the country, the man who had found you off the side of the road tearfully devouring wild animals. You were to be his secret weapon in taking down the infamous crime syndicate – strange, you couldn’t remember what it was called…

Well, for whatever it was worth. The guy in charge of the syndicate was supposed to be the guy who turned you into this. So, there’s that. But truthfully, the opportunity for revenge didn’t appeal to you anymore. The drawback of losing emotions, you supposed. But maybe, if you could kill him. It would give you something new to feel. Jonathan chuckles as he clasps his hands together, his eyes glimmering with a conspiratorial twinkle.

“Shall we prepare then?”

Lovingly equipped with a choker that has an adorable bomb attached and a tracking device for good measure, if you were to say, wander off from your partner, your head would explode. Though it wouldn’t kill you, it would incapacitate you for about an hour. That was how they caught you, you remember. They blew up your head and then threw you into that cell and when you had reformed that was when they had asked you, no maneuvered you into joining their foolish crusade.

You watch as they hand your metaphorical leash to your newly appointed partner. A stunningly beautiful man with soft looking blonde hair and a smug smirk. Dio Brando, they called him. A prodigy and Jonathan’s adoptive brother. You meet his gaze head on to study him further, the look in his eyes told you something you had already surmised: that he was not a fan of your kind. Jonathan doesn’t seem to notice the hostility as he cheerfully moves to introduce the two of you.

Blatantly ignoring his hostility you stretched out your hand, “my name is _____.”

In lieu of a response, he pushes a button.

Jonathan groans as if it is some slight inconvenience, his brows are furrowed as he glares at Dio, “you certainly do have a knack for horrible first impressions.”

“Not horrible,” Dio says smugly, “memorable.”

You hear a beep and then everything goes dark.

When you wake up again, you’re in a car. That was certainly an explosive self-introduction. You look out the window, it’s a bright sunny day today. People amble around the street, phone in hand as they try to get where they want to go and cars pass by like lumbering elephants. You catch your partner’s reflection through the window and begin to think that he was born with a perpetual frown on his face.

“It was nice meeting you by the way,” you say, hoping to break the ice.

“The pleasure was all mine,” Dio says, “it’s good to see you’ve recovered from our first meeting.”

“It really blew me away,” you chuckled. Prompting a raised eyebrow from Dio, after all, he was used to people blowing up on him. So your disinterest and even amusement was… intriguing.  

Well, it wasn’t like you were going to plot his demise just because he blew your head up. You found that you were quickly becoming desensitized to certain aspects that would normally have irked you as a human. Perhaps that was the side effects of vampirism. Looking at it in the grand scheme of things, getting your head blown up wouldn’t be that big of a road bump. So you joke and take it all in stride. Surely, someday this would all be some memory you could recall and… well, you didn’t know if you’d be able to laugh at it.

Dio doesn’t take kindly to your disinterest, so instead he intentionally breaks hard so that you hit your head on the dashboard.

“Do try not to bore me, _____,” he says.

“Likewise, Mr. Brando,” you said, wiping away the dark thing that oozes from the small scratch on your forehead. Something dark flickers in the pit of your stomach, something vaguely human. You can’t help but smile. Because you know it will annoy him even more.

Thus, this was the beginning of your strange partnership. Sure, you had your differences. But there was just something about him. Something that made you feel as if you were still human, even when you had just finished devouring half of an infamous drug ring that threatened to distribute some type of new experimental drug that would threaten the country’s peace.

As much as you dislike it, you can’t help but begin to grow attached to Dio. There was something about the way he would wipe the blood and guts off your lips after he’d set you on some goons. Something about the way he was somehow so protective over his car, how deep down he was just a big dork.

There was something so quintessentially human about him and you coveted that. So you stand by him, fiercely protective and insanely loyal. Because you wanted to protect his fragile human life in the same way you wished you could have protected yours. You want him to live in the way you weren’t able to. So you plow through every mission by his side and rise up the ranks. Because when you were with him, you felt human.

Your next mission leads you straight into the heart of the leader of that infamous crime syndicate. Finally, all those days and nights spent ambling around in dirty motels and cramped cars would pay off. For once, the goal was something in your sight. No more taking down the syndicate from the inside. Now you were going to take down the syndicate itself. The elusive crime boss… whose name still eluded you, would finally be in the spotlight long enough for you to take them down.

The mission was simple, find the crime boss and take them down. Easy as pie. Dio would run recon and it was up to you to take them out, ‘as cleanly as possible’. Jonathan’s request. You maintain your vantage position on the ledge of the church, though something in your senses sing, ‘not right, not right, something isn’t right.’ Something strange colors the air in a way you are deeply unsure about.

You pause, taking a few steps back as you eye the busy suburb. It seemed like an ordinary Sunday afternoon, people in church, people in parks, people spending the day with their loved ones. You could hardly believe that there was a dangerous crime boss in town, but then again you should never judge a book by its cover. Frowning as you absently taking a sip out of your blood bag, you reach for your radio.

“Dio, tell me what the crime boss looks like again.”

Dio huffs on the other side of the line, “really? And I thought you vampires were supposed to be our superiors in every way.”

You snort, “my memory’s still good enough to remember that you threw me into a headlock when we first met.”

He chuckles, “and what fond memories those were. Fine, I’ll tell you, the crime boss – wait, I see movement. Head to the alley by the church.”

“Copy.” You jump down the roof, with everybody preoccupied with their lives, they never even noticed you. Blanketed by the shadows of the alleyway, you whisper into your communicator. “Now what?”

“Get to the church,” Dio instructs, “I do hope you don’t burn up by the way.”

“You’ve seen me walk around in the day and that’s the cliché you’re going for?”

“Clichés are there for a reason, dear ______.”

You shrug as you enter the church as casually as you can. Or at least, as casually as an undead wearing a ratty black shirt and dark fatigues could. The people are immersed in prayer, they wouldn’t notice a thing.

“Update on that crime lord, Dio, I need to know who I’m taking out.”

“Be patient,” he manages to say before he barks out your next orders, “take the seat in the very front. Left side.”

You weave through the congregation silently and finally; you take the seat in front. Half expecting the person beside you to be the crime boss, you are pleasantly surprised to find that it is simply an old woman. Her eyes closed and her hands folded in prayer.

“Dio?”

In lieu of a response, you hear an apology, then laughter. Something seems to click in your head, a switch being shut. You tremble as an uncontrollable thirst swells in your throat.

Burns. Burns. Burns.

You retch, coughing up blood. Your vision blurs. The only thing you can think of, is quenching your insatiable thirst. Everything is drenched in fog, you barely hear the screaming, barely register the crying. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. All you can smell is blood. All you want is blood. You move around. Why is it so noisy? It’s a church isn’t it? Shouldn’t it be quiet?

At the end of it all, when all was said and done. You no longer thirst. No. You don’t want to look at it, you don’t want to see it. You couldn’t have. Your shaky hands find their way to the doors of the church, you push. Was it a set up? What happened? You couldn’t have. You couldn’t have.

Your partner greets you on the front step. The beautiful suburb was burning behind him.

“Dio, are you alright?” You stumble to him, like a broken old man, like a weak little girl. “It was a set up, wasn’t it? Something’s wrong…”

You reach out to hold him, for comfort, for something human.

“No, everything went according to plan,” he tells you, as you cling to him, sticky with blood and guts, his voice soft and soothing, “I managed to take him down.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You played your part perfectly. You did everything right,” he says. “Scapegoat.”

When he pushes you away from him and clicks on the remote, before everything goes black, you catch a glimpse of his face. Twisted in joy, the face of a victor. Everything had gone to plan. You never even noticed the strings attached to you.

“Dio, why?”  

Beneath the glow of the stars, away form the acerbic air of the city, two figures huddle by a campfire. One of them shivers, the other is still. He is the lone survivor of a massacre that took place 10 years ago. One orchestrated by the infamous crime boss. The other, is said infamous crime boss, or rather, their hapless partner who took the fall for them so that said crime boss could expand his territory without the authorities breathing down his neck.

“So he betrayed you, all of you played into his hands that easily,” Giorno mused. “Is that why he tried to have us killed?”  

“To make it more believable,” you say. “And what a pretty picture it would paint, the man who brought down a criminal empire, lost his family in that whole debacle. No sane person would think he was complicit in any way. And then his treacherous, monster of a partner would be tossed somewhere to rot for all eternity.”

Giorno keeps quiet for a long time. The night is silent, save for the crackling of the fire.

“Then you found me in that coffin and a decade had passed me by,” you finished. “I never really got to thank you for that, did I?”

“No need,” Giorno says plainly, “the only thanks I want from you is your loyal service.”

Ah, yet again, were you to assist in the take down of a criminal organization? Really… You study the man, no, the boy really, in front of you. You didn’t know it at first, but he was the little one in the church. A miracle survivor from your massacre. Sometimes, you half-expect him to turn around and lock you back in your coffin. But he has something bigger he wants to accomplish. Something even bigger than avenging the deaths of everyone who meant anything to him. It was: kill the man who orchestrated the whole thing and then avenging those deaths.

“You look like your father, you know,” you tell him. “You look so much like Dio… when you opened that coffin…”

“Don’t say his name,” Giorno sneers.

He was so unlike his father. Dio, who had the warmest smile. Dio, who had such passionate eyes. It was only now that you truly understood, that his warmth belied ruthlessness. You never really knew who Dio Brando was. You couldn’t trust your memories, because most likely the man you thought you knew was simply a lie concocted in order to get you to fall for his ploy.  

When Giorno finds you, he asks you to join him on his mission. You accept because you have nothing to return to. Because his betrayal still stings, especially when all it can do is rot in a godforsaken coffin for 10 years. Because it is an ultimately, human thing to do.

Such is the tale. 

A boy who hates his father and a monster who wants to be human.

#dio brando x reader #supernatural buddy cop au #jojo's bizarre adventure #phantom blood #modern au #vampire!reader #play #side b

[lovehotelreservation]

My Dirty Little Shame - The Disgrace and The Incompetent [2/?]

Summary: A Stand User. A villain.

No matter how you were classified as, in the eyes of Abbacchio and Aizawa, you were someone in dire need of discipline by their hand.

And after all that had transpired between you and the two of them, your punishment couldn’t come sooner enough.

Rating: PG-13 [Rating will go up]

Pairing: Abbacchio/Reader/Aizawa

[Next Chapter]

YEEHAW EVERYONE I HAVE RETURNED WITH A NEW UPDATE!!!

Thanks so much to everyone who expressed their interest in the first chapter of this new piece! With Part 5's anime having ended already while BNHA's new season begins tomorrow!!! I wanted to return to this fic, as there's still much I wanted to share with this work! Especially LEWDZ

Anyway, as always, I hope you enjoy!

--------------

Just where the hell was Narancia?

Scowling, Abbacchio reached up to adjust the police cap atop his head. Though he wasn't wearing his usual eccentrically revealing gothic robes, he was still sweltering within Tokyo's humid summer in the police uniform that he was currently wearing. With his black lipstick scrubbed off and his silken, ivory locks tied up in a bun, he was much more presentable--and unrecognizable--in appearance.

It had been a busy week.

Abbacchio had much on his mind, going from caring little about the upcoming Summer Olympics--save for the bit of country pride that would arise if Italy won gold--to jetting off on the next flight to Tokyo as soon as he was given approval.

Namely on how he planned on devastating you the moment he managed to track you down.

Though, he still had to be considerate of why he was allowed to go on what was essentially a revenge trip in the first place.

This office was just so damn golden.

And floral.

And Moschino.

"While Abbacchio had come to see Giorno as a close friend, a trusted ally, and a respected don, there was something so gaudy and tryhard about the young boss's office space that made him want to start smoking and use the coffee table bonsai tree as an ashtray. And, indeed, he was doing just that, a lit cigarette perched between his fingers.

Though, with Giorno sitting at his desk just before the royal blue velvet sofa that Abbacchio was lounging upon, he was at least respectful enough to tap the ashes onto the designated tray.

"--While I'm well aware of where Passione must stand in terms of global affairs, Mr. Polnareff has been a great friend and ally, and I feel that assisting the Speedwagon Foundation would be in our best interest," Giorno remarked, his chin resting upon his steepled fingers, all while his eyes trailed over the array of documents currently displayed on his desk. He reached down to sift through the file dedicated to Koori and the recent attack on the Olympic village, retrieving a picture of the ice skater to show to Abbacchio, his eyes narrowing with resolve.

"After all, we need to make sure Ghiaccio gets captured at last so we can stop La Squadra from spreading out their influence abroad."

Reclined fully back against the sofa, Abbacchio allowed for a haze of grey smoke to escape his lips. "...I'm well aware." His position was familiar, reminiscent of those warm, idyllic afternoons spent with you. Your head on his lap, affectionate eyes staring sweetly up at him while your fingers teasingly trailed along his chest.

Up until he had enough, seizing your wrist before splaying you upon the couch and smothering your lips with smokey kisses.

His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, knowing that if he were to even glance at the photo, he was going to destroy something. While Ghiaccio was always an especially irritating sight that caused sore eyes, Abbacchio's fury came from the connection that the two of you had together.

How your arms wrapped so snuggly around Ghiaccio's neck, one of your eyes fluttering shut in a wink before you disappeared from his life.

Seeing Abbacchio's averted stare, Giorno closed his eyes, a light chuckle escaping him as he slipped the photo back to its file. "Of course." His attention shifted over to another file, one which bore the seal of Japan's Hero Public Safety Commission. "...Still, to better our chances, the Speedwagon Foundation is requesting that we join together with the Heroes Association during the Olympics--"

Abbacchio glanced down.

Giorno's bonsai tree really was looking deficient in cigarette ashes.

Following his gaze and how his hands took hold of his cigarette, Giorno only proceeded to sigh, "I understand that it's already requesting much of you to assist with international affairs, Abbacchio. However, from what I could see, while Narancia will surely be needed, only you and Eraserhead will find the greatest success together since the two of you had similar encounters--"

Abrupt and unceremonious, Abbacchio was suddenly on his feet. His hand lowered, flicking ash to its designated tray. A respectful manner in contrast to the glare in his eyes--still less volatile than from when he saw Giorno as a hapless new recruit instead of the reliable don that he was today.

"Tch--I don't need anyone's help. I've got no reason to work with a so-called Hero who couldn't even do his job right," Abbacchio nearly spat out just before he turned to make his leave, his eyes facing forward to the future he was willing to claw his way towards.

The future he saw was you bound in chains, whether in an Italian prison cell, or locked away in his bedroom.

And though Giorno expected more or less for this mission debriefing to end as it did, he still couldn't help but smile as Abbacchio added,

"Revenge will see me through."

However, while Abbacchio's vengeance could match that of the sun, his eyes couldn't withstand the intense brightness of summer. Reaching for the front of his uniform, he retrieved the rather unfortunate pair of non-Gucci shades that had been provided by the Speedwagon Foundation for his disguise, slipping them on with displeasure.

He peered around the crowd of excited spectators in hopes of catching a glimpse of Narancia. However, in this age of Quirks, to find a scrawny Italian 20-something dressed in an orange Supreme hoodie and a purple Moschino skort proved to be annoyingly difficult.

While Abbacchio was to patrol around the arena for when Ghiaccio would take the Olympic stage, Narancia was supposed to be doing recon around the premises, seeking out all possible escape routes that the gangster-turned-athlete could utilize. It took a great deal of either courage, stupidity, or courageous stupidity for Ghiaccio to have even resurfaced in the public eye to such a degree.

Though, as Abbacchio could reason, by what he was aware of La Squadra, he wouldn't have been surprised if this was in relation to whatever business relationship that was struck up with the yakuza in exchange for hosting him in Japan.

That and pride.

So much.

Goddamn.

Pride.

Contemplating as to why Ghiaccio made his return--along with, more importantly, why you showed yourself once again--Abbacchio prepared to do another patrol around the arena's premises.

Up until he caught a glimpse of a young man running by the stands, his Supreme fanny pack--worn diagonally across his chest--bounced slightly against his front with each hurried step.

With the flash of orange and purple, Abbacchio snorted under his breath.

There was only one person that scrawny who could dress that ugly.

Still, there had to be some reason that Narancia was too busy running about to report back. With that in mind, Abbacchio proceeded to trail after him, right as a Bakugou Katsuki was introduced to the crowd.

While Abbacchio made his way past stands of a different nature from what he was used to, a lone Aizawa was in one of the overseeing VIP rooms, staring out towards the grand obstacle course below where athletes would demonstrate the power of their Quirks. His eyes shifted over to the clock that was hanging on the wall towards his right, his eyebrows furrowing as he let out a displeased hum.

Just where the hell was Midoriya?

With the Olympics set to begin soon, Midoriya should have returned from his run-through of the entire Coliseum space. Having completed his studies and graduated from UA High, he had finally set out to accomplish his dreams of being a professional hero.

While balancing on top of his own participation in the Olympic games, he was tasked with assisting his former teacher, as per the request of Toshinori. Given the international connections regarding this mission, he near pleaded to be able to help out and broaden the scope of his experience.

Though Midoriya looked to be all too eager to take on his new role, Aizawa could only look towards this mission with burning vengeance and bitter longing.

A sight that he could only and truly gaze at by the work of his upgraded goggles.

This office was just too damn bright.

Calmly sitting at one of the many chairs by a conference table, Aizawa was tempted to already slip on the modified pair of goggles that were laid across the sleek oak surface.

A specially designed pair from the Speedwagon Foundation, the international organization that dealt with a certain subset of people who had Quirk-like abilities.

They weren't Heroes by any means.

Rather, as the Speedwagon Foundation referred to them, they were Stand users.

Truly the one crucial point that separated Quirk from Stand was that the former could be seen by all while the latter was only able to be seen by those who also possessed the same power

At least for the most part.

After all, with the goggles that the Speedwagon Foundation had prepared just for him, he would now be able to see any Stand, no matter the user.

And now Aizawa--a Pro Hero who dealt with countless villains--was standing in one of the offices at the Speedwagon Foundation's temporary headquarters: a grand naval vessel that was docked off the coast of Morioh.

The task of hunting down not one but two Stand users was now officially on his shoulders, at the request of the two individuals sitting across from him.

To the left was a familiar face: lead detective for the Ghiaccio/Koori case and representative for both the police force and the Olympic Committee, Naomasa.

On the right was a stranger with a near unsettlingly familiar voice: a fortune teller and one of the top agents for the Speedwagon Foundation, Mohammed Avdol. A man of Egyptian descent, he carried himself ever so calm and reserved with the occasional hearty chuckle. Though, his outfit was bold with vibrant red cotton robes and big, ornate golden jewelry adorning his body. If Aizawa were to so much as close his eyes whenever Avdol spoke, he would have most certainly believed that a calm but prideful Toshinori was in the room.

While not surprising, somehow the world's Number One Hero was involved in this whole ordeal, as well. And despite his logical dismissals, he still felt the beginnings of sparks of vengeance and the pangs of jealousy, the thought of you looking towards a close friend with the same desire you once showed to him.

"--thus, after reviewing the footage from All Might's agency, we have concluded that it is without doubt that Trouble Maker was seen on the premises, posing as part of the cleaning staff," Naomasa noted while presenting security camera stills. "However, considering her insistence on gaining access to Toshi's office, suspicion obviously arose, but she disappeared before she could be confronted."

Sure enough, disguise and all, you could be seen going about your 'duties'. While Aizawa was irritated thinking over what your intentions were, he was even more annoyed--albeit at himself--over how cute you looked in your work uniform.

Trouble Maker.

Apparently that was a familiar name amongst the yakuza, of a tempting siren who was not to be trifled with.

A simple but fitting title for you, even if earlier recollections of the time spent together were much more tender and sweet.

Perhaps now he would finally know just what caused that betrayal which had him scouring for revenge.

"For this to happen just mere weeks before the incident at the Olympic village..." Avdol trailed off, his eyes--once closed with contemplation--opening while his arms remained folded over his chest. "...I'm certain that whatever scheme is going on will most certainly involve Ghiaccio's appearance at the Olympics, whether by sabotage in favor of the yakuza or fleeing the country."

Aizawa reached for the goggles on the table, already rising from his seat. "Regardless, their intentions don't matter. I'll see to it that they are apprehended and brought to justice."

While Naomasa looked to be a bit flabbergasted at how fiercely determined Aizawa was, Avdol held a hand up, motioning for him to sit back down. "It is a relief to see that your resolve lives up to your reputation, Aizawa. However, while I trust you fully to take on this task, facing off against a Stand user is still much too different than facing against a villain."

"Believe me, I have experience with facing against Stands."

There was venom on Aizawa's tongue, a taste made even more bitter when a memory of your cheerful smile crossed his mind. One that was offered to him while he was struggling to so much as sit up from the concrete ground, just moments before you made your escape in the back of a van, the sight of you drawing Ghiaccio close to your chest before the backdoor shut.

Though Avdol's expression looked to be more sympathetic, he remained firm, all while his hand rested over a file that was dated nearly 7 years ago, of which was noted with a simple but resounding 'Mission Failed'. "We would still prefer you partner up with a Stand user, Aizawa, especially since one is on this mission as well." With a nod, he urged, "You should work alongside him. Though he does align himself with Passione, he is to be trusted and his experience would--"

"To work with the Italian mafia?" Aizawa interjected, his eyes narrowing while his tone struggled to remain neutral. "Pardon for what I must ask, Mr. Avdol, but are you out of your mind?" He near slammed his hand against his chest as he went on, lips curling into a snarl as emotions of both heated vengeance and a lingering heartache quickly resurfaced, "The responsibility for this matter falls onto me, and I will make sure this nuisance finally comes to an end with that woman in handcuffs."

Alarmed, Naomasa quickly turned towards Avdol, preparing to apologize for Aizawa's outburst. However, the Speedwagon Foundation representative looked to be calm, his eyes closing before pleasantly remarking, "I see this side to your reputation rings true as well."

Before Aizawa could get another word out, Naomasa immediately stepped in, his hands up in a gesture to calm down, "I understand that this mission has personal context for you, Aizawa. However, the success of this mission is of absolute importance." His expression becoming concerned, he added, "While it is imperative that Koori gets apprehended and whatever yakuza connections he has are revealed, Trouble Maker is a wholly different matter, especially if All Might gets involved."

While still tense, the more rational side of Aizawa struggled to reign him back in, that there was no place for his emotions during a mission debriefing of all things. “I agree that we should investigate further into why she took post at his office. However, I don't--" Recalling how perfectly you fit into his arms while he whisked you away to the bedroom came to mind. "--see how a Stand-- how a Quirk like hers would be that effective against him."

Naomasa quickly sifted through another folder, drawing out a summary report with a compilation of security camera stills at the bottom. Skimming over the details, he remarked, "It was said that during her time at All Might's office, Trouble Maker was asking about more..." Glancing up at Aizawa, he started to look flustered. "...personal questions regarding him. Gossip basically. But from what we know of the volatile and influential power that Trouble Maker's Stand has, if used against All Might then--"

"Shouta! The jig is that the world can't know that All Might fucks!"

Avdol jumped slightly in his seat.

Naomasa covered his face with his hands.

Aizawa readied his scarf.

Closing the door behind him before stepping into the debriefing room--having been out to go use the restroom but was lost after the third winding turn back--a grinning Hizashi proceeded to rub the back of his head while bowing 45 degrees out of respect. "Oh! Sorry! Sorry!"

Cupping his mouth with one hand, he loudly whispered, "The world can't know that All Might fuc--"

The rest of the mission debriefing took much longer than expected.

His expression looking utterly irritated upon recollection, Aizawa reached for his goggles, his grip on them turning into a clench.

At the very least, with Hizashi acting as one of the official Olympic sports commentators, there would always be eyes on Ghiaccio once he took to the field, which was to be soon. He received notice that Ghiaccio was to engage in the Quirk obstacle course, the very same one that he knew Bakugou was to compete in as well.

However, right as he heard the beginnings of the Italian national anthem, Aizawa glanced down towards the stands, only to see a familiar mass of green dashing by.

There was Midoriya.

And he looked to be pursuing something.

Aizawa tensed.

Could it be...?

While logic and rationality would have made him think to contact Midoriya first, emotions had him rushing out of the room in pursuit.

As Midoriya was one to seek after danger to handle it on his own, for him to not report back as ordered spoke volumes.

It wasn't long before Aizawa was rushing out the south gate of the Olympic Coliseum, whereupon he caught up to Midoriya, who had since stopped in his tracks.

At the same time, Abbacchio had just finally gotten hold of Narancia, who also came to a still at the south gate.

Abbacchio grabbed onto his shoulder, "Oi, Narancia--!"

Aizawa seized for the back of Midoriya's collar. "Midoriya, just where have you--?"

Both paused upon hearing an irritatingly familiar inflection.

Abbacchio and Aizawa looked up from their respective partners, soon facing one another, eye to eye.

A disgraced cop who had since fallen to the influence of the mafia.

An incompetent excuse of a hero who had seen better days.

Their eyes narrowed towards one another in a harsh glare.

However, before either could speak up, they heard the delighted cries of,

"Ayy, Signore Midoriya! Any luck on your end?"

"Ahh! Narancia-san! Not yet, but I hope your search has been productive!"

The two greeted one another with a wave.

Alarmed, Abbacchio and Aizawa were quick to utter out a near united, "What?!"

It was then that, at last, Narancia and Midoriya had turned to face their respective superiors.

And all Abbacchio and Aizawa could see was red.

Namely, an achingly familiar shade of rouge that was present on their respective partners' cheeks as a kissmark.

"Ahh Abbacchio! There you are!" Narancia beamed excitedly while his arms folded behind his head, "My bad, but I was helping a pretty tourist who said she was looking for her baby boy!"

"Ai- Ai-Aizawa-sensei!" Midoriya stuttered out in a fluster while quickly wiping the kissmark away. "I'm so sorry! While I was canvassing the area, a distressed woman approached me and said she was looking for her kitten!"

The words that were uttered out struck at the two.

Baby boy.

Kitten.

You were here.

#leone abbacchio #aizawa shouta #jjba #bnha #reader insert #My Dirty Little Shame #Fic #management will return in a queue minutes

[ijenblue]

The day my girlfriend started drinking with Abbacchio (and why she never will again)

Giorno x Drunk and Needy!S/O

You were never the type to drink often, but Abbacchio was. And when you’re best friends with Abbacchio, that means you’re gonna spend a lot of your nights trying to keep wine bottles from his long and crafty fingers. But tonight, you were feeling a bit down. You didn’t have the energy to keep the alcoholic on his leash and stop him from turning into a drunk mess. and so you thought:

If I can’t beat ’em, join 'em

It didn’t take long for the alcohol to take effect. You didn’t quite enjoy the taste of wine as much as Abbacchio did so you had found yourself digging into your boyfriend's stash. You didn’t want to drink anything important or valuable so you pulled out the bottle of Disaronno and mixed a generous amount with coke. From the first five sips, you started feeling your buzz drowning out your feelings of loneliness. Abbacchio only encouraged you to drink more and more of the concoction till you felt your lips becoming a little loose and your better judgment slipping away. Now, what do you think usually happens when two best friends are alone and drunk off their ass? Because that’s exactly what happened.

Abbacchio was the quiet drunk this time around. Usually, he would be the one complaining about little things while you listened but tonight the roles were reversed, You had been feeling some type of way about your boyfriend and his absence lately; your drunk mind and Abbacchio somehow convinced you that now was the best time to get it all off your chest.

“He’s almost like a ghost, you know? I know he’s there for me and all but sometimes I wish he could just not do anything for a day. Maybe he’d see how touch-starved he makes me.” You trail off, sipping on the dark drink that started to lose its bitter taste.

“And He’s an asshole!” Abbacchio adds from the couch across from you. He has his long body draped across the leather with his legs kicked up on the armrest. His nearly empty bottle is clutched in his hands as he speaks. You laugh at his words before agreeing.

“And He’s an asshole...” You add softly, laying back on the couch and closing your eyes. You had to admit you felt a little dizzy but you didn’t want to think you were as drunk as you really were. Something about...denial? You didn’t have the patience to mull on how drunk you were now.

“He’s a cute asshole though. No..not cute...what’s the word, Abbacchio?”

“Annoying, full of himself...” He pauses to think of an actual answer while taking a swig from the bottle. “Sexy?”

“Sexy! That’s the word!” You slur your words slightly while laughing at nothing in particular. “A sexy asshole! It’s like...I want him to hold me and all but I also wanna yell at him for not holding me. Am I crazy? Am I crazy Abbacchio?” You repeat louder to him and he only shakes his head as an answer.

“He just doesn’t know how to have a girlfriend and be a Don.”

You pause to think about his words. That sounded correct to your drunk mind. It sounded way too close to home and yet you never considered it. But drunk you was still kinda sad that he never really talked about it.”Abbacchio, I think that’s the wisest thing you’ve said today.”

“Shut up. Your drunk anyway.” You giggle at his tone.

“Yeah, we’re drunk anyway.” You giggle some more before shooting straight up, a thought having just fluttered to your attention. “You know what I would do if he was here?”

“What would you do (y/n)?” Abbacchio indulges you with the question and sits up slightly to hear your answer. He really wasn’t eager to hear it but he figured he’d get things between you guys over and done with now. You hadn’t noticed yet, but Giorno had quietly walked into the room and paused to asses the scene. Abbacchio shakes his head at Giorno before settling back into his seat.

“If Giorno was here, I’d give him a piece of my mind ya know? I don’t ask for much but I wanna let him know, ya know? ‘What, do I have to cut my leg off to receive a hug or something? Does it have to be our anniversary to go on a date?’ That’s what I’d say...” You trail off with sad eyes.

Giorno is about to open his mouth to say something when Abbacchio holds up his hand silently, asking him to ‘shut the fuck up and listen’ with his eyes. You look over at Abbacchio and sigh.

“I must be boring you huh? You wanna go daw a bunch of fours on Mista’s face while he sleeps?” You suggest, starting to stand on wobbly legs.

“No! I mean- I’m not bored at all, you can continue.” He says quickly before drinking more and settling his eyes back to yours. “What were you saying?”

You give him a weird look before plopping back down on the couch. You doubted you could make it to Mista’s room anyway. “What was I saying? Oh right! And after I give him a piece of my mind, I’d give him a kiss. ‘I know it’s hard being the head of Passione and all...But I need some attention too.’ That’s what I’d say. I would hold him close and kiss him all over and beg him not to leave me soon. And if everything goes alright, I’ll be Mrs.Giovanna someday.”

Both Giorno and Abbacchio choke on their spit at the sudden words. You eye Abbacchio as he coughs but quickly turns to look behind you. You heard someone else choke at your words and you were near devastated to see Giorno’s guilty face.

“G-Giorno? How long were you- when did you- Where you listening to our conversation?!”

“No. I mean...Yes, I was.” He kept his eyes locked on yours and that made you want to sink into the solid ground and cease to exist. Even your drunk mind scorned you for your loose lips. But soon, Giorno’s eyes soften and you could feel the genuine worry in his ocean eyes. You couldn’t bear his gaze any longer so you turned to your drink on the coffee table.

I’m too sober for this, you thought to your drunk self as you reached for the glass. But Giorno was quick to call out to you and prevent the bad decision.

“Let’s get you some water instead.” He calmly states as he lightly grips your wrist. You hadn’t noticed when, but somehow he was now standing tall next to you with a face like stone. “It’s late,” he states a matter of factly before shooting Abbacchio a glare and helping you still your disobedient legs with his shoulder. “Let us head to bed.”

“W-Wait! I wanna keep drinking with Abbacchio...” You protested weakly. Your body was starting to feel heavy and your head was spinning, but feeling Giorno’s warmth next to you made your heart beat just a little faster than it had already been.

“(y/n) we should really go to bed. Abbacchio is going to have to be up early tomorrow anyway.” Abbacchio sighs audibly and stands from his spot. He really didn’t have to be up early but now that the Don was displeased with him getting his girlfriend drunk and in her feelings, he was sure there would be extra work for him in the early morning as payback.

“I’ll be fine (y/n). You need the rest.” Abbacchio chides in and assures his best friend that she isn’t missing anything. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” he waves goodbye and is soon seen disappearing behind the door to outside.

You turn to look into Giorno’s eyes and slightly separate yourself from him to try to walk on your own. You bit your lip as you attempted to still your steps, thinking of nothing but the words you said and Giorno’s worried expression. Once it’s apparent to Giorno that you won’t make it to the room alone, he appears by your side with a warm hand on your shoulder.

“If you don’t feel okay to walk up the steps, just let me know.” He informs you, not wanting to annoy you by being too doting. But that’s the thing, you wanted him to dote a little. You wanted his affection, his touch, his everything. You craved him so you nodded at his offer.

“Please...” you said weakly while wrapping your jelly-like arms around his neck and hopping into his arms. The skin contact felt amazing and you couldn’t tell if it was from being under the influence or from you being touch starved for the past week.

He quickly scaled the stairs and swung open the door to the room you shared. He placed you gently onto the blankets of the neatly made bed and helped you undress until you were comfortable enough to sleep. Lastly, he brings you a cup of water and brings it to your mouth to drink. Then’s when the tears came.

“I’m a mess, aren’t I Giorno?” You asked as you felt tears fall free from your tired eyes. “You don’t have to take care of me, I’ll be fine...” You sniffed as you wiped your tears away.

You had to do a double take when the sound of Giorno’s deep laugh resonated throughout the room. It was very...unexpected from a focused guy like him so you were startled at first. Had you done something funny? He squats to your level and brushes your messy hair from your face.

“You're so cute amore mio.” He says with a voice like silk. “Do you know what you do to me?”

You shake your head, your face flushing at his words, and he guides your shaky fingers into his much larger hands. He grips them lightly, warming up the fingers you hadn’t even noticed were cold. His eyes saddened for a moment, mulling over the things you said in the conversation with Abbacchio. He felt terrible, and his silence on the subject was eating him alive. He wanted to wait till you were sober to approach the problem again but he couldn’t hold it in.

“I’m sorry for neglecting you.” He says in one breath. He’s trying very hard to keep eye contact with you but your eyes were already watering at his words. One of his hands travels up your arm, leaving a burning trail from his body heat. “I want to show you just how much I treasure you and your incredible patience with me.” He leans in to place a chaste kiss upon your slightly parted and wanting lips. The taste of earlier decisions invades his tastebuds but he pushes through it, deepening the kiss and pulling you closer to him. When you part, you trip over words to say and take a moment longer to think for once tonight.

“All I ask is that you touch me more.” He chuckles at the slight slur in your words and finally climbs into the bed next to you where he can cherish you more.

“You don’t have to tell me twice tesoro.” He whispers to you, letting his hands roam your body freely. “If it’s my touch you desire, then I’ll never let my hands leave your body.”

__________

-a later conversation-

“That’s the last time you drink unsupervised.”

“Why? I wasn’t unsupervised! Abbacchio was there!”

“You threw up twice last night. Besides, Abbacchio doesn’t count as supervision.”

“Well, then when are we going to sit down and share a drink together?”

“Oh, you don’t wanna drink with me tesoro.”

“Why is that?”

“Because then you’ll be up all night screaming my name~”

#giorno giovanna #jojo part 5 #sfw #scenarios #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo imagines

[ifollowfugo]

Can i have the passione/Bruno's gangs with crush that has a sentient stand little hc/scenario here (they come to talk to crush but their asleep stand is there so they quitely talk,they don't yet that the stand is thieir person until this keeps happening for a while and one day the stand just aks them if they want them to wake their user up so they can confess) sorry if it's long or odd I love your stories and don't mind if you don't do it.

I think I didn’t get exactly what you wanted, so I hope you like these! I’m very sorry they took me so long, and I really hope they are worth the wait. Tell me what you think!

Undercut for length.

***

Bruno was already getting nervous as he approached (Name)’s bedroom. He was completely justified but he always got nervous in their presence.

He didn’t know how he could fall in love so deep so soon. It was something he hadn’t experienced before, they had taken his heart and hidden it somewhere he could not find.

He knocked on the door, but finding no answer he decided to go ahead and enter to make sure everything was fine. He found them sleeping, their face calm and their breath paced like nothing was wrong in the world. At least not in their world.

As he was making his way out, he found a figure sitting next to them, like lurking the shadows, that he recognized as a stand. For a moment he wondered if his stand also came out while he was sleeping and what he would do, alone in the world. He didn’t know whose it was, but it was just standing there, it didn’t seem like it meant any harm, so he left it.

Right when he was closing the door, he heard a voice.

“Did you need anything?” Bruno looked with wonder at the stand, used to the Pistols talking, and sometimes interacting with Spice Girl, but he hadn’t heard a lot more stands with their own ability of thought. “If you want, you can stay and chat until they wake up. I get a bit lonely.”

And so he did, that night and every night for about a week, until one night he let slip a glimpse of his true intentions, and had to spill everything.

“I truly hope to find the right time to tell them. I feel as if I couldn’t wait anymore, and yet every time I see them I freeze. I want to tell them how much their smile makes me feel like I’m floating, their eyes make me feel at ease, their voice is music to my ears. I have so much love I want to give them I feel I might explode.”

“Bruno?” He looked behind him and saw (Name) awake and with eyes filled with surprise and a hint of… love?

***

Abbacchio felt weird about them, but he didn’t understand why. They were just another member, just another person with whom he had to interact with on a daily basis. Why did he feel like he had something to be nervous about?

He continued thinking about that until one day he saw them talking with someone a little too close and, in his mind, he snapped. That was when he understood. He was smitten. A completely new feeling for him, he had given up on caring about someone else a long time ago. And yet, this person walked into his heart and left him no choice but to accept it and wondering what to do with these feelings. Should he act on them? Should he leave them be and hope the feelings will go away on their own?

Bringing someone into his never-ending pit of self-pity and self-hate wasn’t something he was looking forward to, but he couldn’t just go on without exposing his feelings, not anymore.

Slowly, his feet weighed by a ball and chain made out of his insecurities, he walked to where (Name) was supposed to be, instead finding them asleep and their stand watching over them. He started going back to where he came from when a hand grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Hi, Leone! Did you need anything? They’re asleep right now, but I can take a message!”

“No need. Thank you.” Already regretting getting close, Abbacchio tried to run away. But [Stand] didn’t let him.

“Oh, c’ mon. There’s something going on with you!” That stand clearly has their personality, it will never let the conversation go.

“Fine, if you really need to know. I came here because I need them to know I might have a crush on them… okay, I definitely do. And maybe a little more than that. It’s just that they have this something in them, it gives me hope for tomorrow. Before I met them, I would have never thought getting out of bed in the morning could be something good, never would I have thought I’d be excited to see someone again. And yet, here I am, making a fool of myself talking to a stand because I can’t keep it in no longer.”

“Leone, don’t say that. You’re not making a fool of yourself because you’re not talking to my stand. You’re talking to me. And I think what you just said was the most romantic thing I’ve ever had someone say about me. Thank you. Will you allow me to fully wake up and get dressed, and we can go grab a bite?”

***

Mista had a goal in mind. For the last three weeks, he had been trying to make (Name) fall in love with him, but it seemed like it wasn’t working, so he was making a final effort. He was going to declare his love in the grandest way he could think of.

He had Giorno make flowers out of anything he could find, prepared some drinks, some snacks made by him, good music, soft lights. Everything was ready. The only problem was, he couldn’t find them anywhere.

When he finally did, he found that they were sleeping on the couch in the living room. He decided to wait until they woke up, but he was clearly nervous and disappointed, so the pistols came out to ask him what was wrong.

“Mista! Why aren’t you confessing your feelings to (Name)?”

“Yes, Mista! We want to eat those snacks you made!” 

“What is going on here?” a strange voice resonated through the room. Mista recognized (Name)’s stand and immediately got even more nervous.

“N-nothing. We needed to talk to (Name)”

“I heard something about feelings? Are you confessing?” The stand looked excited. Was this a reflection of its user’s feelings?

“… yes. Would you like to hear the speech I prepared?”

“Of course! Confessions are so much fun!”

“Right?!” Mista was happy to be able to share his enthusiasm, even if it was with a stand. “Okay, so I thought I’d start explaining how much they mean to me, which is a lot, I’d be lost without them. Then, I’d tell them their eyes are the prettiest thing I’ve seen in my life, their lips feel like an oasis whenever they press them to my cheek, their arms look like they would be the best place in the world for me to rest at night. Then I’d show them all I’ve been working on the last couple of hours, and ask for a kiss. What do you say?”

“I say it was beautiful! But you might as well have done it here because… I woke them up. Sorry! I just couldn’t take it anymore. You’re a sweet guy!”

“WHAT?!” As Mista turned around, he was met with teary eyes by the protagonist of his dreams, smiling widely. His cheeks turned red, but he had a good feeling.

***

Narancia has always been an optimist person, most of the time you’d see him calm and almost giddy, with the exception of those times he lost his temper, but most of the time that lasted a few moments and normal Narancia would come back. Which is why, seeing him so nervous and preoccupied, everyone was worried about him.

Bruno tried asking what was wrong, but Narancia wouldn’t reveal a word. This was unusual, he has no secrets. Fugo snapped at him, asking him what his problem was, why was he so weird, and yet Narancia did not react the way he always did. Instead, he just shrugged and said it would be over soon, asking Mista not to inquire too. As an attempt to avoid any more questions from his teammates, Narancia decided to roam a little around the place, finding (Name) asleep in one of the couches.

He stopped to admire their calm face, a loving look forming on his face when he noticed a figure staring at him.

“Who are you?!” He jumped a little backward, somewhat embarrassed to have been caught in such a compromising situation.

“The important thing is what is troubling you. There is something worrying you, would you like to talk about it?”

“It’s just, I’m so in love with them. I feel happy and calm when they’re around, nothing in the world can hurt me if they’re by my side. And yet, I don’t know how they’d feel. I’m just a stupid kid who doesn’t know math and has a short temper, how am I going to compete with everyone else? Sometimes I imagine them liking me the way I like them, and my heart feels like it wants to jump out of my chest. And then, I remember they are not the kind of person to choose the idiot, and sadness takes over my heart. I can’t take it anymore, I need to know how they feel, but if they reject me I have no idea how I’m going to look past it. Would that ruin our friendship?”

“Not at all, Narancia. Maybe we can talk a little more about it, but know I adore and appreciate you and I would never stop talking to you.” He heard a voice he recognized, getting immediately on alert, but when he processed the word he calmed a little. At least he wouldn’t lose them.

***

Fugo is looking for (Name) because he has some things he needs to get off his chest. Whether they’ll like them or not wasn’t the thing, he just couldn’t keep them in anymore. Never would have thought he’d be in this situation, but they were something he couldn’t resist. An unstoppable force, colliding with the unmovable object he thought his heart was, but he was wrong.

He wandered around the place, trapped in his own thoughts when he noticed someone sleeping in the backyard. They must have fallen asleep while enjoying the grass, and that thought warmed his heart a little.

“They’re so beautiful…” Fugo whispered longingly for himself. Unaware that he had been heard.

“You think so too? You’re not so bad yourself!” Scared, he jumped a little and took some steps back.

“N-no… I don’t… Who are you… Wha…” It took him some time until he finally took the situation in. “Fine, there is no point on denying it anymore.”

Fugo got closer to them to admire their relaxed face. He loved knowing they could sleep without any worries on their minds.

“I find them exquisite. There is nothing in this world that brings me greater joy than knowing they’re safe and happy, nothing. Whenever I think about them, my mind wanders to whether I’ll be blessed with their love, their warmness someday. I don’t know what else to do with this except finally confessing what has been on my mind all this time. I want to thank them for our time together, their loving ways took me out of a bad place, and I know, they’re going to be the best thing to ever enter my life.”

When he finally looked to them again, he noticed the smallest hint that their eyes were open, and when they saw him, they finally got up.

“Panni, honey. Why don’t we discuss this over good tea? I know where we can go to get some privacy.”  

***

Giorno is determined to confess what has been on his mind for quite some time now. He just could never find the right time to do so. He’d always find them either coming back from a mission or leaving for one, bathing, out, sometimes he’d find them free but not in the right mood to take the news.

He needed them to understand how much he cared for them, but he couldn’t just say so. Finally, the circumstances allowed him to prepare for this, so he made some flower he knew they liked, dressed as elegantly as he could without it being suspicious, styled his hair in his iconic braid, and went looking for them.

By the time he finally arrived at his destination, he found them soundly sleeping still in their street clothes, they were clearly so tired they just fell asleep. He felt a sting of disappointment, he was really looking forward to finally fulfilling his mission, but he would never dare wake them if they so desperately needed it. As he was about to leave, he heard a voice that seemed to fill the room.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to say or do what you wanted. You look disappointed.”

“Who are you? Where are you? How did you know what I came here to do?”

“I just told you, I saw your face. I’m not an enemy, relax. I’m just keeping watch.” Keeping watch? “Maybe if you share with me, you’ll feel a little better.”

Giorno didn’t want to reveal his secrets to some stranger he couldn’t even see, but he really was getting desperate for getting it out, so he decided if they weren’t going to hurt him, he might just get it out.

“I’m just… so smitten with them. Whenever I see their smile, the world seems to brighten and everything has color. Every bad thing in the world gets fixed, every bad person gets what they deserve. Their faint smell of vanilla has me hypnotized, the way their hair falls besides their face, the cadence of their laugh. Their amazing way of seeing the world around them, so fresh and positive, reminds me there is still some good in the world, people are not completely corrupted by greed and arrogance. I need them by my side to remind me every time they look into y eyes what it is I’m fighting for. I wish to give them the world they are helping to create. Everything seems small if it’s next to them, never have I loved someone so much.”

“You… love me?” Sometime during his speech, they got up and walked carefully towards him. Now, standing a few centimeters away from him, it seemed like they wanted to reach out to him. And oh, how he wanted to reach out to them.

#jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo part 5 #golden wind #vento aureo #ougon no kaze #jojo #jojo no kimyō na bōken #guido mista #jjba #jojo stands #mista jojo #jojo mista #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #passione #jojo abbacchio #leone abbacchio #jojo narancia #narancia ghirga #fugo pannacotta #fugo post #jojo fugo #fugo #jojo giorno #giorno giovanna #pannacotta fugo #writing

[jjbaconsumedmysoul]

Giorno x Reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Apparently Giorno had sensed something was wrong when one of his men hadn’t reported back to him. His partner had shrugged it off as forgetfulness, but Giorno knew better than to trust one of his lower subordinates so blindly. So, right after you had left, he’s decided to follow you, to make sure you’d get home okay. He didn’t take no for an answer as he followed you footsteps out the back door.

And that was how you’d ended up here. Bruno was taking care of the fallen rival gang. They were all still breathing when he got to them, but most were badly injured. The spy had quickly given up all the information, knowing he had been beaten. He hurriedly confessed that he wasn’t actually the man he said he was, that one of the gang members had a stand that could modify other people’s appearances. You had kindly asked Bruno not to kill the terrified man, or anyone else for that matter, but you knew they would all receive thorough beatings.

You hadn’t been back in “HQ” since you were first attacked. Although you felt it was a bit silly to call it mafia HQ when to you it felt like a 24/7 sleepover party where the guys just hung out and had fun. Of course, it wasn’t fun right now. It was just like last time, only you and he had traded places. He lay asleep in his bed. You had blushed softly, realising it was the same bed you spent your day of recovery in. There was no guest bedroom; they weren’t even allowed to have guests, so, back then, Giorno had selflessly offered up his own bedroom for you to use.

But now he lay there, his chest slowly rising and falling as you sat on the large armchair next to the bed. You refused to leave the room, and you had actually managed to fall asleep there the night before. Through you were still quite tired and your neck was stiff, you wanted to be there when he woke up. You wanted to thank him, to apologise for getting yourself into trouble like that. You gazed at his soft sleeping form, his golden hair, which had slipped out of his usual braid and now lay in silken tendrils around his head. His face looked so peaceful: his long eyelashes resting against his soft cheek, his tender lips resting in a slight pout. You felt a twinge of guilt as your eyes fell over the slash on his cheek. It had been cleaned and the wound was already starting to heal, but you couldn’t help feeling that it was your fault he’s ended up so badly injured.

He had broken two ribs on his right side, as well as his left leg. Fugo had shown you how to wrap the splint last night when you were cleaning Giorno up. All the while he insisted that the wounds on his body weren’t severe, that he didn’t need such meticulous care. Then he passed out. He was obviously quite delirious. But hopefully the worst had passed, now you just had to wait for him to wake up. It had been about two hours since you’d eaten breakfast with the boys, and immediately returned to Giorno’s side. Bruno had checked in on you for the second time, and an soon as he shut the door, you heard small groan.

“Giorno?” You whispered, intertwining your fingers in his as you leaned over to see if he’d finally awoken. His eyelids opened, and you could see his eyes were just a bit tired and bloodshot, not as bright as they were usually. But it didn’t matter to you. “How are you feeling?”

He smiled as he saw you, and you felt a rush of relief overtaking your thoughts. But then, he grimaced as he rubbed his head, muttering curses in Italian.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, though he obviously had a slight headache from being beaten around the night before. “Are you okay?” You rolled your eyes.

“Giorno, I’m not the one who passed out from sheer pain and blood loss last night.” His fingers tightened around yours as struggled to find the words.

“But... mentally, (y/n). What he did to you was…” he gritted his teeth. You had all but forgotten about the instigating event. What mattered was recovery. The Don had been defeated, everyone was safe, it was all behind you now.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about me.” He bit his lip as if he were about to say something, but decided against it. Instead, you spoke again. “Thank you, Giorno. If you hadn’t been so attentive I would be… well I don’t know what would have happened, and I certainly don’t want to think about it right now.” You looked away ashamed. “I’m sorry for causing you trouble like that.” But he only laughed wryly. You looked back up at him with curiosity and concern.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. It was my fault this happened again.”

“Giorno, it’s not—”

“Listen to me, (y/n).” He tried to sit up so he could more easily speak with you but you quickly placed a firm yet gentle hand on his chest in order to guide him back down before he could hurt his ribs anymore. He panted with a slight jolt of pain, but nonetheless hoisted himself upright so he could look into your eyes sincerely. “I was stupid. And because of that I put you into more danger than you were in to begin with. I should have called for backup before I acted. I should have taken Mista or Bruno with me…” he paused, grimacing as he turned away and letting out a wry laugh. “But I’m still glad I got there when I did. I couldn’t bear hearing that slimy bastard gloat for a second longer.” You didn’t want to think about what had happened, so you tried to brush it away.

“It’s in the past Giorno, it won’t happen again…” he turned towards you, his cheeks rosy, his expression uncertain, he squeezed your hand in his.

“But… what if it does? What if it happens again and again all because I can’t control myself. (Y/n) when I’m around you I…” he took a deep breath as your heart began to speed up. Was he actually saying what you thought he was? “I think I finally realised just how deep it was when he…” Giorno could barely even get the words out. “When he kissed you. I was so selfish. All I could think about was how disgusting he was, how he had no right to do that to you, how I wished I was the one kissing you.” You, swallowed, your throat dry as you tried to wrap your head around this new vulnerable side of Giorno that you had never seen before.

“Giorno—”

“(Y/n), please, just listen to me for a second.” He stared down at his lap, unable to look you in the eye. “I knew you were a wonderful girl from the moment I met you. You were sweet and pretty and it was adorable how bad you were at Italian,” your face was burning as you remembered that first encounter. “But I shouldn’t have approached you. That’s what got you into trouble,” he gritted his teeth “and because he got away my only choice was to protect you. Parts of me were screaming out that I shouldn’t. Not that I shouldn’t protect you, but that I shouldn’t be near you. Whenever Mista talked about the fun you two had that day or Narancia told me how helpful you had been to him, well… I gave in to my urges and decided that no harm would come from meeting you in your walk to school or joining you at a café or inviting you back to the restaurant. I realised just how much I enjoyed having you around.” He smiled sweetly as he reminisced, but you could see the sadness in his eyes “But in the end, my instincts were right. I don’t want you getting hurt because of me. So I think it’s best that we cut ties. You don’t need someone like me throwing you into danger every single day just because I have a little crush…”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Giorno you idiot what are you saying?! Cut ties with Passione? With the kindest sweetest funniest dumbest people you’d ever met? The people who’d turned your semester from a monotone hellscape to an endless adventure of good times exploring Italy, laughing with friends, trying new foods, even some shopping with Trish... Like hell you were gonna give all that up for safety. You weren’t always known for making rational decisions but you could stand one day being attacked by a mafia boss if you got to spend the next thirty days with the boys. Besides, you’d escaped without even a scratch this time, you could handle yourself.

“I’m not going to to that, Giorno.”

He turned towards you, eyebrows raised in mild surprise; seems like he wasn’t used to anyone disobeying his orders. You scoffed lightly.

“Like I’m going to abandon my best friends?” You mused sarcastically. “Besides, you guys need me too, don’t you?” You were trying your best to cover up how shaken you were at the thought of losing Giorno with humour. “Obviously I’m a much better math tutor than Fugo. A-and someone needs to laugh at all of Mista’s bad jokes. And I’m sure Trish likes having a girl around…” a single tear escaped your eye, and he brought his thumb up to your face to brush it away, cupping your cheek in his palm.

“You’ll be so much safer—”

“I told you, I’m not leaving!” Another tear as you placed your second hand underneath Giorno’s palm, assuring him that your words were final. That you wouldn’t walk away. His hand seemed to grow heated as your fingers wrapped around it. “Giorno, this is my decision. I want to be with Passione, and I want… ” you bit your lip, still embarrassed about your feelings. Even though he had confessed his own, You still weren’t sure of yourself, of your adequacy, especially if he was trying to push you away. You dared to glance up into his eyes, not having realised until now that his face was only inches away from yours. His cheeks were flushed with color and his breath shallow as his eyes flickered down for a second. He bit his lip pensively as he refocused his gaze on your own two lips. Before you could even comprehend what you were doing, you began to lean in, to his touch. His cheeks radiated heat, but yours were probably no better as you nervously squeezed his hand. Your eyelids fluttered shut as you felt a pair of soft lips on yours. They were so gently, barely even kissing you as if Giorno was scared he might hurt you with his touch. But he couldn’t be further from the truth as you unconsciously brought your fingers up his chest, around the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair. You pulled him deeper into the kiss as you heard a slight moan rumble in his throat. You couldn’t tell if it lasted seconds or minutes before he pulled away to look in your eyes. You couldn’t quite gauge what you were feeling: whether you were mortified that you had just actually kissed him, scared of what he might say, or hungry for so many more kisses, confident that maybe you had won him over, that maybe you could go further than just kissing. You pushed all those swirling emotions deep inside as you looked as at Giorno with a hesitant smile.

“Is that… was that okay?”

“I…” Giorno looked at your lips again, seemingly at a loss for words. Then a smile came to his lips. He ran his hand through his hair as he looked away from you and giggled. “Wow, that was…” it was absolutely adorable how out of character he seemed right now. “It was more than okay,” he whispered. “It was incredible,” you smiled and hid your face embarrassedly as your heart fluttered. “But,” there was always a but with Giorno, wasn’t there? “Does this mean… are you sure, mia cara? You’re right, it’s your decision to make. If you keep associating with me, things will only get harder,” he paused as he held both your hands in his. You took the opportunity to interrupt what probably would have been another endless monologue about how guilty he felt.

“Well, I don’t give up on a challenge!” You giggled nervously as he smiled at your playfulness. He extended his hand, placing delicate fingers under your chin, tilting it upwards so he could look into your eyes.

“I suppose you don’t. Who am I to deny such a beautiful signorina her wishes?” You turned to hide your burning face as you giggled like a schoolgirl.

“Giorno, I’m not… y-you don’t have to…” he placed a soft kiss on your cheek as he whispered.

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

Author’s note: I didn’t edit this and i gotta go spend roughly 2 hours on my nsci set aaaaaaaaaAAAAH

#Giorno Giovanna #giorno x reader #x reader #reader insert #jjba #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #vento aureo #aaaaaaah #sorry im stress

[heartshredded]

unnecessarily long list of bruno HCs / history: 

1. Past 

Kindness (1): As a child, we know that his mother thought of him as kindhearted, and that it would be his downfall. Ever since he was young, Bruno was always someone thoughtful, he was the type who supported others rather than lean on them for support, whether they’re strangers or not. He knew that his mother would forget about his father and him, so he picked his father who needed support more. 

Father: He loves and respects him, his father was the light of his childhood and an inspiration to him even as he grew up. He was a simple fisherman who worked hard to make a living, as a child he had saw him help others without expecting anything in return. Bruno was devastated when he ended up in the hospital, and he would do anything to defend the only light in his early life. 

Murder: The streets of Italy are home to many criminals, the police force don’t do their jobs properly without corruption and greed being involved, Bruno knew that they were easily bribed with money. In order to protect his father, he resorted to murder, to him it was justifiable. The gangsters after his life were scum to him, trash, after an innocent man’s life and a single father no less. 

2. Teenage Years

Passione (1): In order to protect his father, since Bruno could not be hanging around his hospital room all day, he reluctantly approached Polpo and cleared the arrow test. In exchange for protection for his father in the hospital from the gangsters, he would work under Polpo’s command. He genuinely hates the mafia and wants nothing to do with them, but at this point he had no other choice. 

Passione (2): Bruno found out that Passione was involved with the drug trade, and the gang was also the main reason his father passed away in the hospital, thus his hatred for the mafia only grew. There was nothing Bruno could do, only hoping that someday Passione would change and stop harming innocent lives through drugs.

Drugs: He freezes up whenever he sees someone affected by them, and will go out of his way to help and consolidate them. Bruno might lecture them on why they would even take drugs willingly, especially with the profound effects it has and the amount of junkies he has seen over the years. Even if it is only helping one person, Bruno will do it, one person is better than none.

Kindness (2): Bruno, once you get past first meetings and aren’t an enemy, is a very caring person. He can be strict and stern as a leader should be in times of emergency, and he puts his teammates first before himself. All of his actions mean well even if they come off as mean, and he would not force anyone in his squad, instead he would give them a choice. His kindness has put him in a disadvantage, but his opponents before Giorno were not stand users, so he didn’t have too much trouble fighting back.

Recruitment: While people would not pick people off of the streets but avoid them instead, Bruno believes in hearing someone’s story. He firmly believes that people are not what they seem, and perhaps some really are as bad as they look, but the majority were simply treated unfairly. Bruno dislikes the mafia lifestyle, but the job gives him enough money to help out the locals and he isn’t afraid to share the money among everyone.

Fugo, Narancia, Abbacchio and Mista: He truly loves his whole team, and there are many times he wishes he could provide them more than simple comfort and words, but all of them inevitably joined the mafia lifestyle like he did. In all of their cases, they had already been abandoned by society, so Bruno still thought joining Passione was much better than whatever option was left for each of them on the streets alone. 

Specifically reaching out to Narancia, he had initially wished the boy not get involved with Passione and live the normal life that Bruno never had after their first meeting, but Narancia saw him as a role model and idolised him. Bruno’s acceptance of Narancia was a reluctant one, but hearing about his situation had made him understand that his choices were dim. He had cleared Polpo’s test as well, so Bruno couldn’t object.   

Meeting Giorno: After his fight with Giorno, he was surprised to meet someone who wished to overthrow the don, an idealistic dream that even Bruno himself could not bring himself to try. He knew common sense, and it dictated that the decision was suicidal. Yet he supported Giorno, because he was like the opportunity and pushed he had been waiting for, to finally stop Passione and the don from distributing drugs to innocent people. 

Basically, it was a gamble for Bruno to put his faith in Giorno and even he himself thought it was an impossible idea, but Giorno proved him wrong. Ever since he joined, many events began to spiral them into the events of Vento Aureo, and he knew his gamble was a success at the end.   

3. Post Vento Aureo (Everyone lives AU)

Best wishes: After the death of the don, the whole of their squad begin trying to piece together a Passione that did not rely on drug trades but another method of money. As the winners, they are essentially the new top rankings of the hierarchy in the gang, and the money that Diavolo previously owned belongs to them. 

Assuming Giorno is the new don, Bruno would be a capo, and he would ask everyone in the team what their own wishes were. Without thinking about the rest, just merely themselves, like if Narancia, Fugo or Mista would like to try attending school, or if they had any aspirations or dreams that they would like to pursue now that they did not need to be in the mafia anymore. They were all free from it, and Bruno would support their decisions the best he can. Whether they decide to stay, move on, or in between. 

Habits: Bruno is able to tolerant most foods, he doesn’t complain about it, especially when someone is speaking, and is a good listener. At the cost of consistently self-sacrificing himself, Bruno often fails to take care of himself when there is barely any time to be concerned for everyone else to begin with. On tiring days, he goes to sleep with his hair as how it is, not re-braiding it again, merely combing it to be as bowl-shaped as usual. 

He does drink alcohols in social settings with others and won’t reject them, but he prefers plain water or something that won’t make him drunk. On the subject of alcohol, he isn’t a lightweight nor a heavy drinker, more so in between. You will never see him drunk, he doesn’t drink even when he is stressed. Neither does he smoke.

Locals and Hobbies: He still spends time with the locals whenever he has the chance to, playing football with the children or helping the local auntie in the bakery carry some items, many of the locals recognise and are friendly towards him. There are many moments where he spends time talking to them, to make their day better as they go about their daily business. If you say his name, most would have something positive to say about him. 

Abbacchio: For Post Vento Aureo, Bruno was not surprised that Leone replied with wanting to stay by his side, just because he was who he was.They appreciate each others company.

#long post #wowie #hc. #m.bruno #17-18 paragraphs

[jjbaconsumedmysoul]

Giorno x Oblivious Reader: “Take Your Time”

It was quite strange: you had never been as dedicated to anything as you were to Passione. Before your stand powers had been discovered by Buccellati, you had just been a normal teenager, breezing through life, with no particular interests and no idea what you wanted to do when you were older. But the gang changed it all.

You worked as hard as you possibly could to carry out your missions flawlessly, volunteered for every job that came your way, obeyed each order given by any of the gang members. But Passione wasn’t just your work: it was your family. Narancia was your stupid little brother, Mista was your stupid big brother, Fugo was the weird cousin, Abbacchio was the drunk uncle, and Buccellati was your caring mother. Then, there was Giorno...

You were quite new to Passione when Giorno joined up, so you didn’t have as much trouble learning to trust him as others did. Maybe it was because you were a bit naïve (and you fully acknowledged that fact) but he was one of the kindest people you'd ever met, not to mention one of the most amazing all-around. His stand was the most powerful you had ever seen, and he didn't use it just for combat. Sometimes after a particularly rough battle or a disappointing defeat, he would amuse you by turning a spoon into a flower or a matchbook into a butterfly right before your eyes. He always managed to lighten your mood, even when you were at your worst. You would engage him in long and interesting conversations whenever he was treating your wounds, and soon you grew even closer to him than you were to any other of the gang members.

There was just something about his calm and quiet demeanor that struck you. While Fugo and Narancia were busy fighting and Mista was pushing around the Sex Pistols, you would sip your tea alongside him, occasionally glancing at his pensive silhouette and smiling. He was so compassionate and so comforting, and you were so glad to have such a wonderful companion and confidant.

You two were sipping tea on the balcony as usual. The door to the inside was closed, and muffled out most of Narancia’s angered cries as you and Giorno admired the azure morning sky. It was about 8:00 AM, and you were still in your pyjamas. But something about being outside here with him, staring off at the horizon; it was safe and comforting. And you couldn’t think of any better way to start your day.

Suddenly, you felt his warm hand wrap around your fingers, and you turned to see him gazing at you. In response, you grinned and returned the gesture with a soft squeeze. His skin was smooth and soothing as you ran your thumb over his digits. Then, he inhaled deeply, preparing himself to speak as he broke eye contact.

“(Y/n), I was wondering something…” he brought his other hand to cup yours, as if he was confiding some deep secret, and you looked at him questioningly. Giorno was generally a fairly physical person. Each time you saw him you brought him into a warm hug, and sometimes he would even kiss your hand after you’d returned from a missions. But right now he seemed nervous, and you weren’t quite sure why... “Would you like to go out for dinner tonight? I know this one restaurant that has the best chocolate sorbet you’ve ever tasted,” His face was just a bit red, and you couldn’t help but giggle a little.

“That would be great, Giorno! I know Narancia’s really been wanting to get some pizza–”

“Actually,” he cut you off, a bit flustered. “I was thinking just the two of us.” You raised your eyebrows at this development, letting out a small “Oh!”. But then, you chuckled and shook your head. It might be nice to get away from the other boys for a while, to relax and just spend some time with Giorno. You had been working very hard lately. Buccellati had even refused to give you any more missions until you took a small vacation...

“I think I know what you mean.” You took a sip of your tea before continuing to talk. “They can get a bit crazy, can’t they?” You gestured to the door behind you as you heard a loud shatter and a yelp from Fugo. Giorno gritted his teeth in a grimace, and you could sense his palms growing a bit sweaty.

“Yeah,” he laughed wryly. “That’s what I meant...”

For much of the rest day you laid in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, not quite knowing what to do. You weren’t quite bored out of your mind, but you were pretty close. All you wanted was another mission or a job; something like that would motivate you to actually change out of your pyjamas. But instead Mista and Narancia were off on a chase while everyone else was doing god knows what back at headquarters.

A knock sounded at the door and you bolted upright, desperate for any sort of action to stimulate your dull day. And that’s when you remembered what you had talked about with Giorno. Crap.

You swung open the door, and, sure enough, it was Giorno. Had you really slept that long? You were about stutter out your profuse apologies to him when you hesitated. He wasn’t wearing his normal ladybug suit (as you called it). He had on a black and gold tuxedo. The coat was perfectly fitted to accentuate his slim waist, and the shimmering fabric complemented his silky golden hair. He was absolutely breathtaking in the afternoon sunlight that shone through your window.

You panicked. Your face flushed, and you looked down at your own outfit: dirty pyjamas. You began to stutter, but he pressed a finger to your lips to hush you. He simply smirked, noting your usual forgetfulness.

“I’ll give you thirty minutes, okay? Meet you outside.” You nodded dumbly as he closed the door behind him.

A half hour later, you met him at the door. Hopefully your attire was suitable, though nothing you owned could even compared to how stunning Giorno looked right now. Your face flushed as you inspected his body: his broad chest, his muscular arms, his plump lips… You halted your thoughts, shaking your head at your own forwardness. Giorno may have been kind and compassionate, but Passione was his family. You were his family. Nothing more.

He had been staring at his watch when he heard your footsteps. A smile crept to his lips when he saw you, and a light blush dusted his cheeks.

“You look beautiful, (y/n).” You giggled and hid your face at the compliment, muttering thanks as he extended his arm towards yours. But you were still altogether flustered and a bit confused: why had he chose such an elegant restaurant? Why weren’t the other gang members joining you? Why did he look so beautiful?

It was in fact some of the best food you had ever had. Giorno had scored a reservation to the five star restaurant through “connections”, and you two sat at a secluded table in the back. He gently stroked your hand, as he urged you to take your mind off of gang business for the moment. However, you couldn't help asking him a few questions about what was going on with Diavolo and what exactly Mista and Narancia were out doing. But eventually you were able to relax, and finally the dessert came. Giorno held out his spoon to offer you the first taste, and it was just as delicious as he claimed it was. He smiled sweetly at your reaction.

The next day, you woke up as usual, hoping Buccellati might finally give you another assignment. You decided you’d catch up with Giorno later, and delay your morning tea and breakfast for the moment while you confronted your boss in his office. You were just a few inches from the door, when you paused, hearing a muffled voice permeating through the hardwood.

“I told you, just tell her you like her.”

“I can’t! Whenever I try to she just… Ugh, she’s gets so adorable and changes the subject–”

“That’s no excuse,”

“But aren’t my feelings obvious? Shouldn’t she know by now?”

Your stomach clenched at the conversation, and a sudden pang of guilt tugged at your chest. You shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but you were too shocked to even moved from the door. You could tell it was Buccellati and Giorno who were talking. But what did they mean? A defeated sigh sounded from behind the door.

“She didn’t even realise we were on a date,” Buccellati chuckled at this.

You stood there for a while, not even listening to the rest of their conversation. Your brain was still trying to put two and two together: did that mean… No, that was impossible… Did Giorno… Did he have feelings for you? A shiver ran across your skin as you took a deep shuddering breath. You should go have breakfast. Maybe raising your blood sugar, sitting down,  and taking a moment to think about things would help you regain your composure.

But before you could so much as take a step, the door swung open. Giorno’s eyes locked on yours and you stiffened. You felt your face heat, your heart quicken, an abrupt surge of adrenaline. He seemed to show a similar reaction to your sudden appearance, but quickly righted himself, fixing his suit and checking his hair.

“(y/n),” he stammered, and smiled as if he were about to greet you with his usual friendliness. Then, he paused, his face suddenly turning solemn, and almost stern. He firmly grabbed your shoulder. “Did you hear us?” You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Should you lie and tell him you hadn’t heard anything? Should you confess your utter confusion and dismay?

But you didn’t have to say anything, as an expression of understanding graced his face. He quickly grabbed your hand and began leading you away from Buccellati office. You wanted to protest or question his intentions, but you were still struck silent. Giorno lead you past several other rooms until he finally arrived at the small study. The two of you spent quite a few occasions alone there, just chatting together or reading in silence. However this time seemed much different as he closed the door behind you. You gasped as he brought your hands to his chest as if he were begging, pleading you for something.

“(Y/n),” he began, “You know how much I love you,” your eyes flashed open as you realised: he had told you that before. He had told you so many times before that he loved you, but you had just assumed he meant it in a different way. Your thoughts flashed back to every moment he had embrace you or kissed your cheek or stroked your hair. WHen he uttered those very words. “But please, I can’t take it anymore. I have tried my hardest to remain calm, to give you time to understand, but,” He hesitated, his eyes darting wildly as he searched for words. “Please, tell me you love me…” His voice dropped on the last words, and your breath halted suddenly.

Was that really why he had always been so nice to you? Why you always felt you could tell him anything, why he would always be there for you, why he turned a vase into a bouquet of roses when you were sad, why he offered you his jacket when you were cold? The thoughts struck you again and again as you tried your hardest to process what was even going on. Then, you heard Giorno’s sigh. His head dropped to his chest in defeat, and you panicked.

Your trembling fingers tilted his chin back up so you could look him in the eyes. And, yet, you dared not look him in the eyes. You felt fidgety, and you bit your lip as you scoured your brain for the proper response.

“Uh…” That certainly was not the right response! “What?” Dammit, that wasn’t right either. You thought, just maybe, you did love him, but you just couldn’t say it out loud. You couldn’t use words to convey your feelings.

Suddenly, you closed your eyes and leaned in, your heart racing at the thought of what you were about to do. Your lips gently grazed across his. For one moment you felt connected to him: you could feel his rapid pulse, his heated cheeks, his staggered breaths. And then the moment ended.

The room was completely still, save for the ticking of an antique clock that hung on the wall. But, gradually, his hand snaked down your hip, and you dared to glance up at his eyes. His smile was sweet and sincere, yet, hesitant. You took a deep breath: you needed to be honest with him. You had to say something.

“I’m sorry. I can’t believe I was so stupid,” You chuckled and shook your head at your own self-deprecating remarks, but he interrupted you.

“(Y/n), you’re not stupid.”

“But I didn’t even realise that you,” You took a shuddering breath, “That you had feelings for me. And that’s why I just don’t know what to say right now.” You caressed his soft cheek with the palm of your hand, and he tilted his head into the affectionate gesture. “But I think I love you…” Giorno closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He used his hand on your hip to pull you further into his embrace. You gasped as you felt your torsos collide, but he merely fluttered his eyelids open and stared down at you lovingly.

“I understand,” He placed a quick kiss on your forehead. “I don’t need an answer now, take your time.” Was that it? Was that all he had to say to you? It didn’t feel complete. You felt like you just needed something more.

You crashed your lips onto his once again, and felt his body stiffen with the sudden attack. But he melted into your arms as his fingers tangled themselves into your hair, pulling your lips even closer. The kiss was surprisingly rough as he nibbled at your lips. He had been waiting for so long to have you, and he wouldn’t hold back his passion anymore. Your entire body grew warm as he pressed your hips to his, and you grabbed his jacket to keep you from toppling onto the floor. He sucked at the corner of your mouth, tracing kisses down the outline of your jaw and onto your neck as your palms rested against his firm chest. You gasped as he lightly bit your collarbone, and you could feel his smirk against your skin as he drove your body closer to his. As he continued to mark your breast with his kisses, your hand slid down his chest, his abs, his hips. You suddenly groped his ass. He moaned.

Immediately, however, he pulled his lips away from your flesh and you let out a small whimper as you lost that comforting sense of warmth. But his hand remained on your cheek, stroking gently.

“Not yet,” He smile was sweet but sad. “You need time to think, time to figure out if you really love me, because I promise you,” Your entire body shivered as he clasped both his hands around your fingers, pressing a soft kiss you your knuckles as he knelt on one knee. You looked down at him in awe. “I love you. And if you love me I will cherish you, I will protect you, I will never let you go. And if that’s what you really want…” Unconsciously, you began to nod your head desperately at his words. But he merely chuckled and stroked your fingers.

“Take your time. Please.”

#giorno giovanna #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #x reader #reader insert #request