#whatever jjba part jotaro is a marine biologist in

[cart00ni]

i love penguins

[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.