#giomis fanfiction

[meramu-meramu]

Giorno knew someone had been coming into his room uninvited and he was determined to stage a devastating exposé. No stone would be left unturned. Soon, he would be privy to each and every single one of Mista’s secrets.

giomis/30k/finished/nsfw

Giorno liked this house and it had grown on Mista too, but perhaps what he loved most of all was the privacy and anonymity of it. There was no sound of traffic, no sudden visitors. Giorno would change, too. He became more fluid, more candid, something true about him shining through stronger at the edges. Sometimes, Mista could see it on his features before the words came out of his mouth; on those mornings, the tension would ease in his shoulders and his brow would smoothen and Mista would savor his own secret excitement and anticipation, knowing he would say 'pack a bag, we’re going to Ischia.'

Giorno glanced at him disinterestedly. Mista’s smile stiffened. It was the first time Giorno had looked at him all morning. “I was speaking to Mr Polnareff,” he said, tossing the edge of the mesh shawl over his shoulder, the fabric creasing against his neck.

“Right, right,” Mista said lightly. “What is it, anyway? That we couldn’t talk about downstairs.” With his back to the window, Giorno stopped in front of his desk, leaning against its edge. With a dull look in his eyes, his gaze idly passed over Mista’s face. “Hello? Are you listening?” With a twinge of annoyance, Mista impatiently leaned forward where he sat. “Come on, tell me.”

“...I’ll tell you,” Giorno said slowly as he turned his face away against the light. “As soon as I’ve thought of how to phrase it.”

“...Huh?” The cold rush that had rippled across his skin at the sound of Giorno outside the door returned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Giorno remained unmoving. Mista laughed nervously. “Come on. You’re stressing me out. Just tell me.” Giorno crossed his arms in silence. Sweat dotted Mista’s brow. His hand flopped down, hanging limply from his leg as he sank with a slow, silent exhale. “...Well, how long is it going to take?” He asked tiredly. “Can I go do something else in the meantime?”

“You don’t have anything to do,” Giorno’s features sharpened and his firm voice made Mista’s lips thin. “Be quiet.”

Mista laxly set his gaze on the floor and propped his head in his hand. He’s mad at me, he thought tiredly. What does he even have to be mad about? I haven’t done anything. Have I? Mista peered up at Giorno’s averted face and puffed up his lips. It’s not often that you’re mad at me, he thought, staring at Giorno’s moving lashes before the blurring white light and his slender fingers which creased the floral embroideries on his sleeves. The cold in his gut melted away. Are you going to scold me? Well, what will it be? Mista scratched his face with his pinky as the edges of his lips twitched into a smile. Are you going to berate me, yell at me?

[mrlowell]

Thanks for fixing canon <3

[jojolalas]

The unassuming white envelope had taunted him from the moment he spotted it in the pile of unsorted mail that morning and he'd been trying to get the nerve to open it ever since. The return address could only mean one thing: he had a match.

__

Mista signed up for a matchmaking service and finally gets matched with someone.

[lustastarte]

♠of love and sex | giomis♠

genre: smut

mista convinces don giorno to take a vacation

published: 2020

written by request

Knock knock.

"Yes?" The blonde received no answer. "Come i-"

"Mr. Giovanna~," a sculpted man sang, suddenly behind Giorno.

"Mista. For the last fucking time. I can and will put a bullet between your eyes if you don't stop doing that every time you feel the need to talk to me."

The brunette mocked him. "No you won't. I'm the only one that runs your errands without mistakes."

Giorno sighed, rubbing his thumb and index finger just above his brow, moving them apart, extending his hand before rubbing it over his forehead and loosely tied up hair. "What do you even want?"

"I feel like you could use a break," the older began massaging his counterpart's shoulders.

The blonde scoffed, taking a long sip of his hot, dark beverage. "A break? I run the mafia, Guido. If I take a break, this whole thing crumbles. Besides, I can't go anywhere without my body guard, and I don't want to overwork anyone."

Mista tilted his head, a puzzled look spreading across his face and shining out of his eyes. "Giorno. I am a 24/7 body guard. I live with you as your full time body guard."

"... You live with me because we're engaged, you absolute deadshit."

Mista giggled, running his hand through Giorno's hair. He strolled over, thick wooden soles clicking on the pristine marble floor and sat down on the younger man's desk.

"Come onnn," the older whined. "You need a break... Please? Just for like three days."

Giorno stayed silent, thinking about the problems that would arise from him leaving for just a few hours, not to mention days.

"Fine," he answered defeatedly after a full five minutes of sitting silently, ignoring Mista's eyes.

Giorno's golden blonde hair whipped behind him as he basked in the sunlight and cool breeze generated by the speed of Mista's stolen convertible. Taking a deep breath, he surveyed his surroundings. The beach seemed to go on for miles, salty waves kissing the sand, driftwood and seaweed docked just above the tide as decoration. Directly across the highway stood a rickety, wooden, top-heavy dock house, a weather-beaten, mini cabin of pure, disintegrating mid-eighteenth century raised up on bowed, waterlogged, rotting supports for the purpose of enabling elderly ladies in tea dresses and floppy hats with ribbons to sit out on good afternoons to watch the sailboats tutting along the horizon at their work - a setting rendered completely imagined and unreal by the thick, suffocating saline air surrounding the coast. Waves repetitively crashed over the warm, sunbaked sand, spreading it's webbed foam like the edge of a nightgown. The costal wind blew in bitter gusts, temporarily sending chills down the blonde's neck. The salty, fishy air lay heavily on his tongue and aggressively filled his nostrils. A golden comforter outlining the shimmering, tropical teal sea, creating a picture perfect image. The large, blazing sun was perched high in the sky, shining like Elijah's fiery chariot to heaven. The sun beat down on the calm ocean as another, chilly gust of wind forced itself past Giorno. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the faint taste of salt on the breeze that was complimented by the godly, ambrosial aroma of the flowers growing around the rolling dunes of sand.

The seaside cottage has mortar walls like cold set oatmeal, painted canary yellow with window frames of birch and shutters of grey. Inside is the gentle whirr of the overhead ceiling fan, chairs relaxed in the sunlight outside. The old windows are mullioned, overlooking the garden of flowers and towering palm trees. The rickety little building hunkered low on the coastal moor like a child in a heated round of hide-and-seek trying to keep from being caught. The cottage looked as if it was straight out of a fairytale with a happy ending or a picture book for little kids. It was rusty, old, and quite dusty from the outside, but rather welcoming inside. The whole house was made of birch and mortar. A tiny stove, two small wooden chairs, a circular table, a full sized bed, and that was it. Quaint and calming. Succulents, tropical flowers, and so much more flora. A wrought iron gate with paint chipping and flaking off was the door to the property, leading onto a narrow sandy path with small shells and pebbles. There was a tiny tide pool with barnacles, starfish, urchins, sand crabs, tropical fish, anemone, algae, seagrass, and a few seagulls. The dune grass was green and yellow, scorched and toasted by the sun in the balmy Italian summers.

"See? Are you happy you took this break now?" Mista opened the door to the cottage, breathing in a briny mix of cypress, blood lily, hibiscus, and African violet. He dropped their luggage on the creaky birch floor, sending a cloud of sand into the air.

"Not yet. It's pretty, but I kind of have a really important job to do."

"Awww, Gio-Gio, come on," Mista whined, pulling the other man into his chest. "You know you like it here~"

The blonde's face began to heat up, but he tried to keep a poker face. Mista connected their lips softly, smirking as he ran his hands down Giorno's sides. Giorno shuttered, leaning into Mista's chest. What was this feeling?  He felt as though he needed to throw up, but instead of stomach acid, he wanted to throw up his entire heart. Heat pooled in his abdomen.

He was all logic, feigned, cool detachment until Mista touched his skin. Then, something primitive, something carnal not only stirred in him, but completely took over his thinking. The rest of the dull, drab world became an unimportant blur that was quickly banished into the far, compartmentalized recesses of his subconscious mind. The only thing that mattered to him was being touched even more by Mista, kissing his slightly chapped lips, surrounded by scratchy stubble, feeling his large, warm hands on his stomach, trailing to his legs. Mista tried to be gentle with Giorno's clothing, not having the slightest desire to replace a $10,000 suit, but it was so hard. Giorno tried to keep his breathing steady, but soon began panting, not quite sure if out of nervousness or arousal.

With the front door closed and locked, every former falsification falls. The façade the mob boss and his guard show the world instantaneously melts away and all Mista wants is to fuck every drop of life out of Giorno. Every kiss he gives has a raw intensity as he glides his tongue down the blonde's body - Giorno's breathing fast, but his heart rate's much faster. Before they know how it happened, the two are naked, skin moving softly and desperately together, like the finest of Mulberry silk. Giorno groans as he feels Mista's hand enter from below, one finger moving against his most sensitive parts, their tongues entwined in an aggressively passionate kiss. Then Mista has three fingers inside, changing Giorno's heavy, desperate breathing with every thrust, taking pleasure in hearing his moans, which were so perfectly timed to his body. All at once, he stops and kisses from Giorno's neck to his stomach, his greedy hands light; then, he's licking and using his fingers all at once, watching the blonde's reaction, feeling and laughing at how his spindly legs move, watching his body writhe with each brush against the deepest parts of him.

"I'm gonna make you beg for this, you know that?"

Giorno whined in response, unable to form anything intelligible.

In seconds, he's on Giorno again, fucking him hard, just long enough to intoxicate his mind before stopping completely.

"Please- Please- Guido, I-"

"You what?" Mista smirked at the blonde, tugging on his hair as he pushes just his head in. Giorno cried out in misery, needing to feel his fiancé inside him. "Hmm?"

"I need you! I need you to- to fuck me sen-senseless! Please," he wailed, never before having this feeling.

That was all it took for Mista to give in, holding nothing back as he slammed into the blonde. Mista's hands pinned Giorno to the bed, hair coming undone and toes curled. He left every part of the younger man untouched and as quick as the two started screaming, crying out for one another in the heat of the moment, it was over. Giorno arched his back, almost drooling out of pure pleasure, and Mista pounded into him, biting his neck and squeezing the headboard with one hand. The blonde screamed out, digging his short, manicured nails into the older man's tan back. Mista's thrusts slowed and he gently kissed Giorno's soft lips.

"Oh- Oh my god..."

"Was that a good first time?"

"I- Honestly, I think it's the best," Giorno giggled, panting and still shaking from pleasure.

"Happy you took the vacation now?"

"Oh, definitely."

[pass1onepr1ncess]

New Pinned Post!

Starting with everything you need to know about me! Or should I say us! We're a DID System who uses "The Arcade System" as a way to collectively refer to ourselves, but you can just call us Arcade if that's easier! We're bodily 21 years old, trans and queer in multiple different directions depending on the alter, and physically and mentally disabled (Primarily AuDHD, BPD, and some unlabeled joint issues we haven't found a name for).

As for me specifically, I'm the host of the system! My name is Trish and as you've probably already guessed if you're a fellow Jojo fan I'm a fictive of Trish Una from Jojo's Bizarre Adventure Part 5; Vento Aureo/Golden Wind! I'm the same age as the body, and I'm a proud genderqueer lesbian! Since I use the body's birthday as opposed to my canon birthday in source, I'm a leo!

It's mostly me on this blog, but Hot Pants fronts and will post every once in a blue moon. While this is mainly a Jojo blog right now, I post about and reblog a lot of content specifically about Vento Aureo, Purple Haze Feedback, and Steel Ball Run! A couple of the other fandoms I post about sometimes are Genshin Impact, Honkai Star Rail, Homestuck, Houseki no Kuni/Land of the Lustrous, and Danganronpa!

Most of our posts are ramblings and infodumping, but we also post fanfics, media analysis, and digital art! Occasionally, you'll even see some cosplays! We have art commissions open pretty much at all times, but you can always check in the inbox if you're unsure! Our comms post is here for extra info!

Rambles and Text Posts: #trish rambles

Asks: #asks

Fanfiction links and/or Snippets: #fanfic

Art: #my art or #arcade art

Cosplays: #cosplay

I'm also the moderator behind both @askphf and @ask-dinopants!

Some other things to note: I don't tolerate hate or harassment. If I say something wrong or worded a post incorrectly, educate me. Don't scream at me. On that note, proshippers leave me the fuck alone. I'm not gonna go around hunting you down for the sole purpose of harassing you, but I do NOT fuck with your crowd. This includes JonaDio, DioPucci, GioMis, etc. Also uber specific, but I don't like Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss or whatever other media that horrible woman creates. I don't mind if you like it and again I'm not gonna go tracking other people down for it, but I just don't personally want it in my space.

Other than that, feel free to interact! I'm always open to asks and talking about almost anything, including questions about Source Memories or our plurality as a whole! Obviously there are some questions and topics that I want to avoid, but I'll just say that much if it comes up lol.

[falloutjuli]

Fanfiction Writer Interview

Hi! I got tagged by the lovely @monkey-banana41 and without much introduction, here we go! <3

---

How many works do you have on AO3?

Only 12. Im picky about what I actually publish and since I got a job my time to write at all has gotten.... thin. :(

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

Alright... This feels a little insane but its as follows

Eros - South Park - Kenny x Reader - Oneshot / Explicit - 7,3k words

Wait, youre my hero? - South Park - Kenny x Reader - Oneshot / Teen - 5,1k words

All I want for christmas is some time with my Rival - Bungo Stray Dogs - Akutagawa x Atsushi - Oneshot / Teen - 16,3k words

I dont wanna be alone (Dont wanna be alone) - Bungo Stray Dogs - Akutagawa x Atsushi - Oneshot / Teen - 6,3k words

What are you doing Stepbro? - South Park - Tweek x Craig - Oneshot / Explicit - 18,5k words

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

YES!! I may be slow or forget at times, but i genuienly love and appreciate anyone who takes time out of their day to leave a comment. Especially funny ones <3

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I have two candidates.

If I count all of mine, like even from a different site and in my native language then its distress. Because that one has no real happy ending and one actual bad ending where the reader can decide if the story ends in the worst way or in only a slightly bad way.

From my most recent fics and in english its for sure my DD fic; Zephyric Mizpah (BSD - Explicit and Dead Dove; Do not eat). Its very obvious why this one for anyone who has read it.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

It was a hard decision but i think its So let us stop talkin' falsely now, The hour's getting late (BSD) that i wrote for the BSDC Music Event. I have writte a few happy endings for SSKK but in this one I barely angst them unlike my other event fic and both get to live their dreams while being cutely in love. Atsushi in particular gets a good ending here, maybe its to make up for what I did to him in the other event fic...

Do you write crossovers?

No. Idk why. I think its because Id see myself struggle to nail everything in such a thing. The only crossover I make would be JoJos Bizzare Adventure and Arcane simply because I have two OCs in each and I stared shipping them. But it wouldnt be for canon characters :/

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I was gonna say yeah but then remembered the weirdo who accused me of insane shit (calling me a PDF file) over a properly tagged fic. Yeah. Other than that no, everyone I interacted with has been a real sunshine <3

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Uhm.... yeah. I like smut that also has an emotional component and try to balance that. Not in all fics of course but inward narration is something thats dear to my heart. If its good or not is for my readers to decide.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yep. Almost like uhhhh a decade (holy shit im old) my most popular work in a fandom kept getting stolen and it was annoying. Some where just inspired while others stole the whole idea and tried passing it of as their own. Luckily readers of mine informed me back then and helped me report it.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Uh yes and no. Someone asked to translate but never got back to me with the link so idk if they ended up doing it or nah. haha

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! I used to write with my irl bestie in my native language. I had people asked for collabs back then too and nowadays I like coming up with ideas with @monkey-banana41. Sharing a fic has always been something i treasure dearly. <3

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

That's a tough one. I think I have a few OTPs for each fandom so its hard. SSKK for BSD, GioMis and GyJo for JJBA, Creek for South Park. The list is looooooooong. Current hyperfixation: SSKK tho <3

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Uhm. A lot haha. I have so many ideas that Id kill to finally finish. Be it my old fics from my native language or The Other side of Paradise, my multi chapter BSD what-if-Fic. I have many more wips and ideas. My head makes a lot of them.

What are your writing strengths?

From what others said I apparently excell at nailing characters and dynamics as well as dialogue. And humor, which is something im very proud of :D <3

What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing anything short. And scene transitions sometimes, like when I really need a scene to end so I can get to one i wanna do more.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Depends truly. I mean as someone who has a different native language to english itd be easy to me, but I know at times it can be a little disruptive to the reader if implemented poorly (I have been there, good god, when I wanted to flex my newly learned french), or be really immersive if done well.

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Ehmm maybe Solar Opposites (Im a slut for Terry and Korvo), GioMis and Hetalia. I have written drabbles and a few OS for it already but never published. I think theres a lot more but Im lacking the brainpower to remember.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Cliche but all of them. If I have to say it tho... Before it all goes dark... For one last second I know I wasnt alone... (BSD - SSKK) simply because its near and dear to my heart. I put a lot of effort into it in a limited time frame and I had a great time traumatizing some people with the mean twist. haha.

Tagging: Everyone who would like doing it. Most of my moots have already done this and so idk who to tag. <3

[mythtaker]

About Me?? Archive? DOSSIER??? Yes.

꒰꒰°ADELAIDE — ₊˚ [¹] [²] [³]🌼

24 | PISCES | PAN | INFP

Interests

shows, movies, & anime

supernatural • teen wolf  • jjba • arcane

beastars • jjk • my hero academia • megalobox

the way of the househusband • stranger things 

the umbrella academy • star wars • star trek

haikyuu • fruits basket

books &comics

the mortal instruments • the lunar chronicles • dc • marvel

the maze runner • twilight • the hunger games • tmnt

podcasts & youtubers

dungeons and daddies • critical role • markiplier

jacksepticeye • your internet mom ash • banana bus squad

the game theorists • hannah bayles • mina le • nicole raifee

video games

the outer worlds • detroit: become human • cod: mwii

elden ring • for the king • minecraft • skyrim

music & musicals

aurora • dance gavin dance • zayn • the neighborhood

melanie martinez • logic • linkin park • imagine dragons

be more chill • hamilton

Fanfiction Recs

In Every Life by lucelafonde (mha, erasermight)

lifeline by themasterletters and weathermood (iwtv, danlou)

The Man Who Knew Infinity by fallen_leaves (jjk, gojo satoru)

Half Alive by EirianErisdar (avatar, spider socorro)

The dangers in my mind by PrincessAmericaChavez (st, steve harrington)

Not So Bad by outofmygourd (st, steddie)

Echoes by diadoumenos (sw, stormpilot)

Present Continuous by anonymous (jjba, fugomista)

wait for the words to return in the echo by Nymphiase (jjba, giomis)

despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained) by pramixeter (Zimario) (mcu, stucky)

Things My Heart Used to Know by posionivory (dc, jayroy)

Comfort Videos

[ctric-acid]

[secretsickysideblog]

made with love

"giorno giovanna’s faced his more-than-fair share of hardships in life, and coming down with a particularly rough cold isn’t exactly one of the worst--far from it.

but these puppy dog eyes mista gives him whenever he asks if there’s anything he can do to help? giorno thinks they might just be the death of him."

mista decides that the best remedy for giorno’s stubborn cold is a bowl of homemade soup. (sicktember day 3, alternate prompt - warm soup)

Giorno Giovanna’s faced his more-than-fair share of hardships in life, and coming down with a particularly rough cold isn’t exactly one of the worst--far from it.

 But these puppy dog eyes Mista gives him whenever he asks if there’s anything he can do to help? Giorno thinks they might just be the death of him. 

 Mista has come into his room offering him assistance about six times today between Giorno’s frequent and fruitless naps in attempts to ease up the suffering.  (Well, maybe suffering is a bit of an exaggeration, but Giorno can’t breathe. Even if it’s not the worst thing he’s faced, it sure is annoying.) The thing is, it’s only about five o’clock in the evening, and Giorno’s spent most of the day asleep.

 Needless to say, Mista is being more than doting. 

 Giorno doesn’t at all blame him; Mista’s just a caring guy, and he probably hates to see Giorno confined to his bed and the few bathroom trips he’s worked up the energy to make just as much as Giorno hates to be in this state. But it’s saddening to see the distraught look in his eyes whenever his sick partner can’t think of any assistance for him to provide. Mista’s a bit too much like a lost puppy right now, and the only thing worse than the heaviness in Giorno’s limbs and persistent congestion is the dreary feeling in his heart at the sight. 

 There’s a sudden knock on the door, and yet somehow, Giorno had expected it fully. The blonde sighs softly, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

 “Yes, Mista?”

 There’s a moment of hesitance before Mista steps in. “How’d you know it would be me?” He jokes, leaning against the doorframe. His smirk turns downwards in a frown as he looks his boyfriend over. Though he, luckily, isn’t too feverish, his skin is ashen and he looks...dull. Disheveled. And while Mista feels privileged to see him at his worst, he hates to see him feeling any less than his best. 

 “Napping didn’t help much, did it?”

 Giorno shakes his head sadly, sniffles thickly. “I’m alright, Mista,” Giorno’s attempt at a reassuring smile is weak, as expected. ��Thank you for checking in on me.”

 “Well, of course, I mean--” Mista comes in fully, closing the door behind him. He settles at the foot of the bed, resting a hand on Giorno’s ankle. “I love you, of course I’m gonna check on you. I just wish there was more I could do for you, y’know?”

  I know, Giorno wants to say, believe me, I know.  And beyond that, he wants to say, this is more care than I’ve ever received in my life. But he doesn’t want to sully the atmosphere any further, or make Mista think he’s annoyed by his doting, because he isn’t and he never could be. The man in question stares distantly at the wall for a long moment, seeming to be lost in thought. And then something lights up in his eyes as he faces Giorno again. 

 “I got it! You haven’t eaten yet, so you gotta eat something, and what do sick people like to eat more than soup?” Mista nods to himself, and it’s clear that even if Giorno wanted to protest, there would be no such option. “I’ll make you soup. What kinda soup did your mom make when you were a kid? There’s nothing better than a bowl of homemade soup.” 

 Giorno’s expression falls before he can really process it. He’s never had a bowl of homemade soup, especially not from his mother. How does he communicate that, though? This is the worst time for something like that, anyway. Mista seems so excited about the idea, and Giorno really doesn’t want to take that away from him.

 “--llo? Giorno? Gio, you in there?” 

 “Huh--oh, yes,” Giorno blinks, coming back to the realm of the living. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

 “I asked what kind of soup you usually have when you’re sick, and you went space cadet on me.” 

 “Ah, uhm…” Giorno clears his throat, shifting awkwardly, and suddenly he feels hot. “Well. When I was a child…” 

 Mista watches him expectantly, one eyebrow cocking upwards. 

 “I’ve never had soup when I was sick,” Giorno admits, and his voice is quiet. He reprimands himself internally for how it sounds like he’s gearing up to be punished for it. For feeling vaguely that maybe he will be, because this is Mista,  and Mista would never hurt him.

 Mista’s confusion melts into concern as gears turn in his mind. “You’ve never had soup when you were sick? Nobody made you soup?”

 Giorno shakes his head, looking down at his lap. “No. My mom wasn’t really... home when I was young.” 

 “Aw, Gio,” Mista runs his hand up and down his shin now, almost in an absent gesture. “Y’know what? That’s okay.”

 He stands, and for a moment, Giorno thinks he’s going to walk out with the slight droop to his shoulders that showed up yesterday and hasn’t left since. But then Mista comes around to approach the side of the bed Giorno’s laying on and bends down to slide one arm beneath his knees and the other behind his back, pulling him up into a princess carry. Giorno’s eyes widen as he yelps quietly in surprise, wrapping an arm around Mista’s neck. His other hand grips the fabric of his shirt in fear that he may fall, but he feels much more supported in Mista’s hold than he thought he would, so he ends up letting go. 

 “We’ll make our own recipe. Okay? ‘Cause you gotta eat, and I don’t wanna make something you don’t like.” 

 Before Giorno can say anything about it, Mista’s already out the door and starting down the stairs. He’s slow and careful in his movements, taking each step with both feet to make sure he doesn’t end up dropping Giorno and giving him a concussion on top of a cold--or worse, killing him on impact. Thankfully, they both make it to the bottom safe and sound.

 Mista sets him down in a stool by the kitchen island, disappearing for a moment into the living room and returning with a soft throw blanket from the couch. He drapes it over Giorno’s shoulders; the blonde gratefully wraps it around himself, pulling a knee to his chest. 

 “Alright, what kind of broth do you wanna use?”

 And after a series of questions and taste-tests, a bowl and spoon are set down in front of Giorno. The heat swirls up into steamy mist, and Giorno leans over it, letting the warm air alone bring him a momentary relief. He wraps the blanket around his shoulders tighter, picking up the spoon with his other hand. Mista sits across the island, watching him with this dreamy look in his eyes. They glimmer with excitement and anticipation and pure, utter adoration. Giorno thinks he might melt into soup himself. 

 With a shaky hand, Giorno brings a spoonful of soup to his lips and sips at it. And he’s pleasantly unsurprised, having been here for the entire concocting process, that it tastes amazing. Even beyond taste, oddly enough, he feels this soup is warmer than any dish he’s had before--perhaps, cliché as it is, it’s because it was made with love. 

 “So?”

 “It’s fantastic,” Giorno takes another spoonful, taking his time to savor the heat of it against the sore, rough feeling in his throat. “Thank you, Mista.”

 “Hell yeah, of course! I’m glad I finally did something helpful, doing nothing was frickin’ stressful.” 

 Whether the warmth blooming in his chest is from the soup or from the sparkling satisfaction in Mista’s eyes, Giorno isn’t sure. Quite frankly, he doesn’t care. 

 Because whatever it is, it’s love. And suddenly, Giorno’s certain that the saying of love being the best medicine is true.

[meramu-meramu]

Mista sends a risqué text. There are consequences.

Giorno's quick, one word reply was all he needed. Mista brought the phone closer to his face, his arms creasing the covers on the bed. His rapidly moving fingers punched out the words he’d repeated in his mind over and over since morning, sweat dotting the back of his neck with a singular heavy thump of his heart.

(...)

The clock ticked on the nightstand and time rewound itself. Mista swallowed tensely. Did I… overdo it? His forehead wrinkled under the beads of sweat that formed. No, that… word by word, his final message repeated in his mind. The edge of his lip twitched. That would be silly.

giomis / <5k oneshot / nsfw / silly

[comediakaidanovsky]

come what may

They only kiss in the soft embrace of dusk, when the sky shifts in hues of rose gold and hazy purples. The first light in the velvet night isn’t the twinkle of stars, but Mista, carefree – a mischievous gleam to those dark eyes – as he leans in and presses a chaste kiss to Giorno’s lips.

That’s how it starts. Simple, unhurried and absolutely inexplicable. No different than how they casually touch, hug, or occasionally cuddle up on the couch while watching TV.

Guido Mista walks Giorno home, as he’s prone to do, vigilant until they’re on the steps of Giorno’s house. Then he kisses him, and it should be this huge, monumental thing, but instead it’s easy. Giorno’s mind races quicker than his pulse; this can’t be happening; it’s happening; it’s over.

“Good night, Giogio.” Mista’s voice is hushed, a honeyed note to how he lingers on Giorno’s name, and then he winks. The bastard winks before he turns to head down the stairs. Absolutely unacceptable.

Closing the door, Giorno leans against it, unable, or maybe unwilling, to take another step into the apartment. He tips his head back against the rough oak wood surface, letting out a shaky breath.

God, it’s been years.

Years since Capri and Venice and Rome. Years of running Passione. Years with Mista by his side, and now Guido has kissed him, a soft, intimate press of lips that Giorno will carry into his dreams.

--- AO3

I can finally post my fic from the Carpe Diem zine! I was assigned to write on the theme “dusk”, and tried to incorporate the color palette of the artists in the piece. it’s sort of a slow burn; after a decade of friendship, the love story between Giorno and Mista is told one kiss at the time

[watashi-wa-hikaru]

I'm actually writing a giomis fanfiction in my native language (italian) on Wattpad and I was thinking it could be cool to translate it and write it on Tumblr. What do you think? (no hate pls)

Anyway, I wrote a one shot bruabba too. Maybe I'll put this first here, I don't know :3

[cockneydio]

🎄JJBA Secret Santa🎄 ((Fic)) “Close To You”

Happy Boxing Day to the lovely and talented @hanneswrites! This is my first time writing Giomis seriously, and I had to take the opportunity to do a little Hurt/Comfort because hey, but also Getting Together because Hey!

Inspired in part by this amazing gorgeous emotional piece by @/robobesito on Twitter. I haven’t stopped thinking about this all month, and I’ve been trying to craft something even remotely close to what this art makes me feel. 

I hope you like it, and the version I’m sure I’m going to rewrite in a month because I’m an obsessive disaster 🤗

TITLE: Close To You

FANDOM: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure (Part 5)

PAIRING: Giorno Giovanna/Guido Mista

RATING: M for heavy themes, but T+ content-wise

WARNINGS: Religion & Church stuff but with a whole lot of poetic license, Christmas, Holidays, post-canon (spoilers), mention of past child abuse

SUMMARY: Giorno Giovanna and Guido Mista have vastly different associations with the last month of the year. December 2001 promises to be the most challenging one of their young lives. But maybe, together, they can get through it.

Close To You

The holidays were going to suck this year.

Guido Mista loved them, usually. The countdown to Christmas started with a party on his birthday, December 3rd. His sisters and their friends would spend all day making sweets and decorating, and in the evening the whole neighborhood would come over with food and presents and tell Mista what a fine man he was becoming and praise the good care he took of his mom and the girls. The rest of the month was a bustle of celebration and activity - building care packages for the needy, taking the nonnas to mass, getting a lira here or there for being such a good boy. That wasn't the point though, he'd remind himself. This is the time for giving, Guido, his father once said. Give of yourself to your neighbor and he will give you thanks. Give of yourself to God and He will give you His blessing. 

After his father was gone, Mista tried to live his life with something like that principle in mind. Even when caring for his neighbor yielded him not thanks but a life sentence. Even when his deepest prayers went unanswered. He was saved, eventually, but condemned to the only life a condemned man could lead, at the cost of all of those things he used to love. No more neighbors or family. 

How strange it was, then, that that December would be the most special of his life. Not six months out of prison, and there he was surrounded by a ragtag assembly of boys just as screwed up or screwed as him, all raising a glass to his 18th birthday. Mista wouldn't dare call them family, too macho for sentimental shit like that. But all five of them, perched here and there on mismatched furniture in the cold air, forgetting for a second the job that brought them together - it sure as hell felt like home. 

Giorno Giovanna never really understood them. Even ten years living in a Catholic country hadn't inured him to the idea of virgin birthdays and supposedly wise men bringing gold and perfume to a baby they didn't know. He figured out quickly that visits to church around this time were mostly for appearances - mom in a demure dress that for once didn't show the skin on her chest, stepfather shaved clean and in his best suit, Giorno in any suit - the façade of a happy family. But Giorno would live the truth after every mass, hours of sermons that seemed like attacks on his stepfather's very character distilled into rage he could take out on Giorno's hide. Not in the face, mother would say. We have pictures in the morning.

Boarding school showed him the more festive side of Christmas. Big pine trees popped up all over campus, and this club or that would claim each one to decorate. It seemed pointless, to Giorno. The trees were dead, chopped down in their prime, needles' green prolonged with a bit of sugar water for a few weeks of merriment, then tossed into the furnace.

Only kids like him, who didn't go home around this time, knew about that last part. The kids who weren't like him returned in January with new things, handheld video games that were always confiscated by the end of the month, casual clothes for dates with friends, their own cell phones. Giorno never got new things. 

The holidays were going to suck, this year. 

For Giorno, Christmastime carried the weight of expectation. Despite his youth, Don Giovanna was now capo of capos, established as a leader of the people, in his mentor's image. The community would be scandalized, his new and fragile reputation tarnished perhaps forever, if he made even the slightest misstep during this time. He needed to relearn everything he'd blissfully forgotten about Christmas, and pretend to care about it. 

For Mista, every passing day in December would hammer home the gulf of loss he'd suffered in such a short span of his young life. His family had disowned him. The makeshift family he'd built from scratch was gone. There was nothing to celebrate, no one to share the joy. 

Almost.

It happened by accident, as the best things often do. The sound of butchered Latin caught Mista's ear one evening, and he couldn't help but investigate. After hours, after Giorno grew weary of the sycophants and dismissed everyone for the day, he and the turtle-bound spirit of Jean Pierre Polnareff began the study session: what prayers to say when, how to carry the tune of the most important hymns. Giorno was mostly hopeless, but it was a valiant effort. And a devastatingly funny one, to Guido Mista.

You would ask the French turtle for help before your purebred Roman Catholic gunman?

Criticism in the guise of playful banter, the kind only Mista could speak to the Don and leave with his tongue intact. 

I believe I've heard you calling for God a time or two, but I think that's what the Pope would call blasphemy.

That sort of innuendo, just on the near side of flirtation, that had been torturing Mista for months on end. 

Giorno acquiesced, and proved to be a better study with devoted company. Stories of Mista's childhood trickled out with each lesson, anecdotes at first, to help ground the arcane ceremonial stuff in something tangible. But they turned into something else before either of them knew it. Prayer books would lie forgotten on the table in favor of mulled wine and talk about what life was like before all this.

When I was your age, Mista would say.

You mean, like, two years ago? Giorno would point out. And the absurdity of their station in life, master and protector of all of Campania's criminal underground, would make them laugh, put things in perspective, if only for a little while.

And it helped Mista forget, a bit, about December 3rd. His birthday came and went this year, much like Giorno's, unnoticed, too much to do and deadlines everywhere. Don Giovanna had engagements daily, showing the magnanimity of Passione's new regime with gifts to orphanages, taking communion in congregations where certain politicians and businessmen needed a wake-up call. And of course, Giorno performed flawlessly. Christmas Day barely even registered amid the flurry of activity; in a way, just like old times.

But there was still something missing. Those stories Mista told only went up to the year 2000. There were old times that weren't so old, traditions that were cut short before they even had a chance to begin, and reminiscing beyond Me and the guys would hang out on the balcony... was too much to ask. 

One last holiday, this year. And Giorno was going to make certain it wouldn't suck. 

I'd like to thank you for tutoring me, Mista. It was an invitation, not a statement of gratitude, and one Mista knew he couldn't dismiss out of modesty. 

Ten o'clock on New Year's Eve, the limousine approached the lakeside cottage he'd been calling home for the last six months. Inside was a warmly dressed Giorno Giovanna, casual but crisp. 

I could have walked up to the villa. 

Nonsense. You're my guest this evening.

The only words the pair would exchange, for now. Mista, focusing his attention out the window, curious. Giorno, grateful for the opportunity to kill the doubts in his head. As soon as the car made the turn for the shitty part of downtown, Mista got the clue. 

Why are we going to my old place? Unless you're taking me for Sam's Spaghetti... 

Mista hadn't been to his apartment since he tore through in April, collecting the few personal items that mattered and closing the door on the memories it contained. Giorno had the foresight to keep it, though. Bought the entire building, in fact, mostly to forestall anyone who might like to dig for leftover dirt. 

I have a surprise. Usually that would be enough. But- I hope you're ok with it...

The first thing Mista noticed inside was the state of affairs. It looked exactly the same as it did the day he left, as chaotic and messy as ever. He smiled to himself, oddly grateful Giorno didn't take it upon himself to tidy up. Because the next thing he noticed were the signs that Giorno had been here earlier. A candelabra with three white candles glowed in the window. Familiar music played on the ancient record player Mista had regretted not grabbing. And the French doors to the balcony were open, welcoming Mista back to the place where Me and the guys would never congregate again. 

But Giorno couldn't have brought him here just to break his heart. A look over his shoulder for explanation revealed a nervous kid who was in too deep to back out now, squeezing the neck of a classical guitar and staring back at Mista with the intensity of the sun. 

Mista took up his favorite seat on the balcony, waiting for Giorno to finish setting up whatever was left of the surprise he had in store. The record player stopped, skipped around, then spun that wonderful anticipatory silence before sound. Giorno timed it out, made it to the balcony and picked up the guitar with a moment to spare for a deep breath before strumming along to the delicate piano chords Mista would know anywhere.

Why do birds suddenly appear, every time you are near...

Giorno barely made it through the second verse before the tears started to fall from Mista's face. He forged on, determined to say what was in his heart, but there was no fighting the frog in his own throat. They sat there on the balcony, sobbing silently into the cold December air, finally letting themselves feel all the things they'd been too busy or stubborn or devastated to feel. And then Mista was on his feet, pulling Giorno into his chest like a lifering. 

I love you, too.

They held each other as the clock struck midnight, signaling a new year, new times, new love. 

[jojoeyo]

Y’all caught me on that genderswap Giomis >___>

[lofijojosimp]

Chapter 6/?

i wrote and edited this in 24 hours rip my sleep schedule. In my defense, i’m now on vacation and i do what i want

[pastelpinkcheeks]

GioMis A/B/O Period Drama???

Hello there, guys! I’d like to take a second of your time to introduce you to the new fanfiction I’m writing! It’s a GIOMIS Regency AU with some Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics that WILL BE A SLOW BURN! It will have N S F W  content, so please beware! 

The name is RED CARNATION, and it’s a work in progress that I’m obsessed with lately and I promise all that if you like period drama, you’re going to fall in love with this. 

Summary:

Guido Mista in under high pressure. With his family on the verge of losing their property and royal title because of poverty, Guido’s mother decides to marry him off by proxy to the respectable and rich Joestar family, whose heir – and Omega – is just at marrying age.

The catch is: Guido had never seen this young Omega and marrying him and moving to another English borough was not in his plans. The prospect was already upsetting, but Guido will have to deal with issues that go beyond his relationship with his new husband, for a looming, unknown shadow might be waiting in the distance. Here is the link to the AO3 story:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/24746701/chapters/59828689

Thank you for your time and I hope you enjoy this!