KOKONI

AO3: KOKONI_27, FICBOOK (RUS): ПиЧ2 she/her Gyjo's daughter

[kokoni27]

Trust me, work in process... Just wait for it

[kokoni27]

Started a family in The Sims 4 where I'm the daughter of Gyro and Johnny... I'm so happy

[kokoni27]

How I remember myself as a Johnny Joestar fictionkinn 🥺🥺🥺 HAHA SORRY PLS

Translate: "I'm on a bender"

[kokoni27]

I'm too lazy to do things, help🙁

[kokoni27]

SUMMERBOY: EUROPEAN VINTAGE SUMMER

author: KOKONI

peir: Gyro Zeppeli x Johnny Joestar

tags: drabble, alcohol, Italy, 1890s, angst, post-canon, major character death, hurt/comfort

sum: "Honestly? It feels like both America and Naples are equally stuffy."

note: The original of this fic was previously posted on ao3 and ficbook in Russian, so here is the first translation into English! Hope you enjoy it.

Also, I have a collection of "summerboy" drabbles on a summer theme. This fic was posted before the drabble collection, but is included in it.

word count: 400 words

Glistening in the bright, warm Neapolitan sun, a scatter of pearls — like gifts from a sea goddess — warmed on a stone, a luxurious thread forgotten by a young maiden. In a tall glass, prosecco splashed playfully, disturbed by a relaxed man, catching the rays of the July sun.

"Nyoh, Johnny! Do you like it here?"

"Maybe... It's a bit too hot, honestly."

"Whaat? I thought after that American heat you'd be used to anything!"

"America is at least further north than Naples..."

"Honestly? It feels like both America and Naples are equally stuffy."

Their voices drown in the hum of an approaching ferry — calling out like the biggest extrovert, the life of the party, announcing its arrival to everyone around. Gyro laughs, wiping a tear and leaning back in his chair after telling another unfunny joke — which Johnny, unfortunately — or maybe fortunately —didn't hear, distracted by the sun playing in Gyro's long wheat-colored hair, letting go and returning, as if chained; distracted by eyes the color of that Neapolitan sea; distracted by the sharp lines of his face, the contours of his body... How good it is to have such beautiful friends, that looks like Renaissance Venuses come to life.

"Johnny, you're staring."

"That's not true. You just want to embarrass me."

"No, it's true. Not that I'm against your attention..."

"You don't like it?"

"It definitely makes me uncomfortable. And flattered."

And again that laugh — piercing, deep, low, almost velvety — the most familiar, the most beautiful, the most... just his. Strawberries, bitten into too quickly, let out their last berry chord, a pathetic attempt to mask nervousness. Johnny, finishing the pizza Gyro had begged him to buy, promising it was the best pizza in the world, finally tore his gaze away from his companion and looked at the blue sea, calling with salt, flashes of light, sea foam made of the bodies of sirens — so unnaturally perfect, like a painting.

"Would you want to live here?"

"Well, maybe. I'd have to think about it. Hell no, I don't even need to think — I want to stay here forever!"

Naples was undoubtedly something like paradise. Despite the heat, despite the roar of voices and the ferry's calls, despite the fact that—

Gyro is already gone.

Wake up, Johnny.

Greet the new day.

In which he will not be.

Learn to live with this.

The sacrifice wasn't in vain, was it?

[wyrm-house]

[kokoni27]

West Coast literally

[kokoni27]

WEST COAST

author: KOKONI

peir: Gyro Zeppeli x Johnny Joestar

tags: fluff, drabble, accidental kissing, sunsets, mentions of alcohol, 1890s.

sum: Clouds passing by lingered, peeking at the intimate merging of light and dark... Light and dark... Ha, just like beer... No, Gyro, you definitely need to sleep.

note: The original of this fic was previously posted on ao3 and ficbook in Russian, so here is the first translation into English! Hope you enjoy it.

word count: 313 words.

Sitting under the shade of green trees, beneath the cover of a sunset sky, under the watch of the bright, blinding sun sinking below the horizon, Gyro could barely keep his eyes open. Two days without sleep felt like one long day, filled with events, battles, and drinking. His eyes felt heavy as lead, his thoughts were tangled, and he probably couldn’t have remembered the multiplication table even if he’d tried. On his side, making it hard to breathe, lay half-asleep Johnny — he blinked absently, staring at one point, his hands clasped over his stomach.

"Nyoh, how are you? Do you want to sleep?"

"You have no idea how much."

"How far do you think we’ve pulled ahead of the others?"

"Honestly? I don’t care. I want to sleep, Gyro."

"But it’s important!"

"What’s important is resting. I don’t want to fall off my horse because I didn’t sleep right now."

"Comfortable, are you?"

"Very."

The young man yawned, and like a chain reaction, Gyro yawned too. The sun had almost set, burning in different shades of pink, pouring out its last will, promising to return. The sunset was beautiful: the darkness of night, merging with the light of day, sought comfort among the fading rays, grasping, interfering, blending. Clouds passing by lingered, peeking at the intimate merging of light and dark... Light and dark... Ha, just like beer... No, Gyro, you definitely need to sleep.

Sliding down the tree trunk, gathering all the dirt and dust from this stagnant miracle of nature, Gyro accidentally brushed his lips against the forehead of the turned Johnny. The gesture was accidental, almost innocent in its spontaneity, but so tender, so needed. He quickly pulled his hat over his face, which had turned crimson like the strange sunset, but it was unnecessary — Johnny Joestar was fast asleep, soundly and unshakeably.

Maybe it was for the best.

[kokoni27]

SAY "YES" TO HEAVEN

author: KOKONI

peir: Gyro Zeppeli x Johnny Joestar

tags: fluff, drabble, songfic, alcohol, 1890s.

sum: Behind Johnny, carved on the wall, it said: "say YES to Heaven!" The young man, perfectly aware of which phrase he was sitting under, mentally added: "say yes to me".

note: The original of this fic was previously posted on ao3 and ficbook in Russian, so here is the first translation into English! Hope you enjoy it.

word count: 452 words.

A typical cowboy tavern — a saloon. Johnny and Gyro had been sitting at a table since evening — Gyro had already started envying Johnny for not feeling his legs, because his own lower body had gone completely numb. The morning sunrise scattered its rays across Johnny’s face, his hands propping up his sun-touched face, and for the first time he looked so relaxed and calm — not a single wrinkle on his face. He looked at Gyro with a mix of challenge, interest, and adoration, blending in his head a whole cocktail of contradictions caused by this strange adult Italian. Gyro, meanwhile, was thinking about how incredibly beautiful and young this 19-year-old guy was — his burden, his partner, his... friend. He thought about what Johnny had been through, looking, above all, at the talented jockey whom the world had played a fair but cruel joke on, sipping whiskey. Behind Johnny, carved on the wall, it said: "say yes to heaven!" The young man, perfectly aware of which phrase he was sitting under, mentally added: "say yes to me," blushing slightly at such tactlessness of his own thoughts: "a girl just told me that once, it's just a memory!" All that could be heard was the rustle of sand outside the window, the snoring of the bartender at the next table, the creaking of chairs, and the clinking of bottles caused by the dispersing crowd of drunkards.

—

"Gyro, you've had too much... Not the best idea to get drunk during the race. You'll fall off your horse."

"Right now I'm so sober that even ten liters of cognac wouldn't get me drunk."

"But I think you're the drunkest person I've ever seen. It's time to go, the others have probably already left."

"Go? Are you sure?"

"Damn, you know what I meant! Help me up, come on..."

Mounting their horses, the men continued their journey in modest but necessary silence. Both rubbed their eyes from lack of sleep but felt more alert than usual. Only dust and sand got into their already red, irritated eyes. Meanwhile, Gyro couldn't tear himself away from his flask of whiskey — only this way could he drown out his thoughts. Catching Johnny's worried glances, Gyro began to get even more nervous...

"What do you want?!"

"I feel sorry for Valkyrie... You know that the rider's state transfers to the horse, right? Look how nervous she is. Poor mare."

"And you, I see, are calm as a boa! What, should I ride on you instead?!"

Gyro slowly turned away, blushing, cursing himself for those vulgar, inappropriate, untimely words. And then he heard laughter, interrupted by a short, quiet: "God forbid, not that!" And God, he could listen to that forever.

Amen.

[kokoni27]

CONFESSION

author: KOKONI

peir: DIO x Enrico Pucci

tags: confession, psychology

sum: a confession. Not to a god of stone and incense, but to the one who became Heaven itself. A prayer for the man who was never a saint, yet taught him to believe. A farewell to a love that never ended—only found its home in memory.

note: The original of this fic was previously posted on ao3 and ficbook in Russian, so here is the first translation into English! Hope you enjoy it.

word count: 339 words.

I confess to the Lord, my God... Not to the one worshipped by others. My God, my Paradise, my WORLD — all of this fit into one beautiful, perfect being. His weaknesses are my weaknesses, for no true form of life has a flaw. Through my lips He speaks, knowing of the promised lands that hold Paradise itself — not as distant as it seems to us all. He knows far more than I, and I am grateful to Him for every particle of that genius He infused into my thoughts, my feelings, my cells. I give thanks and I honor. Amen.

Dio, I love you as people love their God — you became my God, allowing yourself such audacity, I tell you. Never have I doubted your words. You always spoke truth. And I sought Paradise in vain, accelerating, completing, blessing the mortal world in your name, granting it peace and oblivion. And even when, having reached sacred ecstasy, I did everything as you taught me, I realized that Paradise was always closer than it seemed to me. It was always near, within reach, I only had to see. And I — allow me this baselessness, allow me this insolence, Dio! — I finally saw. Blinding myself with the white flash of memories, wandering through my mind so helplessly, searching for you and not finding you, I finally saw, recognized, understood, and realized. There were never those distant lands you spoke of, forgive me for such faithlessness, O Great One.

All this time, my Paradise was You. You are the luminary and the eclipse. You are the Alpha and the Omega. You are life and death in one vessel — of holy and cursed water, forgotten and found again, perfectly pure and filthy, on a sacred altar, gleaming in the light of the mysterious and the enigmatic. And I ask You, O Beloved, to atone for and absolve all my sins. I do not ask You to forgive my faithlessness, but know that I was faithful to You until the end.

Farewell, Dio. Amen.