#dad dio

[magic-soda]

Cat mudad bc...yeah

[bansept]

The Child of God

Part 8

I took a little break from writing this fiction because of university work, but now things should be a bit smoother!

I finished part 5 of Jojo recently, maybe a week or two ago, and I really liked it. Giorno's character is interesting to learn about, and I really loved seeing both Jonathan and Dio in him. Ah, makes me wonder how he would have turned out under other circumstances…

This chapter comes the first of violence and not-good Dio moments, so be careful!

Giorno was running around in the garden, chasing after a boy around his age while another was cheering for him under the shade of an olive tree. The sun was high in the sky, slowly starting its descent, forcing the facade of the villa's master to be covered in shadows. The young boy was chuckling, sweat forming on his brows and passing through the back of the fabric of his pink short-sleeved shirt. Bruno called the children out, scolding them for taking their sport session more seriously. Giorno immediately stopped smiling to rush faster, surpassing the still-laughing dark-skinned boy.

Resting a cautious hand against the window's frame, Dio observed.

Those other two children had been allowed to be what resembled most classmates to Giorno for a day, in an effort for the master's son to learn more Italian from people around his age. One was pale and weak, with an annoyingly high voice and poor manners while the other was loud, tanned, and taller than the blonde boy. They were named Narancia and Mista. Both were older, but it never once posed a problem to Giorno, who stared at them until the two lowered their gazes on their first encounter. Dio was only allowing this farce to happen in the hopes Giorno would learn to psychologically dominate them, use them as his pawns, if they could ever grow to be of any use.

One of the women on the bed shifted sleepily, stretching out to notice her master wasn't sleeping. The other woman, blonde, was silently trying to catch her breath and calm down. True enough, rest would be during the day for Dio, but his immortal body could go without sleep for a month if need be, and he had done enough sleeping. Dio didn't look back at the woman, whose name didn't matter, and closed the blinds carefully, the thick curtains gulping down any natural light, leaving the room in the dark, except for a single candle by the side of the bed. The woman blinked a few times, trying to watch the vampire sit down on a richly decorated chair pushed against a wall. The walls were covered in artworks and libraries, yet the skull on a mahogany pedestal seemed to be the most precious of all.

"Master Dio? Might I talk to you?" The woman asked, her voice still sleepy from the short nap she managed to get after serving the vampire. Dio gazed at her, his head tilting to the side, the incandescence of his intense orange eyes making the woman start to shake. She didn't dare to open her mouth again.

"You might." He answered simply, his deep voice calmly compelling her.

"I... I wish to serve you the best way I can, Master." She started, her brown eyes shifting to the wooden floor while her naked form moved to crawl at his half-clothed form. He didn't move, visibly uninterested. "I see the way you look with pride at Master Giorno. How lucky he is to be the son of such a man. No, such a God." She licked her lips as she got closer, groveling at his feet and daring to stare into his eyes. "Master, let me give you another son. Let me serve you and be a best mother than that whore who was honored to birth Giorno but was too stupid to understand it. Please, Master, let me have the honor to give you a son."

Dio gazed at her, his hand going lower to cup her chin up. She wasn't ugly, otherwise, she wouldn't be here. She had served him very well, and he intended for her to keep serving him. But it seemed women were just fickle creatures, no matter the century.

"Ah, my dear, you do not need to waste any breath of yours or time of mine. Giorno will be my only son." Dio told her, his voice as smooth as honey as his fingers progressed to her neck. "It is possible another woman was given this... Honor, you speak of. Multiple women might have given birth to other children of mine. Yet, Giorno is my only true son."

The dark-haired woman shuddered when she felt the elegant fingers dip into her neck, choking her slightly, as Dio raised to two of them together, slowly, in a standing position. He leaned closer to her, his breath caressing her forehead as he murmured.

"It was fate, or rather gravity that brought Giorno to me. It was his fate to be with me, Dio, to be raised. The other children I might have are not part of this fate. They are not a part of this gravity. They are of no use to me." Dio's hold on her was unbreakable, yet he didn't snap her spine or drank the few liters of blood that remained in her tired body. Instead, he pressed his thumb to her mouth, the tip of his claw-like nail reading to slice her tongue. Her eyes widened with terror, her body frozen.

His hand loosened from her neck, dropping her on the floor without looking back at her retreating form. Dio raised his hand at the blonde woman on the bed. Her blue eyes had silently witnessed the exchange and she knew better than to interrupt her master. Dio felt a tired smile form on his lips. He called out for her and she immediately stood up to join him, bashfully taking his hand. Dio snarled at her, eyes shining an unnatural color as his hand suddenly plonged in her stomach, a grotesque sound of flesh tearing apart and bone cracking turning his smile into an amused chuckle. The blond before him screamed in shock before she started coughing up blood, a look of utter uncomprehension on her face. She couldn't help a single word out as Dio's other hand ripped her throat out carelessly, the woman's blood splurting on Dio's naked chest and on the ground, warm liquid and tissue.

The other woman was backed up in a corner, gripping a library defensively, as if it could even slow Dio had he wanted her to suffer the same fate. The blonde gurgled in front of him, impossible to plead for her life, the smell of the blood from her throat and stomach filling the air. Dio looked at her, his chuckle gone, a bored look on his beautiful face. He pushed his hand out of her, the body hitting the ground with a thud.

"I will send for you again. Tell the other women to dispose of this one." He spoke to the other woman in the room. "I trust I have made myself clear on your... Request."

.

.

.

The skull seemed to look at him. Day, night, over and over, the empty sockets drowned him in distant memories of summer days.

Days where he'd meet this cursed family. Their ridiculous kindness and chivalry. Their laughable honor and kindness.

A century, even more than that, had passed. This brother of his he killed, the ancestral home he burnt. He did not regret a single moment of it.

For a moment, Dio saw a clear blue light flash from the skull, just like Jonathan stared at him in opposition.

"I know you're not capable of hating me, Jojo. That is your weakness. That is why your skull is here: to remind me every day of how pathetically weak you were, and how little influence you had has faded." His claws pressed against the skull, dust landing on his fingers. "Your family will die. I will kill them all. That is my promise to you. And once every Joestar is gone, once I have butchered and burned their bodies, I will crush this sole reminder of you that exists."

The skull seemed to emit another light and an image of Giorno burned in Dio's mind. An insane grin crept on his lips.

"Giorno is my son. He will be raised as such, and if your low-lives descendants were to attempt to convince him of changing sides..." A bone-chilling chuckle boiled up his chest. "He will kill them himself, before bringing me their heads."

---

I do love Dio, but I don't intend to write him out of character. So he's gonna be un poco loco a little ehehe

Part 7 // Part 9

[giogio-gucci-gangstar]

Mudad Adventures: Godzilla (pt. 3)

Summary: Its Giorno’s Birthday and he receives some interesting gifts... 

CW: DIO is an irresponsible parent, Hol Horse is a lazy gift giver, talk of murder? 

“PAPA PAPA PAPA GUESS WHAT DAY IT IS!” Giorno screeched as he hurled himself onto DIO lounging on the bed at the stroke of midnight. 

After colliding with a meat brick named Giorno, DIO turned around and hummed, “Now Gio I have no idea what day it is. Why don't you tell me.” While trying to sound as dismissive as possible but hiding a small smirk. 

“PAPAAAAA Its my BIRTHDAY! I'm turning FIVE!” Gio exclaimed as he tugged on the cover of DIO’s book. Giorno threw himself down on DIO’s lap in an attempt to tear him away from his book. 

“Hm. That couldn't be Giorno, your birthday was last year.” DIO breathed moodily but his smirk was spreading into a grin. 

“Luckily I got you something just in case one of these birthday events happened again.” Giorno flopped over again onto his back so he could look up at DIO. 

“Now get up, I think there is a treat in the kitchen for you.” With that DIO peeled Giorno off of his lap and set him on the floor. 

~~~~~~~

DIO led Giorno to the kitchen carefully opening the door so-

“Surprise.” It was a lackluster notion, but coming from the yawning cowboy, holding a cake, it was the sentiment that mattered. 

Giorno beamed, he had hoped for something a little more extravagant than one of his dad’s henchman, but he was holding an ice cream cake so the kid couldn't be too picky. 

After gobbling up the sugar like the now five year old he was, Giorno was ready for the main event. Gifts. He turned his head expectantly up towards DIO. 

“Papa?” He questioned not so innocuously. 

DIO gave a little cough, “DADDY has a very special gift for you dear.” And with that he unveiled a beautifully embellished dagger. Now, most people might think that giving a child a dagger or anything sharp would be dangerous, and they would be right. DIO just wasn't most people, and he had a way for rationalizing this particular gift. 

“My Gio come here. This dagger is very special because it's a family heirloom. It used to belong to a different family to the,” DIO paused to make a gagging face, “Joestar family. But then I stole it and used it to kill my adopted father, Mr. Joestar. Without this dagger I wouldn't be the vampire you see before you today.” DIO wasn’t usually one for soft sentimentality, but this was a part of his history that he wanted Giorno to appreciate. It had been a very significant turning point in his life and he wanted to give his son a tangible momento of his father's strength, bravery, courage, resilie- 

“Can I kill people with this?” Giorno asked wide eyed.

DIO was slightly perturbed having been brought out of his reverie by the child who wasn't speaking the praises he expected, but he answered all the same. “Yes, and hopefully it will be someone important too.” 

“Uh sir,” Hol Horse stuttered, “Isn't it a bit dangerous to give the kid a dagger? He could actually kill someo-”

“What kind of piss poor father do you think I am? I started having my first fits of blood lust around his age, why shouldnt he be given the chance to murder when he pleases? I am trying to give him a better life than I had and if you have a problem with that I suggest you give him his gift then come speak to me in the other room.” Dio growled.

“Uh, no sir. No issue. Just didn't want to see the kiddo stab himself. But yes I do remember he is too smart for that so, here’s your gift Giorno.” And with a flourishing removal of his hat Hol Horse revealed a crested lizard nestled into his hair. 

The shriek that escaped Giorno’s mouth in that moment could be described as nothing short of ultrasonic. 

“IS THAT AN AGAMAS?!?!” Giorno, while being incredibly excited, was equally careful untangling the poor creature from Hol’s nest of hair. 

“Uh maybe?” Hol was just glad the thing was off his head and was now the kids' problem. He had found that lizard on a walk earlier and snagged it off a plant because it was brightly colored, like Giorno, and fairly small, also like Giorno. Overall the lizard just really looked like Giorno. He just hoped it wasn’t poisonous… 

“YES IT IS LOOK AT ITS HEART SHAPED HEAD AND THE DUAL TONE SCALES AND HOW ITS CLAWS SPREAD OUT IN A FAN SHAPE HES DEFINITELY AN AGAMAS! IM GONNA NAME YOU GODZILLA AND LOVE YOU FOREVER!” Giorno rubbed the critter against his face and went in to hug Hol Horse’s leg, which would have been cute if DIO hadn’t been glaring daggers at him for upstaging his gift. 

“No Gio why don't you go hang up your new heirloom and find a pot for your lizard to live in. I need to speak with Hol Horse for a moment.” DIO barked out. 

Gio tucked Godzilla into one of his little donut buns and carefully walked back to his room.

Hol only had a moment to gulp before the was gone and it was just him and a jealous DIO.

[negativesd09]

Feeling a little better today, have a daddy Dio and baby Giorno to cheer up your day <3

[bansept]

The child of God (AU)

I've only just started watching Jojo (part 3 episode 6 rn) and while I absolutely do not condone Dio's behavior, because this man is a Villain, I have a very big soft spot for the idea of him being a good father. Spoilers, I guess!

--

The child didn't have his eyes, or his hair.

He didn't have this desire for revenge, or this craving for violence his father cultured over the years.

Haruno was a small, innocent, quiet child. Most of his time was occupied by sleeping, but then, as a human offspring, it was the most normal thing to do.

Dio's return was meant to remain a secret, to prevent any of the Joestar to hunt him down so soon. As long as he kept his livestock, and therefore the number of his victims small, his enemies would not suspect him to be back.

That was the plan : to hide in a deserted part of Italy, to retrieve his powers and strength back, and claim this world once again.

But he saw the child's mother, a pathetic woman that was clearly not clever enough to live the rest of her life grateful enough for having survived him.

She allowed this ballsucker, good-for-nothing pest of a man to hit her child.

The child of God.

He killed them all that night. The woman, the man, and any other fellow of theirs.

Haruno, apparently Giorno now, was crying silently in the small bedroom he occupied, hugging his knees tight to muffle his voice the best he could. Dio towered over him, blood dripping from his claws, scanning his face.

"How old are you?"

The child didn't appear afraid of him, the deep voice of the adult not phasing him for a second.

"Four, sir."

Dio could see all of this was a facade. He knew the act all too well. Long ago, he was the scared little boy hiding from his paternal figure, learning to speak clearly, and with few words. The reminiscence pulled a grimace on his face, and he crouched in front of the child.

"I can take you away from this place. Do you accept?"

His plan didn't change. He, Dio, was going to rule over the world, and wipe the Joestar family from existence. And now, he would take the child, his child under his wing. He would not allow the blood of his blood to cower in fear and submission.

Giorno stared into his eyes, trying to find the same malice he always saw in his mother's eyes. All he saw was freedom, strength. And care.

"Yes, sir."

Dio smiled, reaching for his son's armpits and raising him up before pulling him closer. The boy carefully joined his little hands together on his front, not daring to show affection for this almighty stranger. Dio walked out of the bedroom, strolling past the bodies in the small living room, not hiding them from Giorno.

The boy didn't react.

"I met your mother four years ago. I had to leave, at the time. But now, my son, I will not leave again." The tall man spoke out, the hand that wasn't supporting Giorno pointing at the woman's body. "What would you have me do with your mother's body?"

She was unworthy of any ceremony, of any kindness, but it was his son that should judge her. God had already punished her.

"I just want to go, sir." Giorno looked away from the ground to stare at Dio's cape, eyes starting to wet.

"Very well."

The house was set on fire as the both of them left, Giorno holding onto his father's clothing.

The child did not have his eyes, or his hair, but undoubtedly, he was his son.

He was the child of Dio.

--

Part 2

[bansept]

The Child of God

Part 7

It has come to my attention that this story is pretty appreciated, so, I really want to thank everyone <3

Some are worried Dio might not be very good to his boy, I hope this answers your question haha

Dio was sitting on an uncomfortable stone bench, outside of the villa, in the yet-to-be-cleaned garden, with its growing weeds, grass, and pestering little creatures coming out of their holes in the dirt. The moon was high in the dark-blue sky, outlining with a stark contrast each shape, each infinitely small detail only the vampire could see, the wind softly rustling through the blonde locks of hair cascading down Dio's neck.

The plan was slowly setting into action. His followers grew more and more numerous, out of faith and devotion for him for the most, but a few remained awfully greedy and were already planning to overthrow him in a few years' time, as many people used to the mafia would do. Of course, his goal was far more important than that of the crime business in Italy, and he would learn from his too recent failings in Egypt. The world could have been his, with unsurprising ease, had he kept a clearer head, and more followers. He exhaled, eyes staring back up into the night sky. It was a great shame that more than half his followers either died in combat or simply got too scared to either fight the Joestars or return to his side. It was evident in his eyes that such foolish cowardice would have to be aborted as soon as the earlier signs would appear.

His current close servants showed only devotion as of now: only the ones worthy were allowed in his presence, and in his son's presence, and all of them knew that. From the simple cook to the one or two spirited advisors, passing to the delicate women he kept for his own pleasure, all saw him as a reincarnation of God, and obeyed, believed, and worshipped him as such.

This Buccerrati was the only exception. He was two strings away from death, and Dio only awaited the tiniest mistake to hang the man with his own bowels.

Patters of tiny naked feet pulled him out of his reverie, and Dio felt a smirk grow on his face. Ah, his little one was awake.

"Father?"

Giorno walked up to his father with his hands fiddling with the hem of his long-sleeved pajama shirt, his mouth open and his eyes bagged. Evidently, he couldn't quite sleep, although he was well past his bedtime.

"Come here, Giorno." Dio opened his side by raising his arm up, the child snuggling close with a sigh of contentment. "Why are you up?" He questioned, his eyes focusing on the small frame of his son, observing how easily Giorno could disappear out of view when his arm covered the boy.

"I can't sleep..." Giorno answered with a little voice, his whine clear from any sobs.

"Hm." His father answered, turning his head away to look at the garden with great disinterest.

Giorno didn't explain further for a few minutes, his fingers calming down, the fiddling stopping after realizing he was alright, comforted. Instead of hugging his father's side, he laid his head against his huge thigh in an effort to mimic a pillow. A quite too hard pillow, Dio would assume, for his fragile son. He passed his fingers through the boy's now completely blonde hair, untangling the growing length of each of his locks, and Giorno hummed.

"... I saw mom in my dream." He whispered, the sound suffocated in the fabric of Dio's black pants, knowing perfectly the man would still hear him. "She was smiling at me. But... It was fake. It was an evil smile. The same she'd give me before she'd ask the man to look after me while she left." The child gulped, one hand clutching the nearest fabric he could find. "I don't want to see mom. Never again."

Dio listened, carefully, his hand still combing the hair, and felt a burst of hatred for this wretched couple once again. They were dealt with. Burnt to the ground after a slow, torturous death inflicted by Dio himself. He could still smell their blood oozing out of their bodies with grotesque choking sounds, their limbs detaching from their torsos with a pleasant crack. They were dead.

But they would never be gone. He knew that for a over century now.

"It won't go away, son. Ever." Dio spoke truthfully. "But the pain will stop soon. As you grow older and stronger, you realize people who hurt you once are far weaker than you are now. You must feed on this reality, feed on how insignificant their existence is compared to yours."

"...But... I don't want to remember them. I don't want to think about bad things. Only good things. Like how I'm with you now." Giorno protested, turning his head to meet his father's eyes.

"You can't only have good things in life, Giorno. You shouldn't wish for good things only. That's the way of the weak." Dio stated, his voice warm, but hard enough to impact the soft look in Giorno's eyes.

His son was young. So young. So unfairly treated, so unfairly prepared to meet the world. Dio smiled faintly, his hand resting now on the boy's shoulder. With his fall in Egypt, the Joestars, namely that Japanese punk and Jonathan's grandchild, would not look for him. They would succumb to their own lies about their enemy's death, how they supposedly turned him into ashes before going back home to their families, living shamefully peaceful lives. Dio would never admit defeat, but he now had all the time in the world to build a real empire worthy of himself. In that, he could allow his son to grow at his own pace. At least for his childhood.

"How are things going with your tutor? Do you like him, or perhaps you would like me to replace him?"

Giorno sat up straight, eyes wide with a toothy grin.

"No! He's nice" He chuckled, the bright green of his eyes shining with malice and honesty. "He helps me with some reading, and we play sometimes. Oh, and he teaches me more Italian!"

"Hm, so no replacement yet." The seated man sighed heavily, rolling his eyes jokingly. "But if he does you any wrong, tell me. I will take care of him like the monster he believes I am."

Giorno laughed again, a sound oh so sweet and ringing in the intimate atmosphere like the chime of bells.

"I don't think you're a monster, father."

That... Was not something he thought he could hear from anyone. Surprise painted his features, his dark eyebrows raising in shock as his mouth opened with a silent gasp. Oh, Dio knew how people looked at him, how they shivered with fear, disgust, envy, or lust, how monstrous he was for stealing his adoptive brother's body, for killing men, women, children, and animals without batting an eyelid, how terrible and inhuman his actions and thoughts were to the pleb. His peace was made with that knowledge for years. He knew he was born to a great fate, and for his destiny to be realized, he would do anything. But, Giorno... Innocent little thing, pure little boy.

He wasn't a monster in his eyes.

"Really?" Dio asked, once again caressing the blonde tuff of hair on his son's head.

"Mhm!" Giorno smiled, little dimples on his cheeks before he buried his face in the thigh once again.

The man swallowed faintly, a sense of peace, of achievement like any other overwhelming him like no other before.

"Well, that's kind of bothersome, isn't it?" He wondered out loud, pulling the child closer. "What a strange child you are."

"You're strange too." Giorno countered good-naturedly. Dio chuckled, the vibrations making the boy's head shake.

"You are right."

Dio rubbed his back soothingly, wishing he could use The World and stop time forever. If only to bask in this moment with the precious, strange, brave boy that was his son.

---

A shorter chapter for this one, because I wanted to write and yet didn't have lots of inspiration

This chapter is very largely inspired by this fanart, from an incredibly talented artist that you can find on Twitter! Go check out their work!

This art

Part 6 // Part 8

[bansept]

The child of God (AU)

Part 2

It's funny because Dio is really just a psychotic, selfish, arrogant blood-sucking immortal with a god complex, daddy and anger issues as well as a womanizer who'd rather chop his arms off than use protection, yet I still love that character.

I love writing these, and it seems people like them, so there we go!

--

The villa Dio was hiding in was about an hour away from Naples, in a deserted part of the land. The only humans coming were occasional hikers, so he was certain nobody would come unwanted to explore an old building. Even if they would be, they would immediately be turned into cattle for the vampire by his few servants.

Giorno was asleep in his arms, holding onto his cape tightly. Dio allowed it, for now, knowing very well the child needed some sleep. Perhaps some comfort too, but it wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

Dio was hungry. All the blood that had been shed made his skin crawl in desire, and it was becoming increasingly hard to not feast on his own child. Only his strong-willed mind permitted him to give the boy to a servant without harm coming to him.

"He will stay with us. Treat him as my son. His life is worth more than all of yours."

The servant, an ugly enough woman turned vampire, took Giorno in her arms, amazed and confused at the same time, before bowing her head.

"Yes, of course."

Dio watched as she walked away, carefully nudging the child closer, and nursing him into a deep sleep. Giorno was where he was supposed to be : with his father, away from any harm this bitch might have inflicted on him. The tall, muscular vampire rolled his shoulder and neck, a groan slipping from his mouth. The memory he had of her was blurry, and not pleasing. He needed to think about something else, feed and relieve himself.

The doors opened to his bedroom, for lack of a better term, where his previous preys were waiting, lacking any clothes or decency. They were getting boring, he'd kill all 3 of them tonight.

Of course, the boy woke up in the morning, utterly lost. And hungry for human food. Which the villa did not have.

"Didn't you eat yesterday, back at your old place?" His father mumbled, tired of this already.

"I... did, but I'm hungry again... I'm sorry, sir."

The black-haired boy apologized, dropping his head in shame. Dio felt a ping of guilt. Giorno was a child, a human, of course he'd need to eat daily. It had been so long since he'd been taught table etiquette, the ways of humans.

"Don't apologize. I forgot humans needed food more often than I." Placing a hand on his son's head, Dio rubbed it. "You will go with Gloria."

Giorno frowned, and it bothered Dio.

"Humans? Aren't you one too?"

Dio chuckled deeply, rising back to his full height and staring at the boy with a smile that revealed his sharp teeth.

"Do I look human?"

Giorno gazed at him up and down, the huge stature of the man in front of him seemingly not phasing him a bit. His green eyes analyzed the claws resting against his father's hips, the sharp fangs smiling at him and his unnatural amber eyes. Dio was not human, that was obvious.

"No... Sir."

The clawed hand took the child's chin and raised it up, their eyes meeting.

"I am a vampire, yes. And by an incredible chance, you were born, my son. Do not call me 'sir'. I am your father. Be proud of yourself."

"But, I don't look like you..."

These few words hurt more than expected. No, Giorno didn't look a bit like Dio. Not a single shade like him. Because of Jonathan's body. Even in death, even when he didn't even exist anymore, this damn fool mocked him. His own child! Giorno was Dio's! Not a fool like Jonathan's!

The vampire's eyes shone brightly, deep, fluorescent sulfur shining down on Giorno, who stepped back in fear.

Fear. His boy was afraid of him. A disgusting monster. Inhumane. Just like Dio saw his own father. So different, so horrible, so eager for him to die. But he couldn't accept he would inspire such hatred from his son. He couldn't let it happen!

Dio slowly crunched back down, slowly, hands cupping Giorno's face.

"I... I would never hurt you, Giorno. Ever."

The child stood silently, unmoving, his emerald eyes shaking in fear, which soon stilled into calm waters. Maybe he believed him because of his young age. After all, he was an innocent boy. Maybe he was even smarter than he let out. In any case, Giorno cradled himself against Dio's chest, hiding in the black fabric of his clothes, little hands clutching onto the vest that covered the vampire.

For the first time in well over a hundred years, caring no longer felt like a weakness.

--

Part 1 // Part 3

[bansept]

Precious Folly (mudad, Victorian AU)

Part 1 : Unexpected

In 1880, Dio Brando was brought into the Joestar family. Grateful for this opportunity to live a different life than his wicked father, the boy grew to love his adoptive brother, Jonathan, and his father. While Jonathan is growing to be the successor of his father's business, Dio becomes a lawyer, in the hopes of punishing the ones that truly deserve punishment.

In 1890, the blonde man received a letter from an old conquest of his: he has a son.

--

The wind howled against the freshly cleaned window of the Joestar mansion, the strong yet elegant facade faithfully protecting the family from yet another rainy day. It was quite expected this early in April to rain in England, but the heavy downfall had a somehow mysterious aura. As if something was being fomented in the shadows...

Dio raised his gaze back from the numerous puddles of mud straining the otherwise impeccable lawn of the manor's entrance. He was working on a common case, where a theft had been committed. A wealthy couple from London possessed much jewelry, rumored to be from lands in Africa, claiming that their loyal and sincere servants had stolen from them, obviously leaving out their indebted and gold-hungry son. As a man born in the slums, Dio could see, and feel, who was a thief, and who was the innocent paying the heavy price. Certainly, explaining to the elderly couple that they should blame their own flesh and blood instead of a pack of servants wouldn't be easy, but the thrill of putting them back in their place was enough reason to work hard.

The heavy engraved wooden door of his study opened with a slight creak, revealing Dio's adoptive brother, Jonathan, smiling brightly as he so usually did. The beefy man was carrying his infant son, a round and pink little thing with the same puff-colored hair as his father adorning his head. For the past 3 months since the arrival of the new Joestar, Jonathan and Erina were of course very busy, to the point where Dio hardly even saw them anymore; he was working until very late, then traveling to London to finish his cases, gain some more, and then come back a few days later in the countryside. It wasn't quite the type of life fitting to engage with his nephew at his early age.

"Dio, I'm glad you are here!" His brother exclaimed in apparent gratefulness, but mindful to speak at a volume that wouldn't make the boy in his arm scream.

Please, let not the boy scream. Dio was not ready for the incessant cries to be in front of him.

"Well, of course, I am here. I am still working on a rather boring case, but I'll allow you to disturb me for a few moments."

Jonathan chuckled at the fake snobby tone the blonde was giving him, walking up to his desk. Dio gathered some loose documents from the mahogany surface, bothered by the carefree attitude it seemed to give him.

"I am relieved you find some time to see us. It's been a long while since we were able to talk."

"It has yes. I didn't want to disturb your newly found... family life."

Jonathan placed a very delicate giant hand - the irony of it - on his son's stomach, giving him his finger to suck on. It was kind of him to prevent the baby from any future wailing. Dio studied the image for a moment, before picking up his pen to place it back in its inkwell.

"Ah, yes, it was certainly a bit time-consuming for us. But what a joy it was, is."

"I'm sure, yes." Dio nodded politely. "But for what reason have you come to me? I hope you are not here to tell me you got your wife knocked up again. So early after your first born and at such a young age, you'd soon repopulate all of England at this rate."

Oh, what a pleasure it was to witness Jonathan turn bright red at the crudeness of his words.

"D-Dio! You're being inappropriate! Of course not!"

The blonde man let out an honest laugh, and he swore he heard Jonathan mutter the only curse words he allowed himself to learn.

"My apologies. It was much too tempting to ask. But do tell me, what is it?"

Before the huge blue-haired man could breathe out his answer, a servant had entered the room, his drenched coat from the outside rain dripping over the, oh dear, Persian carpets.

"My apologies, my lords, but I have this urgent letter for you, Lord Dio. It has arrived from London."

The young servant brought it to his master, careful as to not wet anything in the room. Dio thanked him briefly, turning the letter to see who might be the sender. Nothing on either side. He frowned, staring back at the servant.

"Are you certain it is for me? Or that it is urgent at all?"

"I'm only repeating the words of the postman my Lord."

Dio glanced at Jonathan, who shrugged back at him with a curious look on his face. It was a clear mystery for the two brothers, and the blonde wasn't quite certain he wanted to open the cryptic letter in public. That was before he was pushed to do so by the yet still childish Jonathan.

He sighed heavily, calling the man in front of him a fool, which didn't phase him a bit, and graciously opened the envelope. Inside was a simple sheet of paper, and by the look of it, a poor quality one: yellow, with spots of dirt, dust, and wax. Dio tried not to grimace thinking where that letter even came from and gathered it in his hand, letting the container fall on his desk. It was folded in two, a way to add even more irritation to the man's blood. But as he finally read over the letter, Dio could feel a cold sweat trickle down the nape of his neck.

Dear Dio,

I know that you didn't want to hear from me. I didn't want to write this letter, as it would break our deal, but please believe that I do not have any other choice.

You have a son, Dio.

You must be thinking I must be mistaken, that the boy isn't yours. But he is. He has your golden hair, and even as just a baby, he has this aura that makes him loved.

I am telling you about his existence because it is the right thing to do. I truly believe you should know that he exists. But, it is not just for this reason.

I am sick, and his birth weakened me to the point where I can't even walk two steps before falling to my knees, exhausted. Nobody around me can or would be willing to take care of your son when I'm gone. I wish the world was different, that a kind soul could help me out so I wouldn't have to burden you with this bastard son, but things are the way they are.

My only request is that you offer your child shelter for the time being. Whether you keep him with you or you decide to put him in an orphanage or another family, the most important is that he doesn't die with me, in those slums, because I know nobody will take care of him.

I will hope, desperately, for your visit.

Shiobana.

The room was silent, one side from expectation, and the other from disbelief. The look of absolute shock on his brother's face forced Jonathan to call his name gently.

"Dio? Is everything alright?"

Dio didn't know what to answer, or what to think. Not only was it absolutely possible for this letter to be true, the messy, broken way the words were written, the condition of the letter, the secret deal of no longer meeting, or even speaking with his previous lover... All of it was real. Nothing was a lie in appearance. But was the content of the letter the truth? Women could be wicked, envious, and gold diggers. He was a wealthy man by his family, perhaps the reason this letter was sent was to attract him into a trap to rob him blind, even slice his throat for unknown reasons. It could be the purpose of sending this letter. But... What if there really was a child? A boy? A bastard. If the child was real, what would he do? What could he do? Ignore the letter and let the two of them die in poverty and sickness? Take the child to give him to somebody else, as the woman had suggested?

Take him in, raise him, and recognize him as his son?

The letter remained in his hand as if directly questioning him, pressuring him to give his answer now. His fingers had grown cold and sweaty, his eyes shaking from uncontained fear, and that was enough for Jonathan to raise to his feet.

"Please take George back to Erina." He instructed the servant, the young man obeying quickly and silently.

The Joestar heir firmly held Dio's shoulder to express his support and extended the other hand to ask for the letter. Dio didn't move a muscle for a few seconds, before passing the frightening paper to his brother. The study was silent, thick with frightening reality. Jonathan didn't move his hand, no matter how shocked he surely was by the letter's content, or even how angry with Dio he might be. The seated blonde didn't want to move, speak, think. Either of these actions would lead to some consequence of some sort he knew would shatter his world.

Jonathan finished reading the letter as he put the letter down on the desk.

"I will ask for the carriage to be prepared."

Dio's eyes regained their focus, throwing Jonathan a look of perfect shock, and some anger.

"What?"

The bulky man turned to him, a peaceful yet strong look on his face.

The slums didn't change. No matter the year, the season, the weather. Pests and low lives remained. Coming back to this place, this specific unguarded world was a punishment for all of his sins, a reminder of his childhood he yearned to forget. Never once had this place meant anything but shit, illness, and pain.

"You have to go, brother. Even if you're scared this letter might be either a decoy or the truth, you have to go. You won't be able to face yourself otherwise."

Perhaps today, he would change a part of his mind.

Dio walked on the wooden path among the mud, not entirely wishing for his shoes to be ruined, following the route a working girl had indicated to him. When he'd meet with the Japanese woman, he would choose the place, a clean house away from the actual living quarters of most commoners. But today was obviously a different errand.

The other passerby stared at him in envy, the comfortable, warm-looking cloak, elegant hat, and dark rich trousers making Dio shine with difference and had he not been so easily angered, the nobleman knew he would already have been attacked.

He finally found the doorstep he was feverishly searching for and entered the house without being announced.

The hovel, really, was cold, damp and smelling of mud and coal. The few candles spread on the table as a poor source of light didn't help make the home feel like one. In the single room that made up the entire house, pushed back right against the windowed wall was a small bed. He saw feet moving under the covers and knew he was in the right place. Dio gently took his hat off, preferring to keep it in his hand rather than place it down on the table near cold porridge, and strolled to the bed, his amber eyes not leaving the child in the woman's arm for even a second.

Shiobana, the Japanese woman, held her baby against her heart, trying to protect the little one from the icy cold she was succumbing to. Her exhausted and sickly face forced itself to smile as she caught his movements.

"Dio... You came..."

He didn't speak, voice lost in astonishment at the sight of the supposed boy that was wrapped up in the cleanest-looking blanket the woman possessed. Blond hair. On the baby's head. Enough to confirm her words.

"So, you were saying the truth." He murmured, bending down to inspect this tragic duo. "When was the boy born?"

"5 days ago..." She managed to mumble before raising the child as high as her weak arms could. "Please... Warm him."

His arms gathered the baby on their own accord, feeling the weight of the little human for the first time. And how terrifyingly cold he was. Dio didn't dare look at his face for now, a hand opening his vest and his shirt to push the baby against him. He would get warmer much more quickly that way. It would be much too long to try to light a fire, and his mother was too weak, and probably too sick to feed him the warm milk he needed. The boy made a sound, perhaps one of contentment, against his father's huge chest. Dio felt a smile work his lips.

"Please... Tell... Tell me you'll make sure he lives..."

Dio glanced back at her. She had been beautiful, and lively, and knew how to have a good time. One night, he remembered her wishing she'd never have children, for they would ruin her fun. Now, she had held onto all the life force she could muster to keep her child safe, alive. Her beauty was gone, her cheerfulness too, the dry, chapped lips, hollow cheeks and sweaty hair painting her last moments on this earth with a heartbreaking reality. He let go of his hat, letting it tumble to the floor, to hold her ice-cold face.

"I will take care of him, you have my word."

His promise, supported by the intense and honest look on his face brought tears to her eyes, and she made a move to snuggle one last time in his hand.

"You can rest now." He told her gently, witnessing the smile fade from her face, the unique light in her eye throbbing one last time before disappearing entirely.

The boy moved against him, tiny arms and legs finally moving from the heat his father had engulfed him in. Raising to his feet, the man carefully held his child, his gaze following back to the mother's body.

In the following minutes, Dio wrote a letter to an undertaker he knew, a man he could trust to remain silent, indicating the address of the boy's mother, and requesting that she's be buried properly. He gave the letter to a little boy from the slums, asking him to send it to its receiver for a generous amount of money, and promising the boy more if a letter was sent back to him by said undertaker.

As the child ran as quickly as he could, Dio heard the baby whimper against him, then cry openly. It was a strong, liberating cry as if he had been reborn. The clouds dissipated, allowing the sun to bathe them in a gentle haze, a halo of light. That was when Dio knew the name of his son.

He would be Giorno, son of Dio, and he would be raised under the sun and the world would celebrate his life as Dio silently celebrated it.

----

So, I hope I made at least one person feel sad with the last bit. Did I?

I did a bit of math (shocking I know), and George II is probably born in November 1888, if he was conceived around April 1888. Obviously, I made him arrive 2 years later but decided to keep the November birth month. Rejoice, November babies!

I also know very well that Giorno's real mom is, to say the least, not good. In here, I decided to give her more humanity, to make her a good mother for the few days she was one.

Dio is, as you probably notice, not as much of an asshole as he is in the manga! He still has his flaws, like going around and sleeping with people, probably having some secret cult or whatever, and he acts cold towards his family, but he loves the Joestar. Really.