Yakuza!Jotaro x Reader- Flower and The Serpent

Marked

Warning: Contains violence
Jotaro held you close that night, not daring to let you go. There would be no more taking you to parties, or out on the town, at least not without him. He couldn't bare to have you disfigured like Midler, killed like Mariah, or end up as a fucking druggie like Kakyoin. It felt good to be hugged, but at the same time, you felt like a dog on a leash. It was like you were a pet to him, really, as he was scared of letting you go. To let you go would be to lose you, to have you snatched away from him, and you were his. You didn't get much sleep that night, as Jotaro's grip was tight and rather uncomfortable after a while. He muttered in his sleep, twitching and tossing his head, saying things like "No... Papa, don't go...." and "Why did you leave me!" His eyes rolled under the dainty skin of his eyelids, and you only got a few hours of sleep in. As the sun rose, Jotaro slowly woke up, and looked over at you to make sure you were still there.
"Y/n, baby... I was so scared." He said, kissing you deeply. "I was worried that Dio's men would come and take you in the night."
"I'd never let that happen, I'm all yours." You replied. Jotaro gave a sigh, pulling back the black silk sheets and exposing his tattooed skin.
"I wish there was a way to let them all know you're all mine." He said. "I don't want them to try and take you away." You looked down at his chest, and inspiration struck you.
"A tattoo!"
"What?"
"We get matching tattoos. Everyone will know you're mine and I'm yours now."  Jotaro's face cleared at this, and he sat up.
"That's a great idea, y/n. We'll match forever that way, and everyone will see what I've got as mine and mine alone. It's why I love you."
He kissed you again, and it didn't make you shudder. In fact, it was starting to feel familiar.

Across the city, Kakyoin was woken up by a nurse coming into his room. He pulled aside the papery hospital sheets and groaned as she opened the blinds, letting the light into the room. He was in a private room as he was a "high-risk" patient, and others feared him due to his Yakuza ties. They had started to avoid him, and he knew that he'd have to talk to the police, possibly even be arrested, when he got out. He lay on the bed, catatonic, as the nurse brought in breakfast. It was porridge with a lump of brown sugar on it, a glass of orange juice, a banana, and a little pot of meds. Breakfast alternated from day to day, and every other day it was scrambled eggs on toast with apple juice and berry medley. Apparently this was to "keep it interesting", but Kakyoin still felt as miserable as ever. It was as if he was a colouring book that some child had just coloured in grey, as that was all he ever felt. Bland, boring, miserable.
"You've got some visitors today." The nurse said as Kakyoin picked up his juice and took a sip.
"If it's Avdol and Polnareff, tell them to fuck off." He replied. The nurse rolled her eyes at his language, and shook her head.
"No, it's two new gentlemen. I can't give you the names, but they said they wanted to help you."
As if. Nobody even gave a shit about him, so why would they want to help him? Kakyoin looked down at his tattooed arms in disgust, wishing he could rip his skin off at the sight of them. But he didn't want to cause problems for the nurse, who was just doing her job, so he simply nodded and focused on his porridge.

You held hands with Jotaro as he walked with you down the seedier streets of Kabukicho. This was a place that even the police didn't go after dark, but nobody dared bother you with Jotaro by your side. He was as imposing as ever, and people even avoided stepping on his shadow, for fear that it could incur his wrath upon them. He stopped outside a graffitied building with steel shutters over the window and broken glass on the roof, and banged on the door.
"We're here to get a tattoo!" He shouted. The door creaked open, to reveal a scabby looking guy in a stained apron.
"Mr Kujo, sir!" He said, as if on instinct.
"This guy's done all my ink, y/n." Jotaro looked over at the tattoo artist, and pulled up his shirt. He pointed to the blank space above his heart, and pointed to your wrist.
"I want us to get matching tattoos. Got any designs?"
"I've got one I just designed, s-sir. It's a snake with a flower branch in it's teeth, will that be good?" The artist said, staring at his feet and trying not to make eye contact.
"I like that." You said.
"It'll be perfect." Jotaro replied. He paid the artist, you rolled up your sleeve, and you sat down in the chair to go under the needle, all to keep up the act that you loved Jotaro.

Kakyoin knew he should've just stayed in his room when he walked into the visitor's room. Sitting there were two huge men, one with flowing black hair and one bald. They were squeezed into tiny designer suits, and Kakyoin knew at once that they worked for Dio.
"I've got to g..." he started, looking for an excuse, only for one to grab him by the arm.
"You're coming with us, Noriaki. Mr Brando wants some information out of you!" The bald one snapped. They pulled him out of the room and down the hall, then out the reception at the front of the hospital. Kakyoin squinted in the bright sun, before they dragged him down an alleyway and threw him onto the ground. He felt the concrete below him soak him with the cold, as it had recently been raining, and he was getting damp.

"Use the knuckles, Tarkus." The long haired one said. Tarkus pulled a pair of brass knuckles from his pocket, grabbed Kakyoin by the hair, and punched him in the jaw. Kakyoin felt his teeth splinter, and blood filled his mouth at the impact. His legs buckled at the impact, and Kakyoin fell to the ground.
"Where's Jotaro?!" Tarkus demanded. "Bruford, pull him up." Kakyoin was pulled to his feet, and the question was asked again.
"Where's Jotaro?"
"I don't fucking know! He abandoned me!" Kakyoin yelled. Tarkus punched him again, this time in the belly.
"WHERE'S JOTARO?!"
"I don't know! He left me after the party got interrupted! I haven't seen him in nearly a month!" Bruford stepped forward, and took his wrist in one hand.
"He's telling the truth. Leave him." He said. The bigger guy pulled open a dumpster, grabbed Kakyoin by the throat, and threw him in. They walked off into the street, leaving Noriaki alone, in the dark and in the rotting, rat-infested trash.

You gritted your teeth as the tattoo gun buzzed away. The design was just linework with some pink on the flowers, but you'd never been tattooed before, so it stung like an absolute bitch. You kept your eyes closed most of the time, but you'd occasionally open them to watch the tattoo blooming across your skin, the black lines weaving themselves onto your arm. You bit your lip and your eyes watered, as the forearm was a sensitive place to get tattooed, but you never once cried out. After an hour, the artist pulled back, carefully spraying your arm with medical alcohol and wrapping it with a sterile bandage, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You could almost feel the tattoo under your skin, blooming away, marking you forever. Jotaro helped you up from the chair, and you sat down on the couch across the room from him as he pulled off his shirt to get his tattoo.
"Aren't you running out of space?" The artist joked, as his assistant broke the old needles off of the gun and got you some coffee.
"There's always room for my best girl." Jotaro said, baring his inked chest. There was a patch over his heart, as if he'd been saving it for just this occasion. As the machine buzzed back to life, you couldn't help but think of Midler and Kakyoin, before you. Did they sit on this couch as Jotaro got tattooed, feeling their skin sting and watching him be illustrated in ink? And did they ever wonder why the patch over his heart, the most important part of him, stayed empty and reserved? Could it be that they knew it wouldn't last, and were only lying to themselves to try and make the inevitable easier? You watched the serpent start to curl over Jotaro's chest, and suddenly, your prayer at the shrine came back to you.
Make me seem as if I am a sweet flower, even if it is to just hide the serpent beneath it.
Jotaro's choice of tattoo didn't seem so coincidental now. But nothing ever did since you made that fucking prayer.

Kakyoin stumbled through the streets of Tokyo, dripping blood from his mouth and limping heavily. People swerved to avoid him, probably thinking that he was some kind of insane homeless person, or a drug addict. Still, they were correct by thinking such things. Kakyoin had no money, nowhere to go, and nobody to rely on. He was still crippled by going cold turkey from his addiction, and he couldn't even walk straight because of his injuries. He couldn't go to the police, they'd arrest him on the spot, and he certainly couldn't go back to that fucking hospital again. He had one coin in his pocket, which wouldn't even buy him a cup of coffee. What was there to do? He wasn't going back to Avdol and Polnareff, not after they'd abandoned him like that. And as if it couldn't get any worse, the heavens opened and it started raining. Kakyoin gave a wail and tried to run for shelter, only to slip and fall in a puddle. He landed on the concrete, his nose bleeding, and he just lay there and wept for some time. Nobody offered to pick him up, to help him, they didn't even ask him what was wrong. He wailed for nearly half an hour, before lifting his head from the ground. Before him sat a Shinto shrine, and inspiration struck him like lightning.
He had just one coin in his pocket. He might as well make use of it.