#but yeah Giorno shows his DIO side here | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aquietlifesblog · 1 month ago

Text

Ravening Wolves (Dio x F!Reader) 15/?

"When it's all over," he breathes, "when I stand supreme, and am no longer a slave to fate... I shall show you heaven..."

At long last, the time has come to set your grand scheme in motion: the elimination of Jotaro Kujo and Dio's glorious resurrection. The Age of Heaven is near, and you won't let the Joestars stop you—no matter how hard they fight. You've defied fate and death for Dio. Perhaps one day you'll tell him how you feel. A sequel to 'Hungry Eyes.'

Read on AO3

First Chapter | Masterlist |

Chapter 15: Part of Your World

His father makes it clear when he’s dismissed, that a room will be prepared for him on the second floor.

“You may do as you please,” Dio said, so Giorno takes this time to traverse the estate, though a palpable sense of unease settles over him. The windows are covered, darkness clings to every corner like a shroud, and his senses tingle with an acute awareness of being watched, unseen eyes observing his every move from the hidden recesses of the estate. His steps echo off the polished marble floors, whispering tales of caution.

He attempts to seem as polite as possible, refusing to linger too close to what might be someone’s quarters or a place servants might gather to talk or rest. He strays away from where he may not be welcome but looks around until he finds the library.

It’s unoccupied, so he steps inside to gaze wide-eyed at the shelves that loom around him. There are vinyl records on the bottom shelf, their grooves dusty and worn with time. But before he can bend lower to observe them, Giorno overhears the hushed murmurs of the servants passing by.

"Where's Valarie?" one whispers anxiously.

"I haven't seen her since this morning," another responds.

"Surely she hasn't left without permission, she would never do such a thing!" a third voice interjects, fear present in their tone.

Giorno listens in silence, standing amidst the towering shelves. He isn’t sure who this ‘Valarie’ person is, but he’s certain there are four people in the basement, and he wonders if the servants checked there.

Meanwhile, Hol Horse and Josuke reach their destination, a nondescript hotel nestled in the bustling heart of the hotel district— room 439.

Hol Horse unlocks the door to find two neatly made beds positioned against opposite walls, each adorned with crisp linens and plump pillows. The headboards are upholstered in a subtle pattern that matches the sturdy wooden dresser in the center of the room, the legs of the cushioned chairs, and the coffee table.

Hol Horse claims the bed nearest the window.

“I hope Mr. Joestar and Polnareff are alright.” Josuke sighs, sinking into a chair.

“I’m sure they’re doin’ fine. Those two can’t be brought down too easy, believe me.”

There isn’t much of a view, just the topside of a smaller building next door and a long-legged spider on the other side window, but the room falls into silence as Josuke looks out into the distance.

“There isn’t much time.”

“Yeah,” Hol Horse nods, “you’re right.”

A somber atmosphere settles between them before Hol Horse turns to Josuke, his expression grave. Back at the airport, while Josuke complained about ‘feeling’ something off like someone he should know was near,' Hol Horse wandered off to make a phone call—now's the time to follow up.

"I need you to lay low for a bit while I track down some old contacts."

"What?"

"We're dealin’ with Dio's former agents here, and they're not exactly the friendliest bunch."

Josuke bristles at the notion of being left behind, his determination evident in the set of his jaw. "I'm not staying behind while you do all the legwork," he protests.

"Look, kid, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but trust me on this one. It's less conspicuous if I go in alone. Some of these folks are shifty characters, they might take one look at you and want to settle old scores. You stick out like a sore thumb lookin’ like Jotaro the way you do."

"Fine," Josuke concedes with reluctance, his frustration a tangible thing. "But you better come back before the sun sets."

"Don't worry, kid. I'll be back before you know it. Just sit tight and keep a low profile." Hol Horse claps him on the shoulder, and Josuke tenses slightly.

“I mean it, I don't want to be waiting around. I don't know how to explain it, but it's like I can feel Dio's presence here. He's far, but he can probably feel me too.”

Hol Horse offers Josuke a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"Don't sweat it, kid. I'll be back before you know it. Just keep a low profile and wait for my signal."

And with that, Hol Horse leaves Josuke to his thoughts, disappearing down the hall and out into the tourist-filled streets.

Eventually, he locates the hotel he was searching for (despite having been distracted by a group of pretty ladies who thought he was part of some headlining act.) A tall, white building that stretches far into the sky, illuminated by yellow lights he’s sure is more impressive in the evening. It promises views of rocket launches and the name reads exactly as she said it would.

So, with a sense of determination, Hol Horse strides confidently into the lobby of the hotel, his keen eyes scanning his surroundings.

It wasn’t ritzy. In fact, the hotel's decor clashed bizarrely, with classic paintings hanging on walls beside Space Race memorabilia, but he supposed it was a place to lay low.

"Excuse me," Hol Horse begins, approaching the handsome clerk at the front desk. "I'm lookin’ for a friend of mine, goes by the name Mariah. Room 204. Mind givin’ her a call and lettin’ her know I'm here?" The clerk nods, picks up the phone, and dials a number on the extension sheet taped to the inside of a drawer.

It rings for what seems like a long time before he receives an answer.

Hol Horse hums a jaunty tune and tips his hat to a family with a kid in his own little cowboy hat.

Then, after a brief conversation, the clerk hangs up the phone and leans forward slightly.

"She'll be down in a moment.”

Mariah, however, emerges from the elevator almost twenty minutes later, her demeanor relaxed as she glides across the lobby. Her red dress clings to her every curve, drawing his gaze to her swaying hips and the dramatic curve of her bosom.

"Well, well, look who it is," Mariah drawls with a smirk. She takes a leisurely drag of her cigarette and blows it out in his direction. The smoke curls around him like a shroud, and suddenly Hol Horse remembers himself, why he’s here, and all the reasons he doesn’t like her. Nevertheless, Hol Horse grits his teeth, resisting the urge to let his frustration show.

"I thought you planned on running from Dio," she mocks, "but here you are, just like the rest of us.”

His jaw tightens, but Hol Horse maintains his composure, refusing to be baited by her taunts. Instead, he squares his shoulders and meets Mariah's gaze head-on.

"I'm not here for small talk, Mariah," he says, his voice firm. "I need information, and I know you're the one who can help me get it."

After a moment of contemplation, she flicks her cigarette away and gestures for Hol Horse to follow her.

"Fine," she says with a sigh. "But let's make it quick. I've got places to be.”

Hol Horse lets out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes at her nonchalance.

Does she not understand what was at stake? Or does she not care?

"Where could you possibly need to be?" he mutters under his breath, but Mariah ignores his question, her attention already focused on a large digital clock centered on the wall.

“Come on.” She strides towards the small hotel bar.

Despite the early hour, there are few patrons scattered around the bar, perched on stools and engrossed in quiet conversations. A single bartender, clad in a crisp uniform, stands behind the bar, wiping down glasses with practiced efficiency.

Mariah pays them no mind as she settles onto a stool and folds one leg atop the other.

"You're buying," she informs him with a casual wave of her hand. And then, without waiting for a response, turns her attention to the bartender and orders a fancy-sounding cocktail without glancing at the menu once.

Hol Horse furrows his brow but leans closer anyway, hoping to get down to business before she drains him dry.

"What do you think Dio’s plannin’?”

"Who knows," she shrugs.

He leans back against the bar, his mind racing with possibilities. The stakes couldn't be higher, and yet Mariah seemed content to treat the situation as nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

"We can't afford to be in the dark here," Hol Horse insists, his voice filled with urgency. "Dio's up to somethin’, and we need to find out what it is before it's too late."

Mariah smiles sweetly at the bartender as her drink his revealed to her, a bright orange slush with both a strawberry and a lemon wedge on the side.

"And what do you propose we do about it?" she asks, turning back to Hol Horse, her tone cool and detached. "No one's heard anything since Vanilla Ice told us his instructions," she explains. "We're all as lost in the dark as you are."

"Lost in the dark," Hol Horse repeats. "And you're okay with that?"

Mariah takes a sip of her drink, her expression unreadable as she meets Hol Horse's gaze.

"What other choice do we have?"

Hol Horse meets her gaze, his mind racing as he considers their options.

“We survive. We fight the uphill fight, like we’ve always done.”

"Fight?" Mariah's laughter echoes through the dimly lit bar, mingling with the soft clink of glasses and the murmur of conversation. Hol Horse's expression darkens at her mocking tone, and he meets her gaze with steely resolve. But when her laughter subsides, her demeanor shifts from amusement to something resembling respect.

"You've changed," she observes, her voice softening with genuine sincerity.

Hol Horse offers a wry smile in response.

"We all change, Mariah," he replies, his tone reflective. "Sometimes, the fates have a way of forcing our hand."

Their conversation is interrupted by Mariah's cell phone ringing, an obnoxious little tune that makes him want to shut it off himself.

She glances at the screen before excusing herself to take the call. Left alone at the bar, Hol Horse's thoughts drift back to the past, to how dangerous he knows Dio can be. He then looks at the little strawberry wedged on the side of Mariah’s glass and takes it for himself.

As Mariah returns to her seat, she fixes Hol Horse with a searching gaze.

"You're not the only one haunted by the past, you know," she confides, though her voice takes on a more accusatory tone.

Hol Horse's brow furrows in confusion, but before he can respond, Mariah gestures to the three wristwatches adorning his arm.

"Your little superstition?" she muses.

Hol Horse's expression softens as he nods in agreement.

"Old habits die hard," he admits, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his voice.

Mariah's gaze lingers on the watches for a moment longer before she continues.

"I still have nightmares" she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. "Of vampires, of the mansion...of everything…I still don’t know why I call him 'Lord DIO' in my dreams. Even after that shrink those Speedwagon guys hired to talk to me…”

The two sit in companionable silence, listening to the sounds of the patrons around them. Hol Horse isn’t patient, but he waits for Mariah to speak.

"I don't know what I'll do when he summons us," she confesses, her voice heavy with apprehension.

Hol Horse's eyebrows furrow in concern as he listens to her words.

"You're afraid of him," he observes quietly, understanding the depth of her terror.

“Like you're not?” She scoffs, though there’s something haunted in her eyes. "I'm terrified of his wrath, but it’s not like I want to…to let him seduce and use me all over again.”

"Well, you might not have to worry about that last part," he quips, hoping to lighten the heavy mood. "Seems like Dio's found himself a steady girlfriend."

Mariah's laughter rings out once again, drawing curious glances from all around.

"A girlfriend?" she repeats, disbelief and jealousy evident in her tone. " Him? You've got to be kidding me."

"Ain’t no joke, ma’am," he assures her, his smirk widening. "Quite the vicious bambina from what I've heard. All kinds of evil, just like him."

Mariah blinks, though as she contemplates the news of DIO's newfound girlfriend, her thoughts drift back to Midler, whose latest call was brief.

“Sorry Mariah,” She said, “I can’t meet today.” And Mariah didn’t argue. Because, for the past few days, Midler's behavior has become increasingly erratic, her once cheerful demeanor replaced by a feverish obsession with DIO.

Just yesterday, she remembers, Midler pulled her aside.

"I don't care about the rest of them," Midler had declared, her eyes burning with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. "We should team up and serve him again, just like old times."

Mariah tried to voice her doubts, trying to remember what she learned in therapy, but Midler's reaction was cold, simply turning on her heel and stalking off, leaving Mariah feeling unsettled and alone.

Midler, Mariah thinks, has always been fixated on the idea of finding love, of being in love. Yet, deep down, she knew DIO could never be 'the one' for her. Even if no man could ever compare to him in her mind, she always dreamed of finding her perfect match. So what changed? What could have possibly driven her to abandon her dreams and throw herself into DIO's clutches?

Is it possible that DIO has already reached out to her? What if he's stringing Midler along, just like he used to do?

The idea fills Mariah with a sense of unease, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Midler was upgraded to a different suite on the top floor. There had been a ‘severe structural issue’ according to the managers, but Mariah knew that the giant hole in the wall was caused by a Stand. It could have been High Priestess like Midler claimed, it was completely in its power to do so, but Mariah now thinks it was something else, someone else; Vanilla Ice and his Stand, Cream.

“So he has a new plaything? Just one?” As resentment for this unknown woman stirs within her chest, she can only imagine how Midler would react to the news. Would she come to her senses, realizing that her fantasies of being with DIO were nothing more than delusions? Or would she become even more entrenched in her obsession, refusing to accept the truth and clinging to her misguided dreams?

Hol Horse shrugs.

“From what I heard, they’ve got a long history.”

"A long history," she repeats, the words dripping with sarcasm. "How cute."

Mariah's lips curl into a tight smile. She can't help but wonder what kind of hold this woman has over Dio, what makes her so special that she captured his attention—though she knows that isn’t what matters now. Those old feelings have no place in her new life. She had to believe that.

“Whatever happens, I’m going to do whatever is best for me,” she decides, turning her attention to the matter at hand. “I suggest you do the same.”

But Hol Horse isn’t sure he can heed that advice, as much as he would like to do so.

As the sun dips below the horizon and perfect darkness descends upon your chambers, you continue to lie listlessly in bed, drained by the weight of the day. Though you can hear your Blood Maids in the hallway, your thoughts press down upon you like a weight, leaving you devoid of both energy and appetite.

However, the tranquility of the night is soon shattered by the unmistakable sound of footsteps coming toward your door. You recognize the rhythm of Vanilla Ice's gait—steady, measured, precise. The maids part for him their heartbeats quickening as he, too, waits for you to emerge. But you are not ready to face him—not yet.

The mere thought of confronting Vanilla Ice fills you with a sense of dread that gnaws at the core of your being. It's as though a dark cloud of uncertainty looms over you, casting a shadow over your every thought. You feel adrift, lost in a sea of turmoil, unable to find solid ground beneath your feet.

‘Go away,’ you think, though you aren’t sure to whom that thought is directed. You simply wish for the world to vanish, to dissolve into nothingness, and carry your problems away.

It's a pleasant thought, but one that does not reflect reality. So, instead, you summon all the strength you can muster, rise from your bed, and slip into a maroon gown and your favorite gold shoes.

Vanilla Ice calls your name and you step out onto the balcony.

The night air, humid as it may be, is a welcome reprieve from the stifling atmosphere within the estate.

You make your way to the edge, cast a fleeting glance over your shoulder, and without a second thought, you leap.

It isn’t far, a mere three stories, but as you plummet toward the ground, you call upon your vampiric abilities and allow your body to disperse into a fine mist.

It's a strange form to take, one where your senses leave you and all you have is instinct. There's freedom in that. Freedom in your ability to glide effortlessly through the streets, unseen and unnoticed by any who may cross your path. It's been days since your arrival at the estate, and you've yet to explore beyond its confines.

Despite your disdain for Florida, the prospect of a solitary walk sounds lovely.

So, as the estate fades into the distance behind you, you reform, landing gracefully on the ground.

It’s quiet, mostly, save for the occasional car engine and radio. There are purer sounds as well, like the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.

And for the first time all day, you feel a semblance of peace wash over you as you walk.

You walk for what might have been hours, and what was meant to be a simple stroll has turned into a journey of exploration, each discovery drawing you further into the heart of this community, much different than the one that sprang up around your manor all those years ago.

Here, you walk by rows of identical estates that stretch endlessly into the dark horizon, their imposing facades standing like sentinels against the night sky. The neatly manicured lawns and meticulously trimmed hedges are identical, but not the same.

But as you continue, your attention is drawn to a particular house, one bathed in vibrant lights and pulsing with the rhythm of loud music. Shadows dance and press together behind illuminated windows as the scent of beer, food, and cheap cologne assaults your senses.

You scoff at the spectacle before you.

What a frivolous waste of the night, you think, though a plaguing thought crosses your mind as you walk past. Did Dio and Giorno's mother cross paths in a setting like this? The notion is absurd, you think, and yet it lingers in your thoughts, irritating you with its persistence.

The idea that Dio could find enjoyment in such mundane frivolities irks you. You indulged yourself in refinement the moment you had the chance, shedding any semblance of your less-than-common upbringing behind (though you did have a certain fondness popular culture of eras past.) You pride yourself on your discerning tastes and refined sensibilities, qualities that you believe set you apart from the common rabble. The thought of Dio not only indulging in but enjoying such base pursuits is a bitter pill to swallow, one you attempt to ignore as you continue your walk.

As you move, your path intersects with a rowdy group you assume is heading toward the party. Their laughter rings out like a discordant melody, grating against your senses as they draw closer, oblivious to your presence.

You maintain your course, refusing to yield even an inch of the sidewalk to their approach as the leader of the group complains loudly about having to ‘park around the corner,’ his voice laced with undo entitlement.

Typical, you think, as they make no move to accommodate your presence, brushing past you as if you were inconsequential, as if you were nothing. One of them carelessly bumps into you, though his manner isn’t brash.

“Shit, sorry,” he says. And though you ball your fist and clench your teeth, you do not kill that man. You do not maim, dismember, or even yell at him.

You just continue walking.

Eventually, you come across a park, a wide expanse of green adorned with colorful equipment, areas for children to play. Further back is a tranquil fishing lake. A majestic fountain rises from the center, spewing water into the air in a mesmerizing display. The path around the lake is lined with white stone and bleached sand that branches out like spider legs, creating paths that cut through the park. You follow one such path, only stopping when you notice a woman by the lakeshore, casting a thoughtful gaze over the expanse of water.

"The park is closed at dusk," she remarks, her voice carrying a gentle yet authoritative tone. Though she remains fixated on the horizon, it's evident she's aware of your presence. She has good instincts.

"Yes, I am aware," you respond, maintaining your position near the edge of the sandline, respecting the unspoken boundaries of her solitude.

A soft scoff escapes her lips as she slowly turns to face you. She’s strikingly beautiful, her face framed by cascading waves of hair.

Her gaze lingers on you, curiosity flickering in her eyes as she studies your features with keen interest.

"You don't look like a rule breaker," she remarks.

"And how should your typical ‘rule breaker' appear?" You respond.

With a snort of laughter, she shakes her head.

"Not like you.”

"My apologies for not fitting the mold," you jest. “I shall dress more rebelliously next time, perhaps like you.” You observe her attire, her split yellow skirt and soft blue top that show off her midriff and the plump curve of her cleavage.

The woman laughs and hums thoughtfully at your response before shifting her attention back to you.

"Why are you walking around so late? There are real creeps out this time of night, you know.”

"I assure you, I can handle myself.” You say. Though, with your curiosity piqued, you turn the question back to her.

"And what of you? Why are you sitting out here in the sand? I can’t presume that it is at all comfortable," you gesture towards the beach beneath her. “Rumor has it there are beetles running underfoot.”

Her gaze meets yours, and for a moment, there's a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes.

You don’t know this woman, yet you allow your vampiric charm to draw her in.

“What’s your name?” You ask.

“Midler…” She responds.

You introduce yourself as well, and you wait for her to speak.

Perhaps it is the ease with which you seem to carry yourself, or the simple fact she's been holding in her problems for days. Whatever the prompt, you settle her heart and make her feel as though she can confide in you.

"...I've just been thinking," she begins but stops for just a moment.

"Go on," you tell her, voice soft. It’s the same voice you use with your followers, the ones who line up, hoping you will ease their pain.

"...There's someone I need to talk to, but he's already turned me away," she admits, her words heavy with unresolved emotions. "I wanted to visit him again but I thought better of it. Last time, he stuck his guard dog on me." She lets out a sigh before continuing, "So I just wandered here…"

“Why would you be so desperate to meet someone who would go as far as to send his dog after you?" you ask, genuinely puzzled by her persistence.

Midler meets your gaze with a wistful expression.

"It's not just about him," she confesses. "It's for my friend, she likes him too and she needs his help. But he's stubborn and refuses to see reason. I was hoping to 'sweeten the deal,’ but it seems he doesn't want me—or my friend—around anymore."

"You both fancy the same man?" You ask, though her situation isn't unfamiliar. Midler only shrugs in response.

"If you met him, you'd understand...the three of us, we had a good time together once."

"So, you and your friend are... close?" you inquire gently. Midler nods and you regard her with a thoughtful gaze, her confession sparking a series of questions in your mind. "Did it feel strange to share your romantic interest with your...friend?"

Midler considers your question for a moment, her expression thoughtful as she sifts through her memories.

"At first, maybe," She pauses, a wistful smile playing at the corners of her lips. "It was like having a partner in crime. I mean, what brings people closer together than that, you know?"

As Midler speaks, you can't help but marvel at the depth of the bond she shares with her friend. She makes it sound as though they navigated the complexities of love and friendship with ease.

"Did you ever worry that it would come between you?" you inquire, your curiosity getting the better of you. "That your romantic entanglements would overshadow your friendship?"

Midler's smile fades slightly, replaced by a look of contemplation.

"There were moments, of course," she confesses, her gaze distant as she recalls past struggles. "But she means a lot to me; she was there when my life went to shit and I was there for her, too. Things weren't perfect, but they got easier once he left our life. But now..."

You nod, understanding the words she left unspoken.

"There is nothing worse than being at the mercy of a powerful man." You remark, your tone bitter and low.

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience," she observes quietly.

You let out a single, empty laugh, a hollow sound that echoes in the stillness of the night.

"Unfortunately so," you admit, and you recognize the familiar pattern unfolding before you—the opportunity to extend your influence, to draw a newcomer into your fold with promises of solace and belonging.

‘Come, my child,’ you would often say, your voice a soothing melody. ‘There's no need for you to suffer any longer. I extend the promise of paradise to those who kneel before me, a haven to escape the burdens of living as we await the age of heaven together. Lay your worries at my feet, place your faith in me, and I shall welcome you to paradise.’

However, tonight is different. Tonight, you're in no mood to recruit new followers. Instead, you choose to listen, to truly understand, and, perhaps, be understood in return.

"It's painful, isn't it?" you murmur, the weight of shared emotion heavy in your chest."Being the one who loves more."

Midler nods in silent agreement, her eyes reflecting the ache of unrequited affection. In that moment, you share a bond forged from the common experience of longing for someone's acceptance, someone's love, even when it feels just out of reach.

“I'm surprised. " She begins after a moment of silence, "I thought men were into the whole ‘kept woman’ thing you've got going on.”

You glance down at your attire, puzzled by the woman's remark. Your outfit doesn't strike you as particularly "kept.” It's elegant yet practical, suitable for an evening stroll rather than domestic chores.

" ‘Kept woman?’ " you repeat, a hint of confusion lacing your tone.

The woman chuckles softly, shaking her head at your response.

"It's not about the dress," she explains, a playful glint in her eyes. "It's the whole aura you give off… it's not a bad thing, to have someone take care of you. It would be nice…”

You scoff at the idea.

"Surely not with the man who sent his dog after you. He sounds repulsive."

Midler’s expression softens, and she offers a rueful smile.

"He's got his charms," she admits reluctantly, "I used to wish he was ‘the one,’ you know?”

Her words strike a chord within you, prompting memories of Dio and the tangled web of emotions that bind you to him.

Since you were thirteen and he was twelve, you've been drawn together, bound by a force you now know as gravity.

Even as a little girl, even when you first began to feel the buds of young love, you would have given anything to stay beside him, to have him smile at you. You dreamed of a life of luxury and extravagance, a world where anything was possible and nothing was beyond your reach. You dreamed of being part of his world.

And now you are, you know you are. Because, no matter how far apart you may be, you can always sense him, feel his presence as if he were standing right beside you.

You hated it at first, and you despited Dio for what he did to you, for the curse of vampirism he bestowed upon you, how he stripped away your humanity and your agency and condemned you to an eternity of shadows.

But as you lived longer, found your freedom, and witnessed the chaos that swept across the world, you began to relish the connection you shared, the silent reassurance that you were never truly alone.

You felt him as the remnants of his army were hunted down by the Hamon Clan, their once formidable ranks reduced to scattered remnants before disappearing from the world completely. You felt him as you mourned the loss of Mr. Bishop, the one person who shown you genuine affection, his departure leaving a gaping void in your heart that seemed impossible to fill.

You felt him as humanity tore itself apart, driven by greed, hatred, and fear. (You couldn't help but wonder if things would have been different had Dio been there to exert his influence then, had Jonathan not bested him.)

You felt him amidst the chaos that engulfed the world—the wars, the raids, the senseless bloodshed, and murder on unprecedented scales. You felt him as people flocked to you in fear and desperation, seeking solace in your embrace. You felt him as humanity grappled with its demons, as protests and movements swept across the globe, reshaping the fabric of society.

And you felt the moment he returned.

You felt the shift in the very air around you as if a dormant part of yourself had been suddenly rekindled, a flame reignited after a century of darkness. For a hundred years, you were content to watch the world pass you by, content in your role as a revered deity among your followers. But Dio's return brought with it a renewed sense of purpose and a subtle stir of love.

But then Jotaro Kujo took him away—and the connection was severed. For the first time in a century, you were truly alone, left adrift in a world that irrevocably changed around you. And the weight of your grief and solitude pressed down upon you like the waters of the ocean, threatening to engulf you in its embrace.

During those years of Dio's absence, you found solace in the companionship of Vanilla Ice. What started as a mutual alliance born from a desire for revenge eventually evolved into a deep bond forged by a shared devotion to Dio. Vanilla Ice was the only person who could truly understand the depths of your love and loyalty to Dio, who understood the unfillable void in your heart, and in him, you found a kindred spirit.

As days stretched into weeks, the weeks into months, and the months into years, your friendship with Vanilla Ice grew stronger. But even as you found comfort in his steady presence, the void left by Dio's absence remained unfillable. Nothing could fill the emptiness within you, the part of you that yearned for Dio's presence. It was a longing that gnawed at your soul, a desperate ache that echoed through every fiber of your being.

You wanted to be with Dio, to feel him again. So you decided to defy fate itself, to challenge the very fabric of reality to bring him back. For you knew that no matter the cost, no matter the sacrifices you had to make, you wanted to be by his side once again.

You wanted him to be yours. Wanted him to be a part of your world.

You still do.

And nothing, not even Dio himself, will keep you from what you want. What you deserve.

“I understand,” you finally murmur sympathetically, your gaze drifting toward the horizon. A certain sense of peace settles around you, a tranquility you did not expect to find here.

“My partner and I…He is the only one. If you truly want that man to be yours, to assist your friend or otherwise, you must make him see you.”

“But how?”

“There must be something he wants from you,” you begin. “Whatever it is, it simply means you have leverage.”

For a moment, there is silence, broken only by the rhythmic melody of the night.

“There is one thing,” Midler speaks, her voice so soft you’re certain her words aren’t meant for you. So you ignore it and continue to watch the fountain arch overhead.

When it becomes clear she has nothing more to say, you decide to bid her adieu.

“I suppose it is time for me to return,” you speak, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. There's a silent understanding between the two of you, an unspoken acknowledgment of the brief yet meaningful connection you've shared. "It's probably best if you head home as well. There are all manner of monsters out this time of night.”

"I can handle myself," she assures you, sounding amused. "But you're right. It's time I head back to the hotel."

You go first, but you do watch from a distance as Midler rises to her feet, her movements fluid and unhurried. There's a sense of quiet resolve in her demeanor now, a silent acknowledgment of the decision that lies ahead. Whatever it is seemed heavy, worthy of deep thought, though your curiosity doesn’t linger on her for much longer.

The path back to the estate stretches out before you, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon above. The cool night air envelops you like a comforting embrace, invigorating you as you march forward with unwavering purpose.

You refuse to allow Dio to deny you what you want, to retract his promises and cast you aside like a forgotten relic. You've waited patiently, but now is the moment to assert yourself, to demand what you deserve.

You follow the same path backward, which brings you to the party house once again.

Despite the hour, the scene is livelier than before. A small group of people have gathered on the front lawn, their laughter mingling with the sound of music drifting from the open windows. Some are lounging on lawn chairs, while others toss a frisbee back and forth with drunken abandon.

You pay them little mind as you continue on your way, determined to ignore the festivities and focus on your thoughts. But as you draw closer, one of the men calls out to you with a crude invitation.

"Hey there, sweetheart! Want a ride?"

You scoff, refusing to dignify his remark with a response, yet you won't allow the insult to slide—not this time. Your patience has been worn thin by such blatant disregard for common courtesy.

Turning to face the offender, you meet his gaze with a cold stare. Then you appear before him.

“Did you expect that line of yours to work, or are you simply eager to harass me?” The man recoils in surprise, his eyes widening with a mixture of shock as he realizes the gravity of his mistake. But before he can utter a word of protest, you leverage your strength to twist his arm. There's a sickening crunch as his bones break and his shoulder dislocates under the force of your grip, eliciting a sharp cry of pain that garners the attention of others, too drunk to truly understand what is happening.

"Learn some manners, you filthy mongrel!" You hiss and toss him through a window, shattering glass and eliciting gasps of shock and disbelief from within.

But you pay them no mind, your focus solely on the man writhing in agony in the center of the makeshift dancefloor. With a cold detachment, you watch as others surround him.

He crashed into several others, including the young man who bumped into you before. He now lays sideways beneath him, a red drink spilled across his shorts. Neither would be okay come morning. And though it isn’t enough to make you happy, you disappear as attention is drawn toward the windows, dispersing your body into a mist as you head toward your estate.

Your anger is wasted on such insignificant beings.

The dimly lit corridors of the estate envelop you as you make your way through its familiar halls. Servants scurry about, their murmured conversations fading into the background as you glide past the open doorways. And as you pass by the library, your favorite room in the estate, you sense a subtle shift in the atmosphere—a disturbance that draws your attention.

There, sprawled across your favorite chair, lies Giorno, relaxed in slumber as a vinyl record plays on the gramophone, (or you suppose they called this variation a Record Player.) Your gaze then drifts to the open book beside him, the well-worn pages of Victor Hugo's masterpiece, Les Miserables—an old favorite of yours, one that Dio never liked and Vanilla Ice found little interest in. Yet here is Giorno, sleeping in your favorite chair, the book still open before him.

You turn from the scene with a thoughtful hum and, as you make your way toward the stairs, stop a servant who bows deeply before you.

“My Lady!”

"Has no one prepared a room for the boy? Did you not think it necessary?" Already annoyed, to see someone subjected to such indignity under your very own roof ignites a rage within you.

"A-a room was prepared for the young master straight away, upon Lord DIO's orders." She stutters.

"Then ensure he is brought there. He need not sleep on a chair, " you demand and the servant quivers beneath your gaze. Her words falter as she struggles to explain herself, but you have no patience for excuses, no tolerance for incompetence, or such blatant disregard for decency. You can't help but wonder if the world is simply set on making you angry.

As the servant scurries away to rectify her mistake, you approach the grand staircase with a scoff but are forced to stop before ascending the stairs once again.

There's a draft coming from the direction of the basement, the slightest temperature change. So you turn your gaze toward the door to the basement and see it has been left slightly ajar. Your irritation grows.

That door is meant to be locked.

"Who on earth would leave the door open so carelessly?" you mutter to yourself. The idea that someone could be so negligent in their duties infuriates you. Is everyone so incompetent?

With purposeful strides, you move toward the door and begin your descent down the stairs to ensure everything is in perfect order.

The air grows cooler as you descend into the dimly lit depths of the basement, the faint scent of mildew and dust tickling your senses. As you reach the bottom of the stairs, you cast a cold gaze upon the sight before you.

Your prisoners, Okuyasu Nijimura and Koichi Hirose lie asleep on a cot on the floor, their forms barely visible in the dim light. But it's Jotaro Kujo who catches your attention, his stoic demeanor a stark contrast to the others. Arms folded, he rests upon a chair, his eyes downcast, yet still sharp, still alert.

Your gaze sweeps over him, however, drawn to something out of place, something strange: a cascade of white fabric, hanging from the ceiling like delicate veils.

Intrigued, you follow their trail to an adjacent room where your gaze falls upon Valarie, your trusted blood maid. But what captures your attention most is the ethereal presence looming above her—a Stand.

You know your blood maids well, their strengths and limitations, and none of them should possess a Stand. And yet one hovers above her. It’s a mechanical thing, with large hands that move with precision. Its fingers, made of hooks and needles, dance across the fabric and feed through the machine that replaces its stomach. You watch as it plucks a single strand of hair from the silver brush Valarie holds between her delicate fingers—your brush. The strand turns gold within its grasp, and it feeds it through the machine as well.

"Valarie," you call out, your voice carrying a commanding tone.

She startles, turning to face you with wide eyes.

"M-my Lady," she stammers, dropping the hairbrush she was holding.

"What is the meaning of this?" you demand, gesturing toward the Stand hovering above her. "How did you come to possess such power?"

Valarie hesitates, fear evident in her expression as she struggles to find the right words. "It's—it's a gift from Father Pucci," she finally manages to explain. "He said it was to aid me in my duties, to better serve you."

Your eyes narrow at the mention of Pucci's name, a flicker of suspicion stirring within you.

"Pucci," you repeat, the name leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. "And what, pray tell, are these duties that require such extraordinary assistance?"

Valarie lowers her gaze, her hands trembling slightly. "I-I was tasked with creating something for you, my Lady," she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. "A gift.”

You regard her carefully, weighing her words with a sense of skepticism. But despite your reservations, a small part of you is touched by her sincerity.

"A gift? From Pucci?" you inquire, curiosity piqued despite yourself.

“On behalf of Lord DIO. That is the only reason why I entered your room without permission! This spirit required a personal component, that is what it said and-”

“Enough.”

You haven’t a clue what she’s talking about.

Valarie falls silent as the Stand continues its relentless work, spinning and weaving with a sense of purpose that transcends mere mortal understanding. It seems almost to consume the materials it touches—the glimmering diamonds, the pure white silks, the delicate lace—as if drawing power from their very essence. With each movement, it creates something of exquisite beauty, a testament to its abilities and purpose.

Then, to your astonishment, the Stand turns toward you, its button eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. There's a tense moment of anticipation as you prepare to defend yourself, summoning Déjà Vu in a reflexive gesture. But the Stand's needle-like fingers are quicker than even that, seizing your blood with a precision that leaves you reeling. The incision is so small, that you hardly feel it, but Valarie gasps in horror as she witnesses the scene unfold.

But then, from the Stand's stomach emerges a dress, fully formed and sublime in its elegance. It hangs suspended in the air, a vision of ethereal grace that leaves you breathless. The fabric seems to pulse with energy, resonating with the essence of your being.

You've never seen this dress before, yet you would know it as surely as you know your own face, your own body. It speaks to you on a primal level, stirring emotions you can scarcely comprehend.

This dress is made for you, of that you have no doubt. And, in a sense, it's made of you—a reflection of your essence, your desires, your very being.

But before you can dwell on it further, the Stand strikes a dramatic pose and exclaims, "Versace Versace!" and disappears with a flourish. The dress, large and heavy, falls into your arms.

“This is Dio’s gift for me?” you ask after a moment, the realization dawning.

As Valarie stammers out an explanation, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, you can't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at the revelation.

Dio commissioned this dress for you—a wedding dress. The sheer audacity of his gesture leaves you both frustrated and intrigued.

"How presumptuous of him," you remark, though a flicker of joy ignites within you at the thought of Dio's longing, his desire to see you adorned in such finery.

“There must be something he wants from you...Whatever it is, it simply means you have leverage.”

You recall the words you spoke to Midler mere hours ago.

Leverage.

The knowledge that Dio has been yearning for you, perhaps even suffering in his longing, fills you with a sense of power, a delicious satisfaction that courses through your veins like ichor.

"Worry not. Dio need not know I saw his gift," you assure Valarie, your voice a whisper as you hand her the dress. "Speak not of this night. It will be our secret."

Valarie nods in understanding, her eyes wide with awe and admiration.

"A secret? Shared with you, My lady?"

"Yes."

She knows better than to question your commands, her loyalty to you unwavering even in the face of such uncertainty. The fabric of the dress flows like liquid silk in her hands, cascading in graceful folds as she begins to place the dress on a perfectly sized mannequin.

You leave her to her work.

As you leave the basement behind, the thrill of your newfound revelation still coursing through your veins, you find yourself drawn back to the solitude of your chambers. The door is slightly ajar, a testament to Valarie's forgetfulness, but you pay it little mind as you step inside.

The familiar surroundings envelop you like a warm embrace, the soft glow of the moonlight casting gentle shadows across the room. You make your way to your favorite chair and sink into its plush cushions with a contented sigh.

You’ve found steady ground again.

Though, as you sit there, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, a smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

There's only one person you'd like to share your revelry with tonight, and you can't help but wonder what Vanilla Ice is doing now.

You should try to speak with him.

#dio x reader #dio brando x reader #dio brando #dio

3 notes · View notes

giogio-gucci-gangstar · 4 years ago

Text

Giorno’s Dinner Party: Mudad Adventure pt ?

Summary: Hol Horse enrages little GioGIo, so obviously he is forced to take drastic measures to put Hol in his place.

CW: Giorno acting like his father, attempted murder, DIO the bad dad encourages said murder, no actual murdering tho

Disclaimer: Obviously DIO reads ancient history and philosophy to Giorno as a bedtime story. He thinks graphic Greek tragedies are perfectly age appropriate for a five year old.

That was the last straw, Giorno thought to himself. His chubby cheeks were red with rage and little fists were clenched as he stiffly stomped down the hall. Hol Horse was going to pay for his sins dearly. And Giorno knew exactly how he was going to exact his revenge on the weird cowboy man.

A maniacal little giggle escaped his mouth as he changed directions in the corridor, opting instead to run into the part of the backyard where Enyaba kept what she called a “dangerous garden”. The name sounded so inviting Gionro couldn't resist! He was hoping for something scary like a venus flytrap or another plant that could bite. He giggled again imagining Hol Horse running around while a plant bit his butt.

However, Giorno’s evil little dream was crushed when he pushed open the doors to her greenhouse. There were just neatly manicured rows of what looked like herbs. And the whole place reeked of garlic. No wonder DIO didn't come back here at all.

Giorno scrunched up his nose at the smell and tried to breathe through his mouth. He walked briskly down the aisles looking for anything that could make this garden even the tiniest bit dangerous. He also made a promise to himself to grab the first possibly painful thing he saw because the smell was starting to make him gag.

Basil? No, that tastes good. Cilantro? He was sure he could find something that tasted worse than soap. Mint? No, that also tasted too good… Hemlock? Now, that one sounded familiar. Oh yes it was! Giorno distinctly remembered this one because it was one of the rare bedtime stories DIO had told him. Some guy named Socrates drank it to kill himself or whatever. The details were fuzzy, he remembered DIO called Socrates some names at this point, but it was poisonous! And boy did he want to poison Hol Horse!

~~~~~~

Hol Horse looked between DIO and Gionro skeptically. Yeah it was odd to have dinner with either of them, but the way Giorno kept laughing to himself scared the shit out of him. Honestly it was scarier than how DIO was staring at him. Hol had nervously tried to excuse himself from the table but DIO wouldn’t allow it.

“Now now Hol, don't be in such a rush. I'm sure Giorno has something spectacular planned for dinner. It's not everyday he requests both of us to join him.” DIO just grinned. He seemed a little jealous that his son had invited this mess of a man to dinner with him, but he seemed intent on letting whatever Giorno had planned play out.

The servant brought DIO a glass of his “special wine” while Giorno rushed in with what looked like half cooked pasta with cut up leaves. Hol Horse eyed it nervously; it looked very suspicious. Ok that was an understatement, everything in this mansion was suspicious but this plate of pasta looked like it could kill him. And that glare in Giorno’s eyes looked like he wanted it to.

Hol spared a glance towards DIO to see him trying to cover up a fit of laughter with a cough. Hol started nervously laughing too, at which DIO suddenly stopped.

“Won’t you try a bite Hol? It looks like Giorno worked very hard on it.” DIO purred. He had noticed immediately what sort of “herb” GIorno had used to garnish Hol’s pasta. It was an adorable first attempt at murder and he wanted to make the moment last.

“Ah sir, and kid, Im sorry but I just had a huge lunch and this sorta leafy thing isn't really my uh thing.” Hol was sweating. The pasta was definitely poisoned. It could not have looked more poisoned if a giant cartoon skull and bones formed from the steam rolling off of it. It literally screamed Hol Horse’s Poison, Poison for Hol Horse, Poison made especially for Hol Horse, Stuff that will Poison Hol Horse.

DIO let out a dramatic sigh and extended a hand to console Giorno.

“Im sorry my dear but I dont think it’s time for Hol Horse to eat that just yet. He still has a contract with Daddy, remember.” Giorno’s lip started to quiver. “But, if Hol Horse did something to hurt you we might have to reconsider that contract…”

Hol Horse had to have misheard that right? The world started to spin, when Giorno’s piercing yell tore through him.

“HOL HORSE CALLED MY DRAWING OF A LADYBUG A COCKROACH” The child was seething as it clung to DIO’s waist. Hol was scared shitless but DIO just snickered.

“Hm that was a very insensitive thing to say Hol Horse” Oh god this was it, DIO was finally going to kill him, “But you know Giorno,” DIO picked up Giorno and plopped him onto his lap, “Hol Horse is American and they're not very smart. Even for them Hol is a bit of a dud. He probably wouldn’t even know what a good lady bug looks like if he saw one in real life.”

Every bone in Hol Horse’s body had turned to jello. Yeah he knew working for an evil vampire with a revenge fantasy would be difficult, but he hadnt realized the job would make him a pawn in some terrifying soap opera of murder. Best to just go along with it he thought and tried to apologize to Giorno.

Hol reached down to ruffle Giorno’s hair as a half-assed apology, but Giorno turned to him coldly and stated, “I have rabies and I will bite you.” That was enough demon child for today Hol Horse reckoned as he quickly walked out of the room before DIO could change his mind about letting him survive.

~~~~~~

“Come now Giogio, I'm sorry that didn't go as planned but how about you come hunting with me next week?” DIO tried to console his son the best way he knew how: Father Son Murder Spree.

“It's not the same.” Giorno pouted. Oh how absolutely adorable, DIO was tearing up, he wanted to kill for revenge! How pure!

#mudad adventures #this is a crack fic #based off of a child I nanny #Shes a handful and scares me #but yeah Giorno shows his DIO side here #young Giorno #haruno #giorno #giogio #DIO #DIO the bad dad #Hol Horse #Giorno's Dinner Party #Enyaba #SDC

21 notes · View notes

bitter-abt-bruno · 4 years ago

Text

1-6 JoJos And If They’re Horny On Main

Idk I looked at the jojo world pics and I kinda made a whole HC off of them so here’s this. Um, as a token for part 6 being announced, here’s Jolyne as a bonus. I can’t believe this is my first actual post on here tho, I-

Jonathan Joestar:

WHY WOULD YOU EVER THINK HE’S HORNY ON MAIN????

My guy doesn’t even know what porn is

He don’t be horny PERIODT

He would honestly judge you for being horny on main, but he wouldn’t block you either

CONSTANTLY fights Dio for being horny on main

“IF I SEE AN IMAGE OF YOUR ‘THING’ oNE MORE TIME-”

He would be private so he won’t have horny people follow him, especially if Erina was on social media

He probably wouldn’t even have a social media acc anyways. Probably finds the whole thing sus tbh

Joseph Joestar:

Nah, he wouldn’t be horny, even tho he seems like he would tho

He’s FLIRTY on main

Maybe a little bit spicy???? Never horny tho

He may be a punk, but he’s still old-school

Jonathan chastises him but he won’t like fight him about it

He wouldn’t judge people for being horny on main, but he would be confused???

“Why are you so… Thirsty??? Tinder is a THING GUYS!”

Funnily enough, he wouldn’t be horny there either

Just thirsty as hell

He definitely would look at the nudes tho, he has no objections to that

Caesar would beat his ass about it

Jotaro Kujo:

????? MAYBE???? MAYBE NOT????

You’ll never know

He’s either too vague for you to know

Or he’s also private on main

Even his friends don’t know

But he WILL block you if YOU’RE horny on main

Don’t @ him for anything horny, he will block you

Except Kakyoin, he won’t do that for kakyoin

Kakyoin is the only exception

BUT HE LOOKS TOO PERVY FOR HIM TO NOT NOT BE HORNY ON MAIN!!

If he isn’t horny on main, then he’s DEFINITELY horny on the side

If you send him horny on the side… ;)

“Yare yare daze…”

*Proceeds to save the pic in question*

Josuke Higashikata:

Oh no he doesn’t be horny on main

That’s just it

Just no horny

But look at that pic

Going by THAT PIC???? Horny

And he’s proud of it, too

He’ll walk around, whipping out the horny

Like, canonically, he wouldn’t be horny on main, but he would repost anything that okuyasu would send

And okuyasu is vv horny on main

Like all the time

A L L T H E T I M E

“Oiii Josuke! Look at this!”

“Wooahhhhhh :)))”

Giorno Giovanna:

Yeah, but also no

Like he would like all the pics of the horny

But won’t ever post them

Or repost them

You’d never catch that

He hides his status, so you won’t know if he looked at what you sent to him

For all we know, this guy can be hella kinky

But you just know he horny somewhere.

Especially after he’s don like man how the fuck does someone exude horny energy yet doesn’t have much evidence for it wtf?????

Like, big dick energy, he has big horny on main energy.

No talk, no show; just horny

“...”

Jolyne Cujoh:

ALL HORNY

THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE OF JONATHAN

HORNY IS ALL SHE IS

WILL SEND HORNY

WILL TAKE HORNY

WILL REPOST HORNY

H O R N Y

ALL HER FRIENDS HORNY TOO

ITS THE HORNY SQUAD

I CAN’T STRESS THIS ENOUGH, H O R N Y

SHE BLUNT ABOUT IT TOOOOOOO

I wish I could lie but she would be the one to be horny in a conversation that has nothing to do with horny

Just… I’m horny, u horny??? Idk but wanna be horny????

Will back down if someone tells her to, but won’t take shit for judgements

Will argue on main with someone about horny shame, sending horny pics just to taunt

“Wanna DM me?? I can show you what I’m made out of ;))”

56 notes · View notes

c-c-cherry · 4 years ago

Note

OOH I GOT A GOOD REQUEST,,,, How about Jonathan’s reaction to each of the jojos, and their jobros?

*Jonathan looking down at his absolutely fucked family tree, a single tear running down his cheek*

Listen...I always say that *insert literally any character* is the best parental figure but it's Jonathan hours which legally means I can call Jonathan best dad in this post regardless of anything I’ve said in the past about any other best dads.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Lemme just implement my soft Jonathan headcanons first:

-Soft man. The king of manly tears. Tears down toxic masculinity like a fucking bulldozer

-Knits AND crochets. He never had a mother growing up so when Erina came in with all these lovely, traditionally feminine skills, he wanted to learn ALL OF IT

-Arguably gives the best hugs out of every Jojo (Josuke is a pretty close second, though)

-Since this post is just an impossible dimensional pocket where anything can happen, him and Erina live in one of those old grandma cottage-houses with a comfy, old couch and tacky curtains and a really cute little garden

-Again, if this is a pocket dimension he’s definitely hosting the Joestar family reunion there

-Just one of those houses where everyone feels comfortable

-Is impossible to piss off (except if you do anything to the people he loves)

-Always speaks in a very soft, understanding voice even when he’s mad/disappointed

-The father figure all the Jojos wish they had

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Part 2:

-You know that face you make when you watch someone you love do something insanely stupid but you’re still trying to keep positive because you know from experience that trying to stop them is futile?

-Just this constant, wincing smile?

-Yeah. That pretty much sums up Jonathan’s expression within any vicinity of Joseph Joestar

-He loves the man. He really does. But oh my god is he a dumbass

-Jonathan is the type of man to like,,,make bread and talk about his feelings but Joseph wants none of that shit and that’s ok,,,Jonathan can and will find another way to bond

-Regardless, he loves his Himbo grandson and the two of them end up talking about Erina and Speedwagon and a lil bit of Hamon too :3

-CAESAR on the other hand—Jonathan is so fucking happy to see a descendant of the Zeppeli’s continuing the whole Hamon thing and managing to be friends with Joseph

-Although Joseph never wants to talk about it outside of fighting, Jonathan and Caesar both share this tender love for the healing aspect of it :’)

-He teaches Caesar how to do stuff like grow/heal plants and flowers and Caesar ends up growing his own sunflowers in Jonathan’s backyard :)

-Smokey reminds him of Poco and he literally just wants to protect him with his whole heart hhhhhhhh

-Suzi Q also reminds him of Erina, but he still has no idea how she puts up with Joseph’s bullshit (and whenever she can’t decide what to wear, he always helps)

-He penalizes Lisa Lisa for being a fucking Hamon coach and also smoking cause like-

Part 3:

-Hgggghnn HEAR ME OUT but between him and Joseph, Jotaro arguably has more qualities of Jonathan including this wonderfully secret, sweet, sensitive side

-Jonathan grows flowers using Hamon and braids them into Star Plat’s hair (he has practice when doing it with Erina) :))))

-Joot claims to hate the bread that Jonathan bakes but if he DOES make it y’all know you’ll find him sitting there, eating it, and talking about his feelings like a good man should (but only if no one else is around)

-Arguably the only responsible father figure in his life and the only one who would scold him for literally going to jail

-Also apologizes profusely for not killing DIO the first time ;(

-Kakyoin is the kind of person you could just sit in silence with for hours doing shit like reading or painting or something and Father Jojo is loving the vibe

-YES JONATHAN WOULD HAVE A HOME GARDEN and every year he grows cherries for Kak >:)

-Pol is a bit extreme for him, but if he can handle Joseph then he can handle this man

-As rich, Victorian boys often did, he definitely studied french as a kid and can surprisingly hold a pretty good conversation

-Him and Avdol!!!! Feed his chickens together!! And engage in lovely, civil conversation :)))))

-Holy definitely inherited Jonathan and Erina’s sweet nature and she’s always down to compare knitting techniques with him :)

Part 4:

-Is it....is it safe to say that Jonathan just adopts all of Morioh?

-Ok but Josuke gets along with everybody (Rohan doesn’t count hgfjgh) so you already know he’d be up for some nice familial bonding (though he wouldn’t show it initially)

-I feel like he’d be hesitant at first because him and Joseph are already on weird terms and he doesn't wanna “intrude” on the Joestar family or anything like that

-But our man Jonathan is here to reassure him that he’s still a part of the family and his cute little grandma house door is always open for him when he needs it

-Jonathan would bake that bread and Josuke would be sittin’ on that couch pouring his heart out before that shit even comes out of the oven

-Josuke’s the biggest out of his friends so getting completely engulfed in a nice, warm, loving Jonathan hug is the best shit

-Like instant serotonin :)

-Crazy Diamond doesn’t have any hair so no stand braiding :( BuT Josuke will let his hair down sometimes and you already know master weaver Jonathan Joestar is braiding in some purple flowers and shit :)

-Okuyasu isn’t that smart academically, but our man has a big heart and that’s all Jonathan cares about

-Jonathan always makes soup for him whenever he’s down because Oku’s mama used to make him soup when he was sad too ;-;

-The two bond over losing a mother at a young age and never being close with their father and feeling unwanted growing up and its the sweetest shit

-Koichi would just,,,,stare in awe because between Jonathan, Joseph, and Jotaro he feels like a fucking ant (and is honestly kinda scared)

-The first time they meet, Jonathan tries to ruffle his hair and accidentally PUSHES THE BOY INTO THE CONCRETE and he feels so bad after, that he spends all night knitting him a new sweater

-He gives it to Koichi with apologetic tears in his eyes and Koichi fucking LOVES IT with all his heart

-Rohan is extremely intrigued by all of this shit and they two of them spend hours talking about Jonathan’s life

-Rohan ends up giving him a painting of Erina and now Jonathan sends him his favourite cookies on his birthday every year

-Also him and Tonio are real good buds and Tonio never yells at Jonathan for “eating impolitely” like George used to because he knows its just a sign that he loves his food :)

Part 5:

-What can I say? Both Jonathan and Giorno got a love for flowers and life, and that’s literally all they do together

-Like,,,their happiness is in one giant, contagious loop because when Jojo’s really happy, his Hamon will just make shit bloom everywhere and when Giogio is happy, his stand will go fucking bonkers and change shit into plants

-Ok but what if,,,they braided flowers into each other’s hair? :D

-Jonathan would bake the bread. Giorno would sit hesitantly on the couch. The moment this kid takes a bite with that GOOD jam he’s like “HAHA there goes my stoic front whoops-”

-Jonathan thought Giorno would get cold in the winter so he crocheted a heart the size of his tiddy window and gave it to him for Christmas

-As I said previously, him and Bruno would go fucking hard on tea parties and all that shit -Both are the obvious mom friend, it’s impossible for them not to get along

-Abba’s a little,,,iffy about him, but eventually grows on him the more Abbacchio actually starts warming up to Giorno (for whatever reason)

-Jonathan’s never really had to deal with teenagers that much (aside from when he was one himself,) so he really has no idea what the hell to do around Narancia and Mista because they’re so young and he feels like a fucking grandma around them

-But they’re always really sweet to him and ask if he wants to play COD but Jonathan has no idea why they could wanna play with a fish so he just smiles and laughs and hopes its a joke :’)

-When Trish wants her nails done, best jonadad is here to do it. She wants her hair done? Jonathan’s got that special brush that doesn’t hurt when you’re doing tangles. Hugs? Infinite hug supplier, babey. He’s really out here doing whatever it takes to keep best girl happy

-Fugo is,,,quiet,,,but he always comes over and eats the strawberries in his garden when they’re ready for harvest

-He even helps make them into jam :)

-He also teaches Fugo Hamon breathing techniques when he caught wind of his anger and it actually helps him a lot

-He considers everyone in that house his family too, and always invites them over for social events at his pocket dimension grandma house

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Jonathan Joestar lives in my head rent free...

If you’ve got a head canon idea, my ask box is always open!! <3

#jjba #jojos's bizarre adventure #jjba headcanons #headcanons #jonathan joestar #joseph joestar #jotaro kujo #josuke higashikata #giorno giovanna #jojo's bizzare adventure golden wind #diamond is unbreakable #battle tendency #ask-c-c-cherry #phantom blood #cw: smoking

198 notes · View notes

cassyapper · 4 years ago

Note

Apart from Jotaro and Kakyoin (unfortunately) what are your other favourite jojo ships? I’d love to know

OHHHH POST YOUVE OPENED A CAN OF FUCKING WORMS LET ME GO OFF

i have a disease that makes me invested in the joestars’ happiness to an absurd level so bc of that a lot of ships i enjoy involve,,,one joestar,,,but there r others i swear let me just start rantingi

jonaeriwagon is soooooo so so cute it involves the most wholesome and purehearted jojo characters and it makes me smile so wide. erina and jonathan r childhood sweethearts and erina helped jonathan back on his feet after he lost EVERYTHING in the first fight against dio at the mansion. jonathan and speedwagon are best FRIENDS OKAY!! SPEEDWAGON LITERALLY CHANGES HIS ENTIRE WALK OF LIFE BECAUSE OF JONATHAN AND THE KINDNESS HE SHOWED HIM. i know erina and speedwagon didn't interact a whole lot in part 1 but like they're BEST. FRIENDS. in part 2, so much so joseph thought something was going on between them. i bring this up bc then it’s proof that this ship is full of ppl who just care for each other so much. they just adore each other and love each other and I'm crying

caejoseq is my FAVVV OKAY they're so stupid and in love. i love love love love imagining caesar and suziq falling in love slowly when he’s first training as lisalisa’s student and like they never do anything about it cause they're both so shy (yes caesar is shy bc these feelings r more genuine romance rather than sexual, unlike his other flings) but it’s obvious enough they both understand to a degree the other knows they like them sjkd;dn cuties. but then JOSEPH BARGES IN with his stupid hamon-breathing mask and his stupid blue-green eyes and his stupid lax personality combined with the moments he takes thing seriously during which is works hard as fuck/smart as fuck. he just completely sweeps them off their feet they had no fuckin warning whatsoever. so after a bunch of messy and intense pining from the both of them they eventually sit down and are like okay. we should do smth about feelings actually. so they Do and it ends with the polycule and I'm (”: smiling so wide they loved each other do u understand

AVPOL!! DO NOT GET ME STARTED OKAY it’s the survivor’s guilt and cherishing and longing for me sis!!!!!! I'm just saying both have pasts (araki said avdol’s backstory was so sad he didn't wanna put it into sdc so that’s where I'm drawing this from) that leave them focused on things other than their direct happiness/their own futures but then they connect and even though they're so fucking different they are SOOO different they're still the same on this level and i think!!! that would be everything for them finally someone who understands...listen I'm ging to go insane do you hear me. avdol loves this stupid fucking Frenchman so much because said stupid fucking Frenchman just cares so much about everything. meanwhile polnareff is in love with this fuckin god of a man who’s patient and kind and funny and a skilled enough fighter it’s stated explicitly in canon “oh avdol’s the one we need to worry about most not jotaro” like fuck polnareff is ENAMOURED WITH HIM!! AND I DONT FUCKING BLAME HIM!! and just dude. when pol thinks avdol came back to life and he starts crying tears of joy and hugs him so tightly and avdol just laughs but hugs him back imfmfjfj help. help. help. help. help. POLNAREFF LITERALLY ASKS HIM OUT ON A DATE THIS IS FUCKIN!!! CANON!!! i cant do this stupid fuckign idiots i love them

JOSUYASU!!!!!! TWO GUYS BEIGN DUDES WHAT MORE COULD YOU WANT??? like listen we have such a SLEW of wholesome moments between these two the opening to the tonio episode is literally just them going on a date OKUYASU WAS GONNA FEED JOSUKE AND JOSUKE DIDNT EVEN FUCKING QUESTION IT OKAY THAT’S KINDA GAY THAT HAS ROMANTIC FUCKING UNDERTONES!! and them fighting against shigechi idk man i just love their dynamic it’s such a pleasant bro relationship and i love them. but even beyond the wholesome moments when okuyasu fucking dies josuke loses his SHIT!!! DO YOU HEAR ME HE GOES FUCKIGN INSANE!!!!! HE’S SCREAMING AND CRYING AND BEGGING OKUYASU TO WAKE UP AT THE EXPENSE OF HIS LIFE FUCKIGN HAYATO HAD TO SHRIEK AT HIM TO MOVE HIS ASS OUT OF THE WAY OF KIRA’S BOMB LIKE!! listen the recklessness and furiousness of josuke’s tactics after okuyasu “”died”” haunts me. he didn't want to live in a world without him and meanwhile okuyaus LITERALLY TRIUMPHS OVER DEATH BECAUSE HE DOESNT WANT TO LEAVE JOSUKE’S SIDE HELP ME GIRL FJKF;NDJN FUCK. fuck. so yeah i lvoe them

fugionara... any combination of this ship makes me go nuts okay okay. the dynamics in the bucci gang will forever leave me in tatters but THE ONES BETWEEN THESE THREE IN PARTICULAR. FUCK ME UP. it’s the healing it’s the animosity it’s the regret it’s the trying to figure out your own mentally ill self while also the world ur in with these ppl u love so much and I'm going crazy okay okay okay. idk how to quite put my feelings for them in worlds i just have a lot of them and they are fuckin. overhwelming. just narancia for example meant EVERYTHING to fugo as evidence by purple haze feedback (literally every other paragraph is a flashback) and the only time giorno cries in the anime is when narancia dies. meanwhile fugo saved narancia’s life and giorno knew when to take narancia seriously as opposed to a joke. and then THE WHOLE DISCUSSION ABOUT GRIEF FUGO AND GIORNO HAVE IN PURPLE HAZE FEEDBACK? listen something about these three make me go insane and feral

foolymes like okay. okay. I'm shaking like a dog trying not to go overboard on this justification just listen to me. hermes and jolyne first find someone to trust in prison in each other. jolyne cares abt her enough that she first learns how to use stone free’s string-on-a-telephone ability bc she wanted to watch over hermes. hermes loves nd respects jolyne that after she wakes up from getting a stand shes like “hm. wonder where jolyne is” and goes to find her before all that bullshit happened just hey okay LISTEN TO ME!! and then they get foo they save her it’s just like fucking kakyoin they give her another chance and they show her what relationships are supposed to be like (fulfilling) they enjoy her company and make her laugh and she makes them laugh in return ohmy god EVERYTHING FOO FIGHTERS DID WAS FOR JOLYNE AND HERMES DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!!! the marilyn mansion debt collector arc. the kiss of love and revenge arc. foo fighter’s death. I'm going to eat rocks in an attempt to stop feeling oh my god JOLYNE DIDNT EVEN BELEIVE FOO FIGHTERS WAS DYING AND THEN SHE GOT HYSTERICAL LIKE “BUT WE CAN JUST REMAKE YOU RIGHT WE HAVE YOUR STAND DISC??” SHE DOESNT WANT HER TO GOOO HELP ME HELP ME. I'm in tatters these three girls loved each other so fucking much they just wanted each other safe and they DESERVED to be safe and happy together but araki is fucking evil

jotaweather I KNOW THIS IS A CRACK SHIP I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW DONT FUCKIGN LOOK AT ME JUST HEAR ME OUT. jotaro and weather r both of similar demeanor that is quiet soft-speaking intimidating strong big aura of sadness coming from them. both have powerful stands and both had real fucked up luck in the love department. i also hc both to be autistic so that’d be another similarity. i jus think them settling down together after everything went down in a stone ocean au would be very soft and sweet yknow? they wouldn't even necessarily start it off in a romantic sense but they just take the time to try and heal with each other and eventually it just kinda veers that way. yeah

gyjo for OBVIOUS reasons like are you serious? gyro changed johnny’s fucking lfie from the SECOND they first interact johnny begins to push himself and tries to reach further/go further. and in turn johnny shows gyro you cant always be a wet blanket you need to take a stand this both helps his resolve to save the kid AND helps him to take the measures necessary to get to his goal. like gyro would not have been able to find johnny in the “who shot johnny joestar?” arc if he hadn't gone through, say, the ring roadagain arc with johnny first. listen man their relationship is literally the catalyst for this whole part it’s the driving force i just. they love each other they love each other thank you goodnight I'm emo

yasugap is just so so so so sweet it makes me so happy,,like okay josuk8 literally has a daydream where all that happens is he gives yasuho some candy and she eats it and is like “aw josuke this is so good thanks!” and she smiles at him and that’s IT THAT’S THE DAYDREAM 😭 listen they just love each other so much and i am emo. they literally SAVED EACH OTHER OKAY LIKE yasuho pulls him from the dirt and like she mentioned during the flashback chapter with the hairpin and her dad, it was also the other way around....saving josuke also saved herself and just LISTEN TO ME. THEY LOVE EACH OTHER. it’s a very sweet and healthy relationship and i hope to god araki makes it canon please sir ill bite you

anyway yeah these are the main main ones ? that i ship ship. like you'll get me excited if u mention them. anyway this post has gone on long enough so I'm gonna end it here by saying i really do have a thing where the relationship focuses on healing/helping one or both parties to save/improve themselves

#THIS IS SO MESSY IM SORRY I DIDNT PROOFREAD ANYTHING #uhm but yeah these guys. drive me nuts!#jjba #jojo spoilers #nothing too heavy but just in case #cass cries #iwannagrill

24 notes · View notes

twistedkarmaa · 4 years ago

Text

All-Stars

HI! This piece is one I’ve written in a collab my best friend and I are doing. I don’t have ao3, so I will be posting my works here. However, they have already uploaded the first chapter here https://archiveofourown.org/works/26311690 The AU explores the characters in a more domestic, wholesome setting through a series of one-shots all centered in this universe we have created. There are emotional scenes and funny scenes. It will break your heart and mend it back together, like any good au will. I really do hope you consider checking out that chapter and giving my best friend support.

For the sake of this one-shot, some context will be necessary. In this au, Dio (adopted) and Jonathan are in their thirties and are the older brothers of twins Johnny and Joseph (19), Jotaro (17), Josuke (16), and Jolyne (14). Their parents, George and Mary Joestar, have tragically passed, so Jonathan is stepping in as a caretaker for them. Giorno (15) is Dio’s son. Diego Brando (26) is Dio’s brother from his biological mother. That being said, all of these relationships are explored and bring a fun dynamic to the AU.

SO, without further ado, here’s the GyJo you came here for.

“Hey, Gyro? I think I’m ready.”

He didn’t even have to ask what for. Gyro knew. He had been sitting back with Johnny, and the two of them were on the topic of tattoos. Gyro was showing off one he found on the internet that he was thinking about getting, but he didn’t know. He didn’t know where to put it either, so until he figured that out he was refraining. But Johnny… he had this plan since he was 15, and he’s told Gyro about it before one night when the two of them were up too late in each other’s arms knowing they had to be awake for class in just a few hours. A lot of their nights went like that.

Johnny Joestar used to dream of getting 9 stars tattooed onto the back of his right hand. One represented each of his siblings, one represented his nephew Giorno, and two represented his parents. After the accident happened, Johnny couldn’t bring himself to do it. He would always love his parents, don’t get him wrong, but even just thinking about the tattoo made him so sad. It reminded him of his life before it all went to shit. It reminded him of when his parents were still around and how he wanted to show it to them after he asked for money for his 18th birthday from everyone so he could go have the tattoo done.

His 18th birthday was long passed. His desire to get the tattoo faded along with his normal life, and up until now it rarely even crossed his mind because he forced it out so much. Thinking about it was painful. It was easier to just give up the idea until he was ready, if he was ever ready.

Gyro made Johnny an appointment with his tattoo artist, and Johnny got to work drafting an idea. It wasn’t like he wanted anything complex, but going in blindly and completely trusting someone to permanently ink him without giving just a little example of what he wants was scary, despite how much Gyro trusted the guy. Gyro’s opinion was worth the world to Johnny, and he trusted him a lot, but this was his body they’re talking about here.

Regardless, Johnny had a draft drawn up with the size of the stars and the colors he wanted. When the day finally came around, Gyro and Johnny went to the tattoo parlor. The two waited their turn at the reception desk, and Johnny looked super pale. “You know you don’t have to do this, right? We can go home, pick up some McDonald’s on the way.” There was a McDonald’s right around the corner from Gyro’s apartment, they’d be all set.

“No, Gyro. I want to do this.” He felt… good. This was a good decision. This was something he needed to do. This was something he avoided doing because he knew it might upset him. It’s not like this will be a tattoo he regrets, though. His family will always be his family. He isn’t having a lover’s name inked onto his arm, or someone’s face on his leg. These were simple stars to represent his loved ones. And when he places his hand against his heart, they will all be there too.

Moments later, the receptionist called them up. They got checked in, and then the artist emerged from a hallway with another client. He usually walked them out. When he saw Gyro, he gave him a small smile. “Good to see you, Gyro. This is Johnny?” He turned to the smaller man. Johnny observed the weird shape of his beard, and the hair on his head too. His barber must be a professional to get a grid-like look like that!

Gyro was pleased to see an old friend, greeting the man in a hug before stepping back. “Yeah. This is Johnny,” he introduced him, then looked toward Johnny and continued the introductions. “Johnny, this is Wekapido.” With that, Gyro made a demonstrative hand in Wekapido’s direction, as if presenting him to Johnny.

Cool. Okay. Awesome! “Good to meet you Wekapido.” Johnny said. Regardless of the lack of smile, Gyro knew he was happy.

“Likewise,” Wekapido said. “Alright, come with me.” He led the two of them down the hall. There were various rooms in the hallway, some of the doors open with artists sitting in chairs on their phones, or washing their hands. Other doors were closed. Wekapido entered one of the empty rooms with an open door, holding it for the others before gesturing to the sink. “So, Johnny, why don’t you wash your hands and then we can get started.

The room was small. There was a sink and counters where a lot of the equipment was kept, things Johnny didn’t recognize. He didn’t know what most of these things did. The room was just large enough for a bench, a stool, two chairs by the door, the sink and counter, and some wiggle room. This was a tough space. Johnny did as instructed after his sky blue eyes took in the room. He washed his hands, then dried them with a paper towel. After he finished, Wekapido invited Johnny to sit on the bench and get comfortable. While Johnny did that, Wekapido washed his hands and got some of the materials ready. Johnny handed over the little sketch outline he made.

Gyro pulled up one of the chairs from next to the door and set it down right beside Johnny. He took a seat with his chest pressed against the back of the chair, manspreading and all. Bless Gyro and his inability to sit like a normal human being. Setting his arm against the back of the chair, Gyro picked up Johnny’s left hand in his own, just rubbing his fingers before kissing his knuckles. Mwah! Some green for you, Johnny. The grin on his lips revealed the little mark he left to Johnny before Johnny even saw his hand. “Are you nervous?”

Of course he was nervous. Gyro could tell, couldn’t he? There was nobody like Gyro. Johnny just looked over at him, taking a look at his vibrant eyes and the sweet, mischievous smile on his face, unable to fight a soft smile of his own. He reserved all of his smiles for Gyro, and recently they’ve been showing themselves more and more frequently. Only for Gyro. “Yeah, kind of. I’m excited too.” He didn’t tell anyone he was doing this, not even Joseph, so he was really eager to surprise everybody.

Nodding in response, Gyro gave Johnny his best attempt at a reassuring smile. “I’d bet. It’s going to look so pretty, Johnny.” Honestly, it was really cool that Johnny was doing this, and Gyro was honored to be selected to accompany him today. They were getting really serious. If this was the rest of his life, with Johnny, he would be beyond satisfied. “I love you. Squeeze my hand if it hurts.” Gyro already suspected it might hurt, bad. Johnny was tough, but when Gyro was around he tended to be a bit of a baby.

“I love you too.” Turning his hand around, Johnny grabbed Gyro’s and laced their fingers up together all nice, just in time to see Wekapido approaching, ready to go through with the inking. Oh, god. Here it goes. Johnny’s pretty blue eyes widened a little when he saw the needle. Quickly, he looked over toward Gyro. “Why did you let me do this??” He asked in a whisper-hiss. Gyro just laughed and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. He knew Johnny would be so grateful later.

He absolutely was.

A few hundred “GYROOOOOOO!!!!!!”s later, Johnny got a tattoo! His hand felt a little sore, numb for sure. The skin was red and swollen, irritated, but it would calm down with time. One of the good things about hands is that they heal faster than a lot of other parts of the body since they’re used so often. Thanks, for the fun fact, Kira.

The two of them were in the car, on the way to the Joestars’ for dinner so Johnny could show off his sick new tattoo. In the passenger’s seat, Johnny rubbed the ten stars with his opposite thumb, but stopped when Gyro took his hand. Touchy-feely Gyro was a giant teddy bear and a big snug bug. Johnny didn’t mind it one bit. He turned down the radio and looked over toward Gyro with a smile on his face. His side profile was one to admire while he drove. Shining lime eyes illuminated by the setting sun, his patchy facial hair His skin was rich and smooth, glowing a warm tone. Long, dirty blonde hair framed his face and fell down his shoulders, to his mid-back. It was thick, luxurious, the hair of a Roman God. What a beautiful man…

“So, Johnny… What would you say if I proposed with a ring with stars on it? It would match your new tattoo so nice.” There he goes again. They were stopped at a red light, so Gyro turned to look at Johnny, waiting for his reaction.

This wasn’t the first time Gyro asked him something like this. Johnny always assumed they were some twisted, weird jokes. He had an odd sense of humor after all, wouldn’t it make sense? Although there was a small sparkle in his baby blues, Johnny rolled his eyes. “Stars on an engagement ring? The ring will be too small to even see it.” Regardless, Johnny had an appreciation for Gyro’s jokes.

Yeah. Stars on a ring was kind of a stretch. Testing the idea with Johnny wasn’t, though. Gyro just let it end there since the light changed. He was usually more on the aggressive side when driving, but kept himself in check with Johnny around. The last thing he wanted to do was make him uncomfortable, right? He was confident in his abilities to provide Johnny a safe environment, safe enough for him to realize it one of these times when Gyro brings up engagement again. The security veil of jokes was one Gyro could always fall back on when Johnny got irritated, like he did the first few times Gyro ‘joked’ about that kind of stuff. For now, he was alright with them being perceived as harmless jokes.

It wasn’t long before the two of them arrived at the Joestars. It wasn’t a birthday or a holiday or anything, more just dinner with the family. A few other cars were parked outside. Gyro recognized Caesar’s. He parked by the curb and took the keys out of the ignition, turning to look at Johnny who was already releasing his hand and getting out of the car. Gyro actually wondered what it was like to be this close to his family. Gyro was never this close, maybe with Caesar but that was it. He followed Johnny up to the door.

It was Josuke who greeted Johnny at the door; he was most likely in the living room anyway. As Johnny peered inside, he got a glimpse of Okuyasu on the couch. Yep. They were in there. Johnny conveniently lifted his right hand and waved with it. Much like a newly engaged woman in a rom-com, he was absolutely drawing attention to his hand.

“Hey guys- WOAH, Johnny?? When did you get that? Can I see it?” Josuke asked, very eagerly as he already grabbed Johnny’s hand and held it up for closer examination. While examining that tattoo, he stepped back from the door so that Johnny and Gyro could come inside. With a reaction as strong as Josuke’s, attention was grabbed. Okuyasu was looking at the tattoo after not even a few seconds, and then in came Jolyne, Joseph, Caesar, Jotaro, Kakyoin, Giorno, Dio, Jonathan, and Robert were gathered around, looking at Johnny’s hand, fawning over his tattoo. Even Diego Brando was here looking at it. To Johnny’s surprise, he said it was cool.

“Dammit, now people can finally tell us apart,” Joseph cracked a joke, grinning before he pulled Johnny into a hug. “Damn, it looks good though.” After unhanding his twin, he looked at it again. If he wasn’t mistaken, this was the first tattoo of the family! Dio had none, Joseph had none, and did Jonathan really need to be mentioned? Mom and Dad didn’t have them either.

Silent approval even came from Jotaro, in the form of a nod and a small smile. Jolyne expressed her specific admiration and had to remind everybody that she too planned on getting a tattoo once she was old enough. Then, Jonathan spoke up. “It’s beautiful, Johnny. What does it mean?”

There was the question Johnny was waiting for. Admittedly, he kind of wanted to show off. He held up his hand, and with his left index finger he began to point out the different stars. “One of these represents each of my loved ones,” he said. “A star for Jonathan, Dio, Joseph, Jotaro, Josuke, Jolyne, and Giorno… And then one for Mom and one for Dad,” Johnny explained. There was one star unaccounted for. He pointed toward the star right at the base of his thumb, where his index finger connects. “And one for Gyro.” One for Gyro, of course. Gyro deserved a spot in Johnny’s Hall of Fame. Gyro didn’t even expect a star. He stood beside Johnny, a proud smile on his face before he simply turned and wrapped Johnny up in the biggest Gyro bear-hug he could manage. From the look on Johnny’s face, he was pleased. Patting Gyro’s arms, he got a look at everyone around. Dio was giving an approving nod, Jotaro too. Josuke and Jolyne were fawning over the fact that their older brother got a tattoo. Giorno was admiring the aesthetic of the tattoo, Joseph was brought to tears, and Jonathan just surged over and hugged Johnny too. Johnny was now sandwiched between two big hugs, it was really pleasant.

“That’s beautiful, Johnny.” Jonathan told him after pulling away. So easily moved to emotions as he got older… “Take it easy, though, it looks swollen.” After Johnny insisting he was fine, the emotional moment had passed. Joseph was sniffling all through dinner, though. He was so proud of Johnny. That’s his twin right there!

Dinner went well, as was expected with a Joestar family dinner. They were chaotic, and there sure as hell were a lot of people trying to fit at one large table, but it was always fun. Johnny picked up a few more belongings from his room to take with him to Gyro’s. He was doing it a little at a time, so slowly his room was becoming more and more scarce. Upon arriving home, Gyro packed away the container of leftovers he had been given to keep. Johnny put his stuff in a spot in Gyro’s bedroom. Gyro moved his stuff around to make spots for when Johnny wanted to bring his things over. It was a beautiful thing. The two were so happy together.

Gyro showered before bed, Johnny laid down and watched YouTube. He would shower in the morning. He didn’t want to deal with his tattoo right now. After Gyro got in his pajamas, just his boxers and an old OLD t-shirt that was somehow the comfiest thing in the world, he got in the bed beside Johnny, wrapping his arms around the smaller blonde. It’s CUDDLE TIME. Gyro couldn’t sleep if he wasn’t clutching something, and his giant teddy was elsewhere.

Luckily for him, Johnny settled into his chest. He made such a nice little spoon. Johnny set his phone on the nightstand so it could charge overnight, and he just settled into the comfort of Gyro, his hands against Gyro’s. Safety was best achieved in Gyro’s arms. However, Gyro soon picked up Johnny’s hand, his sensitive tattooed hand, and brought it up to his lips. Gyro pressed a single little kiss, right where his index and thumb met.

Right where his star was…

“Goodnight, Johnny,” Gyro said, Johnny’s name rolling so smoothly off of Gyro’s tongue like it always did.

Johnny could hardly take it. The smile on his face was so big, he could hardly bring himself to reply. He did, though. He couldn’t leave Gyro hanging like that. Johnny wanted him to know just how happy he was that he did that. It was the sweetest thing. “Goodnight, Gyro. I love you.” Just to solidify it, he gave Gyro’s hand a squeeze.

His Italian man practically purred, clearly pleased. “I love you too.”

#gyjo #jojo #jjba #jjba fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #jjba fanfic #jojos bizarre adventure #jojos #jojos part 7 #steel ball run #steel ball run fanfic #gyjo fanfic #gyro zeppeli #johnny joestar #jojos bizarre adventure steel ball run

23 notes · View notes

oingos-bitch · 4 years ago

Text

Another JoJo Mall Fanfic™ -- Rainforest Café (Part 1)

Part 5, Part 4 and Part 2 Spoilers!

"Y-YOU! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO STOLE MY LUGGAGE!"

Giorno gulped. The short boy stalked over to him, glaring daggers.

"I haven't forgotten about you, I hope you're ready to pay me back."

Echoes' summoning was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Koichi, dude, are you alright?"

"Yeah, Okuyasu, I'm fine." He trembled in anger. "Unless you wanna help me put this blond son of a bitch in his place."

"Ohhh."

A bass-boosted fart could be heard as a blue figure appeared.

"Why didn't ya tell me sooner? Whose ass are we gonna kick first?!" Okuyasu cracked his knuckles.

"That blond bastard, who else?"

"Uhmm...Which one?" He whispered.

"Huh?"

It was then that Koichi noticed the much, much taller -- 'And scarier!' -- blond male sitting across from Giorno. And he did not look amused.

"Are you done yet, piccolino?"

"Wha- what?"

Caesar sighed. "I would just like to get my order without any trouble, if that's not too much to ask. However," his green eyes narrowed.

"If it's trouble you're looking for, then I'll be glad to indulge you."

His chair fell over as he stood up. Maintaining his glare, he spread his arms as a large bubble formed between them. Anticipating a fight, the two teenagers defensively posed, shouting their stand names. Caesar was just about to strike before Deus Ex Josuke appeared.

"Guys, as much as I would love to help right now, there's people here. . ."

Koichi's blood ran cold. He had the sense to immediately call back Echoes and nervously regain his composure, straightening his pose. Okuyasu, however, did not.

"So what?? Everyone should see this asshat get a well-deserved beatdown!" He growled.

"Okuyasu, no." Josuke pulled his best friend aside and leaned into him.

"I know you mean well, but we're probably gonna get fired -- and I don't wanna make my great-gramps sad!" Josuke slightly teared up at the thought.

Okuyasu's face flushed in embarrassment.

"I don't wanna, either! I-I'm so sorry, Josuke!"

He began to sob on the spot.

"I-I'll do better next time!"

"It's alright, man, just calm down a little." Steak-hair patted his back.

Everyone within a ten-foot radius stared wide-eyed at the scene. Even passerby stopped for a few good minutes! Josuke slowly got up and let go of Okuyasu, facing the crowd. He knelt down and waved his hands vigorously.

"Aaaaand, SCENE! Uh, we hope everyone liked it!"

Crickets.

He smiled from ear -to-ear, sweat beading down his temple. A lone clap sounded from the middle of the restaurant. A few more claps were soon drowned out by diners resuming their meals and their conversations. Josuke let out a relieved sigh.

He looked around to see if anyone else was staring -- 'Nope!' -- then proceeding to step towards Caesar, looking him square in the eye.

"Next time you mess with my friends, you may not be so lucky."

Caesar smirked and returned his icy stare.

"That doesn't sound like much of a threat, coming from someone like you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Caesar looked him up and down. "Look at yourself. . .A teenage delinquent, working at the only 'high-paying' job that'll accept you, picking fights with those obviously more experienced than you."

"You don't know how many fights I've been in!"

"Hm, no, but with that attitude, I can guess."

"Wanna find out?" Josuke grinned.

Caesar cocked his head to the side, the boy seemed familiar, but he just couldn't put his finger on it --

"Yoo-Hoo! Caesarino!~"

Caesar groaned and turned around.

"Hello, JoJo -- DIO MIO, JOSEPH, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WEARING?!"

"It's my old outfit! I needed it for my job and it still fits perfectly!" He laughed heartily.

His friend buried his face in his hands. Joseph took this as a sign to flex in front of him.

"Whaddaya think?~"

Caesar pushed him away. "Awful, awful, everything's awful. If you're gonna dress in drag, you should at least do it right."

"HEY, that's what Jolyne always tells me!"

"And she's correct. Ugh, JoJo, you could have at least shaved your beard."

"But I think my beard makes me sexy. . ." He pouted.

"It does, but that's beside the point --" Caesar froze.

No, absolutely not, this was the last thing he needed today. The day had started off so badly already, he couldn't have Joseph knowing his secret, too! It would all be too much!

Thankfully, Joseph broke the silence quickly. Grinning, he posed some more.

"Sexy, eh? You really think so?~"

Caesar tried his hardest to sound annoyed. "If you say so, JoJo."

"Ah, but you're the one who said it.~ So, d'ya really think so?"

The Italian pulled his face away from his hands to get a look at Joseph. He didn't really need to look at him for so long to see that he was handsome, but he really needed to save his skin right now. So he eyed Joseph from different angles: profile, front, three-quarters view, even worm's eye view!

This went on for longer than expected, and Joseph began to whine.

"C'mon, you already got a good look, just tell me already!"

Begrudgingly, Caesar moved his eyes away.

"I guess so."

"Really?!" Joseph beamed.

He nodded. "I mean, I think Suzi --"

Inwardly, he groaned. He hated to think it, he hated how it sounds, and most of all he hated to say it, but he couldn't risk raising Joseph's suspicions. Or worse, risking their friendship.

"-- I really think Suzi thinks so."

For a moment, Joseph seemed surprised -- and a bit disappointed? No, must've been Caesar's imagination. He rubbed at his neck and shot Caesar his signature grin.

"Haha, well, thanks! I hope she thinks so!"

He placed an arm around him. Caesar jumped lightly at the contact. He knew it was friendly, something he was used to, yet he couldn't help but feel so wrong after what just happened. It wasn't fair to think about having a chance with his best friend when he already had a life to live, a wife and a kid, and a grandkid, for crying out loud!

And he had. . . Well, nothing. Any chance he had before was snatched away so abruptly. When that bright light enveloped him and he found himself laying on the Earth's soil again, he was ecstatic! He expected to find everyone else in the same situation, waiting to reconnect. Embarrassingly, the first person he thought of was Joseph.

Oh, Joseph. That lovable, goofy bastard had no idea just how much he missed him. He had planned everything out -- how he'd introduce himself, how he'd explain his chance at a new life, how he'd spill his heart out to him and say what he never got a chance to say, and, hopefully, how he'd grin and say he felt the same way. And it'd all be uphill from there.

However, he did not plan to run into Lisa Lisa first. And he did not plan to sit down and catch up with her over tea. And he did not expect her to be the one to catch him up on what had happened while he was gone.

And he certainly did not expect Joseph to be married and have a kid.

The deep ache in his gut was incomparable to the pain he endured before his death, and it still haunted him whenever that damned memory was brought up.

Much like now.

Caesar smoothly moved Joseph's arm back to his side. Before he could dwell on the thought any longer, he changed the subject.

"So, what brings you here?"

"OH! I just wanted to see my son!"

"Your son?. . .I thought you had a daughter. . ."

Joseph smiled sheepishly. "Uh, yeah, about that. . .Let's just say, I don't think Suzi'll ever trust me the same again. . ."

Caesar's eyes widened. Inappropriately enough, his heart fluttered. Maybe he'd have a chance?

'No! He doesn't need his marriage damaged any further!'

While he was still deep in thought, Joseph brought over a familiar angry teen.

"Ta-Daaaa! This is my darling baby boy!"

Caesar did a double take. Oh, he couldn't be serious --

"T-this is your son?!"

"You bet! Doesn't he look just like me?" He brought the poor boy's face against his cheek.

"A chip off the ol' block!"

"Dad, stop it." Josuke averted his eyes.

"Awwww, but it's true! Isn't it, Caesarino --"

He scanned the room, searching for him. "Caesar?"

He found him by the aquarium, making his way to the bar.

"Oi, Caesar! Don't you wanna say hi to Josuke?"

Caesar reluctantly turned around. "Maybe some other time, JoJo. My lunch break is almost over, and I'm still waiting on my order."

"Oh, the pink girl and blond boy took it."

"Huh?"

"The pink-haired girl and the blond boy, they took your food." Repeated the elf-eared bartender.

"Oh, thank you. Where'd they. . go. .?"

The bartender pointed to the west of the mall.

"Ah, grazie." He made his way there.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Trish had gasped once Caesar stood up, ready to fight, but soon lost interest once Josuke showed up and started speaking.

"So boring."

She and Giorno sat silently the entire time. There wasn't much to talk about, and she didn't recognize anyone else (yet), so she passed the time counting down the minutes.

She had attempted to ask Giorno about why the midget had a vendetta against him, but he just responded with an "I don't want to speak about it."

'Tch. You're no fun.'

Then Joseph appeared and she giggled. It was so much fun to see her usually stoic co-worker get so flustered by the old man, and it was amusing for a while.

That is, until he didn't make a move.

She spent the rest of the time reading over the specials pamphlet. Luckily, she soon heard a small "Excuse me, Ma'am."

"Hm?"

A tiny, tall-haired boy anxiously held up a stack of To-Go boxes.

"H-Here's your order."

"Oh! Thank you."

He hurriedly mumbled and speed-walked over to the waiter from earlier. Shrugging, she and Giorno stood up to leave. Once they realized Caesar would be a while, they exchanged glances and walked out of the place.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Caesar found them sitting on the fountain, digging into their food. They nonchalantly looked up.

"Sorry, we just couldn't wait any longer."

"It's fine. Sorry I took so long."

Trish smiled. "Even with how long you took, you still couldn't flirt with him good enough."

". .Shut up. Let's go get Suzi's wings."

1 note · View note