#literally my best work | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lustastarte · 1 year ago

Text

♤ fragrancia | jocaesar ♤

genre: fluff/teeny tiny bit of angst

soap fragrances jumpstarting caesar and joseph’s 1940s secret love story

published: 2023

Whistling as he steps out of the steam-filled bathroom, Joseph shook his thick, wet hair like a dog and lazily held the fluffy beige towel around his waist. The sound of his water-logged feet softly popping against the beautiful marble floor echoed in the silent room, distracting Caesar from his daily devotional.

"Will you sit down somewhere?"

Joseph released his grip on his towel, which sat just below the horizontal apex of his hipbones, and began pulling clothes out of the hotel dresser. Without giving Caesar so much as a glance, he snorted and shook his head.

"You are such a pain in the neck, you know that?"

The brunette turned around, his bare torso now fully exposed to his roommate. "You betcha."

Caesar couldn't help but eye him up. He tried his hardest to look as though it were out of anger, but he knew deep down that it wasn't. "Twat."

"Go get in the shower, you dud. Then you can complain all that you would like."

Rolling his eyes and huffing through his flared nostrils, he grabbed his clothes and towel, making his way to the bathroom. The chilly marble floor and off-white plastered walls were covered in a layer of water droplets from the suffocating steam condensing; the air smelled of dark, sweet amber, musky, sensual sandalwood, and just a hint of sunny, juicy candied mandarin oranges mixed with the sweat and dirt the British man had just washed away. As embarrassing as it was, Caesar always requested to take a shower last, just to smell Joseph's unique scent. It wasn't anything weird, he just enjoyed analyzing different fragrances and the bar soap that Joseph used just so happened to be one of his favorite so far. He often wonders what it smells like on the other's skin, if it will sweeten and develop undertones of exotic Madagascar vanilla or warm up to reveal a smoky ginger incense undertone. Of course, again, not in a questionable way. Caesar always shakes the thoughts from his head for fear that they may become (or, less admittedly, already are) about more than a fragrance, yet continues to give in to his guilty pleasure of showering after Joseph.

After cleaning himself up and getting dressed, he shuffled out of the bathroom and toward the bed.

"Thank God you're out, I really have to go," Joseph said as he headed for the bathroom.

"Why did you not go when you showered?"

"Hold on!"

Joseph shut the door as if he were in some sort of a hurry. He didn't have to pee, he did before he showered. He just always pretends that he does after Caesar showers so he can smell the scent of his bar soap. Joseph certainly isn't a fragrance expert or buff, he considers himself much more of a casual fragrance enjoyer that just so happens to enjoy his training partner's scent of choice. It wasn't odd. He excused it by comparing it to a perfume shop, where you take sample strips of your favorites. Except, in a perfume shop, you typically sample more than one and usually buy something... And you don't have to pretend to be doing something else... And it's not smelling other people's post-shower air... Oh, whatever!!! None of it matters, it's just not weird, okay?!

Each time he stepped into the misty bathroom, the heavy air washed the blonde's smell all over him. The palo santo is always registered first, the bright and refreshing mix of pine, mint, and citrus lighting his brain up. Then the deep, earthy spiciness of patchouli follows, ballroom dancing with the light, floral herbyness of lavender. It was so refined and sophisticated, yet so, so masculine. The longer Joseph stood there and smelled, the more he felt as though he had just taken Valium. Suddenly jumping back to his senses, he rushes out of the bathroom. How long had he been in there? Would Caesar notice?

Caesar lifted his head as Joseph sped out of the bathroom. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine."

"I don't exactly want to sleep near you if you're feeling ill," Caesar sighed.

"I am not ill, Caesar," Joseph responded. "You don't exactly have a choice if you'd like to sleep in the bed with me... You either do or you get the floor."

The Italian scoffed and pulled the comforter back on his side. "As if."

"I'm glad you decided to come 'round," the brunette commented, a smug grin lighting his face up while he climbed into the bed. Half his body hung off the side of the bed for fear that he would end up much too close to Caesar for 'friends.' His back faced Caesar's, and vice versa, to ensure they would not wake up facing one another, or worse, touching one another.

"Good night, Caesarino."

Caesar took a deep breath in, yawning on the exhale as he nuzzled the side of his face into the cool, firm hotel pillow. "Good night, Jojo."

The next evening, after hours and hours of training, the two strode through the arched entrance of the hotel, an ornate Renaissance-era palazzo refurbished into a hotel around 1890. Stone pillars surrounded them, supporting the vaulted ceilings and complimenting the frescoed walls with their blankness. Lavish and extravagant Venetian chandeliers hung overhead, lighting up the atrium and a grand marble and mahogany staircase that led to the outdoor terraces which overlooked the countless acres of lush, vibrant terraced gardens dotted with beautifully crafted stone fixtures such as fountains and birdbaths. The two boys took the side stairs up to their room and completed their shower routine, climbing into bed right after.

Sometime around 3 a.m., Joseph woke to the feeling of something against his back. Soft, hot breaths tickled his spine as the hand resting across his waist and tucked between his body and the bed pulled him closer. He froze, slowly turning his head to look behind him. As he peered over his shoulder, the blonde tucked his face into Joseph's back, curling the rest of his body up into the other's like a cat. His hand moved down from just under his pecs to the middle of his stomach and Joseph shuddered.

What the fuck does he do? Should he wake him up? Oh no, oh no, no, no, what if someone sees them?

He decided that the best thing to do would be to never speak of it again. Of course, Caesar could not be blamed, it was impossible that he knew. He was out cold the second his head hit the pillow, overly exhausted from their rigorous training. Caesar didn't have to know, either.

Even with the unexpectedness, Joseph felt oddly safe and comfortable with the situation. The warmth against his back and resting on his side was soothing; knowing Caesar trusted him enough to feel so secure that he is unconsciously drawn to him in his sleep made his heart flutter and heat pool in his stomach. Most of all, he felt ashamed. Ashamed that he hadn't moved, ashamed that he didn't feel uncomfortable, and absolutely mortified that he enjoyed it. Joseph was enjoying his best friend accidentally attaching himself to him in his sleep. What does this mean? This isn't right. Why does he like it? Caesar is his best friend and they're both men. This shouldn't be happening. He must be lonely because this just isn't normal. His worst enemies, fear and social rejection, began to win the mental battle. And while every cell in his body screamed at him to stay, he left Caesar's warm embrace to get into the bed on the other side.

Around 6 a.m., the birds began to sing. While beautiful, Caesar thought them to be much too loud and wants nothing more to do with them. Finishing up with being angry at the birds, he began to notice his surroundings had changed. Why was he on a different side of the bed? He turned over to find Joseph out cold, arm outstretched to him on his side of the bed. What in hell happened last night? Is Joseph okay?

After waking up, Joseph acted... different. He was normally quite a touchy man, but he seemed to be keeping his distance from Caesar. What did Caesar do to him in his sleep?

"Jojo?"

Joseph hummed, barely looking over at the blonde.

"Are you okay? You're acting odd... Do you know why I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"

A swift, barely noticeable look of fear washed over the Brit's face before returning to his collected composure. "I'm stressed... And I-... I got sick this morning and when I returned, you were in my spot so I slept on your side."

He hates lying. Lying makes him feel dirty, as if covered in corn syrup, caked with semi-dry mud, or doused in tar. The guilt immediately set in, evident on his face as he swallowed nothing and cleared his throat.

Caesar scanned his face, scrutinizing each and every detail. Joseph's shifty eyes and clenched jaw were all he needed to know that he had been lied to.

"Why are you lying to me over something so simple?"

"Fine," Joseph huffed. "You had rolled over and ended up nearly on top of me, so I moved because I felt that that was not your intention in the slightest."

Caesar chuckled. "What, are you afraid of parking with your sweet ol' mate?"

Joseph's face contorted, lifting his lip and dropping his eyebrows in disgust. "We are not parking, you insufferable twat! I would never hold you and certainly never kiss you, not in a million years!"

Caesar faked a gasp, placing his hand over his heart and throwing his head back and to the side as though a shocked, helpless maiden in an old film. "Oh no! What ever shall I do? Jojo can no longer understand jokes! Oh, the horror! The sorrow!"

The brunette balled his sleep shirt and threw it as hard as possible at the other. "You are not funny, Caesar."

"Is it truly that offensive to you to have a joke made that you're a queer?"

"I am not a queer, Caesar. I have no problem with it, but it just isn't me."

Caesar watched as Joseph's eyes shifted, looking anywhere but him, and decided to drop it for now. Maybe he could bring it up later.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to joke about a sensitive subject for you, I truly did not know. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again. Will you forgive me, Joseph?"

"That's fine. Thank you for apologizing to me."

"Always. Now, what do you say about getting coffee? It will be on me," Caesar offered, both to break the awkward silence and make up for his unintentionally cruel joke. Joseph looked off to the side to think before flicking his gaze to Caesar's bony, clasped hands that sat limp in his lap and nodding, a large yawn overtaking his ability to speak.

So out on the town they went. Though he had been in the city for a couple weeks, its ancient aura never failed to capture Joseph's attention, and even native Italians such as Caesar have a hard time pulling themselves away. History seems to ooze and flow from each crack and crevice, no matter how small. Classical, arched and pillar-supported architecture remnants celebrating their 2,000th birthday mingled with Italian Gothic pointed arches, elaborate statues, and large windows. Narrow, tricolored cobblestone streets fenced in by towering plaster and stone buildings, some left bare, some painted a singular color or two, and some frescoed with the most beautiful scenes. The salty, fresh smell of the sea mixed with the delectable smell of Italian sweets, waves crashing against the shore as shop owners work to fill their display cases with countless treats. Tourists were around each corner, marveling at the scenery, and Joseph couldn't blame them. However, they walked much too slow for his liking and he was not fond of them. They often wore clothes that did not reflect the city's fashion trends and perfumes that smelled of too much tuberose, white florals, and... peppercorn? The smell of sickly sweet bubblegum, chewed for a minute and spat onto a plate of freshly crushed pink peppercorn hurt Joseph's nose, made him sneeze over and over. One could pick them out in the hordes of people with ease, even if inexperienced with people-watching. Their colognes were also much too strong, the harsh metallic odor of it mixing with the straight alcohol and cigarette smoke clinging to their shirts so overpowering at times that it could cause Joseph and Caesar to choke up from five feet away. Because of the tourists, most places were continually packed, a 30 minute wait on their slowest days. Fortunately for the two men, their favorite place to have coffee stayed a heavenly secret among the locals. The two stepped through an unassuming door and into the cafe, where they were immediately greeted.

"Buongiorno! Un marocchino e un cappuccino per favore," Caesar said sweetly to the barista, his voice lower and smoother than when he speaks English. While he had been studying a little, the only thing Joseph recognized was 'cappuccino,' and only because they have those in England (albeit much, much less artisanal and much, much more... vapid).

Standing at the bar, they quickly finished their drinks and began the short walk back to their hotel.

"Is there anything you would like to do after this?"

Joseph hummed. "Aperol spritzes on the terrace?"

Caesar smiled at the brunette. "I love the way you think, Jojo."

They swung by a small market just outside of their hotel for the Aperol and Prosecco, with soda water already waiting in the mini refrigerator in their room. Without measuring, Joseph pre-made 7 glasses of the drink so when they inevitably wanted more, they could simply get up and grab one, and that they did. Feeling a bit tipsy, Joseph stopped on his third, offering the fourth one that they originally were to split to Caesar alone. Caesar, being a bit smaller in height and weight than Joseph, was more tipsy; while a 4th drink would not necessarily get him 'drunk,' it will elevate him from tipsy to a bit woozy.

"Y'know, Jojo, I feel bad for what happened earlier," Caesar sighed, guilt evident in his eyes as he attempted to make eye contact with the brunette.

"That's okay, you couldn't have known," he responded with a smile.

They sat in a semi-awkward, painful silence for what felt like hours before the blonde broke it.

"Do you mind me asking why it's sensitive for you?"

Joseph swallowed and clenched his jaw. "Can you promise to tell absolutely no one?"

"That I can do, I swear on my life that no soul will hear what you have to say."

The Brit nodded, biting the inside of his mouth and taking sudden interest in the striations of the mahogany planks that make up their wooden terrace.

"The reason it's sensitive is because of my father. He might kill me if even a single person has a single thought that there is a single, sub-microscopic chance that I may like men. He's not the most accepting, which I find odd because I've been told Grandpa Johnathan was accepting of anyone and anything, so long as they were of good heart. Not to mention that the outside world is cruel and full of hate. In Germany, they've begun imprisoning people who don't fit their definition of normal. And to be quite frank with you, I'm scared of what could happen if someone suspects anything of me."

Caesar slid his chair closer to the other, flashing a gentle smile as he stopped. "You take after your grandfather, I hope that you know that. And I intend to as well. It does not matter to me what you find yourself attracted to. Now that I think about it, I have something to tell you that may ease your mind. Can you keep a secret, Jojo?"

The brunette nodded, anxiety skyrocketing. What was he going to say to him?

"Yes, I can."

"I trust you with my life, Joseph, so I will tell you this only once. No one else must ever know."

"No one will ever know, I swear to you."

Caesar's heart pounded in his chest. Was he really going to tell him this? He knows that Joseph won't run or hide from him, he assumes he'll be indifferent at the very least. Still, he had never, ever entertained the thought of telling someone. Hell, he had never even entertained the thought of entertaining the thought of telling someone. Yet here he was, about to explain everything to a man he met less than two months ago.

Granted, Joseph was... different. Different from the Italians he's used to, different from the way others dress, different from the way others' bodies are built, different from the way Caesar interacts with others, different from the way Caesar talks about others, different from the way Caesar thinks about others. He really doesn't think of anyone else anymore. Maybe it's because he has to spend all of his time with him? No, no he doesn't. He's allowed to go out on the town by himself, he's a grown man for fuck's sake. But each day after training, when he's given the chance, he chooses to spend his free time with Joseph. He has the choice to have a coffee alone in the morning, the choice to eat lunch by himself, the choice to enjoy a lonely dinner; and every single day, he finds himself following Joseph everywhere he goes and asking him to tag along when they may have to separate.

Joseph was Caesar's best friend. The best best friend that Caesar has ever had and will ever have. Never before had he met someone so willing to lay their life down for a friend, save for himself. And lay his life down he would; all Joseph has to do is ask. Caesar trusts Joseph with his life, so why not allow him to know this? Too late to back out.

The blonde took a shallow breath. "I- Well... How do I say this?"

Joseph raised an eyebrow, but stayed silent as he concentrated on Caesar's features, his piercingly viridescent hooded eyes, his streamlined Roman nose, his slightly flushed lips that never seem to crack, his jawline, his cheekbones, his eyebrows, and the little pink triangles that sit upon the apex of his cheeks. He found himself staring against his control, focus lingering on the middle of Caesar's face. He had never thought about how handsome his friend was, only heard it just about a million times. Yet there he sat, admiring the other man.

"Joseph, did I ever tell you that I have had... er- relations, if you will, with a man?"

The Brit's eyes widened and he leaned forward. "Are you serious?"

Oh no. Oh no. Caesar hesitated to answer, his heart threatening to crack under the weight of the possibility that he could lose his best friend over something so trivial. He bit the inside of his cheek, gaze dropping from the brunette's, and nodded. The fear of rejection, especially from someone so important in his life, brought pain to his chest and pushed his stomach acid up into his throat and mouth.

"Caesar? Caesar?" Joseph tapped the underside of the Italian's chin with the side of his curled index finger twice, gently lifting upward on the second tap to encourage Caesar to refocus.

"Caesarinoooo?" He cooed.

Caesar only matched his gaze, words unavailable to him.

"Now that I am sure you're listening, this changes nothing. You are still my best friend, still the same Caesar I met and fought with two months ago," he grinned.

"So... you don't mind? What about sleeping in the bed and getting changed and-?"

"Hey," Joseph interrupted. "Did you not listen? I don't mind. It makes no difference with me."

Caesar's eyes seemed to brighten, the pain in his chest subsiding. "Are you sure?"

"You are still m- Caesar. Even if it may not be for me," he broke their eye contact to look around, face fading of its color, then rejoined their gazes. "I have no problems with the fact that you've been with a man. Truthfully... I think you're brave."

Caesar knew he was lying, he just didn't know about what part. Was he lying about still seeing Caesar the same? Or about seeing him as brave? Or about it not being him? No, no, the last one couldn't be right. Caesar had seen the brunette kiss so many women! Well... sort of. He had seen women fawn over him, rubbing his biceps and kissing his cheeks, but he never tried to push them away and certainly never seemed uncomfortable...

"Brave? Why's that?"

"You're confident enough to do something dangerous. I'm... not like that."

"Not confident? That doesn't matter, I think if you want to try something, you should. You seem quite brave to me, considering you held your ground against me when we first met," Caesar reasoned with a fond smile.

Joseph flashed a half-smile, shrugging his shoulders. "I know, but this is... different. I can hold my ground, I cannot-," he shook his head with a small huff. "Anyway, we should clean our mess up, yeah?"

So close, yet so far... It drove Caesar insane trying to figure out what was with Joseph's sudden topic changes. What was so badthat he couldn't bear to talk about it?

Weeks passed and Caesar never brought the subject up. Whatever it was, Joseph seemed to be conflicted, maybe even scared. But of what? Caesar worried that he may be judgemental of his lifestyle, even if he denies it. If he were, would he not want to have separate beds or even rooms? Would he not insist on being fully dressed around Caesar or refrain from touching him? It made him ill, nauseated to think that Joseph would feel anything but amicable toward him. Every single day, the sight of Joseph tanked his confidence and encouraged him to dispel any food inside his stomach (or to be more exact, the lack thereof). He was so worked up that Joseph himself began to notice, which could be considered a miracle under different circumstances. For now, it's an extremely unpleasant truth.

"Caesar, are you sure that you're well-off?"

Caesar lightly sighed. "Yes, Joseph. I am just wonderful."

Normally, Joseph Joestar is one of the easiest people to lie to. Normally. Unfortunately, not today.

"Stop lying to me. I can't truly be your best friend if I can't help you when something is wrong," Joseph spoke with a stern tone, stepping closer to where Caesar sat on their shared bed. The blonde pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, eyes nearly devoid of life.

"Let me crush your worries, alright?"

Caesar nodded as Joseph gently sat down next to him, closer than they had ever been. Before, they would sit close, but never touched one another. Now, Joseph's thigh pressed against the other's, their torsos and faces mere inches apart.

"Give me your hand, please," Joseph extended his own hand, palm up and fingers relaxed. The blond placed his hand in Joseph's, who brought it closer to himself and clasped his other hand around it, slightly squeezing. Caesar's face flushed a near beetroot red, green eyes filled with confusion and another feeling Joseph couldn't quite make out.

"I never lied about accepting you. You are still you," he paused. "You're still the person I met and became best friends with. You are still my Caesar."

Uh oh. He could only hope and pray that Caesar didn't register what he said. Oh, God... Oh, God, Oh, God! Why did he say that? Why did he say Caesar was his? How does he explain what he really meant? Why didn't he stop at the best friend part? He can never speak again. Yeah, that's the plan. Never speak ever again. To anyone.

Caesar's face lit up with a childish playfulness, a thick, blonde eyebrow jumping up his forehead. "Your Caesar, huh?"

Of course he wouldn't let it slide. "No, that's- I didn't- It isn't-," he stuttered, dropping the other's hand, dying to crawl into his own grave. Nothing would be better than his lungs filling with dirt at this moment. Death is his only escape, he's convinced.

Caesar snickered, placing a hand on Joseph's knee. "Shhh, I know what you meant. You don't have to explain yourself."

"But I didn't mean it the way you think I-!"

"You said 'my Caesar,' meaning the Caesar that you personally know because you see more of me than other people. You see a different Caesar than anyone else, so you said 'my Caesar,'" he said matter-of-factly, shrugging with a smug smile.

"Oh..." Joseph's heart finally stilled.

"Ah, il mio dolce Jojo. You're an open book, so long as one is fluent in your language," he teased, leaning forward. "Easily one of my favorites."

Joseph couldn't help but smile, teeth on full display. He admired Caesar's half-lidded stare, the way his cold eyes soften before the top lid brings shade to those beautiful, shamrock green irises and his cocky, almost flirty grin, flaunting his lightly stained teeth as he said 'il mio dolce Jojo.'

He had no clue what 'il mio dolce' meant, but the gentleness of his sugary, rich tenor voice with a deep Italian accent made up for it all. Joseph believes Caesar could tell him to off himself with that near sultry voice of his and Joseph would still feel the butterflies in his stomach. Excitement struck; the rest of Caesar's words sank in. Easily Caesar's favorite 'book to read.' What a wonderful title to have! Caesar's favorite! He's Caesar's favorite!

"I'm truly honored, Caesarino. Just one question, what does all of that Italian stuff you said mean?"

Caesar's mind froze, paralyzed between lying or explaining that it's just meant to be endearing without coming off as odd. He wouldn't want Joseph thinking that he was flirting because he wasn't. He wasn't flirting.

"It means fat-head."

"My head isn't fat!" The brunette looked distressed. "It's not fat, is it? Caesar, do I have a big head?"

The blonde giggled, hand flying to his mouth as he attempted to hide the small snorts. "No, Jojo, it's uh... Italian endearment. Almost like 'love' in Britain." Smooth. He'd never question that!

"Oh! Well then, hello il mio dolce Caesar!"

Caesar's breath caught in his throat. It's fine when he says it, but Joseph can't just call him that! It'll make him-!

And there it was, again. The return of the heat in his stomach and accelerated beating of his heart. His hands were suddenly damp with sweat and the room seemed so much brighter than usual. He could smell Joseph's soap; the answer was that it developed into smoky, spicy ginger incense against his soft, freckled skin. He could hear everything, even Joseph's heartbeat. The beaming smile on Joseph's face made his legs weak and his body shaky. Caesar feels as if he had taken the strongest stimulant available on the market. This is not good.

"Was I not supposed to say that? You look... worried," Joseph questioned, interrupting his thoughts.

"No, no! It's fine to say!" Caesar began thinking of a way out.

"Then why do you look so-?"

"I'm going to the garden pool! Don't wait up!"

Joseph stood up just as fast as the other, eager to accompany him. "Why don't I go with you?"

"NO! I mean-," Caesar cleared his throat and attempted to regain his composure. "You need to sleep! Training was quite harsh today..."

Joseph cocked his head to the side, his eyebrows diving down and his lips puckering slightly as he bit the edge of his tongue. "What are you hiding from me?"

Oh, why is he so observant today? Of all days! What does he do? What can he do?

Caesar suddenly has an idea. "Oh, I can't believe you'd even suggest that! I would never hide anything from you, tesorino," the blonde insisted, his voice suddenly sickeningly sweet and drenched with admiration again. Manipulation tactics never fail Caesar, and a white lie (or a few) never hurt anyone before.

"Mhm... Well, have fun down there, I'll most likely be asleep by the time you return," Joseph said with skepticism. Caesar was hiding something from him, he knew it. He just had to wait.

"Thank you, goodbye Jojo!" He wasted no time exiting the room, next to running through hallways and down staircases to get to the hotel's garden, to get anywhere that wasn't his room, wasn't under Joseph's strangely observational surveillance, wasn't exposed to his voice. His beautiful, brassy baritone voice that made even Caesar's bones quiver.

Joseph watched as the blonde fled. He tried to move from his spot or think about anything else, but Caesar had taken hold of his mind. He thought back to when they sat on the bed, so much closer than they had been before. Joseph thought about how the butterflies in his stomach seemed to hold an uprising as the blonde teased him. That sly grin, the barely visible sliver of teeth and the smug look on his face made the Brit imagine scenarios that were not so normal for best friends. This can't be real. He can't like men, and he definitely cannot like his best friend! This is so, so bad...

He changed into his sleep clothes and climbed into bed, but he couldn't sleep. Not until Caesar came back, at least.

Caesar never made it down to the garden. Each time he looked out of the window, there were more people. Instead, he sat at the end of the hallway for half an hour, just long enough for Joseph to fall asleep. Entering the room and hearing nothing, his worries subsided. He completed his nightly routine, finally getting to feel the soft touch of the silk sheets and weight of the downy comforter.

"Caesar?"

The blonde jumped, gasping at the sudden sound from someone he thought was asleep. "Y-Yes?"

"How- Uh," Joseph lightly cleared his throat. "How did you... know?"

"Know what?" Caesar was confused, hoping that Joseph was just a sleep-talker. Those hopes were crushed as the brunette rolled over to lay face-to-face with him.

"How did you know that you were- ah- attracted to... men?"

Caesar squinted. "I just knew, Jojo."

"No, no," he rolled his eyes. "I mean how did you know? When did you... find out?"

The Italian snorted, grinning at his roommate.

"It isn't funny! Stop laughing! This is a serious question," Joseph whined.

"Okay, okay, sorry," Caesar said between giggles.

"You're still doing it!"

"I am not," he insisted, still snickering under his breath.

"Answer the question, twat!"

"Fine, fine," the blonde sighed. "I believe I began to notice when I first entered adolescence. All of my friends had these bootleg stag films... We would all crowd around the television and watch these pretty broads shooting for the moon with these hunky men. They would always talk about their whangs sticking up because the woman was so attractive and would sometimes be so aroused they would bash it in front of one another," he explained.

Joseph nodded to show Caesar that he was still giving him all of his attention.

"Except I never found the women attractive. I would watch the men, imagining that the woman underneath him was just a very effeminate man. I would leave the room when they began jerking it because I would feel so guilty in a room with a bunch of men with their snakes out, knowing what I was."

"So you have to only think men are attractive? To be a queer, I mean," Joseph asked.

"No, why? Have you found yourself looking at both, Jojo?"

Joseph sighed with a hum, clenching his jaw and rolling onto his back. "Never really looked at men until recently... There's this one I noticed recently that looks better than any broad I've ever seen. Am I... Am I allowed to be attracted to both? I'm not a monster, am I?"

Caesar gave him a comforting smile, reaching out and grabbing his forearm. "Jojo... il mio dolce Jojo... You are no monster and you certainly have done no wrong. Do you understand me?"

The Brit nodded, finally turning his head back toward Caesar.

"Do you mind answering with words? I want to be sure that you understand that you are a stark contrast to a monster."

"But," Joseph turned his body back toward Caesar, this time scooting a bit closer. "What if I am?"

"Mio caro, have I ever told you that I dislike books with monsters? If you were a monster, you certainly wouldn't be my favorite book. In fact, I would have never chosen to read you at all."

"Do you... Do you mean that?" Joseph leaned forward, hoping to hear confirmation.

"Yes, of course I mean it, Jojo. You are my best friend, I adore you and everything you stand for."

Best friend. Best friend. Best... Friend... Why did that hurt him? Caesar said he adores him, why is his heart not jumping out of his chest?

"Thank you... I guess we should-"

"Yeah I think we should sleep, goodnight Jojo."

Joseph rolled over so his back faced the other. "Night, Caesar."

Caesar took a deep breath, unable to close his eyes. Why couldn't he cheer him up? He said the things that normally would help, why did it hurt him? He saw the pain in his eyes. He knows he saw them change.

After some hours, he finally fell asleep. His dream was wonderful; he was cuddling with a firm pillow that had Joseph's exact scent on it, as if he had slept with it for weeks. His face held a smitten smile as he pressed his face into the pillow and took a deep breath to get all he could of his wonderful smell. He never, ever wanted to wake up.

Joseph woke in a cold sweat from his nightmare. It was horrific; he and Caesar had to separate and he had been made to watch him die, unable to do anything. The terror coursing through his veins dissipated and he finally stilled as soon as he felt the familiar arm around his waist and the pretty face buried in between his shoulder blades. He fought with himself on if he should move again or stay. If he moved and Caesar's awake, he may think he's rejecting him. If Caesar wakes up and sees that he's moved again, he may distance himself. If he doesn't move, he can have gratification for a few hours... until Caesar wakes up. Should he move or stay? Move or... Stay. He's staying. He can explain himself in the morning.

And stay he did. He turned over so they lay face to face, gently lifting Caesar up to place his toned arm underneath him and praying he won't wake up. Joseph hesitated for a second, nearly letting fear take over, then shook his head. Not this time. He won't mess up this time. Snaking his other arm around Caesar's lower back, he pulled him closer, the blonde's face now pressed against his chest. His head immediately gravitated toward the pile of thick, soft, messy hair lying just above his collarbone. As he breathed, he could smell the woody, citrusy, floral aroma that stuck to Caesar's body. He felt the Italian squeeze him, a small hum coming from behind his smile. How Caesar smiles at him even in his sleep... he feels like he normally would when around Caesar except for one feeling; there's something different. He no longer wants to just admire him, he wants to hold him close and... Oh, god. He wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him so badly. He wants to marry him. He loves him. His best friend. He loves Caesar.

Joseph's mind was racing. Attempting to reassure himself only helped a little, trying to forget was pointless. But when Caesar pulled him closer, whispering his name in his sleep, Joseph had no further problems sleeping.

Caesar woke up feeling so warm. A wonderful dream, a comfortable bed, warming comforter, and Joseph's arms around him... JOSEPH'S ARMS AROUND HIM?! He wanted to panic, to move away and pretend it never happened, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. This is what he wanted, right? This is exactly what he wanted. So why did it scare the fuck out of him? He didn't dare to move a muscle in fear that Joseph may wake up. Surely Joseph didn't mean to be cuddling with him, right? The only thing he could do was lay there, either leaning back into the other's chest or admiring his face. His gorgeous face. His chiseled jawline, sharp chin, and nearly colorless lips. His long, slightly upturned nose. And those eyes; those deep turquoise eyes, half shielded by eyelids mustering the strength to fully open. But he can't see his eye color unless they're open...

Oh. Oh, fuck.

"Caesar?" Joseph's voice was deep and raspy from sleep as he spoke.

So much for not getting caught. Caesar pretended to still be asleep, going so far as to fake a snore, but Joseph had watched his head drop when they made eye contact.

"Caesar, I saw your eyes open," he giggled sleepily, his chest shaking against the blonde's face and his voice echoing inside his body. Caesar's face, his body, everything was suddenly too hot. He felt as though he had walked into hell. Quickly, he rolled out of Joseph's arms, muttering apologies over and over as he scrambled to get out of the bed.

"Wait," Joseph urged, propping himself up on his elbow. "Please."

Caesar turned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know it was a mistake and that you didn't mean to... You don't have to remind me."

"Is that what you want it to be?" Joseph waited anxiously for his answer, his heart pounding. "Just a... mistake?"

The blonde's eyes were overcome with a fog of guilt and despair. "I guess..."

He was lying. Why couldn't he just tell him the truth?

"What if..." Joseph trailed off, looking at the sheets. "What if I said that it wasn't?"

"What?"

Joseph cleared his throat. "What if I said that it was intentional?"

"Are you trying to extract some sort of confession from me or something?"

Joseph looked back up at Caesar, sitting up. "Do you not have one? I'm certain I didn't read you wrong."

"Joseph, drop it. It was a mistake." Caesar's voice was filled with agitation.

Joseph paused, tears waiting patiently to drop from his bottom lashes. Should he just rip the bandaid off? Or spend the next few weeks pining after a man that he knows loves him too?

"No. No, Caesar, it wasn't a mistake. I woke up and you had wrapped yourself around me again. This time I didn't run, this time I turned to face you and held you too."

"Why? Why would you do that?"

"I didn't want to move. And there were... other reasons."

Caesar sat on the bed. "Other reasons?"

The Brit sighed, running nervous hands through messy brown bed hair. "I wanted to know what it felt like to hold you... to feed the butterflies, even if just a little bit."

"The butterflies? Joseph, what are you talking about?"

Joseph released a frustrated sigh, preparing himself to finally say the quiet parts to Caesar's face, everything that had built up over the months.

"Ever since the day we met, I've had this odd feeling toward you that I have never had for anyone. You explained how you realized you liked men, and now I can explain mine. I realized something was different about you when I first woke up to you behind me."

The Italian's eyes widened with each word, his mouth slightly open. What was Joseph saying to him?

"What I mean to say is that I believe I have loved you from the beginning. I have loved you every second of every day since I first met you. I find myself addicted to your scent, admiring your features, reveling in that you should even look my way, much less speak to me and honor me with your time and presence. I loved you so much that I denied it because I could not bear to lose you, even if I would have to spend the rest of my life tormenting myself with unrequited love," his voice cracked as he attempted to hold back his tears.

"I could be tortured, beat to the brink of death with the promise that it will end with my denial of you; I would insist that I love you a thousand times, it would be said with my last breath. If that makes me a monster, then so be it. No matter if I am Scylla or Charybdis, the Minotaur or a Cyclops. If I must become a monster for loving you, then a monster I am because 'I love you' is no longer enough for how I feel toward you, Caesar."

The blonde's mouth gaped, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to speak. He felt the urge to cry sitting in his throat.

With a shaky breath, he spoke, "I could have only hoped that you would tell me that. I never shower before you just so I can wrap myself in the comfort of your fragrance. I find myself wishing to have a life, a family with you more often than I should admit. The highest title given to anyone is that of the person Joseph Joestar chooses to love, and I am not sure I'm worthy of it. I would give my life a million times over if it ensured you would live a long, happy life. Joseph, I do not believe you are a monster, but if you were, I would become one too. Kraken, Hydra, Basilisk, or Medusa, it doesn't matter in the slightest. For if you were a monster, I would still love you."

The side of Joseph's mouth turned upward, his eyes trained on the man in front of him. He left his spot on the bed to sit next to the other man, placing a hand over the blonde's.

His voice was a near whisper. "Can I kiss you? Please?"

Caesar never answered, only placed his hands on the sides of the Brit's face, looking from his eyes to his lips while holding a love-stricken smile an inch from his lips. As he moved closer, one hand found its way to the nape of Joseph's neck, running his fingers through his hair. Joseph instinctually supported his chin, his free hand settling on Caesar's hip, thumb slowly swiping back and forth over the bone. He mustered the courage to close the gap between them, passion and adoration immediately evident in their kiss. Their lips moved in syncopated rhythms until the nervousness melted away; then, they were one. They matched pace, Caesar pulling Joseph closer, closer, closer, until they had to separate unwillingly to breathe.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," the brunette sighed, lips brushing against Caesar's as he spoke.

"Me too," Caesar laughed, grinning and planting a small kiss on Joseph's lips. "You should've asked me sooner."

"I would have if you had told me that 'il mio dolce Jojo' meant 'my sweet Jojo,'" Joseph pressed their foreheads together. "You know, you're a terrible flirt."

"Oh, like you aren't?"

The Brit giggled and stuck his nose up in the air, turning his head away from Caesar. "I never said that."

The blonde grabbed the bottom of his face and pulled him back for another kiss, still as full of fire as before.

With each kiss, their scents mingled. Dark sweet amber marrying bright palo santo, woody sandalwood befriending earthy, spicy patchouli, and citrusy candied oranges relaxing with beautiful, herby lavender. The most beautiful scent either had ever smelled, uniquely theirs forever.

#jocaesar #caejose #joseph x caesar #decade: 1940s #og universe #jjba #jjba fanfic #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo #gay awakening #the best fic i have evr written #literally my best work #shitty probably wrong italian #fluff #fanfiction

4 notes · View notes

lokisgoodgirl · 1 year ago

Text

That makes me so happy 😭😭 Sometimes I read some of my older fics and all I see is what I'd change now, but I'm taking a leaf outta @wheredafandomat s book and seeing it as the map of my creative journey 😂🤣❤️

I'd love to hear your thoughts if any of the others tickle you too, only if you fancy it🤗the mini surgence with this one has made me smile so much. Ahhhh memories 😂

Ps. Ur reference to The Ceremony in the tags 😂The Ceremony does not apply to my self crit above. The Ceremony is flawless😆😆😆😆😆😆

Jawline of a God [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader] 18+

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: A one-shot about Loki's hot bone structure. That's it. Inspired by THIS (#sexualapocalypsesociety represent) Warnings: Extreme Loki thirst. Graphic descriptions of bone structure. Some sexual imagery/references to smut. Language. A/N: I can only hope I do them justice🙏Never say I don't follow through lol. W/C 1.2k

Loki sat across the wide table from you, perfectly poised. His hair was tied back today, loosely gathered in a messy ponytail. It made you want to rip his shirt off in the middle of Roger’s 7am briefing. I wonder what would happen if I did, you thought. I wonder if he’d like that. His eyes flickered towards you. You tilted your head, unsubtly inspecting the photographs hanging behind him on the wall. As Rogers rumbled on at the front of the room, Loki cleared his throat gently. Your eyes were unavoidably drawn back to him, waiting quietly with a knowing smirk on his face. He brought two fists up to his chest, spreading his bent arms in a tight stretch before pressing his hands together. The force of his biceps strained through the tight cotton encasing them. He winked. What a dick, you thought, rolling your eyes. He totally thought I was checking him out. How rude.

You tried to focus on the slides Steve somehow managed to fill every single night in preparation for his interminable morning meetings. Without even realising you were doing it, you were suddenly looking at Loki again. He was facing the front now, concentrating. That made a change. His brow was furrowed, listening to whatever it was Steve was actually talking about. What was it? You couldn’t remember. Loki’s jawline in profile was more poetic than exquisitely carved marble. Bernini himself could not create such a thing of beauty. The way the straight edge rocked sharply upwards at the angle below his ear like a calligrapher's stroke. Strands of dark hair hung around the border, teasingly brushing against the pale skin of his elegant neck, luminescent in the morning light. If you ever found Loki Laufeyson in your bed, you would spend an awful lot of time kissing that neck, working your way to that sinful jawline, up those razor-sharp cheekbones. Taking your time. Biting gently as he groaned beneath you. You knew his skin would be soft as fuck. You just knew it. Loki wet his lips, the tip of his pink tongue darting out in an absent-minded lick. You felt wetness beginning to gather in your panties as you imagined how perfectly the curve of his face would fit nestled in your neck, grunting against your skin. You would make him hiss with need as you rode him mercilessly, enjoying every primal noise accompanied by a clench of that powerful jaw. He would slot into the crevices of your shoulder like a hand in a leather glove, moaning unintelligibly into your hair while slotting another equally perfect part of himself deep within. Leather. Why did you have to think about leather. Loki swallowed; chin slightly raised. An inexplicably arousing muscle at the side of his face flexed with a gentle bob as your stomach followed the motion of his Adam's apple. Like going over a hill in the back of a car. Suddenly you felt very hot. Loki smiled at something. his dimples flashing as the skin across his taunt jaw tightened. He flexed his neck forward, humming agreement at a well-made point, probably. It was all just white noise. Jesus Christ. You couldn’t look away. Thoughts of his face buried between your thighs. The stamina of that muscled jaw. The flash of that apocalyptic bone structure smeared with your arousal coming into view from between your legs to simply tilt and ask “I trust my services are to your satisfaction, Agent…”

You re-adjusted in your seat, the damp situation between your legs now fully beyond the point of saving.

You shouldn’t be having these thoughts right now. I’m pretty sure someone here can read minds. But for the life of you, you couldn’t remember who.

Loki’s head subtly angled toward you, making you squeeze your thighs together under the table. You felt your eyebrows twitch as you fought to contain a whine of need under his smouldering stare. How is he so fucking hot, this shouldn’t be allowed, it's indecent you thought fruitlessly as a smile curled imperceptibly at one side of his mouth. You wondered if he threw his head back during sex. The image of that strong chin upended in pleasure towards the ceiling as he took you relentlessly was too much. What was his favourite position? He seemed like a doggy-style kind of guy, which would be a shame...you wouldn’t be able to see his face. But still. Small wins. You needed to focus. Focus. You scribbled nonsense on your notepad, eyes fluttering hopelessly upwards every few seconds. Loki sucked in his cheeks thoughtfully, the sharp peaks of his cheekbones striking your perverted gaze like a slap. Dead, you thought. I’m dead. And this is hell. Your core was starting to ache, begging to be touched by his dexterous fingers, wrapped sinfully around a pen as he minded his own business. Your stare swept up the landscape of his cheekbones once more, tracing the lines your tongue would explore, imagining how they would look from above as you rode him. They were so tight. So sharp. Jesus. He brought an elbow to rest on the table, resting his thumb on his lips as his forefinger stroked the line of his jaw thoughtfully.

I’m going to expire, you thought. In a work meeting. And then when the paramedics get here and cut off my clothes like they do in movies, everyone will know that I overdosed from rampant arousal. Like an animal. Fuck. Laufeyson’s long finger played at the sharp angle, circling absent-mindedly against the skin beneath his ear. That’s where you would suck a bruising kiss, right in that soft virginal expanse below the masculine devastation of his jawline. The thought of his artery pumping beneath the skin, at the mercy of your needy mouth as you marked him was all you could see, all you could feel. You would kiss every inch of him. Every...legendary...inch. A loud smack of a binder on the table broke your fantasy, blinking into reality as those around you stood. You cleared your throat, taking one last longing look at the lines of Loki’s bone structure as he gathered his notes with an air of innate regality only he was able to accomplish. You stood, arranging your files; not noticing the approaching hand encircling your wrist until it clasped tightly. “It’s me.” Loki purred quietly above your shoulder. You could feel the tight muscles of his chest against your back as he released his soft grip on your skin. “...who can read minds.” he continued knowingly, as your eyes widened. Fuck. “Agent, really...” he growled playfully; his eyes narrowing, “this kind of flagrant objectification is so unlike you.” He circled in front as you fumbled with your bag, holding the door as your teammates traipsed past deep in oblivious conversation.

Loki cast a glance around the room, leaning forward just enough that you caught a hit of cologne wafting from his warm skin. The sight of his neck muscles flexing at the stretching motion almost made your knees buckle. Keep it together for fuck’s sake, you chided yourself as his eyes found you again, looking down with unconcealed amusement. “On the contrary, darling...I’m counting on quite the opposite” he murmured, drawing one of those long fingers across your cheek, brushing against your parted lips with a wink. “If this is the effect that such an inconsequential part of my anatomy such as my jawline has on you, darling- I cannot wait for you to experience the rest.” He leaned forwards. “I’ll let you into a little secret, shall I?” Loki whispered, as your breaths grew short. “Me kneeling. My partner, straddled on top for me to control their pleasure. That is my favourite position.” You swallowed, as he continued. “And yes, I do find myself throwing my head back when I am...overcome with passion. I do hope that’s alright.” he said casually, smirking. Words deserted you as you nodded dumbly. “Excellent” he purred, withdrawing from where he hovered. The sharp lines of his cheekbones flashed as he turned towards the door, the straight edge of his chin begging to be worshipped without shame. “Eight o’clock?” he postured cheerfully, pausing in the doorway, “I know a nice bar not far from here. And, Agent…?” Loki paused dramatically, raising an eyebrow as he watched you blinking mutely against the wall with your mouth hanging slightly open. “Try not to become too aroused by thoughts of my jawline in the meantime. I prefer my dates un-expired, preferably. It makes for more interesting conversation.” You took several deep breaths as you heard his footsteps depart, soft chuckles echoing in the empty hall.

-🤷‍♀️

Tags --@lokischambermaid @mochie85 @thedistractedagglomeration @xorpsbane @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @yelkmelk @lokiprompts @michelleleewise @vbecker10 @wheredafandomat @holdmytesseract @ravenwings73 @mischief2sarawr @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @loopsisloops @fictive-sl0th @ladymischief11 @lady-rose-moon @holymultiplefandomsbatman @muddyorbs @sititran @skymoonandstardust @anonymousfiction211 @nerdy-fangirl-65 @five-miles-over @handsaroundmyneck @gigglingtigger @daggers-and-mischief @mistress-ofmagic @trickster-maiden @animnerd @thomase1 @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @ladylovesloki @fictional-hooman @ozymdias @loki-laufeyson-1054 @123forgottherest @maple-seed @peacefulpianist @lokislilkitten @kats72 @cakesandtom @your-taste-on-my-lips @trojanaurora @chantsdemarins

#literally my best work

1K notes · View notes