#sbr fanfic

[arliaeien]

Chapters: 47/? Fandom: ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Johnny Joestar/Gyro Zeppeli

Characters: Johnny Joestar, Gyro Zeppeli, Hot Pants (JoJo), Diego Brando, Funny Valentine, Lucy Steel (JoJo), Stephen Steel, George Joestar, Anne Joestar, Gregorio Zeppeli, Georgie Porgie (JoJo)

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Pining, Requited Unrequited Love, Friends to Lovers, Canon-Typical Violence, Ableism, Internalized Homophobia, Self-Acceptance, Getting Together, Sharing a Bed, POV Alternating, Alternate Ending, Medical and Rehab (spin) Inaccuracies, Kissing, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Bug bites fetish, Ass Play, Finger Fucking, Dirty Talk, Top Johnny Joestar, Bottom Gyro Zeppeli, Dom/sub Undertones, Johnny Joestar is Still Disabled, Friends Are Chosen Family Aren't, Your tradition is not mine, Politics, Post-Canon, meet the in-laws, Travel, Alternate History, Speedwagon Foundation (JoJo)

Summary:

“The best miracles are imperceptible to the world.” – Unknown author

“So? Will you finally tell me what you want from me?” Johnny asks. “Speedwagon foundation wants you to join in. Even at your own conditions.”

Johnny learns what Speedwagon foundation expects from him.

*updated every Sunday* (post-canon)

Snippet:

Johnny and Gyro got awakened by a discrete but firm knock on the door.

“Good morning?” A feminine voice called. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”

Their bodies were so much tangled, that’s fortunate Marylou didn’t come in. Well, it would have been incorrect for a girl her age. Maybe they should consider themselves grateful that Porgie wasn’t the one coming, despite the closed lock and all the caution they used, wedging a chair behind the doorknob.

The morning had broken and a lot of light was coming from outside.

“Hey.”

“…hey.”

They pressed lips, kissing good morning.

Better than for a week.

Nice and warm under the covers of a real bed.

That had a taste of domesticity. Of a daily routine, they had never experienced first.

Spending the night all against each other, Gyro naked and Johnny with only his undergarments, that had felt good.

Johnny liked it. But it was the last time before long.

< read more >

[artytaeh]

idk if you write a lot about mattheo, but I loveee him heehehe. I feel like Mattheo is the guy that sleeps around A LOT but only has one or two girls he really dates, and is loyal to them. She's probably one of of pansy's friends too, so they are very close in the friend group. He would also make it very obvious and be very touchy, like if there's a group hangout or sleepover he's holding your thigh or waist, and when you guys lay down you're ON TOP of him, like he wants you and will make it knownnnnn. Anyways he's such a pookie even if he's a psycho he's cute.

hey love! omg i love to receive asks, thank you for interacting! 🌷 and you're so right about this.

i mainly write theodore nott, however mattheo riddle is a close second (i have many drafts about him </3) along with lorenzo berskhire, in the future.

I FEEL LIKE MATTHEO RIDDLE avoids getting attached to other people, hence why he rarely sleeps with the same person thrice. two times at maximum, really— specially if mattheo finds them really pretty or a good company.

full-on distances himself: would only stop avoiding them until he's perceived as an asshole and 'not worth it', since it saves him from a possible situationship that could turn out to be a big, big crush.

but you, pansy's friend? oh boy, that was disaster waiting to happen. pansy, from his friendgroup, who gets invited and dragged to each of their hangouts? pansy parkinson, your best friend that brings you with her each time, since the boys don't want to go out without pansy, and she won't go without you.

it's a simple equation, really. no you? no pansy. no pansy? no hangout. for the hangout, pansy must come, which equals to your presence there too. mattheo riddle sees you so many times that:

he'll give up on his friends (never happening. mattheo riddle gave his heart to them and he'd never admit this, but the closest thing he has of a family is them.) so he won't have to see you so many times,

or he will grow some pants and not steal one single glance. mattheo riddle is perceived as a very attractive slytherin amongst other students— he doesn't need your attention.

but god. you're such a cruel little minx, and you don't even notice it.

mattheo looks at you and it's like you have him bewitched, because thoughts and more thoughts silence whatever isn't about you inside his mind. and that blossoms some cravings within him.

like, listening to your voice. will nonchalantly ask pansy about something that you like, as in your favorite subject, or whatever the fuck you do as a hobby.

it could be the most boring thing for mattheo, to the point where he thinks that he might die out of boredom. however, as he smokes a cigarette, staring at everywhere but you, mattheo will find a way to get this interest of yours as the main topic.

and then you won't shut up.

mattheo smokes a whole cigarette (and even a second one, for the sake of having you talking more and more) while he listens to you.

god, aren't you thirsty? you haven't shut up. and you know what? he likes it. your voice. it might get into a very dangerous point where mattheo will smoke, staring at the wall, while imagining this voice of yours as moans. or even worse: telling him reassuring, sweet words.

he's down bad. and he'll blame pansy for it.

he'll sleep with you just one more time. this next party will be the last time that it'll happen. and then, goodbye! because mattheo riddle can deal with pansy parkinson chasing him around with the intent of ripping those dark curls out of his stupid head!

except that pansy is a scary slytherin and god, one warning glare of hers, is enough for mattheo straighten up his posture as he guides you to his bedroom, mid party.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

mattheo can look like a fucking hunting dog when he puts some effort to it. sat behind you, as you obliviously go through another boring class— those dark eyes becoming threatening as he carefully looks at each. single. desk.

trying to get one miserable unlucky fool who might have an eye on you. so that he can give a warning that would soon spread around school like a bloody virus.

mattheo waits for you to leave the classroom first. then, menacingly, mattheo will make his way to the prick who couldn't get his eyes off you— a little warning, one that the entirety of hogwarts and their mothers know to be a very serious threat, and baam. 🗯️

no more love interests. no competition. at parties, mattheo is a bloody falcon to anyone who approaches you for a dance. sometimes you might be enjoying yourself, dancing along the beat, drunk in your owm enjoyment to notice how mattheo pushes a guy away from your back, yeeting them to the other corner of the dancefloor.

just in case someone steals you away from him. mattheo justifies his actions as being selfish, because he's a bad person. and bad people selfishly keep what they like for themselves.

and god, mattheo loves your company. even if it's platonic or more than that, he'd be damned if someone got you too busy to be dragged along with pansy to their hangouts.

hangouts become smoking sessions with all the group, some smoking, others making company (and mama blaise making sure that not more than two cigarettes are smoked). smoking sessions become outings to hogsmeade, which mattheo likes to pretend to be dates sometimes.

like, 'really, fuck off theodore i can't hear that fucking accent of yours anymore'— so you'll go with him, right? there's this thing he needs to buy. oh, you need to go to the bathroom? what he coincidence, he needs too. might as well go look for one with you. ahh, so there's this bullshit you wanna buy? mattheo rolls his eyes and sure, he'll accompany you; who knows what a gal like you might stumble against if he's not there just in case.

and as you said: physical contact! will wrap an arm around your shoulders, casually, as you walk with the group or the whole lot of you are standing somewhere, while waiting for class to start. if you're sitting in the common room? hand on your thigh, squeezing it every so often, not even conscious about it as he talks with his friends. or even one arm around your waist, as his fingers feel the curve from your ribcage to your hipbone.

then comes the sleepovers as you said, love! 🌷

it started as a girls' night for gossip. obviously, blaise joins in (he's one of the girls, alright?) and lorenzo follows him instantly because this man knows gossip from many different sources.

draco goes too, hating to be one to be left out. if blaise goes, he's coming too— and theodore, well, there will be snacks; besides, he doesn't feel like being alone tonight. mattheo riddle, on the other hand, was the first one to want to join the girls (you) but was waiting for the others to say the first word, so it's less suspicious for him to join.

this first sleepover becomes a slow tradition for the group; unless there's exams preventing you to do so, then this happens weekly. even if someone has a boyfriend or girlfriend expecting some quality time during this night? nuh-huh, sleepovers at pansy's are sacred.

once, theodore left to spend the night with some ravenclaw; the whole room boo-ed him so bad that theo got seriously offended.

the only problem that might surface is how many people pansy's room is meant to take. you see, if it was only the two of you, it'd be perfectly okay; but now there's five boys expecting a good night of sleep.

nevermind if pansy's plans were to have you two sharing the bed to cuddle; a few hours later, mattheo will have you sleeping on top of him (he's warmer!) and sincerely might have the most peaceful sleep with the reassuring weight of you on top of him. should you fall asleep first, mattheo will glare and shush at the other boys, if they happen to make too much noise.

also protects your sleep. if one of them grabs a pen to draw on your face, mattheo won't let that happen. mysteriously, when the hilarious clown (who suggested this idea) woke up in the morning, his whole face was doodled. ha. i wonder who did it.

HOWEVER, mattheo riddle would also be hot and cold. yes and no, clingy and distant.

as soon as some progress is made, or things are the slightest verbalized— mattheo riddle will distance himself so well, that you'll barely catch glimpses of him for a few hours or days.

then, he's all over you; snatching you from a conversation or full-on passing by you on a hallway, picking you up with him and carrying you for some alone time. might be making out, requiring your presence as he smokes (sometimes, he won't even encourage you to talk your tongue off) or sex. this happens when mattheo can't handle how much he misses you anymore.

those days spent apart are already known by the boys. at first, he's a bit silent, overthinking and distant from conversations. then, mattheo gets increasingly moody, rolling his eyes at everything and telling them to shut the fuck up— which, okay, moody much?

it's at this point that lorenzo and theodore exchange knowing glances, and soon draco joins in to participate on the bet of how long it'll take mattheo riddle to crawl back to you.

blaise thinks the bet is stupid— and so he bets the shortest amount of time with all the confidence in the world.

( unsurprisingly he's the one who won the bet. lorenzo accuses him of having mattheo telling him stuff in secret. )

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

this is in case some romantic, possessive feelings blossom between the two of you, or at least within mattheo.

however, the idea of him having one or two girls with whom he goes out on dates or fucks more than three times, a bit more platonically—that's something i can see happening too.

so hear me out,

this one person that makes it obvious that things between the two of are reciprocated. mattheo doesn't want a relationship, you don't want a relationship. he likes to fuck you, you like getting fucked by him. and things are never blurred lines; it seems natural, really. and so it becomes a weird type of friends with benefits because it's not like a real friendship, more of that person you know, you're attracted to, yet are no feelings envolved.

which is perfect for mattheo because thank merlin he doesn't have to go full-on asshole with you and run away around school, like the other six times he did so.

will ask you out on a date a few times, and accept to go on some with you; dates, because that's what outsiders would conclude at the sight of the two of you. in reality, those are more like hangouts, to suppress that silent craving of something more than superficial attraction.

will wrap his arm around you, indulge you, probably pay for your meal or some bullshit you found cool while window shopping. definitely walks you to your dorm, making sure that you got there safely.

will let you sleepover at his bedroom or rest a little before taking his shit and flee out of your bedroom. is more careless with you (in a way that he'll indulge these little things, overstaying and not running away) than with other girls, since he's not afraid to give you hope on something that won't ever happen.

might go to your bedroom if he's having a bad day, or needing to vent. might smoke a cigarette as he does so— and have the decency of doing this near the window, so he won't get your bedroom all smelly from the tobacco or with foggy due to the smoke. should you barge in his room for something similar, well, mattheo is all ears to you, too.

i feel like mattheo would genuinely care about this girl, even if it's platonically so. sincerely sees her as a friend, even though he won't tell you— mattheo hates to sound emotional or attached.

and if you get a serious fling or someone you like?

mattheo will tell you something like, 'yeah, yeah; just don't come back to my bed.' — which might sound so infuriatingly arrogant of him, but the little smile he gives you, reveals the intention behind it: if you don't come back to him, then you won't continue this friends with benefits thing for the sake of satisfying each other's void for something more that both of you are scared to have, well, then that means that you're happy. that you finally found someone for you.

after that, you'll only exchange glances. if mattheo passes by you in the hallway, he'll greet you, or at least nod in acknowledgement of your presence. things might be over, but i feel like mattheo would still have a space for you in his heart— as in, you've become someone that he actually has a lot of consideration for.

and god forbids this boyfriend of yours turns out to be an asshole; mattheo will gladly land him to the infirmary wing, for the sake of an opportunity to think about what he's done.

hey, mattheo riddle does care about you. you're like, a strange friendship to him. might come to you and ask you if you're alright, if you need anything.

but then he'll tease you— you have the worst taste for men, cuz hey, you remember that you did more than just fuck him once, right?

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

what would be funny is if these two situationships happen at the same time. because i feel like this fwb one might give the scolding that mattheo needs.

truthfully, mattheo wouldn't admit this weird attachment to you not even to theodore; that's how in denial he is. however, mattheo will ask this fwb about her opinion, or even seek some advice.

in conclusion: i totally feel like mattheo riddle is pretty loyal to these two girls, in different ways; one of them he'd slowly work on fighting over his commitment issues, while the other is a strange type of best friend whom he'd still defend her honor— nevermind if you don't fuck him anymore.

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— tysm for interacting with me! your ask got me giggling and created a whole brainrot because seriously, i can see this 100% happening.

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[snzhrchy]

close your eyes and i’ll kiss you

— first kiss with diego && johnny

my johnny brain rot is getting out of hand i cannot stop thinking about this beautiful blonde man and how i want to smother him with kisses and i guess, diego ‘s there too ://

— johnny

‘i’m going to do it,’ he announces with conviction in his voice, ‘i’m going to join the race.’

‘no you’re not, it’s dangerous—really dangerous, do you possibly think—?’

‘yes i can,’ he cuts you off.

‘johnny—‘

‘i know the dangers, [name], do you really think i would’ve blasted my savings on it if i knew i couldn’t make it?’

‘i… i don’t— i’m just worried for you, that’s it. what if you—‘

‘i didn’t ask you to worry for me,’ he says suddenly and then pauses, ‘why do you care again?’

‘what do you mean?’ you ask.

‘well— i’m no longer jo-kid or y’know the famous jockey, why do you stick around?’ he turns his gaze away from you, ‘i don’t have any fame, money or even the ability to walk.’

‘hey— hey don’t say that; you’re—‘

but he cuts you off again, ‘i didn’t ask you to cheer me up, i’m asking you why do you still stay? why don’t you leave like everyone else?’

however, you are at a loss for words—you don’t know how you could possibly convey your feelings towards him without making it incredibly awkward. in a haze, you suddenly find yourself near him, faces merely inches apart. you don’t even hesitate to put one of your hands on his cheek and pull him into you; your lips making instant contact with his.

you can tell by the way he reacts that he was expecting anything but this but eventually you can feel him ease into your touch and kiss you back with his fingers entangling in your locks.

‘that isn’t an appropriate answer to my question, though,’ he mumbles.

— diego

‘i don’t get it, i really don’t,’ mutters Diego to himself but he’s still loud enough for you to hear him.

‘whatever do you mean?’ you inquire in a daze as your hands lazily brush your horse’s hair.

‘of all the jockeys and trainers in the world, why do your parents insist on me teaching you?’

‘well that’s because you’re diego brando! the best of the best!’ you say.

‘you flatter me, [name],’ he pauses, ‘but do you really think i’m that stupid?’

your actions suddenly come to a halt, your left hand abandons the strand of hair it’s holding but the comb remains in your right, ‘huh?’

‘oh c’mon, i can tell that you’ve got some sort of affection for me,’ he walks over to you, abandoning all his actions, ‘it’s wrong to lust over a widowed man, y’know?’

you can practically feel your cheeks heat up with each word he says—how could you possibly forget that you were dealing with diego brando here?

‘that’s not why I— I didn’t hit on—‘ you try to protest.

but before you could deny any of his claims, one of his hands snakes to the back of your head, pulling you in close. it happens in an instant as he presses his lips against yours, they meet in a quick and hastened way. the feeling of his lips touching yours is incredibly fast and the touch leaves almost instantly—he doesn’t even allow you to savour the kiss.

while your lips still yearn for his, his hand hasn’t left the back of your head at all—in fact, you can feel his fingers entangling themselves deeper into your locks, the action sort of pulls you closer to him to the point where you can feel his heavy breath in your ear. if it’s even possible, it makes you blush harder.

‘how about we continue this elsewhere, hm?’

[darkcloudswuyun]

Drew some art for my JoGy fanfic 🖌️ Hope u like it!

Here's the link 👇

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62169319

⭐ Canon setting, ABO dynamics, Omega Johnny/Alpha Gyro, Top Johnny.

⭐ A gunshot at sixteen transformed Johnny from a rebellious Omega into a pheromone gland-damaged invalid. Years later, after the battle in Arizona's desert against the Boom Boom Family, his long-absent heat finally resurges.

A story about courage, dramatic conflicts, and strangers to lovers.

The angel whispers softly by his ear: "Something descends from above to find its way to you."

The luminous orb twinkle-twinkled at him slyly, "Johnny, in all your wildest dreams—did you ever imagine meeting me here?"

—Among the teeming millions of this earthly realm, I've foreseen you at every inverted corner, except in this moment of real encounter.

PS: Currently, only the Chinese version is available. I haven't had time to complete a full English translation. If you're interested, please feel free to use a translator to read this story(´▽｀)ノ♪. Thank you for your understanding and support!

Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warnings:

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Rape/Non-Con

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

Relationship:

Johnny Joestar/Gyro Zeppeli

Characters:

Johnny Joestar

Gyro Zeppeli

Funny Valentine

Mountain Tim (JoJo)

Diego Brando

Hot Pants (JoJo)

Lucy Steel (JoJo)

Stephen Steel

[wrxangel]

Johnny Joestar with GN!Reader who has Keratosis Pilaris

a/n: I was looking at my skin a few days ago and I was like....y'know, they kinda look like bug bites- GASP. Johnny would be such a FREAK for me. also I have body acne, esp on my legs and arms, or sometimes my back. it genuinely brings me comfort that Johnny would find those things sexy lol.

tags: @p1ssmagg0t (wanna get tagged? form here: ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡

The campfire crackled softly, sending flickers of light into the darkening desert. The day had been rough—another group of Stand users had ambushed you, Johnny, and Gyro on the trail, and you’d barely escaped. The three of you had been covered head to toe in mud and grime by the end of it, your clothes stuck to your skin in a heavy, disgusting mess. It was no surprise when Gyro suggested you all strip down to your undergarments and wash your clothes, airing them out by the fire.

You sat cross-legged on the ground, wiping a stray smudge of dirt off your arm as the heat of the fire dried your damp skin. It was a little awkward, sitting around with barely any clothes on, but the exhaustion from the fight and the shared need for warmth eased the tension.

Johnny, usually a little quieter when Gyro was around, had been watching you for a while, ever since you’d stripped down to nothing but your underwear. He wasn’t looking at you in the way most men would; no, his blue eyes were fixated on something else—the faint red bumps that dotted your arms, legs, and shoulders.

You hadn’t really thought about it. Your skin had always been this way, with tiny red dots peppering your limbs like freckles that never quite faded. It was just something that was part of you, something you didn’t even notice anymore. But when Johnny’s gaze lingered, you became acutely aware of it, like his eyes had brought it into sharp focus. He wasn’t disgusted, though. No, he seemed… fascinated.

Gyro, sitting a little ways off, was busy cleaning his steel balls, but he didn’t miss the way Johnny kept sneaking glances at you. A smirk curled across his lips as he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nyohoho~! Seems like Johnny’s got his eyes on somethin’.”

Johnny’s face flushed as he quickly looked away, trying to hide the fact he’d been staring. “Shut up, Gyro,” he muttered, a hint of his Kentucky drawl slipping through, betraying his embarrassment.

You glanced between them, confused at first, but then noticed Johnny’s gaze returning to your skin. "What?" you asked, your voice casual, trying to brush it off. “Something wrong?”

“N-No, nothin’,” Johnny stammered, but his eyes lingered on the little red bumps again. He swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably on the log he was sitting on. “I just… I ain’t never seen skin like that before. Does it… hurt?”

His voice was softer now, genuinely curious, though there was an undercurrent there—something deeper, something more intimate that he wasn’t saying outright. It made your heart skip a beat, though you weren’t entirely sure why.

“Nah, not at all. It’s just the way my skin is,” you replied, giving a casual shrug. “I call it ‘strawberry skin.’” You laughed softly. “It’s just how my skin is—keratosis pilaris. No big deal.”

Johnny’s heart gave an unexpected flutter at your nonchalant explanation. “Strawberry skin,” he repeated, almost under his breath. The nickname was so… endearing. The tiny bumps scattered across your limbs, something so unique and intimate, only made his heart race more. To him, it wasn’t strange or anything to be overlooked. If anything, it was captivating in a way he couldn’t explain. “That’s… kinda cute, honestly.”

His voice was barely above a whisper, and there was a slight flush in his cheeks. Gyro, who had been quietly observing the whole scene, raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling at the corners of his lips. He’d known about Johnny’s peculiar fascination with things like this for a while now. It wasn’t often that Johnny showed this side of himself so openly, though.

“Cute, huh?” Gyro teased, his Italian accent rolling through the words. “I guess you’ve got a thing for strawberries, eh, Joestar?”

Johnny shot him a glare, embarrassed, but Gyro just chuckled and turned his attention back to the fire, letting the two of you have your moment.

You, still oblivious to the depth of Johnny’s interest, laughed at Gyro’s teasing. “Well, I guess if I’m ever in need of a new nickname, ‘Strawberry’ could work.”

Johnny, struggling to keep his cool, smiled softly. “Yeah, it… it could.” He shifted a bit closer, just enough that his arm barely brushed yours, the subtle contact sending a jolt through him.

His fingers twitched, as if he wanted to reach out and touch, to feel the texture of your skin. “It’s… interestin’,” he murmured. He glanced away, but his blush deepened, his blue eyes flicking back to your arms and legs. “Looks kinda like… like bug bites.”

That caught you off guard. Bug bites? You looked at him, studying his expression, trying to understand what he meant. His face was flushed, his breathing a little heavier than normal, and it hit you: Johnny was into it.

Gyro, sitting nearby, snickered under his breath, clearly enjoying the whole situation. “Johnny’s got himself a little secret,” he teased, leaning forward with a grin. “Seems like he’s got a thing for-”

“Gyro, for the love of God, shut up,” Johnny hissed, though his voice lacked any real bite. He glanced at you nervously, almost like he was worried about what you might think. His hands clenched into fists on his lap, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.

But you weren’t fazed. In fact, you kind of found it amusing—endearing, even. You hadn’t noticed how much Johnny had been drawn to your skin until now, but it made sense in hindsight. The way his eyes had lingered just a little too long, how he always seemed a little flustered when you were around… It was oddly cute.

“You got a thing for bug bites, huh?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. Your voice was playful, not judging, and Johnny’s face burned a deeper shade of red.

“…Maybe,” he muttered, barely audible, but you caught it.

You laughed softly, the tension melting away. “Well, you’re in luck then,” you said, leaning back on your arms and letting your legs stretch out in front of you, showing the full extent of the red bumps on your skin. “Guess I’m your ideal type, huh?”

Johnny’s breath hitched slightly, his eyes glued to your legs as a faint shiver ran through him. He looked like he was about to combust on the spot, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite form the words.

Gyro, meanwhile, was having the time of his life, leaning back and watching the whole thing unfold with a smug grin. “Nyohoho~! Looks like you two might be gettin’ a little closer tonight.”

Johnny shot him a death glare. “I’m gonna kill you.”

But you just smiled, feeling more comfortable now that you knew the reason behind Johnny’s stolen glances. “Don’t worry, Johnny. It’s no big deal.” You gave him a wink, your playful tone putting him a little more at ease. “I think it’s kinda sweet, actually.”

Johnny swallowed again, his blush still evident, but there was something softer in his eyes now—something warm. He glanced at you one last time before muttering, “Thanks… I’m glad you don’t mind.”

As the night wore on and the fire crackled softly, Johnny’s thoughts remained on you, on the beautiful imperfection of your "strawberry skin."

It was all he could think about, and the more he tried to push it away, the more it consumed him, leaving him flustered, aroused, and utterly captivated by you in ways he didn't expect.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡ Thanks for Reading! ˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆

[nikathesiren]

Hiii! 🦈✨ Here I come with a new chapter just before the holidays!

The Road Marked by the Waves - Chapter 6 (AO3)

Also available on Wattpad!

"Gyro is going to help Johnny immerse gradually in the ocean for the first time since the accident. Johnny was convinced to give it a try, but dealing with his post-traumatic stress disorder makes it way tougher than it sounds. Is this the start of healing, or just another step back?"

... Hey, Johnny! The new chapter is up here! 👆🙄

Fanart inspired by this meme, lmao.

[peachbubbless]

Can I req gn vampire reader x diego where they end up stuck in an inn due to a really bad storm for a few days so reader ends up needing to drink blood from diego >.< also can I be 🦇 anon :333

Hi! Of course you can be 🦇 anon, lovely to hear from you :3 I had a lot of fun with this one, so I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think :)

Bite Me - Diego Brando x Vampire! Reader

The storm rolled in fast. The horses twitched, the air went metallic, and Diego Brando’s scowl deepened. 

You’d been riding behind him for half the day, keeping pace with that tight-lipped tension that passed for cooperation between the two of you. He didn’t ask questions, and you didn’t offer any answers. That was the agreement, mutual benefit, temporary truce, no digging.

The sky cracked open above you, the kind of storm that felt like it was ripping through the clouds. You were already soaked and the trail ahead was vanishing under mud.

You saw it first, a sliver of light through the trees. Faint, flickering. An inn, small and dark beneath the downpour.

“Brando,” you called, voice flat. “There.”

He followed your gaze, clicked his tongue, and turned his horse without a word.

The inn looked half-abandoned, lanterns shuddering in the wind. The sign was half-missing its letters. But it was shelter. Even your skin, ever cold, felt colder still.

Inside, the air was stale with dust and mould. The innkeeper barely looked at either of you. He simply handed over two iron keys with a grunt and vanished into the back room without speaking. You took the left room and Diego took the right.

But only one of them had a working hearth.

You didn’t talk about it, but when the fire was lit, and the rain started battering the windows harder, you both ended up in the same room.

Diego sat on the edge of the bed like a coiled animal, dripping onto the floor, one boot still half-on. 

He looked at you. Really looked. Judged. Narrowed those sharp, predator’s eyes.

“You haven’t eaten,” he said.

It wasn’t a question.

You leaned against the wall, letting the shadows dissolve the sharp lines of your face. “Neither have you.”

“Difference is, I don’t look like I’m about to keel over.” He leaned forward slightly, loose and dangerous. “Or tear someone’s throat out.”

Your stomach twisted, whether from hunger or the way he said it, you weren’t sure.

The fire burned low that night, and neither of you spoke again.

Morning came grey and sodden. The rain didn’t let up.

Not the next day. Not the day after.

The roads were sludge and the mountains impassable. You were trapped. The horses stayed stabled, restless. The innkeeper kept to himself, barely seen, barely heard, as if even he didn’t want to be there.

You tossed and turned restlessly. Ate nothing. Drank water that tasted like rust and iron. Diego had his own rations, dried meat, hard bread. He offered once, half-mocking. But you declined.

By the third day, you were stretched far too thin. A headache had bloomed behind your eyes into something sharp and constant. Everything sounded much too loud: the raindrops, the creaking floorboards, the crack of Diego’s knife as he sharpened it for the second time that night.

“I don’t know what you are.” He said, not looking up. “I don’t know if it’s a Stand, or something worse, but you’re going to snap soon,”

You didn’t answer. You were sitting on the floor by the window, flush against the wall, cradling your knees. Cold, always cold.

He tilted his head toward you, that sharp, irritating smirk just barely tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Is this where you finally confess?” he asked. “What kind of monster you are?”

You stared at him. He met your gaze without flinching. You could hear the pulse in his throat, steady and alive.

Your voice came out low, hoarse. “If I told you, you’d kill me.”

He shrugged. “Depends what kind. There are useful monsters out there. But there’s the kind that get sloppy - why do you think Zeppeli’s still kicking even with half the racers out for his head? He hasn’t slipped yet, but everyone else did, no matter how scary a monster they were.”

You stood. The room shifted with you, tight walls, dim light and too much heat for your cold skin. You felt exposed under his gaze.

“I’m not sloppy,” you said.

“Then you’re starving.”

You looked away. The fire cracked. The silence in the room felt heavier than the rain outside, and finally, you said it:

“I haven’t fed since Kansas.”

The admission made your stomach clench with shame.

Diego blinked. A beat passed. Then:

“…That was over a week ago.”

You nodded, slowly. “I can hold out. A little longer.”

He was silent again. Eyeing you like a hawk. Curious.

Then he stood and crossed the room. Not rushed. Not cautious. Just close enough for his body heat to reach you, like the flicker of a flame which you dared to get too close. He didn’t smell like fear. He never had.

“Tell me what you need,” he said, voice low, controlled.

You met his eyes. The hunger flared up so fast it made your jaw ache.

“…Blood,” you said.

Diego scoffed under his breath, like he’d just been handed proof of something he already suspected.

“Of course it’s blood,” he muttered. “Always something inconvenient with you.”

He didn’t move to help. Didn’t offer. Just stood there waiting - to be proven right or to be proven wrong, it didn’t matter.

“Go on, then,” he said, voice flat. “I’m not going to babysit you through it.”

You didn’t move at first. Just stood there, frozen, the words hanging in the air like a blade.

Diego didn’t back away. Didn’t laugh. Didn’t flinch.

“I’m not offering twice,” he said, low. “If you’re going to do it, do it. If not,” he turned slightly, as if to walk away “don’t waste my time.”

Your hand shot out before you could stop yourself, fingers wrapping around his wrist.

He stopped. Looked at you.

You could feel the heat of his blood through the thin riding gloves. It thrummed under his skin, and it made something deep inside you snarl with need.

Diego raised a brow, but his voice was quiet now. “How does it work?”

Your throat was dry. “Fastest near the neck. Cleanest at the wrist. But I can take less if it’s the shoulder or -”

“You said fastest.” He tilted his head, baring his throat to you, just slightly. Not enough to seem submissive - just enough to make your heart kick.

“Don’t make a mess,” he said.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

The moment you stepped close enough to feel his breath, something in you broke. Instinct surged up, dangerous and beautiful. You pressed one hand to his shoulder, fingers trembling, and the other against the back of his neck.

“Tell me to stop,” you whispered. You needed him to say it. Needed the excuse.

But he didn’t.

So you bit.

His blood hit your tongue like fire, ash and something wild. It was hot and intoxicating, alive in a way that made the rest of the world die quietly. You drank like you were dying along with it, and maybe you were.

Diego didn’t move. Didn’t jerk or push you off. His breath caught once, just once, but his body remained still under your hands.

The sound of the storm outside faded beneath the pounding in your ears. You only meant to take a little bit. Just enough to steady yourself.

But it tasted like strength. And you were so tired of being weak.

Then his fingers curled into your coat, not to pull you away, just to anchor you.

A warning and a promise.

You stopped before he had to ask.

You pulled back, trembling, mouth wet with blood, shame and something else - wanting. The hunger quieted, but something stirred. Something quieter. Meaner.

Diego looked at you. Not angry. Not afraid.

Just watching.

“You’re a messy eater,” he said.

You let out a shaky breath. “You didn’t tell me to stop.”

He licked his lips once, casually. “I told you to keep it clean.”

You stared at him. Your heart felt like it didn’t know what rhythm to keep anymore.

“Why did you do it?” you asked.  

“I’ve been hungry before too... I buried what it took from me, and I don’t fancy having to bury you too tonight.”

The storm hadn’t stopped, but it had calmed, no more thunder, no more crashing wind. Just the quiet hum of rain against the window.

You rinsed your mouth in the basin. The water turned faintly pink before it cleared.

Diego sat near the fireplace, boots off, coat slung over the chair beside him. He hadn’t spoken since.

The silence wasn’t tense, not exactly, just full.

You stayed standing. Still too full of restless energy – the heat, the shame and the ghost of his pulse under your tongue - to sit still.

Diego finally moved, shifting to dig something from his coat pocket. A small tin of jerky. He popped a piece in his mouth, chewed slowly. When he caught your eye, he smirked faintly.

“Feel better?” he asked, like he was asking if you’d finally taken a piss after a long day out riding.

You didn’t answer. Just looked away, jaw tight.

He didn’t push. Didn’t pry. But his gaze lingered longer than it usually did, tracking your movements with that same calculating gaze, like he was still trying to decide what you were.

You sat down eventually. Not across the room. Not next to him. Just… closer than before.

You glanced at him. He didn’t look at you, but his voice came soft:

“Next time you wait that long, I’m charging interest.”

You almost laughed.

But instead, you leaned back, let the warmth of the fire creep under your skin, and said nothing.

By morning, the storm had passed. But neither of you left right away.

[heartscooper]

My fan character Sunrise Valentine, daughter of the President of the USA, and Gyro Zeppeli 🤧 I hope you like it.

Sunrise is 12 y/o. Sunrise has a Stand, called Strawberry Fields, is a gun that can shoot strawberries and grow them on any surface. When the roots are planted on a person, they are able to damage the target by expanding their roots into their body.

She does not have a mother (not because she has died), because she was born of a seed created from the blood of Valentine and Diavolo (yes, the same Diavolo of part 5, do not try to find a sense lol)

[mrsvalentinefucker1]

SBR (funny Valentine, Diego, Johnny) HC

Funny valentine:

•The scars on his back are sensitive. Like bad sensitive. If you two are going at it you gotta be realllll careful on how you grip his back (just hold the back of his neck.) you only found that out bc when you two were fucking you gripped his back and he literally jumped out of his skin. (He kinda likes it but you have to be gentle)

•Does he like being a sugar daddy? Maybe, perhaps. He definitely likes to spoil you but you have to go out and shop by yourself bc he’s busy. Just hands you a wad of cash while he’s working

“Funny.. can we spend some time together~?”

“Not now.” Takes money out his pocket and slaps it into your hand “come back in two or so hours and im all yours. I have papers to finish up”

•For some reason I think he’d really like a feisty partner. Like if you talk back, give attitude, or even just don’t answer him when he brings something up to you he kinda gets a little hot bc of it.

“Y/n.” The president spoke to you with his back towards you as he looked out a window

“What.” You spoke back, not looking up from your hands as you filed your nails

“Excuse me?” He cocked an eyebrow as he turned his head in your direction

“What.” You did the same thing, cocked an eyebrow as you looked up for a moment

“You need to work on how you address me, Y/n.”

“Oh do I now? Why is that?” You said as you crossed your legs the other way and continued to file your nails on the other hand

Funny walked over to you and gripped you by the collar of your shirt, forcing you to look up at him as he looked in your eyes.

“Because I am your higher up.”

You smirked “good for you.”

Diego Brando:

•Diego needs you to scratch him up. He likes to show it off idk why probably bc he is a cocky bastard who wants to make everyone (Johnny) jealous

Diego was fucking you rapidly, his hands around your throat as he thrusts into your core.

“Y/n.”

Your eyes dart to his face, red and dripping sweat

“Scratch me up.”

Your arms reached around his back, hands finding his shoulders then sliding them down with your nails digging into his skin. Leaving red lines from where they started to where your nails currently were.

He moaned out in delight and anguish. it hurt but In a good way

•Say what you want but Diego definitely likes to help you tack up your horse bc he secretly likes to be needed

“Jeez y/n. You can’t put your saddle back that far. How do you ever expect the horse to be comfortable.. and your girth, god. It’s way too loose. Did you do your polo wraps? You did but they’re backwards, god. Here watch me do it.”

May be backhanded a little but it’s kinda hot tbh.

•This one’s kinda weird but I think he likes to go on rants about horses (kin as an equine) like you say something or ask something he’ll just go on a rant

“What do you mean? You don’t know what a flank is?? Surprised you haven’t gotten your teeth kicked in. Okay so-“ then talks your ear off. He picked it all up bc he worked with horses when he was younger (#kin again)

Johnny Joestar:

•Johnny is definitely definitely definitely loves having you lay on him (aww so cute) while he fucks you (oh-) he likes to hold your back, chest to chest while he kisses your neck as you bounce up and down on his cock. Bonus points if you hold his shoulders your face while you bury you face in his neck. (If you know you know)

•Johnny actually loves flowers? Idk why I just thought of that, he loves to talk about flowers.. does he do it often, no chance. But he knows how you pick them for a person he’s interested in that’s for sure.

I have no more I got bored

[scary-monsters]

▹broken boy | a diego brando character study | ch.1 | 2.7k ▹synopsis: Britain's beloved genius jockey. Swimming in money, trophies, lovers, recognition… and yet, he starves for more. With a shady past, dangerously unclear motives, and an explosive ego to boot, it's no wonder his inner circle consists of only himself and those that can benefit him. (Canon leaves out a lot. This fic begins with ten-year-old Diego and aims to fill in the gaps throughout the rest of his life while still remaining true to his core character.) [ read on ao3 instead ]

For young Diego Brando, the closest feeling to “home” is found at the stables. It’s in the creaking of old doors, the crunch of hay underneath his worn boots, the familiar snorts and whinnies that echo throughout the wooden fixtures as soon as he steps near. These days, he can tell them all apart. Diego knows the horses at this farm well enough that they might as well be his brothers and sisters. And, well… in a way, he supposes they’re the closest he’ll ever get to having any sort of family again.

It’s early on a Tuesday; Diego’s just barely beat the sunrise, already dressed in his work attire and headed for the very stables he finds such solace in. Maybe he’s a lucky boy, given that he’s had the opportunity to work with horses for the past five years in order to earn his keep around here. It’s a “dream job” of sorts, he supposes. At any rate, his interaction with the people on this farm tends to stay at a minimum. His job is quite simple: tend to the horses every single day. Feed them, groom them, clean their enclosures. This, of course, is bare bones, but Diego fancies himself an overachiever. He knows the horses by name, understands all their habits and quirks and what makes them tick, so taking each of them around the farm for regular exercise is easy (and enjoyable) work.

With a squeak, the stable doors open easily for him, the air fills his nose with the familiar and comfortable smell of hay. Diego can already hear at least one of his beloved companions stirring in an enclosure just to his left. Cursed with less than average height, he’s unable to clearly see, but he already knows it’s one of the dappled grays, an elderly mare named Tilly.

“Morning, girl,” Diego whispers, approaching the enclosure’s door and giving it a gentle pat. He makes a mental note to take her out for a ride later; it’s been a few days, but he tries to find balance between keeping Tilly active without overexerting her.

Diego’s first attempt at riding a horse was less than successful, of course. He’d just turned five, but his interest in horses had been clear since his infancy. Nervous as she was, Diego’s mother was never the type to discourage his desire to try something new, constantly instilling in him her pride in his drive and intelligence from such a young age. However, her instinct told her to deny him this one request. Her son was much too young, and she was fiercely protective.

Perhaps it was the rough conditions he’d been raised in, but Diego seemed to mature at a much faster pace than the other children on the farm. He’d had no choice, really. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, this came with impenetrable stubbornness. Diego respected his mother more than anyone else, but beyond that he wanted nothing more than to make her proud. And so, while she’d been distracted with her own work, he’d attempted to mount one of the more aggressive stallions.

As strong as his innate ability to connect with horses always has been, Diego’s first attempt had ended in him slipping off and tumbling to the ground, though thankfully with no critical injuries. His mother was fuming, scolding him and demanding he keep his distance from the animals for several days. Diego had been heartbroken, but beyond that he’d been embarrassed. The incident left him with a huge blow to his steadily blossoming confidence.

Nevertheless, this only made Diego’s drive much stronger. If there’s anything Diego unquestionably is, it’s persistent. Even more so these days, and it’s what his mother always encouraged him to be, anyway.

Diego gathers supplies from the corner of the stable; an old brush, a metal pick, a bucket, a few thick rope leads, and a rickety shovel. As he makes his way through the structure even more of his friends begin to stir, their heads popping up from behind stable doors and eyeing him expectantly. Diego leans on his shovel as his eyes dart from horse to horse, a grand total of seven in just this stable alone.

“Right then,” Diego states firmly, “we went from oldest to youngest yesterday, shall we switch it up today?”

Sensing no objections, Diego gives one strong nod and lugs his supplies over to the first enclosure on his right.

“Seems it’s your lucky day, Bolt.” The rusty metal latch of the stable door turns, another dappled gray waits inside, this one much younger than Tilly. In fact, he’s the youngest of several she’s birthed while living on this farm.

Diego approaches Bolt with as much gentleness as he does any of the other horses, yielding him the same trust he always receives. Beyond being in tune with horses and their quirks, he’s always had a knack for gaining their reliance almost immediately as well. Moments where he’s had to really prove himself to an animal have been few and far between, but it’s like his mother had said right before she’d passed: this is his innate talent.

With Bolt leashed securely to one of the wooden columns inside the structure, Diego sets to work cleaning up his living space. It’s not easy work, certainly not for a boy his age. Perhaps it’d be different if he were well fed and got regular, sufficient rest, but his living conditions on this farm have only gotten slightly better since his mother passed away four years ago.

Diego no longer sleeps on the barn floor, now he stays in the most run-down room of an inn just down the road from the farm. It’s dingy as it is, but his allowance will only grant him the lowest they have to offer. He continues to survive off daily portions of stew, but it’s not nearly enough to facilitate his growth at this rate. And, unfortunately, he’s always met with a tinge of humiliation when he has to stand in the very line where he’d seen his mother sacrifice her hands for him, only to make direct eye contact with the very same man who’d brought about the most traumatic moment of his life years ago.

The scrape of metal against the wooden floor breaks Diego out of his thoughts, almost like he’d instinctively pushed just a little harder. There’s no time for his mind to wander. The people of this farm will get what’s coming to them, eventually, someday. Diego has to believe it, it’s the one thing that keeps him waking up every single day.

Well, that and his horses. Diego lifts his eyes from the floor and glances over to Bolt, who’s watching him attentively and gently swishing his tail back and forth.

“Come now,” he tuts, chuckling softly to himself as he continues to shovel manure into a neat pile in the center of the enclosure. “Quite hard to do my job if you’re staring bullets through me.”

Bolt lightly shakes his head and snorts. He’s always had a bit more personality than some of the other horses, and Diego figures it may be thanks to his age. Bolt is only three, an age that causes the young boy to consider him something like a brother.

Diego leaves the stables for a moment to retrieve an old squeaky wheelbarrow from outside. He notices with contempt that some of the inhabitants of the small village are starting to go about their daily routines. Rage boils inside him for a moment, his hands clenching tightly against the handles.

Diego deeply inhales. Exhales. Reminds himself of his mother’s wise words.

Dignity. He cannot forget his dignity.

With that, he heads back inside, focusing on his daily tasks. The ache in his arms from shoveling manure and dirty hay is worthwhile in return for the pride he feels. And even though he must unfortunately traverse outside the safety of the stables to retrieve fresh water, he keeps his shoulders up, his head held high, ignoring the people around him.

Without question, Diego’s favorite part of his job is grooming the horses. Every single one of them remains calm under his touch, even as he scrapes at their hooves with a metal pick, albeit as gently as possible. By the time he’s reached the third stable, his hair sticks to his forehead with sweat. It’s not unusual for him to become fatigued partway through his day, but his focus remains on his companions. Before he knows it, he’s soared through caring for almost every horse inside the building.

Thankful that he’s saved his clear favorite for last, Diego eagerly unlatches Tilly’s enclosure and greets her with an encouraging click of his tongue. Hard of hearing at her old age, it takes her a moment to register his greeting, but as soon as she does she slowly rises to her feet.

“Hey, old girl,” Diego coos, extending his hand to carefully pet her muzzle, “fancy a ride this afternoon?”

Of course, as confident as he is in his ability to communicate with these animals, Diego can’t read their minds. But if he could, Tilly would easily be the most capable candidate. Maybe she doesn’t outwardly react, but Diego can sense she’s pleased with that suggestion. He won’t wear her out; he supposes a short walk around the village won’t be too strenuous.

Diego takes the most care with Tilly, offering her as much of his time as possible. Though he prefers not to dwell on it too much, he’s aware that she’s nearing the end of her life. Heart aching a bit at the thought, Diego chews at his lip as he brushes her beautifully spotted coat. A series of pats along her back act as an expression of his gratitude; if not for her, he’s unsure how he’d have gotten through his mother’s tragic passing.

Briefly overcome with emotion, he rests his cheek upon her side, closing his eyes for a moment. Diego isn’t sure how he’ll manage another round of loss, but at least in this instance it’ll be her time. Not like his mother. It wasn’t her time. She deserved to live a long, full life. It simply isn’t fair.

Diego’s eyes fly open and he proudly lifts his head once again.

Dignity. ---

Saddled up and fed, Tilly eagerly allows Diego to mount her. The young boy takes her reins in hand and steers her outside the stables. Balmy sunlight seems to almost restore her, causing her legs to move with a more lively energy. It has the same effect on Diego; his skin hungrily absorbs the bright rays, practically washing away the ache in his arms and legs. He feels at peace like this, astride his beloved horse, lifted above the people he passes by. It’s likely the closest he’ll ever feel to royalty.

Diego doesn’t stop for anyone. He ignores the eyes of the villagers; neighbors is a more accurate word, probably, but his resentment refuses to acknowledge them as such. None of them are worthy of nearing his beautiful steed, Tilly’s much too regal for their filthy hands. Stained with blood, the whole lot of them.

Spotting one of the farmhands just a few feet away, Diego makes a feeble attempt at steering Tilly in the opposite direction, but his fate’s been sealed. The man spots him, sneering in his direction and unfortunately approaching him.

“Brando,” he gruffly greets the boy, “you know that old thing should stay in the stables.”

Diego scoffs. The man may provide him with his work, but this doesn’t mean he deserves even a shred of his respect.

“Tilly has a name.” He lovingly brushes his hand along her neck. “Taking her for a stroll keeps her in shape. My job is to care for the horses, is it not?”

The farmhand narrows his eyes threateningly, but he doesn’t offer a rebuttal as far as Diego’s question. Of course he doesn’t; Diego’s one of the few who selflessly dedicates their time to caring for the animals.

“Her days are nearly up, boy. Wouldn’t it be more worthwhile to focus on the healthy horses?”

He’s undeserving of an answer, Diego decides. Lifting his head, he guides Tilly to turn around and head back for the stables. A short ride is all she can handle, sure, but he’s certain it’s been enough to lift her spirits. He won’t allow this sore excuse for a man to ruin that for her.

“How dare he speak to you like that,” Diego spits, gripping her reins even tighter, “I won’t stand for it. Mark my words, sweet girl.”

It’s a vague promise, but one that he intends to keep.

---

Diego awakens the following morning as he always does – sprawled out on a bedroll resting against the creaky wooden floor of a worn down inn. The sun has just started to peek over the horizon, and his eyes take a moment to adjust to the rays filtering through his small window. He sheds his too-small sleep clothes and clumsily changes into his dirty work attire, eager to start his day.

Ever since his encounter with that farmhand yesterday, he’s been filled with disdain. Diego decides he’ll spend extra time today doting on Tilly, he’ll make it clear to her that she’s worth just as much as any other horse on this farm. Maybe even more, given how much ridicule she’s been subject to.

As always, he’s up before many of the other residents. The silence makes the crunch of his shoes against gravel all the more audible, a welcome sound alongside the chirping of birds and whistling of a gentle breeze.

But something feels off. There’s a faint heaviness in the pit of his stomach, but he tries to quell the sensation. It’s simply the residual frustration from yesterday, he assures himself. As soon as he reaches the stables, he’s certain the comforting feeling of home will wash over him.

Diego approaches the small building, unlatches the old wooden door and steps inside. The sound of his companions reacting to his entrance causes a faint smile to grace his lips. He instinctively looks to his left, stepping towards Tilly’s enclosure and giving its entrance a gentle knock.

“Morning, old girl,” he greets her, just as he always does, but he’s met with silence.

The pit in his stomach grows heavier, larger. Diego curses his height and desperately presses his ear to the gate.

“Tilly?” He attempts to rouse her again.

The silence is deafening. With shaky hands he unlatches the gate and carefully swings it open.

Just as he feared, just as his instinct had told him, his beloved Tilly isn’t there. An empty stable, already tidied up and ready for another resident, is all that greets him.

For a moment, the quickly shrinking hopefulness within him insists that she must be out somewhere, that another farmhand has taken her for a stroll and graciously cleaned her living space. Given the sentiments he’d heard yesterday, he knows this realistically can’t be true. The memory of the farmhand's disgusting sneer and mocking tone echoes through Diego’s mind.

“Tilly,” Diego whispers, as if saying her name will bring her back to him.

It won’t. It can’t. Much in the same vein as his mother was taken from him, the people of this farm have once again spit on him, allowing someone dear to him to be wrongfully abandoned, tossed aside.

All he can do is fall to his knees, his hands grasping desperately at the hay underneath him. The warm sting of imminent tears begins in the corners of his eyes and as much as he’d like to fight it, he can’t. Stare fixed on the very spot that he’d seen Tilly just yesterday, his vision becomes blurry with moisture.

Diego wails, unrelenting. His body shakes with the force of his sobs, he pounds his fist against the wooden floor underneath him, aggressively rips at the too-clean hay surrounding him. It’s unfair, it wasn’t her time, and worst of all, he’d failed to protect her.

Inwardly, he apologizes to his mother, wherever her soul may have ended up. His grasp on dignity has faltered, his shame is immeasurable, and he childishly aches for her comforting embrace.

[vxxampz]

Brokeback Mountain; “You know I ain’t queer” scene w/ GyJo

written by me :3

—.°

The fire gleamed gently, shifting around the busted up kettle, scuffs and a layer of charcoal have decorated the bent metal. Johnny idly poked at the piece of lamb meat roasting over the flames with his knife; ‘he needs a new one soon’, Gyro thought, glancing between the comestible and his partner. His green eyes were held lidded and comfortable, casting long stares before the thought of looking away provoked him.

Johnny’s eyes stayed fixed on the food, only shifting when he felt them closing subconsciously when he got too lost in thought. Something deeply rooted itself in his mind, Gyro could see it, the way his fingers moved and the tension between his muscles. He had felt it too, of course, but didn’t dare tread into the dreaded territory; it was a conversation he truly wasn’t prepared for, one he wanted to avoid. He believed that they could live in silence, a comfortable and non-confrontational silence. Unspoken words would lead them through their relationship, and nothing would ever have to be said. This preconceived notion was quickly sent up as an ember with the sparkling flames as Johnny’s voice broke through the air.

“This is a one shot thing we got goin’ on here,” his voice was blank, so factual that Gyro wanted to rip his heart out from its resting place between his ribs. He licked his lips nervously, pressing them tightly together, he was fighting the words that formed from his hastily beating heart, and desperately trying to cling to the ones his brain fed him instead. He could taste the bitter green pigment smudge across his tongue.

“It’s nobodies business but ours,” his hands came to rub at the grass he had been strewn out upon, small fractions of dirt nestled into his nails as he ripped a small chunk of green from the earth. His eyes drifted back to Johnny, who still refused to look at him.

“You know I ain’t queer.”

The words had stung with a harshness Gyro felt he never experienced before; his lips locked together once more, the tip of his tongue pressed against the back of the golden coverings adorning his teeth. The outlawed term made his arms tremble, he swallowed thickly while thinking of some sort of escape; an excuse for his actions, a denial of them completely. Gyro knew that his existence was a crime unforgivable by God, a sin you could not wash from your hands.

“Me neither,” is all he could say.

As a silence fell over them again, Gyro could see the semblance of dried lamb blood crusted onto Johnny’s hand.

—.°

thats all thank u have a lovely day (๑>◡<๑)!!!

[arliaeien]

Chapters: 38/? Fandom: ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Johnny Joestar/Gyro Zeppeli

Characters: Johnny Joestar, Gyro Zeppeli, Hot Pants (JoJo), Diego Brando, Funny Valentine, Lucy Steel (JoJo), Stephen Steel, George Joestar, Anne Joestar

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Pining, Requited Unrequited Love, Friends to Lovers, Canon-Typical Violence, Ableism, Internalized Homophobia, Self-Acceptance, Getting Together, Sharing a Bed, POV Alternating, Alternate Ending, Medical and Rehab (spin) Inaccuracies, Kissing, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Bug bites fetish, Ass Play, Finger Fucking, Dirty Talk, Top Johnny Joestar, Bottom Gyro Zeppeli, Dom/sub Undertones, Johnny Joestar is Still Disabled, Friends Are Chosen Family Aren't, Your tradition is not mine, Politics, Post-Canon, meet the in-laws

Summary:

“The best miracles are imperceptible to the world.” – Unknown author

Late March 1891 Gyro suffers from a homosexuality-related identity crisis. Johnny does his best to help.

*updated every Sunday* (post-canon)

Snippet:

“Did they tell you I’m… a cheater?”

At this, Gyro stared at him, taken aback.

“What? Why would they have said something like that?”

“I was unfaithful to her. With the guy that talked to me. And others sometimes.”

Gyro got wide eyes.

“I know you despise things like that. I can’t undo the prick I was. …I can’t even remember why I was going out with her.”

“You weren’t married.” Gyro looked away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“…”

“…”

“Robb… The guy I was talking with… I told him I’m taken, you know. It felt good telling him.”

“…”

“I’d never do that to you.”

“…”

“Do you believe me?”

Gyro nodded slightly.

“…I’m jealous.” He said.

That’s nothing new. …Gyro was already possessive when they were only friends.

Johnny got the answer. He felt in his guts the tenderness and concern he wanted to convey, even if once put in words it sounded childish. Something a twelve-year-old suitor aspiring to behave like a gentleman would tell.

That would have been totally Nicholas.

< read more >

[artytaeh]

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

mia stella, calls theodore nott to his significant other; immensely proud of his quidditch player girlfriend, even if it might mean that the house rivalries have to be subsided sometimes. even if slytherin loses against you and your skill, even if it frustrates theodore, one of slytherin's chasers, because your skill is on his team's way to victory.

mia stella, even if the game doesn't go as well as you wanted. even if your team loses, or if you fail some opportunities to score extra points— it doesn't matter; you're still theodore's stargirl, shining brighter than the other stars, as if you were the sun itself. impossible to confuse or to miss, bigger and brighter, illuminating his darkness with a warm brightness.

mia stella, he yells and cheers for you, on the stands, whenever you're playing and he's not, yet he never misses a game of yours— happy to be the supportive boyfriend. and if someone teases him? a glare and a shove. terribly mean comments and verbal jinxes to you, because you're being a good player? punch aimed to the nose. and then theodore nott is smiling again, that fond smile as he watches you fly around the pitch, his dead stare shinning for once. shining with love, because theo adores to admire his stargirl of a girlfriend.

mia stella, whenever you get a good grade, or manage to pass a subject that you struggle at. holding your head carefully to not dishevel your hair, theodore guides you closer to him as he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your head; smiling, proud of you. nevermind if it's one point above the medium score to pass the subject, he's proud nonetheless. proud whenever your hardwork proves itself worth it.

mia stella, he pleads with those puppy eyes that you should know better than to give in, when theodore trails after you, begging you to skip classes with him, even quidditch practices, which are even harder for you to give in. can you blame him? theodore is insanely enamored for you! and like the brightest star that you are, the sun itself, his sunshine— theo argues that he needs your warmth, or else he'd die, like planet Earth without the sun's blessing of a warmth. and why should you attend these specific classes? you're a stargirl, one class won't be dramatic to lose! if you struggle, theodore is happy to burn extra eyelashes to be a better teacher to both of you. and the quidditch practice? 'come on, mia stella— you're already the best at quidditch and your house can't possibly think of replacing you. you're that good.'

mia stella, theodore calls for you so tenderly, hugging you close to his body when the wind blows with a cold strength, keeping the two of you warm in each other's embrace. kissing your forehead, nuzzling against your hair, feeling your presence so close to him. as it should be. and even though theodore is one astronomy nerd, the breathing and living wikipedia of the stars, theo ignores the constellations above him to look at you. his star. the stargirl of his heart. you.

[tonberry-yoda]

What about fluff ABC with Gyro? I thought sending about a word first for this, but I realized that he deserves the whole ABC 😩👌

Gyro Fluff Alphabet

notes - fluff alphabet here. YESSS! We love gyro and he does deserve the whole ass alphabet! thanks so much for the request and apologies for taking so long!

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

horse riding

deep convos

and lots of shopping

i just see it

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Everything?????

like he is just in AWE by you

but also your laugh

he can really get you laughing and he just loves that so so so so much

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

he would rub your back and whisper sweet nothings in your ear

if you just need some space, he will give you the space

strangely, i think he would be a good cook and he would make you something to cheer you up

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

he could see the two of you together forever

getting a home, stuff like that for SURE

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

he acts dominant and he actually kind of is

but it's more equal tbh

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

sometimes he just picks fights to be stinky

but those never last long

real fights never usually happen, but when they do he is SO PETTY and will not forgive you until you forgive him first LMFAO

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

VERY GRATEFUL

i mean he sees everything you do and all the hardwork and loves you so much for it

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

he keeps his past a secret

he doesnt want it getting in the way of a potential future

but he doesnt hide much

hes a goofy overshareer for sure lol

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

he didnt change much

he felt like he didnt need to change for someone and that makes him very comfortable

he hopes that you didnt have that feeling that you needed to change because he thinks you're perfect

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

oh yeah

he'll just steal you away from who you're talking to and be all cutesy to make them jealous LOL

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

OH GOD YES

slow, passionate kisses that leave green lipstick marks

he'll whisper sweet things against your lips and pull you close

the first kiss was SO romantic under the sunset and GOD you can't stop thinking about it

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

he would just tell you

but it would be so romantic actually

he would tell you how much he loves you

gives you the "you dont have to feel the same, but I love you more than anything"

you both cry

and have been together since

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

I think so, yeah!

when you have the conversation, he would prep you for the proposal

it would be a while longer to see if it's something you two really want to do

he proposes again under the sunset and the wedding is simple, just close friends and those you love

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

pumpkin

sweetheart

pookie (it gets on your nerves for sure)

love

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

he stares at you with a small smile always

heart eyes for sure

it actually wouldnt be that obvious to others, but he makes sure when youre alone to remind you how much he loves you

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

i think so!

he doesnt hide the relationship

he'll hold your hand or give you little kisses, but nothing crazy or anything that makes you or others uncomfortable

he loves bragging about you though tee hee

saying how much he loves you ALL THE TIME

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that's beneficial in a relationship.

a small weird one, but if you have long hair, he loves to braid it! and if you have black hair, he will learn how to do your hair in ways you love!

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

STUPIDLY ROMANTIC

and like cliche but without realizing it

KISSES IN THE SUNSET DUDE

it feels like a dream tbh

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

oh definitely!

you both have separate dreams and he respects his own and your

he will help you if he needs to, but he wants to see you do this on your own and feel successful without him

and he does that for his own dreams too

but you both help each other if needed

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

he likes crazy fun stuff, but he doesnt need it

he loves asking you on CRAZY dates and if you say yes, it's fun

but again, he likes your chill life and likes having it for sure

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

he knows you STUPID well

like he literally can tell if your upset, sad, angry, happy, etc.

he knows you like the back of his hand and sometimes better than you do

when he sees something's wrong, he will 100% be able to help

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

you mean a lot to him

but he isnt codependent on you

he doesnt need you to feel like a valid person

he just knows that you are a part of him and he loves that sm

but seriously, you are a number one thing in his life for sure

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

his love language is words of affirmation, so before bed, he will always whisper how much he loves you until you both fall asleep

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

YESSSSSS

he loves loves LOVES cuddles

just how soft you are, he cant get over you

Y earning - How will they cope when they're missing their partner?

he just kinda chills

but he'll run into a room, thinking you're there, and then get sad that you're not

you're so used to being together that it's weird when the two of you are apart

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

he definitely would

people he loves mean the world to him, so he would do literally anything for you

~~~~~

jjba masterlist (2) (3) | pinned post | ko-fi

2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated <3

~~~~~

[fuckmachine42069]

ik i’m late af to the game but read this awesome fic and needed to draw scenes from it !!! shoutout @3kanite on ao3 for night shift !!

(closeups under the cut)

[wrxangel]

can i req gn vampire reader x diego where reader is always pestering diego and visiting him at night throughout the race and sometimes reader will take care of any wounds hes sustained (this is just how reader checks up on him :3)

Blood and Bandages (Diego Brando)

Gender Neutral reader

a/n: I've never payed much attention to Diego before (srry xoxoxo) so I hope I did this justice!! :33333

Want to get tagged? Fill out this form: ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚

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Diego sighed, adjusting the bandages on his arm as he sat by the dwindling fire. He had sustained a few minor injuries during today’s race—nothing major, but still enough to be an inconvenience. His muscles ached from riding, and his patience wore thinner with each passing night.

And yet, just as he started to relax, he felt it.

That familiar, eerie presence just beyond the firelight.

“…You can come out now,” he muttered, voice edged with irritation but lacking real bite.

A moment of silence. Then, from the shadows, a chuckle.

“You always notice me too fast, Diego. It’s no fun,” you teased, stepping into the glow of the fire. Your fangs caught the light briefly before you grinned, fangs slipping away just as fast.

Diego rolled his eyes, though he kept his guard up out of habit. “Maybe if you weren’t always lurking in the dark like a creep, I wouldn’t have to.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head, stepping closer. “Then should I visit you during the day instead?”

Diego scoffed. “You’d burn to a crisp before you even got within ten feet of me.”

“That’s what makes the night so much better,” you mused, crouching next to him. Your gaze flickered to his arm. “Speaking of which… you’re hurt.”

Diego stiffened as you reached out, your cool fingertips ghosting over the bandages. He should have expected this by now—your strange little habit of checking up on him, always hovering over his wounds like some overprotective spirit. It was infuriating. And yet… he never stopped you.

“It’s fine,” he muttered, looking away. “It’ll heal on its own.”

You hummed, clearly unimpressed. “I don’t trust you to take care of yourself.”

Diego clicked his tongue. “I’ve made it this far without your babysitting.”

“Mm, barely,” you shot back, plopping down beside him with an infuriating smirk. “Besides, what else am I supposed to do at night? It’s not like I need to sleep.”

Diego exhaled sharply. “Maybe you could stop bothering me.”

You gasped, placing a dramatic hand over your heart. “You wound me, Dio.”

“You’ll live.”

“And so will you, if you let me fix that properly.”

Before he could protest, you reached into your coat, pulling out fresh bandages and a small bottle of some kind of medicine. He narrowed his eyes.

“…Where the hell do you even get that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you teased, carefully undoing the haphazard bandage on his arm. Diego hissed as the cool air hit his wound, but he didn’t pull away.

Your touch was gentle, far more than he deserved. You worked with practiced ease, as if you’d done this a thousand times before. Maybe you had. How long had you been watching him?

The realization made his stomach twist.

“Why do you keep doing this?” he asked, voice quieter than before.

You glanced up, tilting your head. “Doing what?”

“This,” he gestured vaguely. “Following me. Checking on me. Patching me up.”

You were silent for a moment, tying the last bit of bandage securely. Then, with a small smile, you replied,

“Because you’re interesting.”

Diego scoffed. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” you said simply, gathering your supplies. “I just like seeing you survive.”

Something about that made his heart stutter.

He turned away, scowling. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

You chuckled, standing up. “And yet, you never tell me to leave.”

Diego said nothing. Because you were right. He never did.

You gave him one last look, something unreadable in your expression, before stepping back into the darkness.

“Goodnight, Dio,” you murmured, voice just barely reaching him before you disappeared into the night.

Diego sighed, staring at the spot where you had just been. His arm felt better now, properly bandaged. His exhaustion felt just a little lighter.

And despite himself, he found himself already waiting for your next visit.

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