found this in my snk folder. reasonably sure i had more planned for this au but. well. for context, for those of you unfamiliar with mr and mrs smith, basically jearmin are hitmen who married each other while undercover and were later assigned to kill each other by their rivalling companies. this is the part where they decide, nah, fuck that, weâll take both of them down before we kill each other.
âHow many?â Jean finally gives in to his curiosity and asks. Even if the past five years were a lie, the past five hours have proven what Jean already knewâ Arminâs small, but heâs smart, fast, deadly. Jean has no doubt that Arminâs number is roundabout Jeanâs.
Armin doesnât say anything, just glances at Jean as he straps a gun holster to his thigh. He busies himself checking his weapons.
âSeventy-three,â Jean says, hands steady as he loads his rifle. He never loses count, never forgets a face. The blood of seventy-three people on his hands. Sometimes itâs impossible to wash off, impossible to come home with a smile. Itâs a horrible thought, but it got easier as the years went by. He still remembers his first kill; heâd thrown up, after. Cried for days. Now he can shoot someone dead with barely a blink.
Armin licks his lips, glances at Jean again. âShould I include indirect involvement?â he asks quietly. Jean nods, because thatâs definitely where the majority of Arminâs kills are.
Armin clears his throat, fiddles with the semi-automatic in his hand. âFour hundred and twelve,â he finally says softly.
Jean feels his jaw drop open in a mixture of shock, awe and horror. âFuck,â he hisses, because Jean canât imagine carrying the weight of four hundred kills. How many of them haunt Armin in the night? Does the guilt grab hold of Armin like it sometimes does Jean? Does he think, somewhere in his mind, that some of those people didnât deserve to die? Does he feel like his humanity is being ripped from him with every rush of satisfaction when he lands a clean shot through the head?
âThere were a few collapsed buildings,â Armin continues, tone light, refusing to meet Jeanâs eye. âAnd a volcano, once.â
Are you okay? Jean wants to ask.
âI have some catching up to do,â he says instead, with an easy grin.
Armin snorts, but thereâs a hint of a smile playing about his lips. âWell, hereâs your chance,â he says, and slips out of the van.
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Why are your JoJo fics so entertaining? And when will chapter 2 of your werewolves vs vampires be up? Pissy Dio is the best /b
iâm glad you enjoyed my jojo fics! iâm happy to hear you find them entertaining; i like to think iâm funny, so itâs nice to see other people think so, too.
regarding the second question... *nervous laughter*
i swear i had a plan........ it just sort of fell apart. i donât know when chapter 2 will be up, anon, i am deeply apologetic :(
What if dio is going to be alone with giorno again, but this time the kid has a cold, and dio doesnt know how to deal with it ? (Take this as a question or a prompt, i dont wanna bother )
Hello! Are you the anon who sent me that first ask ages ago? Iâm super super sorry I didnât reply! I was keeping it because I was considering actually writing it and wanted to have the ask on hand. I guess that must have come off pretty rude, I apologise.Â
In any case, thank you very much for the suggestion! I appreciate it. Though itâs sort of similar to the first DIOmestic so I might do both Jonathan and Dio freaking out over a little cold, which would be hilarious tbh ahah.Â
You see, the thing was. Jotaro wasnât a hero. Sure, heâd beaten up a few (hundred) bullies in his time, but that was about beating something up, not about rescuing nerds. He wasnât the heroic protagonist of a manga, he was just a kid who liked picking on assholes who liked to pick on the weak. It was the food chain, really. (Plus, he had it on good authority that his dad was a nerd when he was in school, and really, Jotaro just didnât want any future kids to have to deal with that embarrassment like Jotaro did.)
The point was, Jotaro wasnât a hero. He couldnât care less about rescuing other people, especially when physical violence wasnât involved.
And yet.
The day started out alright. He woke up before his alarm, turned it off, let his mother come in to wake him up a grand total of five times before actually getting up. Got to school precisely one minute late. Hopped the fence while eating toast. Slept through morning classes. Nearly punched a guy in the face because he tried to wake Jotaro up. Turned out the guy was a teacher but Jotaro just stared him down and the teacher let him off the hook. Perfectly normal. Average. Boring, in fact.
And then lunch rolled around.
As usual, Jotaro stuck his bento under his arm and sauntered out the door with his hands in his pockets. As usual, he stopped by a classroom a few doors down (to mooch notes off a particularly grateful and terrified nerd) and his favourite vending machine (sometimes two banana milks would drop!) before heading for that one stairwell in the creepy old building everyone claimed to be haunted. (Jotaro himself had contributed to the rumours, back when he was a first year, when he learnt it would keep people away. Heâd enjoyed peace and quiet during lunch break ever since.)
He was halfway across the school when he saw a boy and a girl standing under the sakura tree behind the school, the gentle breeze tousling their hair and showering the scene with pale pink petals. It was like something straight out of a shoujo. It made Jotaro feel sick to his stomach.
Normally, Jotaro would just walk right past them. Heâd ruin the moment, probably, given the limited amount of space between the tree and the wall, but honestly? He didnât give a shit. If they really wanted privacy they should have invented a sakura tree ghost or something. Not that it would have deterred Jotaro, but he would have respected the effort.
So, you ask, what was it that made Jotaro bite back a curse and desperately duck out of sight?
Even though he could only see her from the back, Jotaro could tell exactly who the girl was: Miyakawa Yui, third-year, student council president and scariest person in the world. Not many people could intimidate Kujo Jotaro, but this tiny girl who stood a full 50cm shorter than him stood on par with Great-Grandma Elisabeth. Miyakawa was a fan of Jotaroâsâ her words, not hisâ and was almost guaranteed to be carrying out some plan to trick Jotaro into falling in love with her at any given moment. Her commitment was admirable, in some ways, but mostly it was just creepy. Heâd turned her down several times before, but she seemed convinced that persistence would yield different results. Jotaro felt like a heroine in one of those trashy afternoon dramas his mother liked to watch. (He wondered how much the actresses must be paid, to pretend like a man refusing to take no for an answer was at all attractive. If Jotaro had written the script, the heroine would have beaten the guy up with her bare fists, like, ten episodes ago.)
âSo, what did you want to meet about?â Miyakawa asked, polite and formal as she always was when she wasnât trying to shoehorn Jotaro into a date. âDo you have a particular concern about the schoolâ?â
âN-No!â the boy cut her off hurriedly, obviously flustered. âU-Uh, no. I just⌠uh, here!â There was a rustle of plastic. âF-For you, senpai! My family o-owns a flower shop, soâŚâ
Wait, was this an actual confession? Jotaro felt baffled. Everyone knew Miyakawa was (unfortunately) obsessed with Jotaro. Was this guy a first-year or something?
âThank you?â Miyakawa said, sounding just as confused as Jotaro. âItâs, um, lovely, but why did you want to meet with me?â
The boy took a deep breath.
Oh no, thought Jotaro, bracing himself for impact. This guy was for real. He was going to do it. He was really going to confess to her.
âMiyakawa-senpai,â the boy gasped. âI-I really like you, please go out with me!â
He did it, thought Jotaro, feeling a little surreal. Poor bastard.
âYou⌠like me?â Miyakawa repeated slowly, like she couldnât believe what she was hearing. âWhat⌠What about me do you like?â
The question obviously took the kid by surprise. âU-Uh, well,â he began, fumbling. âO-Of course, youâre, uh, very pretty, but, um, w-what I like the most about you is your determination. You never give up on something once youâve set your mind to it, even if the whole world tells you itâs impossible! I⌠I could never be so confident in myself, so itâs something I really admire about you, senpai.â
Man, this guy was in deep. Jotaro felt bad for the guy. He had no idea the girl he was crushing so hard on was actually the spawn of the devil. Ignorance truly was bliss.
âMy determination, huh?â Miyakawa said absently, almost like she was talking to herself. âPerhaps thatâs the key.â
Jotaro froze. That sounded ominous.
ââŚThe key to what?â the boy asked, nervous.
âJotaro-kun,â Miyakawa sighed, and Jotaro felt a chill run up his spine. âIâve tried flirting, making him chocolates, going to all his baseball games to cheer him onâ but he doesnât respond to anything! I thought itâd be like in manga, you know, and the strength of my feelings would reach him, butâŚâ She sighed again. âI just donât know what to do anymoreâŚâ
âOh,â was all the boy said, softly, but Jotaro could hear the poor kidâs heart breaking.
âYes,â Miyakawa said decisively, somehow oblivious to the damage sheâd caused. âI think Iâll showcase my determination, next. Itâs gotten one boy to confess to me already, hasnât it?â
The boy didnât answer. Jotaro was legitimately appalled. He had the social skills of a hermit crab, but even he knew what sheâd done was just downright cruel. The poor sod had bared his heart to her, and sheâd just driven a stake right through it.
âOh, yes, your answer,â Miyakawa added, like it was an afterthought. âIâm sorry, but itâs a no. Iâm far too in love with Jotaro-kun to even consider anyone else. Itâs not that youâre unattractive! Itâs just, well, how could you compare to Jotaro-kun?â
That was it. Jotaro just saw red. It was like she didnât even realise what a heartless bitch she was being. Well, Jotaro thought furiously as he stepped out from his hiding place, it was time someone destroyed her.
âHey,â Jotaro called, striding up to the pair like a man on a mission. Miyakawa whirled around immediately, eyes sparkling as she cried, âJotaro-kun!â but Jotaro kept his eyes fixed on the red-haired boy who was staring at him with wide eyes.
âJotaro-kun, you knowââ Miyakawa started babbling, but Jotaro shoved her aside.
âYou,â Jotaro said once he was right in front of the boy, pointing at him to make sure they both knew exactly who he was talking to. âYouâre the most attractive person Iâve ever seen, date me.â
The boyâs mouth dropped open in shock. Somewhere to Jotaroâs left, Miyakawa let out a horrified squeak.
Without waiting for an answer, Jotaro turned on his heel and plucked the single red rose (really, kid? Way to come on too strong) from Miyakawaâs hands. âYou donât deserve this,â he snarled at her. âItâs mine now.â
He grabbed the still-gaping boyâs wrist and dragged him away. The kid didnât even protest, just followed along with that dumb look on his face. The one time Jotaro looked back to glare, Miyakawa was staring after them, absolutely bewildered. Good.
âUm,â the kid said timidly, when they finally came to a halt, âarenât there ghosts in this building?â
Jotaro snorted. He fished his banana milk out of his pocket and tossed it at the boy. âSorry,â he grunted, feeling embarrassment start to creep up on him now that the rage was dying down.
The boy laughed, though it sounded hollow. He fiddled with the banana milk, poking the straw in and taking a sip. âItâs not your fault itâs haunted,â he said lightly, leaning against the wall.
Well, it kind of was, but Jotaro wasnât about to tell him that. âShe was a real dickhead,â he offered instead. And then, because he felt like he should at least try to be comforting, âYou can do better.â
âWell, youâre proof of that,â the boy said, still using that light, joking tone. âYou did just scream at me to date you.â
Jotaro felt his face start to burn. âI didnât scream,â he mumbled, mortified. Had he really said something so embarrassing? Where had his brain-to-mouth filter gone?
âHey,â the boy said, jolting Jotaro out of his pit of shame. His eyes flicked up to meet Jotaroâs, violet and piercing. âThanks. I owe you one.â
âYou donât owe me anything,â Jotaro grunted, because it was true. The poor bastard had suffered enough.
The boy eyed him a little longer, but didnât argue. He heaved a great sigh and pushed off the wall, brushing the dust from his uniform. âI have to go before the shop runs out of bread,â he told Jotaro. âIâll see you around.â
âAre you okay?â Jotaro found himself blurting out, feeling oddly concerned.
The kid didnât even turn around, just saluted Jotaro with two fingers and continued walking. Jotaro watched him sip his banana milk as he walked away, strides even and calm, like nothing had even happened.
It wasnât until he disappeared around a corner that Jotaro realised he never got the boyâs name.
The next day, Jotaro found a note in his shoe locker, weighted down by a little bottle of banana milk.
Now weâre even.
â The most attractive person youâve ever seen ;)
Title: grandfather stories
Prompt: Growing Old
Rating: G
Summary: Jotaro loves his grandfathers. He does. But when theyâre both stubborn old men who can barely hear a thing yet refuse to wear their hearing aids, things get⌠difficult.
Word count: ~500
Jotaro loves his grandparents.
Of course he does. His grandmother is the sweetest person heâs ever met. His grandfathers are legends who saved the world. Grandpa Joseph saved the world twice, in fact. When Jotaro was younger, he might have denied it, but Jotaro has always loved and respected them very much.
The thing is.
Jotaro knows he gets his rebellious side from his grandfathersâ even in their 90s, they constantly find things to bicker about. Grandma Suzie and Jotaroâs mother, Holly, are the only people who can keep them in line, but theyâve whisked Jotaroâs daughter, Jolyne, away for a week-long girls-only holiday. As far as Jotaro knows, they were going on a cruise somewhere in the Atlantic. Theyâd probably tell poor Jolyne wildly inaccurate facts about sea life and teach her how best to embarrass the living daylights out of Jotaro.
Thatâs all well and good. Itâs good for Jolyne to spend some time with her grandmother and great-grandmother. Jotaro is supportive of it, even if he later dies of mortification under the combined efforts of all three women.
Itâs just.
When his mother came to pick Jolyne up, she also dropped off his grandfathers.
Again, Jotaro loves his grandfathers. He does. But when theyâre both stubborn old men who can barely hear a thing yet refuse to wear their hearing aids, things get⌠difficult.
âJotaro!â Grandpa Joseph exclaims when he totters through Jotaroâs front door. âWe havenât seen you in ages, boy! Why donât you ever come and visit?â
âHeâs got better things to do than come see our ugly old mugs,â Grandpa Caesar grumbles back, swatting at Grandpa Josephâs head with the speed and strength of a much younger man. He leans heavily on his walking stick as he takes his shoes off. The stick wobbles in a manner that terrifies Jotaro, but when he offers his arm as support the old man waves him off impatiently. âIâm not that old!â he insists. He is ninety-three.
âYes you are, stubborn idiot!â Grandpa Joseph tells him, braced against the wall for balance as he slips on his indoor slippers. âLet the kid help you!â
âGrandpa, Iâm 41,â says Jotaro.
âWhen I was 41,â Grandpa Joseph begins, and both Jotaro and Grandpa Caesar groan.
âNobody wants to hear your grandfather stories!â Grandpa Caesar shouts, and nearly falls over when he tries to jam his feet in the indoor slippers. Luckily, Star Platinum manages to catch him, and delicately slides his feet into the indoor slippers. âYou see,â Grandpa Caesar crows at Jotaro triumphantly. âI donât need your help!â
âHe helped you with his Stand, doofus!â
âWhat? I couldnât hear what you said, but it was an insult, wasnât it?!â
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Title: heart donât fail me now
Prompt: Vampire/Werewolf
Rating: T
Summary: the one where jonathan throws a barbecue party and invites his neighbours dio and caesar to come along
Word count: ~3300
A/N: This is only the first chapter (because Iâm a lazy piece of shit).Â
Sometimes, Caesar wondered if he knew heâd be living with a 200-year-old child when he agreed to turn.
Of course, he didnât remember anything about his human life. No vampire did; it was part of the transformation magic. Still, Caesar rather thought that if heâd had known about what an asshole of a maker Dio really was, he might have thought twice about turning.
Then again, human Caesar might have been an idiot. Vampire Caesar certainly didnât know. Dio refused to tell him anything about his human life. Maybe vampirism made you smarter.
Caesarâs musings on his human selfâs intelligence were interrupted by the front door slamming shut. âCaesar!â shouted Dio in a particularly petulant voice, stomping about in the entry hall. âCaesar!!â
Caesar sighed. âWhat?â he asked, annoyed. At a regular volume, thank you very much, because unlike his wretched maker, he was considerate of the fact that Dio could hear him perfectly fine from the other side of the house.
âThose damn werewolves across the street!â grumbled Dio, stomping into the library with vampiric speed. âTheyâve invited us to a- a barbecue! Of all things!â
Caesar snorted, turning a page in his book. Of course this was about the Joestars. Dio hated them. Caesar didnât really know why; theyâd been nothing but perfectly pleasant since Caesarâs birth. It was probably something like their dog took a shit on Dioâs lawn a hundred years ago and Dio was still salty about it even though the dog in question was dead. Dio was petty enough for it to be true.
âThat damn Jojo!â Dio snarled, punching right through the ugly, beat-up old armchair they kept around for this specific purpose. âVampires and werewolves have been enemies for millennia! I have openly despised him and his wretched family for a hundred years! And now he wants us to come to a barbecueâ all for some neighbourly bonding! Have you ever heard of a more ridiculous thing?!â
âNo,â Caesar said dryly, because there really was no point arguing with Dio. âWhat an awful thing to do.â
âAbsolutely outrageous!â agreed Dio, clawing at the armchair in rage and leaving an impressively deep gash on the seat. âA barbecue indeed! We canât even eat!â
Caesar wasnât even listening anymore. âVery thoughtless of them.â
âYes, quite,â said Dio rather hotly. And then, like an idea had occurred to him, âIn fact, we should go over there right now and prove to them how thoughtless an invitation it was!â
âRight, of course,â said Caesar absently, then paused. âWait, what did you say?â
Dio tsked impatiently, already halfway across the house. âWeâre going out, boy!â he declared triumphantly, once again far too loud for Caesarâs poor ears. âPut on your coat and weâll be off!â
Human Caesar must have been an idiot. Of all the vampires in the world, why Dio? Why make vampire Caesar suffer so? Had he been a masochist as a human?
âNow!â screeched Dio, making Caesar flinch.
âOkay, okay, Iâm coming!â Caesar yelled back, closing his book with a disgruntled thump. Heâd been looking forward to a quiet night of reading by the fireplace, maybe sipping some blood out of a wine glass, something real classy. Instead, he was going to spend it hanging around some rowdy werewolves, sniffing food he couldnât even eat. Great.
He was not looking forward to this barbecue at all.
âYou came!â cried Jonathan Joestar with far more enthusiasm than a visit from Dio warranted. âItâs good to see you, Dio.â
âI saw you literally five minutes ago,â snapped Dio, glaring.
âYes, but Iâm always pleased when you take me up on my invitations!â Jonathan chirped, unfazed. âAh, and youâve brought young Caesar, too! Finally grown into your fangs, have you?â
âNot quite yet,â Caesar admitted, a little embarrassed, âbut Iâm getting there.â His bouts of bloodlust were definitely decreasing, but he wasnât ready to go out into proper society quite yet. While that, unfortunately, meant being cooped up in the house with only Dio for company most of the time, it was better than going beserk in the middle of the street and killing every human within smelling distance.
Jonathan nodded sagely. âThatâs quite alright,â he told Caesar kindly. âYouâre only six months old, arenât you? Most vampires take years to fully master control. Youâre doing very well.â
Caesar glowed with the praise. He was so much nicer than Dio was. Why couldnât human Caesar have asked Jonathan to give him the Bite? Sure, werewolves werenât quite as immortal as vampires, but they still lived a damn long time.
âItâs quite unusual, actually,â Jonathan continued, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. âI wonderâ perhaps you practiced magic as a humanââ
âAre you inviting us in or not?â Dio cut in harshly, because of course he couldnât bear for attention to stray from himself, the arrogant bastard.
âOh, yes, of course, please come in,â said Jonathan, stepping back to let them in. âNow, Caesar, I must tell you, there are a few humans in our packââ
Caesar froze. Dio gripped his elbow roughly, a silent reminder that his maker was here to control him should it become necessary. âJojo, are you mad?!â Dio demanded. âAre you looking to traumatise the poor childââ
âDonât worry, it will be quite alright!â Jonathan assured them, warm smile still in place. âTheyâre all wearing amulets to conceal their scents. Standard practice; our young ones can get rather overzealous, too,â he added, winking at Caesar.
Caesar took a deep breath to calm himself down. Everything would be fine. There were at least a dozen werewolves in the house, judging by the heartbeats, and Dio, too. Theyâd never let Caesar actually attack anyone. Itâd be fine.
âAlright,â he said, voice small but firm.
Dio dropped his grip on Caesarâs elbow. Instead, he started sniffing around conspicuously. âWhereâs the blood?â he asked, eyes narrowed at Jonathan. âOr did you intend on serving vampires meat?â
Jonathan gasped, eyes wide. Caesar was surprised. Had he actuallyâ
âOh, did you forget that we canât eat?â Dio sneered, delighted. âWhat an absolutely dreadful host you areââ
âNo, no, nothing like that,â Jonathan cried, distraught, as he dashed into the kitchen. âWe were just warming it up for youâ nobody likes cold blood, do theyâ and I think we might have left it a little too longââ
There was a hurried click, a sigh of relief, and then Jonathan came back into the room carrying a large dispenser filled with A negative. âNot to worry!â he said happily. âThirty-seven degrees exactly. Iâve slapped one of those new charm things on it to keep it warm all night! Isnât technology brilliant?â
âYes,â growled Dio through gritted teeth. âVery lovely indeed.â
Caesar coughed to disguise his laughter. Jonathan didnât notice, just continued chattering on about something or other as he led them through the house; but Dio shot him a nasty look.
Caesar widened his eyes and blinked at him innocently, just to see Dioâs face twist into an ugly glare. Maybe this barbecue thing wouldnât be too bad, after all.
Theyâd only been at the barbecue for an hour, and already Caesar was bored out of his mind. Dio had been dragged off into some adult conversation about the economy and stocks and other boring things like that in the first ten minutes, which Caesar had been happy about since it meant he didnât have to put up with Dioâs whining. Unfortunately, it left Caesar leaning against the wooden fence all by himself, awkwardly sipping at the blood in his wine glass as he watched the party go on around him. The three picnic tables on the other side of the yard was obviously the kidsâ tables; Caesar considered approaching them, but he could hear the slightly-slower heartbeats of humans among them, though he didnât know exactly who they were. Better not to take the risk. Heâd never forgive himself if he tried to eat one of those tiny toddlers.
Still, it was⌠nice, in a way, to hear the sounds of a huge family. It was familiar, soothing, in a way that made Caesar think his human self had been used to a large household. The Brando house was just as large as this one, and well lived-in, but much, much quieterâ especially since it housed two stealthy vampires instead of a whole pack of boisterous werewolves.
âEnjoying yourself?â asked a kind voice from Caesarâs left, jolting him out of his thoughts.
âU-Um,â said Caesar, caught off-guard. âIâ yes, yes I am.â
The blonde woman beside him laughed. âNo need to lie about it,â she said, smiling at him with a twinkle in her eye. âYou might not have a heartbeat for me to listen to, but I can still tell when a man is lying to me.â
Caesar was sure that if he still had blood, it would be rushing to his face. âI-Iâm very sorry,â he started to stammer, mortified. âI didnât meanââ
âOh, thereâs no need to apologise!â the woman laughed, not unkindly. She clasped her hands behind her back, looking out at the party with fond eyes. âWhen I first came to one of these things, I was terribly nervous. All these werewolvesâ what was a human girl going to talk to them about?â
Was she human, then? She was oddly scentless, and her heartbeat seemed slower, calmer than most of the others.
Caesar shifted nervously. âI, uh, think you might like to stand further away, Iâm a newbornââ
âSo I just didnât,â the woman continued as if Caesar had never spoken, her smile never faltering. âI didnât speak to anyone at all. For hours, I just stood by and looked in from the sidelines. Everyone looked like they were having so much funâ and I was absolutely miserable.â
âT-Thatâsâ terrible, but my bloodlustââ
âAnd then I realised,â she interrupted yet again, turning back to smile at Caesar warmly, âthat the only thing stopping me from having a good time was my fear. Not of the werewolvesâ but of myself.â
Caesar paused. âWhat do you mean?â he asked slowly, staring into her wise blue eyes.
âSometimes,â she said with a cryptic smile, âyou need to take a leap of faith.â
Caesar blinked at her, trying to make sense of her wordsâ
âHey!â shouted a rather large young man from the middle of the yard, where all the kids were gathered, stretching and warming up as led by a boy with an impressive pompadour. âWe need one more for Long Pole Charge! Anyone? Mom and Dad? Câmon, you guys arenât that old yet!â
âWeâd kick your butts too hard!â
âAw, câmon!â
Caesar was intrigued. He wondered what kind of game this Long Pole Charge was. Knowing werewolves, it probably involved a lot of rough physical contactâ
âOne volunteer, right here!â called the blonde woman next to Caesar, and none-too-gently shoved him forward.
Caesar turned back to stare at her with horror. âWhatââ
âLeap of faith,â she told him, winking. âHave fun!â
âA brave volunteer!â cried the large young man from before, bounding over and slapping Caesar on the back in a friendly (but quite painful) gesture. He quickly slung one beefy arm around Caesarâs neck as if they were old friends, and shot the blonde woman a sly grin and a thumbs-up. âThanks, Granny Erina, youâre the best!â
Granny Erina returned the thumbs-up, cackling at Caesar. She was the worst, Caesar thought helplessly.
âHey, you werenât here last year, were you?â the man dragging Caesar across the yard asked, as if there was any way heâd have missed a vampire showing up at a werewolf family reunion. âIâm Joseph, macho badboy extraordinaire!â
Macho badboy extraordinaire? âIâm Caesar.â
âNice to meet you, Caesar! We donât get a lot of vamps at our barbecuesâ are you Uncle Dioâs plus one?â
The way Joseph waggled his eyebrows implied a relationship that made Caesar legitimately nauseous. âHeâs my maker,â Caesar managed through his disgust. âWeâre notâ heâs more like a father figureââ
âHey, itâs all cool, we donât kinkshame,â Joseph said casually, a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face.
âYouâre the worst,â Caesar told him, glaring. âI de-volunteer myself, Iâm going home.â
Joseph laughed, like he thought Caesar was joking. Or maybe that arm around Caesarâs neck was there to impede any attempts at escape. Both seemed likely.
âAlright, everyone, huddle up!â Joseph yelled at the gaggle of Joestars spread out around some form of court that had been crudely drawn in the dirt with werewolf claws. The kids clustered around Joseph excitedly, looking to him with bright eyes. A little toddler who was inexplicably wearing sunglasses tugged at Josephâs jeans; Joseph (finally) released Caesar and swept her into his arms.
âAre we starting yet?â whined a little girl wearing a butterfly tank top. âWeâve been waiting for ages!â
âItâs only been five minutes,â a small blond boy sniffed at her.
âAges,â the butterfly girl repeated stubbornly. The two kids exchanged glares, baring their teeth and growling at each other, until a teenager in a ragged hat nudged them both with a large leg.
âSave it for the game, guys,â Joseph laughed. âAlright, everyone. Mr Tall Dark and Dead Inside over here is Caesar from across the street, heâll be on Jotaroâs team today. Uh,â he whirled around to face Caesar, âJotaroâs the broody emo kid over there. Youâll be playing Defense first, that okay with you?â
âUh,â said Caesar awkwardly. Did Joseph expect him to already know how to play? âIâve never played before.â
âOh!â said Joseph, like the thought hadnât occurred to him. âRight, sorry about that. Uh, basically, Attack teamâs gotta get from one end of the court to the other, and Defense teamâs gotta stop them. Thereâs a bunch of rules and stuff, but as long as you donât, like, maim someone it should be fine. Okay, everyone ready?â
Wait, what? Was that it? Caesar opened his mouth to protest, maybe suggest he watch a game before diving into it, but somehow he found himself shoved and manhandled by various people until he was standing on a horizontal line behind a human woman with short, dark hair who was already crouched into what looked like a grappling stance.
The shrill sound of a whistle pierced the air before Caesar could look around any more, and suddenly the attack team was charging towards them, howling their battlecries. Jotaro, who had been placed on the first line, moved surprisingly fast; he managed to block two of the five runners, tossing one across the field carelessly and throwing the other over his shoulder to immobilise her.
The human woman in front of him let out a terrifyingly loud warcry and leapt at the three runners, pouncing directly onto the huge bodybuilder-esque man and toppling him into Joseph, sending all three of them falling into the dirt. She tried to reach out and grab at butterfly girlâs ankle, but the girl nimbly avoided the attack and kept running.
Belatedly, Caesar realised that he was next in line. The butterfly girl, quick as lightning, ran past Caesar under his outstretched arms. He whirled around, trying to grab her, but just barely missed. He was about to give chase when a loud roar from behind him; Joseph had managed to detangle himself from the other two and was charging at Caesar head-on. The court was small enough that there wasnât room to manoeuvre around Caesar, not for a big guy like Joseph; the only way past was through. Caesar dropped into a crouch and planted his feet into the ground, almost reflexively, like his body had done this hundreds of times beforeâ
Caesar ducked down and caught Joseph around the waist. He was pushed back a few inches, his heels leaving distinct tracks in the dirt, but held firm. Joseph was strong â he struggled desperately to escape, trying to pry Caesarâs arms off, but nothing would shake Caesar. Even when his efforts sent them both tumbling to the ground, Caesar held on, knowing that there was no way Joseph could get past the other two blockers and complete the run with Caesar as dead weight.
âMan, youâre clingy,â Joseph panted, squirming. âJust give up already, arenât you tired?â
âNo, are you?â Caesar retorted, grinning to show off his fangs. âI could do this all day.â
âStubborn bastard,â Joseph accused, but grinned back.
Suddenly, the whistle sounded again. Both Caesar and Joseph looked upâ little butterfly girl was at the far end of the court, jumping up and down and shouting with excitement.
âWell done, Jolyne!â Joseph yelled at her, his smile wide and triumphant. âScoreâs 1-0 to Joseph team, alright!â
Caesar groaned and released his grip, letting his arms fall to the ground with exhaustion. Joseph was on his feet in a flash, going around to high five his teammates and ruffle Jolyneâs hair and just generally celebrate in the most obnoxious way possible.
âDonât mind,â said a very large, very muscular man Caesar swore heâd seen on the other team, helping Caesar up with one beefy arm. âWeâll get âem next time. Catch your breath, weâre running next.â
Caesar nodded, competitive spirit burning like fire in his stomach. The next few rounds proved that the teams were pretty well-balanced. Theyâd decided that the first team to a 3-point lead would win, but neither team seemed to be able to pull ahead. Eventually, Caesarâs team managed to snag two games in a row, prompting hearty, excited yells from his team and jeers from the other.
âLetâs settle this!â shouted Jotaro as the team settled onto the defense lines, and everyone, including Caesar, yelled back an affirmative.
Of course, this was the moment Joseph decided to cheat. He plucked the sunglasses-wearing baby from Granny Erinaâs arms and set her gently onto the court. âOh my god!â he gasped then, putting his hands to his face dramatically. âShizuka Joestar, the most fearsome runner of them all, is on the court!!â
âWin this one for us, Shizuka!â shouted the rest of Josephâs team, clapping and cheering. âYouâre the best, Shizuka!â
âDirty cheaters!â Caesarâs beefy teammate, Messina, yelled at them, but didnât protest when Shizuka, babbling happily, started toddling across the court.
It was the best run all day. Shizuka tugged at Jotaroâs pant leg, and he came tumbling to the ground. She wrapped her arms around Tomoko in a hug, and Tomoko keeled over, pressing kisses to her chubby cheeks before pretending to die. Thrilled by her winning streak, the little girl went straight for Caesar. The sight of her wobbling over to him on unsteady legs made him smile, and he crouched low to pretend-block her path.
âWatch out, Shizuka, that oneâs pretty tough!â cried Joseph from the sidelines, and Shizuka stuck her tiny hands into Caesarâs face. Caesar fell backwards with a dramatic gasp, covering his face with his hands in mock pain. Shizuka laughed, bright and pure, and decided to crawl over Caesarâs body instead of going around. The scent-masking amulet around her neck swung as she moved and brushed against Caesarâs neck, tickling him.
Suddenly, the tickle became a sharp pain that travelled like a jolt of electricity through the rest of Caesarâs body, shocking a strangled gasp out of himâ and then that pain turned into pressure, constricting Caesarâs chest and squeezing the breath out of him, even as he gasped for air. He barely registered panicked shouts, faces leaning over him, worried hands on his shouldersâ
âand then he was seeing something elseâ hundreds of claw marks on grainy woodâ walls splattered red with bloodâ a scream, a blood-curdling scream that seemed to go on foreverâ
âCaesar!â Dioâs voice, this time, cutting through the fog like only his makerâs could. âIâm taking him home, right nowââ
Other voices joined the fray, but Caesar couldnât make any of them out clearly:
ââatâs happeningââ
ââbloodlust?ââ
ââfault, all my faultââ
My fault. The words echoed in Caesarâs brain for what felt like ages, growing louder and louder and louderâ
38: âYou fainted⌠straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didnât have to go to such extremes.â
(This has greatly surpassed drabble length; I just had too many feelings xD Also requested by emeraudolupus, because she is greedy caejose trash.)
âJojo!â heâd screamed, Jojoâs lifeline in one hand and his heart in the other. If it was one or the other, Josephâs life or Caesarâs, thenâŚ
Title: tomorrow (tonight)
Prompt: Wedding Day
Rating: TÂ
Summary: She sounds perfect.
Word count: ~700
Warnings:Â None
A/N: is it really a ship week if i donât write angst for it? #sorrynotsorry
He is getting married tomorrow.
It isnât like youâre only just now realising it. On the contrary, itâs been at the forefront of your mind for the past three months, since youâre the one whoâs been doing most of the planning. Heâs too busy sweet-talking powerful old men into alliances, or defending the kingdom from its enemies, or resolving the villagersâ disputes over chickens and grain and cattle. You, youâre his right-hand man, the person he trusts the most. You know him inside and out, better than anyone else, and you know that itâs just as well that youâre running things; his atrocious taste would likely ruin the wedding anyway.
(For more than a few moments, you truly considered arranging a horrible, offensive ceremony, to scare off the princess he is to wedâ but doing so would scare off her father, too, and the kingdom cannot be made to suffer for your sins.)
You wonder what the princess is like. From what you hear, she is beautiful and lovely and kind, a warm ray of sunshine next to her fatherâs ice-cold demeanour. She is mischievous, too, you hear the scullery maids gossiping when you go to fetch his meals from the kitchen. A match made in heaven, they coo. How lucky, they sigh.
She sounds perfect.
You hope she is. He has you to keep him humble, his council to teach him wisdom, the heavy crown on his head to remind him of his duty to his people; he needs someone like her to keep him human, to lift his spirits when he is weighed down by responsibility, to make sure the light and joy in his heart never dims.
(There was once you believedâ hopedâ that you could do that, for him. But you have tried, all these years, to do just that, and the darkness you absorbed so he didnât have to, the sorrow you bore to preserve his joyâ they weigh you down like a stone in your stomach, eat at you like a parasite destroying you from within. You know now that your dream was impossible to begin with; there was blood on your hands and black in your soul from the moment you entered service. How could one so impure ever achieve a goal so noble?)
Youâre so lost in thought that you donât realise someoneâs joined you until he speaks your name, gentle and hesitant, like you might break if he raises his voice. Itâs not as untrue as one might think.
You ignore him, gazing instead at the stars outside your window. He is getting married tomorrow, you think, as your fingers twitch with the urge to reach for him, to smooth over soft, pampered skin, to run your hands over every inch of him and memorise every detail.
No. It would be a sin, now that he is betrothed, and you have sinned enough for one lifetime.
He calls your name again, this time pleading and distraught, and comes to wrap his arms around your waist and press kisses to your hair. This isnât the end, he whispers, naĂŻve. This doesnât changeâ us.
Oh, but it does, it does, because even if he can live with wronging his wife, you cannot. You are a man of pride and chivalry and honour, and never have you so desperately wished you werenât.
He is getting married tomorrow.
And yet, you cannot bring yourself to pull away.
You turn suddenly and kiss him, hot and desperate, fingers tangling in his dark hair. He seems surprised, tries to say something when you break apart, but you suck hard at the hollow of his neck, and his words trail off into a gasp. It will leave a mark, one that his princess will undoubtedly discover, and the thought fills you with a fierce satisfaction.
Youâve made your decision.
Tomorrow, he will get married. Tomorrow, thisâ you and heâ will end. From tomorrow onwards, both of you will fulfil your duties, your roles, your destinies, as perfectly as is expected of you.
So tomorrow, you will go to confession, and tonightâ
Title: Weâre Not Dating!
Prompt:Â Domestic
Rating: T (for swearing)
Summary: the one where everyone except caejose knows theyâre in a relationship (save joseph 2k16)
Word count: 3518
Warnings: tooth-rotting domestic fluff. u have been Warned
The whole thing is Josukeâs fault, Joseph thinks furiously, head in his hands, his leg bouncing up and down nervously. Caesarâs in the kitchen, whistling some old Italian song as steak sizzles in the pan. The bottle of red wine Joseph brought home is sitting on the counterâ the fancy kind, because Caesar doesnât like the way the cheap stuff tastes. Joseph has literally been wearing Caesarâs clothes for the past week. Itâs nice, homey. Domestic.
Itâs also destroying Josephâs soul.
Fucking Josuke.
One week ago, Joseph met up with Josuke to catch up over coffee. Heâd barely seen his little cousin since heâd moved to the city; now that Josuke is here for university, it was the least Joseph could do as a responsible adult to treat him to some coffee and cake.
That was all well and good. Heâs always gotten along well with Josuke despite the age gap. The coffee was superb, the conversation flowed smoothly, they both took little jibes at each other as they were always wont to do, it was like old times. Joseph had been having a grand time, laughing it up and soaking in nostalgia.
And then the phone call came.
The call itself was nothing spectacular, just Caesar checking in and asking what Joseph wanted for dinner. Caesar was just coming down from a nasty cold, ill enough that Joseph refused to let him go into work but well enough that he was starting to get restless. Joseph scolded him for trying to cook when he should be sleeping (âYouâd just get snot in the food, idiot!â) and said heâd buy back the nice beef stroganoff from that one place Caesar really likes and told him to not, under any circumstances, watch that dayâs Masterchef without Joseph. Standard, everyday stuff, really.
Only, when Joseph hung up and turned back to his cousin, Josukeâs eyebrows were raised so high they were practically disappearing into his hairline. âBro,â he said, sounding mortally offended. âWhy didnât you tell me you were dating someone?â
Joseph frowned. âIâm not?â he said, confused. âWhy would you say that?â
âUh, the phone call?â Josuke said, like it was supposed to be obvious.
Which, of course, it wasnât, because, âThat was just Caesar. You know, my roommate Iâve been telling you about? His mom made cannolis for me to bring home last Christmasââ
âDude,â Josuke interrupted, his face suddenly gravely serious. âYou know Iâd be cool with you having a boyfriend, right? Like, itâs not a big deal, Iâd support you all the way.â
Why was Josuke bringing that up now? âUh, thanks?â Joseph said uncertainly. âButââ
âIâm just salty because you didnât tell me about it,â Josuke continued, pouting a little. âI get why, of course, but this seems like a pretty serious relationship, and you know that I, of all people, would never judge youââ
It was a little too much information for Joseph to handle at once. âWait, wait, wait,â he said, shaking his head to clear it. âLet me get this straight. You think Caesar and I have a serious relationship?â
âWell, you watch Masterchef together every day and havenât shut up about him since we sat down, so yes.â
Joseph felt lost. âWell, we arenât,â he told him lamely, mind reeling. Caesar was his best friend! Wasnât it normal to follow TV series with friends? And of course he had lots to say about Caesar, he was the one person Joseph came into contact with the most, seeing as they, yâknow, lived together. And one more thing, âWhat do you mean, you of all people?â
Josuke froze. âUh.â
And then Josuke came out to him, but thatâs a whole different story.
Josuke didnât know what he was talking about, Joseph thought to himself, feeling weirdly outraged about the whole thing, as he stomped up the stairs with plastic bags of takeaway in his hands. (He used to take the lift, but Caesar insisted they take the stairs because it was better for their health.)
Josuke was justâ trying to rile Joseph up, probably. The kid probably didnât know anything about dating, anyway. He obviously couldnât appreciate the fact that two fully-grown, attractive adults could live together without being in a romantic relationship. Why, Joseph had shared flats with equally if not more attractive people than Caesar (who, despite his handsome face, Joseph knew for a fact could stuff three whole slices of double pepperoni pizza into his mouth at once) and had never had any inclination to date them. Caesar was no different.
Joseph texted that to Josuke immediately, stabbing at his phone with just enough force as was necessary. It was justified! After all, it was an absolutely preposterous idea. Imagine, Joseph and Caesar, dating. Ridiculous.
Thatâs because youâre already dating him, Josuke replied almost instantaneously, like he didnât have any studying to do. Canât miss something you already have.
Thatâ That wasâ
YOU ARE WRONG, Joseph typed back furiously, and shoved his phone into his pocket as he wrenched the door to his flat open.
âHey,â he called, dropping his keys in the bowl by the door. âYou feeling better?â
Caesarâs head popped out from the huge pile of blankets on the sofa. âCould be worse,â he grumbled, his nose stuffy and his hair in a mess, but his eyes lit up at the sight of the plastic bag in Josephâs hand.
Joseph grinned. âI got lasagne, too, we can share,â he said, setting the plastic bag down on the coffee table to strip off his coat. Caesar was already budging up to make room, clicking through their recordings to put on Masterchef.
âCold,â Caesar complained when Joseph burrowed into the blanket-nest with him and tucked his feet under Caesarâs thighs.
âWarm,â Joseph replied smugly, and handed Caesar his beef stroganoff. âShit, they forgot to give me another spoon. Ah, whatever, weâll just share.â
âIâm sick, idiot,â Caesar protested, eyes glued to the TV. âJust get up off your ass and go get one from the kitchen.â
âBut Iâm lazy,â Joseph whined, sprawling himself over Caesar as annoyingly as possible. âIâm probably already infected anyway!â
âDonât come crying to me when you get sick,â Caesar sniffed, giving up. âNow shut up, weâre missing the show.â
Joseph shut up and rearranged his limbs into a more comfortable position against Caesar, warm and familiar, settling in to wait patiently for the spoon. Josuke was obviously delusional, Joseph decided. What did he know about Joseph and Caesar? Absolutely nothing. After all, here Joseph was, basically cuddled up to Caesar, and he had no particular desire to date him or kiss him or otherwise be romantic with him.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Really? Josuke had texted.
Joseph groaned and buried his phone under a cushion, where its buzzing could plague him no longer.
See, the thing is.
That was just the beginning. The first day. The calm before the storm. Everything is all messed up now, and itâs all thanks to goddamn Josuke. If Josuke hadnât come to university in the city, Joseph would never have met up with him. If theyâd never met up, Josuke would never have assumed that Joseph and Caesar were dating. If heâd never assumed they were dating, heâd never have brought it up. If heâd never brought it up, Joseph would never have thought about it. And if Joseph had never thought about it, heâd be living his life in perfect happiness.
But all that happened, and since then Joseph couldnât stop thinking about it.
On Monday, Joseph let Caesar sleep in and went to the gym by himself. Caesarâd called in sick from work, anyway, and he needed the rest. It was harder to stay awake and motivated to work out without Caesarâs annoying chatter in the car. Plus, the coffee machine was some fancy complicated thing Caesar refused to let Joseph touch lest he break it, so Joseph was running on zero caffeine this morning.
Needless to say, Joseph was a little grumpy when he stepped into the locker room.
âHey,â he grunted at Messina and Loggins, heading for his usual locker across from them. Both men did a double take at the sight of him, eyes wide and nearly bugging out of their heads.
âWhereâs your boyfriend?â Messina asked, concerned.
Oh God, not this again. Joseph was not in the mood. âHeâs not my boyfriend!â he snapped, letting his bag slam down onto the bench.
Messina and Loggins looked at each other, seemingly holding an entire conversation solely with their eyebrows. (Well, eyebrow ridge, for Loggins, seeing as he was taking clean-shaven to new heights.) Joseph ignored them both, mood even darker than before, and hung his work clothes up in his locker before slamming it shut.
âIâm sure whatever it is he did, he didnât mean it,â Loggins tried hesitantly.
Joseph wanted to strangle something. A fight. They thought he and Caesar were having a loverâs spat. Because they thought they were dating. Goddamnit!
âWeâre not fighting,â Joseph bit out, fuming. âHeâs sick, had a fever last night. And weâre not dating, either!â
The two men exchanged worried glances. âAlright,â Loggins said slowly, obviously humouring him. âHang in there, kid.â
âYouâre good for each other, you and Caesar,â Messina added. âDonât give up without a fight.â
âWhâ I told you, we arenâtâ!â
âOkay, okay, we got it.â They clapped his back, friendly and kind, and headed for the door.
âBut we really arenât dating!â Joseph shouted frantically at their backs.
His only answer was the sound of the door swinging shut.
âWhy,â Joseph moaned, and buried his face in his hands.
On Tuesday, Joseph brought out his lunch at work and found that Caesarâd made the little octopus-sausages Joseph loved. Last week, Joseph would have Snapchatted his lunch with a thank you and be done with it, but today Joseph was stressing over whether or not regular friends and roommates made cutesy lunches for each other. No, said Josukeâs voice in his head. Caesar hates the octopus-sausages and would never do them for himself. Which means he took the extra effort to make these specifically for you.
Did that mean they were dating??
âOoh, nice,â Smokey commented, pouring himself a cup of coffee. âMan, I wish I could get lunches like those. Youâre lucky.â
And comments like these! Last week, Joseph would have assumed Smokey was only jealous of his lunch, but no, said Josukeâs voice, like a stubborn bastard, heâs jealous of the relationship he thinks youâre in.
âDonât say that,â Joseph snapped, more viciously than Smokey deserved, scaring the poor kid out of the break room. Heâd apologise to him later, but right now Joseph couldnât believe that everyone he knew seemed to believe he and Caesar were dating.
The worst thing was, people at the office had been making these sorts of comments for literally months.
Even his coworkers thought heâd been dating Caesar. For months.
Months.
Joseph let his face fall on the table, feeling very much like crying.
On Wednesday, Joseph came home feeling shitty.
âI told you,â Caesar had been saying for the last ten minutes. âI told you youâd get sick if we shared a spoon, but did you listen? No, no you didnât, because youâre a huge idiot.â
Joseph, wrapped up in a blanket cocoon on the sofa, coughed pathetically. âYes, okay, you were right, I was wrong, will you please start making me feel better? My throat feels like Iâve been eating gravel.â
âStop whining, youâre only getting what you deserve,â Caesar told him. Stone cold.
âI did nothing to deserve your nagging,â Joseph mumbled, and there was a pointed clang from the kitchen, but otherwise there was no response. âCould you at least change the channel? You know I hate Wheel of Fortune.â
âYouâre supposed to be sweating out a fever, not enjoying yourself,â Caesar grumped, but changed it to Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader? anyway.
âThis isnât much better,â Joseph whined, squirming in his cocoon. Maybe if he wriggled enough, he could get outâ
âLie still and suffer,â Caesar snapped, âor Iâll turn it off.â
Joseph gasped dramatically, feeling betrayal shoot through his chest. âYou wouldnât.â
âWouldnât I?â
âŚHe would. Joseph shut up.
He was actually able to get into the show, eventually, and was shouting answers at the screen when Caesar finally emerged from the kitchen with two steaming bowls of food. Joseph nearly teared up. Caesar was the best roommate, cooking something delicious for poor sick Josephâ
âItâs plain congee,â Caesar declared, setting one down on the coffee table. âYum yum.â
Joseph teared up for a totally different reason. âCaesar,â he wailed even though it made his throat hurt like a bitch, kicking so hard he actually managed to unravel the blanket cocoon. âThatâs sick people food!â
âYou are a sick people! Eat it!â
Joseph made a disgusted noise (that came out even more horrible than heâd intended thanks to all the phlegm in his throat), but sat up and took the bowl begrudgingly. He took a sip. The hot congee soothed his itchy throat as it went down, and all the fight drained out of him at once. Plain congee was sick people food for a reason.
âNo chicken, no eggs, no dairy, no deep-fried food,â Caesar reminded him, settling down next to him with his own bowl of congee. His, Joseph noticed enviously, had salted eggs and chicken strips. âI texted your boss and called in sick for you, get some rest tomorrow.â
Joseph blinked. âYou have my bossâ phone number?â
âNo, I texted her from your phone.â
âOh,â said Joseph, dumbfounded. Caesar knew his passcode. Which wasnât surprising, seeing as he knew Caesarâs, and yet it was sort of blowing his mind. Was it normal for friends to do that? Was it weird that Caesar didnât ask? And that Joseph didnât care?
âWas that okay?â Caesar asked, interrupting Josephâs freak-out. âIâve texted people for you before, soâŚâ
He had, hadnât he. Several times. Joseph had never thought anything of it until now. Goddamn it, Josuke!
âYeah, no, itâs fine,â Joseph assured him, mind still reeling. Caesar didnât look convinced, so he nudged Caesar gently with his shoulder. âHey, thanks.â
Caesar smiled and nudged back, and to Josephâs horror, his heart squeezed tight in his chest at the casual contact. âNo problem.â
Joseph flashed him a quick smile, then quickly turned back to his congee and the TV, feeling inexplicably warm where Caesarâs shoulder touched his.
What was going on?
On Thursday, Joseph woke up from his nap to a hand on his forehead.
âSorry, didnât mean to wake you,â Caesar whispered, pulling the blankets up over Josephâs shoulders. âGo back to sleep.â
âWhat time is it?â Joseph mumbled, sleep-heavy.
âAbout six. I was just about to go to the supermarket, you want anything?â
âMm, Iâll come with you.â He started to sit up, blinking the sleep away from his eyes.
âItâs okay, you need your rest,â Caesar tried, looking concerned.
âIâve been resting all day. You wonât get the tasty unhealthy snacks if I donât go with you, anyway.â
Caesar laughed, fingers combing gently through Josephâs undoubtedly terrible bedhead. âYouâre not supposed to be eating those,â he chided softly. âYour feverâs gone down, so I guess you can come. Five minutes?â
Joseph hummed, stretching to wake his body up. Caesar ruffled his hair affectionately and left the room, closing the door with a soft click. Joseph could feel warm contentment in his chest, steady and strong, just from that small exchange.
Was it weird? a part of Joseph asked.
Who cares, the rest of him replied.
(This, of course, was when Joseph was still half-asleep and obviously out of his mind. That night, he excused himself to his room after doing the dishes and promptly screamed into his pillow.
âWhat is wrong with me?â he moaned pathetically, but no answer came.)
On Friday, Joseph and Caesar dug out their best bottle of wine and went to dinner with Josephâs parents. It had been planned several weeks in advance, ever since his mother found out sheâd have to make a business trip into the city and demanded they both dine with her. His father, nosy as he was, tagged along just to meet Caesar. At the time, Joseph had been bewildered but amused at their curiosity about his roommate, but now he was beginning to suspect that they, too, had somehow gotten the wrong impression.
Especially since his father got misty-eyed every time Caesar served Joseph from the sharing platter before himself, and his mother kept asking questions like, âWhat do you like about Joseph?â and âWhere do you see yourself in five years?â
To his credit, Caesar answered the weird questions with his usual charismatic ease, seemingly oblivious to the romantic slant to them. Joseph himself probably wouldnât have noticed anything out of the ordinary if Josuke hadnât planted the seed in his mind.
As things were, however, the entire situation was making Joseph very flustered. âWhat is this, a job interview?â he complained to his mother. âCaesar, you donât have to answer any of these.â
âCome on, Jojo, itâs only natural for a mother to want to know more about who her son is consorting with,â his mother argued, waving off Josephâs whinging.
âYes, son,â his father agreed. âYou wouldnât stop talking about him over Christmas, of course weâd be curious!â
âI did not!â Joseph yelled, trying hard not to go red.
Caesar elbowed him in the side. âStop yelling, youâll get us kicked out,â he said, looking smug. Joseph made a supremely ugly face at him to disguise his embarrassment. Caesar made an even uglier face back, much to Josephâs delight and his parentsâ amusement.
âYou suit each other well,â his father laughed. âKeep our son in line, wonât you, Caesar?â
âHow can he keep me in line when heâs the one getting us into trouble?!â
âIâll do my best, Mr Joestar,â Caesar replied solemnly. âBut given who Joseph is, that might not be possible.â
âHey!â Joseph protested, but his parents were too busy laughing at him to care.
Later, when they decided to take a stroll through the nearby park before heading home, his mother took his arm and said, âYou seem happy.â
Joseph watched as Caesar gestured animatedly, telling Josephâs father about some restaurant theyâd tried the week before. âI guess I am,â he replied quietly, honest and vulnerable.
âGood,â his mother hummed, squeezing his arm. âThen weâre happy, too.â
âGood,â Joseph repeated faintly, blindsided by the fact that his parents approved of his boyfriend who wasnât actually his boyfriend.
And that he hadnât corrected them once all night.
And thatâs how Joseph ended up here, sitting on his sofa, questioning his entire existence, right before he has a steak-and-red-wine dinner not-date with his not-boyfriend, except he isnât sure if it actually is a not-date with his not-boyfriend, or a real-date with his real-boyfriend that heâd been real-dating for months and months, andâ
Basically, Joseph is losing his shit.
âJojo, set the table, will you?â Caesar calls from the kitchen. He sounds like heâs in a good mood, humming a pop song he used to hate until Joseph played it non-stop for three days straight. It makes Josephâs heart feel warm and content, and he doesnât know how to feel about it.
âJojo?â Caesar asks when Joseph fails to respond, and pokes his head out of the kitchen to blink at Joseph with concern. Heâs wearing the Wonder Woman apron Joseph got for him on a whim three months ago over Josephâs soft old university hoodie, and must be due for a haircut, because his fringe is tied up into a tiny ponytail on the top of his head, which is both ridiculous and somehow endearing.
And suddenly, just like that, itâs like all of Josephâs worries fling themselves out the window.
âHey, Caesar,â he says without really thinking about it, still distracted by the fuzzy feeling in his chest. âWanna go out with me?â
Caesar pauses, surprised, but doesnât freak out like Joseph half-thought he might. âLike on a date?â he asks slowly.
Joseph feels like he should be concerned about how calm he is about all this. âYeah, like a date.â
Caesar eyes him suspiciously, like he thinks Joseph is joking, but something about Josephâs expression must convince him, because a small, hesitant smile starts to grow on his face. âSure,â he says, awed, like he doesnât quite believe whatâs happening.
Joseph canât stop the grin that takes over his features. âTomorrow?â he asks hopefully, wondering if itâs too soon.
âTonight?â Caesar suggests, uncharacteristically shy. Itâs unbearably cute.
âTonight it is,â Joseph agrees, and marvels at the way Caesarâs eyes light up when he grins.
Josephâs phone buzzes loudly.
I told you so, Josukeâs sent him, sounding smug even over text.
Too busy making out with my hot boyfriend to care, Joseph texts back, and promptly loses his phone under a sofa cushion.
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!!!! Thanks anon! DIOmestic is still one of my absolute faves to this day. It was kinda tough to write since I know absolutely nothing about kids! Iâm glad you enjoyed it~ đ
the one where jotaro is socially awkward and just wants kakyoin to notice him
Chapter 3: heart attack point
(read it on AO3)
I am aware that it has been Far Too Long since this updated. BUT HEY itâs here now so please take it and donât kill me ahahAHA
Jotaro had been feeling pretty good about how things were progressing with Kakyoin. The Hogsmeade trip had gone well. Kakyoin was almost constantly wearing the cherry earrings when he wasnât in class. Theyâd continued making awkward small talk over their silver cauldrons in Potions. Things were fine. Comfortable, even.
It was just that.
Well.
It had been a whole week since their Hogsmeade trip, and at this point Jotaro was half-convinced heâd dreamt the whole thing, because nothing had changed. He was no expert, but wasnât it supposed to get easier after taking the first step? Was he supposed to keep making moves? Or was it better to wait and let Kakyoin respond?
Jotaro flicked his wand with more force than strictly necessary. The leatherbound book he was supposed to be Summoning into his hands instead flung itself into Smokey Brownâs face.
âSorry,â he mumbled.
âSâfine, Iâm used to it,â wheezed Smokey, clutching his bloody nose. The Hufflepuff was good friends with Joseph, so Jotaro wasnât terribly concernedâ a broken nose certainly wasnât the worst injury heâd ever suffered, Jotaro was sure of it.
âDonât get your blood on the books, boy,â snapped Dio. âGo on, you know where to find Madam Pendleton, shoo!â Under Dioâs withering glare, Smokey hastily shoved his things into his bag and hurried out of the classroom. âAnd you,â Dio hissed, turning to Jotaro sternly.
Jotaro stared back at him blankly, ready to be lecturedâ but then Dioâs hawk, Pet Shop, gave a shrill screech from the corner of the room, signalling the end of class. Jotaro raised his eyebrows at Dio innocently and started putting his things away. Dioâs upper lip curled in distaste. âCome see me at lunch,â he growled, then spun on his heel and stalked away with a flourish.
Jotaro rolled his eyes. What a drama queen.
--
âSit down, Jotaro,â said Dio airily, voice silky smooth, when Jotaro reluctantly showed up to see him at lunch.
Jotaro remained standing, his hands shoved into his pockets. âWhat do you want?â he asked bluntly. No point being respectful to Dio, of all people.
âNo need to be so hostile,â he sniffed, lacing his fingers together under his chin. âAs your teacher and cousin-in-law, Iâm simply concerned for your wellbeing. Youâre normally excellent at Charms, but youâve been off all weekâ and today you gave a kid a bloody nose!â
Jotaro resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably. He really didnât want to talk about it with Dio. âMaybe the kid was pissing me off.â
Dio remained unfazed. âYou usually prefer using your fists to resolve those sorts of issues,â he pointed out. Sharp as ever. What a pain.
âJust give me a detention,â Jotaro told him, already turning to leave Dioâs office.
âWait.â It said volumes about Dioâs terrifying aura of authority that the mere sound of it made Jotaro stop in his tracks. He was still half-convinced that Dio had some kind of magic to make himself seem more intimidating. He wouldnât put it past him, honestly.
âYou can deal with me,â Dio continued coolly, âor I can get Jonathan and Holly involved.â
Jotaro cringed at the thought. Bad as Dio was, at least he would probably deem the whole thing a waste of his precious time and send Jotaro away in disgust. Jonathan and his mother, on the other hand, would definitely stick their noses into everything and destroy Jotaroâs life by mortifying him at every turn.
Still, discussing his love life with Dio? Not something heâd ever wanted to do in his life, ever.
âItâs not a big deal,â Jotaro grumbled, embarrassed.
âThen tell me,â Dio insisted, leaning back in his chair. His stupid face was smug, like he knew heâd won. (He had, of course, but that didnât mean Jotaro had to like it.)
I have a crush, he mumbled, but the words turned into grunts somewhere along Jotaroâs throat and refused to make themselves coherent.
âIâm sorry, what was that?â
Jotaro glared, then slumped into a chair, defeated.
Dio, astonishingly, took pity. âIs this about that boy we saw you with in Hogsmeade?â he asked, sounding bored.
âNo,â mumbled Jotaro. The Sneakoscope on Dioâs desk started screeching at the blatant lie. Not that Dio didnât already know Jotaro was lying.
Dio made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. âThatâs a terribly dull problem to have,â he told Jotaro derisively. âSo mundane. Why canât teenagers worry about more important things, like whether or not killing a dog because it was bothering you is morally correctââ
âThat doesnât need much thoughtââ
âAnyway, even though your little crush is dreadfully boring,â at this Dio rolled his eyes like it was physically paining him just to think about it, âfortunately for you, I am a benevolent cousin-in-law. My advice is at your disposal. Be grateful.â
Jotaro narrowed his eyes at Dio in suspicion. He didnât trust any advice from Dio, not unless it had to do with Charms. Then again, he and Jonathan had gone from sworn enemies to husbands, so maybe he did know something about romance. He must have done something; it certainly wasnât his winning personality that made Jonathan fall in love with him.
âDonât look at me like that,â Dio snapped, then plastered a smarmy smirk onto his face. âThe boyâs a Slytherin, yes? Then itâs simple. Listen to me, Jotaro: what Slytherins want most, more than anything, is to win.â
Jotaro frowned. âSo you want me to let him win,â Jotaro said slowly, confused. He was pretty much doing that on accident anyway in Potions, since he was so absolutely pants at it.
Dio tutted at him like he was a particularly slow child. âNo, no,â he huffed impatiently. âEvery Slytherin has something theyâre proud of, something they want and expect to win at all the time. To catch your boyâs attention, all you have to do is find out what heâs proud of and make him taste utter defeat.â
That⌠wasnât what Jotaro expected. Was this how Jonathan had caught Dioâs attention? By utterly defeating him in something Dio was proud of? (Though, to be fair, Dio always had to be the best at everything. Jonathan would only have had to be better than him at one little insignificant detail.)
Dio wasnât finished. âItâs likely that the boy has pride in his academics,â he said thoughtfully, which, yeah, Jotaro could see that. âIâm sure you already know this, but heâs the brightest kid in your year. Youâve been coasting along on natural talent, but youâll have to work harder to impress this one. So,â ah, and here it came, the reason Dio was being so strangely helpful, âyou should come along to Dio Club.â
Jotaroâs face wrinkled in disgust of its own accord. He knew there was some ulterior motive behind this benevolence.
âBefore you turn me down,â Dio quickly added, âyour little boyfriend shows up to every single meeting. Think about it properly, Jotaro. Youâll be honing your magical ability, which will improve your grades as well as impress him, and youâll get to spend time with him an extra two hours twice a week. There are no downsides.â
Youâre the downside, Jotaro thought at him grumpily, but kept it to himself. Dio, unfortunately, had a point. He hated the thought of giving up his free time to do extra lessons with Dio, butâŚ
Ugh.
âIâll come,â Jotaro mumbled, regretting it already.
âYes,â hissed Dio, actually fist-pumping into the air like the lame nerd he was. âIâll see you in my classroom no later than half-past. Run along now, go eat something before break ends, or Jonathan will have my head.â
Jotaro just stood up and left without a word. The things he did for Kakyoin, honestly.
--
âOh!â exclaimed Kakyoin, eyes (adorably) wide with surprise, when Jotaro entered the Charms classroom at half past four. âJotaro, what are you, uh, doing here?â
Play it cool. âIsnât this Dio Club,â Jotaro grunted, as casual as possible, looking around the room. There were only eight or nine students present, including himself. He recognised everyone present as fourth or fifth years; mostly Slytherins and Ravenclaws, but there was a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor making conversation in the corner of the room. Pretty low attendance; not surprising, considering how much of a jerk Dio was.
âW-Well, yes, but,â Kakyoin was still flustered. He had to stop. Jotaro was going to die, he was too cute. âYouâ Youâve never come before.â
Jotaro shrugged. âNever had a reason to,â he said honestly, looking Kakyoin right in the eyeâ then cleared his throat because that was the most embarrassing thing to say in this situation and oh Merlin Kakyoin probably knew Jotaro had a huge crush on him now oh no quick he should say something, anything, to cover it upâ
Kakyoin flushed red and ducked his head shyly. Jotaroâs brain short-circuited. Whatever casual excuse he was about to make died in his throat.
He was so far gone, it wasnât even funny.
âGood afternoon, students,â Dio announced, sweeping into the room with a flourish of his long, dark robes. His stupid smirk grew into a smug grin when his eyes landed on Jotaro. Jotaro resisted the urge to make a rude gesture at him. âAre we all ready to learn some real magic?â
The answering murmur was a tiny sound, but Dio didnât seem to care. âExcellent,â he said, rubbing his hands together. âDraw your wands and pair up, please.â
Jotaro glanced at Kakyoin nervously. Would Kakyoin want to pair up? After all, he probably had his own friends here at Dio Club, since he was a regular. Not that any of the other kids seemed particularly intent on being paired with Kakyoin, even the Slytherins. Maybe Jotaro was intimidating them? He did sometimes have that effect on people. His eyes drifted over to the Ravenclaws. Maybe he should pair up with one of them�
âUm, want to be partners?â Kakyoin asked kindly, probably noticing Jotaroâs hesitance. Jotaroâs heart gave a loud thump. This was a terrible idea. Jotaro was going to expire on the spot if Kakyoin kept being this perfect.
âSure,â Jotaro grunted nonchalantly, shoving one hand in his pocket and drawing his wand with the other, like he wasnât absolutely freaking out right now. Kakyoin shot him a tiny smile with a glance out of the corner of his eye before turning his attention back to Dio. Jotaro nearly exploded.
âAlright,â Dio said, clapping his hands together, oblivious to Jotaroâs woe. âProfessor ACDC would tell you that human transfiguration is âvery advanced magicâ and shouldnât be attempted until youâre sixth years. Thatâs condescending and untrue, because whatâs important with this, and generally all magic, is dedication. If you donât care about screwing up, if you donât practice, then your spells fall to pieces. The consequences are just a little bit more⌠extreme with human transfiguration.â
The Hufflepuff let out a little squeak of fright. Jotaro could understand that sentiment; he remembered seeing Dio himself stomping around the Joestar mansion with a dinosaur tail for three whole days when he made Jonathan mad that one Christmas.
âThatâs why,â Dio continued, a terrifying glint in his eye, âI hope youâve paired up with a good friend, because youâre going to be transfiguring each other today.â
A horrified silence fell across the room for a momentâ then everyone broke out into worried chatter. Jotaro felt faint. What kind of transfiguration were they doing? Heâd heard from his cousins that they usually started off with changing the colour of their own eyebrows, but would Dio make them do something harder? What if he asked them to, like, transfigure their limbs? What if Jotaro permanently disfigured Kakyoin?! Oh, Merlin, Jotaro knew coming to Dio Club was a bad ideaâ
âNow, now,â Dio raised his voice over the racket, sounding surprisingly patient. âNone of you brats will be able to do anything that I or Madam Pendleton canât fix. Of course, it might take a few days, and could potentially be pretty painful to put right, butââ
âProfessor,â interrupted the daring Gryffindor, voice calm as she patted the back of her Hufflepuff friend comfortingly, âyouâre positively evil.â
Dio just grinned at her. âFlattery,â he said, voice honey-sweet, âwill get you nowhere.â
--
Jotaro was convinced that Dio was a sadistic jerk who was out to embarrass Jotaro in front of Kakyoin, because he decided to âstart them off easyâ and have them change the colour of each otherâs skin. Significantly easier than growing a limb, he told them, which theyâd be doing next week. Jotaro shuddered to think what kind of limb Dio would make them grow.
Having a task to focus on that required more concentration than mincing roots or juicing beetles was immensely helpful in reducing the awkward nervousness Jotaro normally felt when he was anywhere within five feet of Kakyoin. Of course, the task itself was pure torture, because failing at it wasnât a very impressive show of magic, but succeeding meant heâd turned Kakyoinâs skin a strange colour, which was a burden he wasnât sure if he could shoulder.
Not that he had to worry about succeeding all that much, because it took him the better part of the two hour session to get the hang of it. Which was embarrassing, because it had taken Kakyoin half that time. Kakyoin had outright laughed at him when heâd finally succeeded in turning Jotaroâs skin an even shade of lilac. It was a charming laugh, and heâd apologised right after, but it was still enough to make Jotaro flush with shame. At least it made him feel better about the amused snort he was unable to suppress when he managed to turn Kakyoin emerald green. Though, honestly, Kakyoin bore it a lot less awkwardly than Jotaro had, admiring the rich hue of his skin and comparing it to the Slytherin green accents on his uniform.
Jotaro hated to admit it, but Dio Club had actually been⌠fun. Sure, Dioâd had to remove those yellow pus-filled boils from that one Ravenclaw whose partner had gotten a little too excited, but everyone else was careful enough that nothing too terrible happened. Before Jotaro knew it, Pet Shop was screeching for the end of the session and students were rushing out of the door, eager to get to the Dining Hall (and away from Dio, no doubt).
âGoing straight to dinner?â Kakyoin asked casually, fiddling with the strap of his bag.
Did that mean he wanted to walk together? That was a natural thing to do, right? Jotaro busied himself with tucking his bookbag under his arm as he mulled his response over. If Polnareff or Joseph noticed them coming into the Dining Hall together, theyâd never shut up about it. Then again, half an hour into dinner theyâd probably be too busy stuffing their faces to notice, soâŚ
âYeah,â Jotaro said awkwardly. âYou?â
âOh, same,â was Jotaro projecting or did Kakyoin look pleased at his answer? âShould we walk together?â
Jotaro nodded, hiding his face under his cap. His palms were sweaty; his heart was pounding double-time. Get a grip, he told himself fiercely. Youâve literally spent a whole day walking around with him, why is this flustering you?!
âI suggest you two walk together out of my classroom,â said Dio, because he was a terrible person who lived to cause others misery. âI havenât had my dinner yet, either, you know.â
Jotaro glared at him. Dio blinked at him innocently. This is why nobody comes to Dio Club, Jotaro thought at him aggressively. Jerk.
âLetâs go,â he murmured to Kakyoin, and purposefully brushed Dioâs shoulder on his way out.
âCheeky brat!â Dio sneered from behind them.
Jotaro stopped short and turned to look at Dio over his shoulder. âFlattery will get you nowhere,â he quipped, and barely caught sight of Dioâs smirk melting off his face before he was striding away, hands in his pockets.
âSick burn,â whispered Kakyoin with a thrilled grin when he caught up to Jotaro a few moments later.
Jotaro tugged the brim of his cap down to hide the little grin on his face. He had to agree, it was pretty sick.
âAreâ Are you smiling?!â Kakyoin demanded, craning his neck to peer at Jotaroâs face. âOh my god, are you actuallyâ?â
Jotaroâs expression morphed back into its usual poker face. âNo,â he said stubbornly.
Kakyoin laughed, the sound echoing around the empty hallway like a church bell. âYou so were,â he teased, and oh Merlin, he was teasing Jotaro, this wasâ this was itâ how was Jotaro supposed to deal with thisâ
âWhatâre you so happy about, Mudblood?â sneered an unfamiliar, scathing voice to their left. Jotaro felt himself tense at the slur, all traces of amusement draining out of his body. He vaguely recognised the Slytherin sixth-year whoâd spokenâ Steely Dan, if Jotaro wasnât mistakenâ but not the two large lackeys standing beside him like bodyguards. âBetter wipe that smile off your face, thereâs no dinner for Muggle filth tonight.â
Jotaro drew his wand smoothly, a curse ready on his lipsâ but Kakyoin stopped him with a light touch on his arm. Jotaro frowned at him, confusedâ but it was like a mask had fallen over Kakyoinâs face, smooth and unreadable. His blank expression sent chills down Jotaroâs spine.
âOh, afraid weâll hurt your new attack dog?â Steely Dan mocked. âWhat are you doing hanging around this thing, anyway, Kujo? Never took you for a blood traitor.â
Jotaro said nothing, eyes flicking carefully between Kakyoin and the sixth years. Kakyoin wasnât the brawling type, but if a fight broke out Jotaro had great faith in his combative abilities, both magical and physicalâ which was more than could be said for these wimps, raised on Earl Grey and magic.
âWhat, are the both of you mute now?â Steely Dan spat scornfully. âOh, or have you realised how lowly you are in the face of real purebloodsââ
âWhat was it you called me?â Kakyoin interrupted suddenly, voice cool. âI donât think the message has quite sunken in yet, you should tell me again. Louder.â
What was he doing? Jotaroâs eyes roved over Kakyoinâs face, trying to find some clue as to his plan.
âYou trying to be smart?â snarled Steely Dan, eyes suddenly dangerous. âYou think youâre so clever, so witty, huh, you disgusting Mudbloodââ
The word had barely left his lips before Kakyoin was waving his wand with a graceful flourish. Jotaro watched with growing fascination as Steely Danâs skin turned a frankly horrifying sea of neon bright colours. It was almost artistic, in a tie-dye sort of way.
âHmm,â said Kakyoin thoughtfully, stroking his chin. âIt suits you, I think.â
Steely Dan stared at his hands in horror, dumbstruck. His mouth fell open, starting to shriekâ
âSilencio,â drawled Kakyoin, flicking his wand sharply, and the sixth-year fell silent. Excellent charmwork there, Jotaro noted. Dio would have been proud.
The lackeys gaped at one another for a moment, then scrambled to draw their wands. Jotaro went to step forwards, ready to punch their lights out before they could utter a single spell, but Kakyoin stopped him yet again, this time by grasping Jotaroâs elbow, gentle but firm. It really wasnât the time for it, but Jotaroâs heart couldnât help but skip a beat.
Suddenly, there was a flash of red light, and all their wands went flying out of their handsâ into Jonathanâs.
âThat is quite enough,â he announced firmly, putting his large body between Kakyoin and tie-dye boy. âYou know we cannot tolerate the use of derogatory language here. Detention, one month. All three of you!â
All three boys gaped at Jonathan in horror. Steely Dan was the first to recover, whacking his lackey the arm none-too-gently.
âB-But Professor!â protested Lackey #1, on cue. âWhat about the Muâ what about him?â
âY-Yeah!â agreed Lackey #2 with a nasally whine after a glare from Steely Dan. âIs he going to get away scot free for turning the Bossâ skin rainbow?!â
âShould we make it two monthsâ detention?â Jonathan suggested coolly, and the lackeys fell silent. Steely Dan pulled a face like heâd just eaten something truly disgusting. It suited him, in Jotaroâs opinion. âThatâs what I thought. Go on then, off to Madam Pendleton with you. Iâm keeping your wands for now; come to my office and get them before class tomorrow.â
The Slytherins grumbled, but left for the Hospital Wing, shooting hateful glares at Kakyoin and Jotaro. Jotaro stared back impassively, unfazed.
âYou two alright?â Jonathan asked worriedly once the bullies were gone, crowding in close to fuss like the mother hen he was. Jotaro glared at him to make him back off, and Jonathan did, wearing a sheepish smile.
âWeâre fine,â said Kakyoin, and ah, the perfectly pleasant, polite Kakyoin was back. âThank you, Professor.â
âOh, donât worry about it,â Jonathan insisted, offering them their wands from the bundle in his hand. âIâm just glad I happened to be walking past!â
âYes, a lucky coincidence,â agreed Kakyoin, smiling cryptically. Which was kind of weird, but Jotaro shrugged it off.
âThose three have been causing trouble for Muggleborns, left, right and center. Iâve spoken to them several times, but nothing seems to have stuckâŚâ Jonathan sighed, shaking his head. âMaybe Iâll get Dio to talk to them.â
Jotaro snorted. Any talking Dioâd be doing to those kids was more likely to be torture. Being Muggleborn himself, Dio was known to come down hard on anyone who used the m-slur. Steely Dan and his lackeys were either extremely brave or extremely stupid to go around harassing Muggleborns when Dio was their Head of House.
âRight then, I shanât keep you any longer,â Jonathan said, beaming at them. âYou boys must be famished. Go on, then, before the Dining Hall closes.â
âThanks, professor,â said Kakyoin. Jotaro nodded at him in gratitude, then Jonathan was hurrying down the corridors and disappearing around a corner.
Jotaro blinked after him. Where was he off to in such a rush?
âProbably doesnât want to keep his husband waiting,â Kakyoin said, as if heâd read Jotaroâs mind. âProfessor Jonathan always waits for Dio Club to finish before leaving his office, so they can eat together. Itâs sweet.â
âHow do you know that?â Jotaro asked, vaguely horrified, meaning both how Kakyoin knew what he was thinking and how he knew the details of his cousinâs marriage.
âI always see him on the way back from Dio Club,â Kakyoin replied. And then, with a sly side-glance that set butterflies loose in Jotaroâs stomach, âAnd your face is surprisingly easy to read once you get used to it.â
Jotaro turned away abruptly, tugging his hat low over his face to hide how red he was turning. âLetâs go to dinner,â he said loudly at the wall.
Kakyoin laughed, the sound bright and warm and delighted. âAre you embarrassed?â he teased, but thankfully didnât push Jotaro any further. âAlright, letâs go.â
They walked to the Dining Hall side by side, comfortably silent. Jotaro thought about reaching out and catching Kakyoinâs hand in his.
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âleave me,â hisses rohan, blood dripping down his face. âget out of here!â
josukeâs hands are wet with blood. he canât get a good grip on the debris thatâs crushing rohanâs legs. âiâm not leaving,â josuke snaps. thereâs no way to use crazy diamond without risking all sorts of shit getting fused to rohanâs body, shit that could be fatal. his hands are shaking at the thought of rohan- no. no, theyâll make it through this, just- as long as he can get a few large pieces out of the way-
âheâs coming,â rohan snarls, vicious even as he gasps in pain. âyouâll be killed if you stay here-â
âiâm not leaving you to die,â josuke shouts, voice raw and desperate. âcâmon, how- how stupid are you to think that?!â
rohan huffs in a weak imitation of a laugh. âyouâre the stupid one,â he wheezes, his eyes already starting to glaze over.
ârohan,â josuke gasps shakily. âstay with me, câmon, iâm gonna get you outta here in no time, you gotta stay awake, rohan, please-â
âno,â breathes rohan, his eyes locking with josukeâs. âyouâre not.â
âwhat-â
âheavenâs door.â and suddenly the little stand appears with a flash of gold and josuke feels his face turn to paper.
âwhat are you doing,â josuke gasps as rohan reaches out with one shaky, bloody finger.
âsaving your life,â chokes rohan, and his hand falls to the ground.
josukeâs body stands and starts walking away. âwhat did you write?â josuke demands, trying to turn around, to go back, to save rohan. âwhat have you done?!â
rohan doesnât reply. josuke screams and curses and cries but nothing can stop his legs from carrying him further and further away, away from danger.Â
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Note:Â Rohan's mental state is not in the best place in this fic. If that sort of thing makes you squicky, please give this one a pass.Â
Rohan knows that he is difficult, that he is an asshole and a weirdo and a sick bastard. The names have certainly been thrown at him more than once before, from more than one source. Itâs an image he takes pride in and cultivates carefully. He keeps people out, keeps them away from him, distances himself from anyone and everyone who could possibly care. Heâs alone, and he likes it that way.
(he doesnât want to be hurt, doesnât want to hurt anyone, doesnât want to lose himself in his work and resurface to red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked faces, telling him that heâs uncaring strange abnormal impossiblecrazyfreak)
Rohan knows from the moment Josuke steps into that trick room to defend him that he absolutely cannot allow Josuke to get close. Josuke has made it clear that he doesnât like Rohan, and yet he is not afraid, does not believe Rohanâs words, would rather ignore Rohanâs warnings and risk his life than leave Rohan to the mercy of Highway Star. The move is stupid, and impulsive, and could have gotten him killed along with Rohan, but the sentiment is overwhelming.
(it makes rohan feel like somebody cares about him)
No, Josuke cannot come close.
(this is why rohan made friends with koichi and no other, because koichi is too nice, too polite; he canât understand rohanâs darkness, canât break down rohanâs walls, will never see rohan as more than a person to be tolerated)
Josuke, of course, ignores Rohan, comes crashing into his life with bashful apologies and determined friendliness. There hasnât been a decent person I havenât been able to make friends with, he tells Rohan with a grin, strongarming his way into Rohanâs house with a game system.
Iâm not a decent person, Rohan says, watching him hook the system up to Rohanâs TV with quick, deft fingers that have saved lives.
Okay, Josuke says agreeably, already sprawled out comfortably on the sofa with the controller in his hands. Then kick me out.
Rohan falters. He is too rotten for the warmth of friendship, but he is also too rotten to chase it out when it has (finally, finally) made itself at home in his cold, empty house.
Donât make too much noise, he grumbles, and disappears into his workroom.
Rohan listens to the sounds of Oh! Thatâs A Baseball!! 99 from his living room all afternoon. He doesnât draw a single page.
(maybe josuke doesnât hate me, a quiet voice in his mind says. the thought thrills and terrifies him)
Somehow, for some reason, Josuke doesnât stop. He keeps coming over, keeps forcing his way into Rohanâs life, keeps breaking down Rohanâs carefully constructed barriers. Just kick me out if you donât want me here, Josuke says, like itâs that simple, that easy to do.
(rohan wants to kick him out, but heâs afraid josuke will never come backâ)
He tests the boundaries of what Rohan will allow, pushes them as far as possible before Rohan snaps.
The boundaries are unnervingly flexible.
(âjosuke always does.)
It feels slow, gradual, the way Josuke lures Rohan out of his workroom, out of his comfort zone. He pesters Rohan into going out to eat ramen in the evening. He whines and demands a rematch when Rohan beats him at video games. He comes over with soup from his mom and good-natured ribbing when Rohan falls sick. He drags out the kotatsu when itâs barely turned autumn, and naps under it like itâs his own house.
He brings Okuyasu and Koichi over to study around Rohanâs warm kotatsu. They smile at Rohan like they havenât before, bright and open and honest. Okuyasu says Rohan is a pretty nice guy underneath his scary prickly cactus needles. Josuke snickers, I told you so!
He wonât be so nice if you keep calling him a cactus, Koichi says dryly, like heâs defending Rohan. Rohan expects Okuyasu to flinch and apologise hastily. Okuyasu just barks out a laugh and tells Rohan, sorry, dude, you know I didnât mean it like that.
Itâs far too casual and not at all respectful, but⌠Rohan finds he doesnât mind.
Rohan thinks, privately, that this might be what friendship feels like.
(you donât need friends, his brain says coldly. it would be nice, a tiny voice in his chest whispers.)
One day, it storms outside. One day, Josuke gently grasps Rohanâs hand. One day, Josuke murmurs sweet words against Rohanâs fingers. One day, Josuke brushes wet hair out of Rohanâs eyes, drags soft fingertips across Rohanâs face, looks at Rohan like heâs something to be treasured, something to be loved.
And Rohan is so scared, so afraid, so terrifiedâ
(âhe canât lose a friend, not his first, best friend, not for something like love, so fickle, so fleetingâ)
Itâs okay, Josuke whispers, pressing butterfly kisses to Rohanâs knuckles. His breath is warm, soothing, reminds Rohan to breathe. He says quietly, kick me out and nothing changes.
Rohan doesnât want to kick him out, but after so long of basking in the warmth of friendship, heâs afraid love will be something different, something worseâ
Let me stay and weâll give it a try, Josuke continues, squeezing Rohanâs hand lightly.
And if Iâ if it fucks up? Rohan whispers, so full of doubt and fear.
Then everything goes back to the way it was, Josuke says, like itâs so simple, so easy.
Rohan looks at him, and thinks: this is the boy who would give his life for a man he hated, this is the boy who put life into a cold, dead house, this is the boy who pushed past my defences to be my friend.
And somehow, somewhere in Rohanâs chest, his heart of stone starts to soften and beat again, strong and steady and sure.
âStay,â he says softly, and Josuke does.
(They kiss that night, awkward and fumbling, and Rohan feels warm and loved and cherished and wanted.
I donât deserve you, he whispers when he thinks Josuke canât hear.
âYou deserve everything and more,â Josuke whispers back, and kisses him again.)
 Rohan isnât sure yet, but he thinks he might be happy.