jjba fics and inserts

Happy Halloween, everyone! You’re invited to the Kishibe’s party at the SPW Morioh foundation tonight–hope you have a great evening and enjoy the big news! 💚☺️ Also, this fic was another wonderful collaboration with @dongiovannaswife​!! ty bb, ily!!! 🧡🎃

Finishing his hand wrap, Giorno looks up in time as Rohan comes into the sparring room, fixing his tank top. Looking up, he smiles in a silent greeting. Giorno nods, stepping back and taking his shirt off. He throws it into his bag, clenching his fists to make sure the wrappings are adjusted just as he likes it.

“Ready?” Asks Rohan, making sure his training gloves feel good around his wrists —he’s stepping into the assigned space to train, a smirk as he reaches a fist out to Giorno.

The Don smirks back, stepping into the area too. “Why, of course~” he extends his fist out too, and they share a fist bump.

Jumping into position, Giorno’s smirk grows as Rohan does the same, although the mangaka adds, “I like the details of your owl.”

Giorno noods, “Thank you —took a few sessions to get it done—” he dodges Rohan’s fist, throwing a punch back and getting it blocked right after. He puts distance again, talking as he studies Rohan’s guard, looking for a place to attack and strike effectively.

“But in the end, it was worth it.”

He finally launches another punch, stopping before he gets to hit Rohan’s ribs.

Rohan sighs, jumping back so he doesn’t risk getting another of Giorno’s attacks, adding, “Yeah. I was actually thinking of finishing mine.” He steps closer as he notices Giorno’s frown, throwing a punch that grazes his oponents’ face.

“What do you mean finishing yours? You have one?”

Here is the really long Prosciutto fic that I’ve been working on amidst finals. Here’s the thing: you’ll see it’s another dramatic telling of a La Squadra childhood, using the name HCs I posted. I just couldn’t get this out of my head but I don’t want to be known as a one-trick pony. 

Anyway, without further ado: Prosciutto X Reader (4.5k words)

CWs: parent/child arguing, smoking, not sfw-ish

“And they all lived happily ever after. The end.”

1980. The young woman closed the book and looked down at the two contrasting faces of the two children before her. One of them, her daughter, was grinning ear to ear in excitement, her cheeks beautifully rosied in wishful thinking. The other, her beloved son, about three years younger and five years old, in disgust at the romantic fluff, his little overbite biting into his lip in thought, a tick he always had. 

“Oh… what I’d do to have a happy ending like that…” 

The little girl hummed pleasantly, standing up from her spot and swaying back and forth as if dancing with her imaginary prince. Her younger brother rolled his eyes and laid back in his bed as his sister waltzed with herself across the bedroom floor. 

“Lucia that’s enough excitement for one night. Come join Andino, that story was supposed to put you to sleep.” 

The little girl pouted. “But I can’t just go to bed now. Not when I’m picturing the perfect romance with my future husband and me!”

A young man came up behind his wife and they together stared down at their children in bed with loving smiles. Still, the little boy wasn’t having any of it, he was too tired. 

“Will you knock it off Lucia?” The little girl ignored him.

“Oh, it’ll be perfect! He’ll be just like daddy and take out all of the bad people in the city. Then my love’ll meet me and the two of us will fall madly in love under our hero names until we’re finally ready to settle down and then, there’s gonna be all these fireworks, he’ll whisper his real name to me and we live happily ever after. Ah! It’s so romantic!” 

The little boy’s interest remained peaked, turning over to his sister at that last part. 

“What do you mean his real name? You’re gonna marry someone and you don’t even know their name?” 

His sister rolled her eyes and shook her head at her silly younger brother, all while their parents look at each other, perplexed how their daughter knew such a mature practice. The father cleared his throat and knelt down to his son. 

“You see well… there’s this common practice that since it’s dangerous to do what I do, I have to stick with my ‘hero’ name during most times of the day. When I was younger, before I met mom, I went by my hero name at all times for safety. It’s a show of love son, to tell someone your real name. It shows that you’re willing to trust someone with your true self, even when others want to use your true self against you. I love your mother, and I trust her. And one day you’ll meet a girl who you’ll trust, and as an ultimate vow, you’ll tell her your real name. And if she’s a ‘hero’ as well, then she’ll tell you her real name. And Lucia will one day have a man say his real name to her. It’s the ultimate show of trust.”

The little boy sat in his bed stunned, infatuated with the idea of one day meeting someone that he could put his true self towards. Staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom after everyone had left, he vowed to himself that he would find this girl one day if it was the last thing he did. 

Happy birthday to the awesome, talented and kind @star-birthmark! I hope you've had a good day with your loved ones, I hope you know how amazing you are. I wrote this as a gift, and I hope it makes up for everything because you deserve great and cute things. 💗

7:10 PM. October 19.

“Deb.” he calls out loud, fixing his son's shirt as the boy stands before him in a chair, their daughter closely waiting for him to do her hair —she had asked for a braid, something he was grateful for, since other hairstyles were a bit too much for him even after all the practice. He could not explain the reason.

Deborah Kujo hums from their bedroom, fixing her earrings before the mirror. Watching one last time over her election of clothes, she turns around finally, coming into the kitchen. The image of Juro smiling at her with wide eyes full of excitement makes her grin —next, the image of her husband frowning slightly as he finishes Tamara's hairstyle has her stopping to watch, a hand against her chest were her heart beats fast —a smile reaching her eyes.

“Dad, mom's readyyyyy!” Juro intends to call for his dad in a whisper, but it comes out loudly. It makes Deb laugh quietly as Jotaro finally looks up along Tamara —the little girl grinning and pointing at her recently made braid.

“Ready?” asks Jotaro, eyes sparkling with adoration —he can't hide his emotions like he used to. She makes him want to tear up, to scream and laugh. Makes him feel better with just a glance. Not like a medicine, not a cure, but the person who made him grow, become a better man.

“Of course.” she says back, grabbing Juro's hand.

aka “leo can’t find any ask memes he actually likes so he makes one of his own”

~if you’re an adult who self ships romantically with minors you’d better not fucking interact with this post~

black - how do you and your f/o comfort each other during rough times?

dim gray - what do you two wear to formal events? what kinds of formal events do you go to together?

eggshell - how do you show each other that you trust one another?

beau blue - what would the both of you do together on a lazy summer afternoon?

french blue - after you two have gone stable, what kinds of dates do you go on?

indigo - who says ‘i love you’ first? how does it happen?

electric violet - what’s something odd, extravagant, or thrilling that you and your f/o like to do sometimes?

lilac - what’s something that makes you and/or your f/o nostalgic?

tea rose - when you and your f/o first get together, how do you act towards each other in terms of affection? is it awkward? does it come naturally?

wild watermelon - what’s both of your dream vacations like? do you agree on the location/activities?

jasper - how fast do you two take your relationship?

auburn - what’s one unhealthy or lavish food you can both agree is worth indulging in?

coffee - do either of you have a garden or any house plants? if so, how good are you at taking care of them?

flame - would you two be more prone to get up early and watch the sunrise or go out and watch the sunset? alternatively, would you stay up until the sunrise and then sleep 'till one?

bronze - do you and your f/o have any kinds of traditions you keep?

canary yellow - what are the silliest nicknames you and your f/o use for each other?

granny smith apple - if you and your f/o had to move someplace new, where would it be? why?

hunter green - what’s your favorite thing to do outdoors together?

mountain meadow - on a particularly cold, rainy, or otherwise stay-in-doors kind of day, what activities do you do with your f/o?

Deb ( @star-birthmark​ ) your comment on this post made me come up with a wild headcanon:

Sadly he and Lisa were separated at birth 😔👊  Da Vinci trapped both her and Rohan in paintings with his stand “Winter” (like the Vivaldi concerto set,,,). When the paintings were stolen in 1911, his painting was bought by Florence dealers but Lisa was returned to the museum 😔 

- - - - -

“Hello?” 

“Hello Madam Kishibe. I was just calling in to see how Rohan was doing.”

The old woman, Rikona Kishibe, let out a sigh at Joseph Joestar, the voice at the other end of the line. It had only been a few days since the stand user had initially released the little boy from his painting, much to her and Tomoko Higashikata’s shock and confusion.  

“Well he’s doing fine. He’s definitely having a hard time adjusting to everything. The poor thing doesn’t know a word of Japanese, and none of us know a word of Italian, and the translator can only pick up so much you know?.” She muttered, heading down the hall to see her daughter, Nagisa Kishibe, dressing the little boy after a bath, the old woman’s heart warming as she watched the kid look at himself in the mirror in these strange new clothes. Well, they were strange to him, the long and flowy sleeves and pants of what he was used to, now swapped for a yellow striped t shirt and blue pajama shorts.

But he loved it, he loved how mobile he was now. How he could lay on the floor and not concern himself with getting his clothes dirty. How he felt the soft material of the bedroom carpet on his arms and legs, feeling as they tickle his skin and give him goosebumps. Rohan looked up to see the man and Nagisa staring down at him, one of the people that had taken him in, and the other the only one he could understand. Rohan let out a shy smile as he stood back up, looking at his feet. 

“Grazie mille signora.” He said with a small blush. 

“He says thank you.” Said the translator to Rikona’s daughter who replied humbly. 

“Non c'è problema.” Rohan nodded politely at those words, glad that the woman was glad.

Rikona turned back to the phone where Joseph was still on the phone. “He’s a good kid Joseph. He’s been nothing but sweet to us all, even if he is a little scared.”

Joseph nodded. “Yes... well it is at least good to know that he is doing well.” 

With that, the old man hung up and Rikona went to recline in the living couch. Soon after, her daughter came in with Rohan in tow, and the two of them sat together on the couch. Rohan watched as the old woman’s hands reached for the television remote, his whole body shaking with excited anticipation. 

The television, he thought reminder the translator say, was one of the things that the little boy found the most interesting from this new world. With one push of the button, the black box before him lit up in flashes of corner. Young Rohan flinched back a little, hiding his face in Rikona’s arm, still unused to the TV. But once he realized again that it was no harm to him, he scooted off the couch to sit right in front of the box. Flipping through the channels, Rikona’s stopped at an animated show, thinking that even if he couldn’t understand, that would what a child loves best. 

The three adults watched Rohan’s face light up with excitement at the fast paced action and dynamic music of the animation, leaning forward in his spot so that his elbows rested on his knees and his chin was in his hands and a big smile dawned his face. 

Every once in a while, the boy’s long hair would flutter in front of his eyes and he would clumsily brush them away so he could keep watching, only for them to come back. After several times of this reoccurring little fidget, Rikona stood up and came back with something to help the boy. Watching the old woman kneel down to be eye level with him, he gazed upon the blue headband in her hands. The whole thing was made of a thick piece of fabric, cut to have a chevron shape to it. Rohan looked back at the translator, who gave a curt nod, then Rohan did to. After a few moments, the headband was in his hair and the little boy was free to watch his cartoon without distraction. 

Finally, the Kishibe family went to tuck in the young boy for the night, with Rohan gushing rapidly about the animated show, and the translator speaking just as rapidly to keep up and convey the boy’s excitement. Just as Nagisa reached for the light switch though, the young boy flailed his arms around to grab her attention. 

“What is it?” 

“He says he wants to turn the lights off himself. He likes it.” 

The woman smiled and carried Rohan in her arms and he run his hand over the switch, yelping a bit as the room became cloudly with darkness. With a small giggle, he flicked the light back on, his eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden change, causing him to blink fast and rub his sore retinas with small fists. Finally tucking Rohan back in and turning the lights off, the family left Rohan to sleep for the night. 

It wasn’t until a few minutes later that young Rohan Kishibe arose from bed and rested his head against his windowsill, staring out into the Morioh night street. He wondered how these people managed to get their houses to all look the same, or why woman walking the streets were wearing pants and not dresses. The world had become so strange, the little boy thought to himself. Strange, but not bad. Not bad at all. 

What was the most odd, Rohan Kishibe thought to himself, was that the last thing he recalled before arriving to the present was a pair of eyes. The eyes of kind, brilliant man, someone trustworthy, someone who would protect him. Rohan felt a warm feeling fill his body whenever he looked into the old woman’s eyes. She was someone kind and brilliant and trustworthy, and surely she would protect and care for him too, with her strange clothes and strange words and even stranger television. 

@golden-narcissus ty for the tag!

Tagging:

@golden-narcissus (YES YOU YOU SWEET ANGEL) we haven't talked a lot besides that first conversation -but I hope you know I am moved by the fact that you like my writing. I hope we get to talk more someday. <3

@amethystsoda you're like,,,, the person who knows me the most here,,,, I trust you and love you so much ;w;

@star-birthmark you're always so creative and smart! I admire how smart you are --you're also super interesting and I wish we get to talk more <3 you've changed my vision of Jotaro too.

@sugartothewound You were one of the first persons I spoke to when I joined the community, you made me feel accepted and confident over my self ship.

@timorpanico you're an amazing, strong and kind person. I admire you for your will and strength and wish you know how good your art is!

@alittlewhitetulip you're always a warm, comforting and positive presence! I love talking with you, you're so smart and kind and I hope you know your value <3

LENA I TURN AWAY FROM HOMEWORK AND GO TO TUMBLR ONE TIME TONIGHT AND THIS IS WHAT I FIND???

No but really, thank you for the tag. You’re really the only friend that I’ve got on here, simply because I’m too busy with college to really build up friendships with mutuals, but you’re a far exception! I love being part of this self ship world with you and @softlimefluff​ lol maybe the three of us should work on something together??? I act like I have time for this stuff lol. I really want to keep working on our collab though, we should!