â Ëââ§ àŹł â§âË â Just simple Jojo fans with not so simple obsessions with JJBA. Please come to us for all of your headcanon and scenario needs! âĄ25⥠â Ëââ§ àŹł â§âË â REQUESTS OPEN!â Ëââ§ àŹł â§âË â
Welcome~! Here you'll find a (hopefully up-to-date) Collection of our masterlist and rules page. Thought it was high time to finally give this page a bit of a revamp - if you have any questions feel free to ask and I'll be happy to answer!
RULESđ§Ą
Please specify if you'd like a hc, drabble or fic - if there's no specification I'll just pick a format at random, usually hcs! Also my default for requests is gender neutral unless a gender is specified.
Feel free to request multiple characters from multiple parts! Just please keep in mind when requesting that the more characters per request the longer it may take me to write. Don't be afraid to send multiple requests too as I'm always up for a challenge.
If you have any questions at all don't be afraid to reach out and I'll be happy to clarify whatever you need. My posting may be a little inconsistent btw as I'm only able to write in my free time due to work so please bear with me if requests take a little longer than expected to complete.
Any requests or posts with potentially triggering content will be tagged accordingly with a big warning at the beginning - if you find any that aren't just let me know and I'll rectify that immediately. If I'm not comfortable writing for a particular topic or subject I'll make a note here as and when they crop up.
I write both NSFW and SFW, so expect to find both on this blog if you have a read through.
For Matchups - please include a small description of your preferences, hobbies, as well as a specific part (EG, part1 or 2 and so on) of Jojo you'd like to be matched for! This will give me a better idea of who I'd match you with, and make narrowing down a character a lot easier! (Especially with how many characters there are in the series as a whole!) The more information that you include, the better I can work to tailor it to you~!
I also do platonic matchups as well! Just be sure to mention that you'd prefer to keep it platonic in the ask!
MASTERLISTđ§Ą
For ease of access finding a particular character I'll be putting majority character requests in the first part they show up in (Like anything Jotaro or Polnareff related can usually be found in the Part 3 section of this masterlist unless it specifies a different part!)
NSFW is flagged with a đ
My Art Stuff where I doodle things can be found here!
Matchups can be found here!
The Love Letter Event can be found here!
đđ Sin Night events can be found here! đđ
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Masterlist: (All Posts can usually be found under the "Request" tag.)
Multiple Characters from multiple parts
Joseph, Josuke + Giorno body-swapping with S/O
Jotaro, Buccellati and Abbacchio asking out their crush
Josuke, Joseph + Caesar with crush trying to confess despite the language barrier
Drunk Jotaro, Kakyoin + Rohan with S/0
Jonathan, Speedwagon, Joseph + Caesar with horror-junkie S/O
Jonathan, Josuke + Jotaro seeing their S/O's scars from being clumsy/a rough past (tw: abuse)
Jotaro, Kakyoin, Josuke + Okuyasu with S/O's swarm stand
Jotaro, Kakyoin, Josuke + Okuyasu with swarm stand P2
All Jojo's + DIO getting a butt slap from their S/O
Kakyoin, Polnareff + Josuke playing just dance with S/O
Jotaro, Kakyoin, Josuke + Okuyasu being serenaded by S/O
Joseph, Speedwagon + Polnareff with S/O who often hums
Rohan, Josuke + Jotaro surprise blowjob from S/O đ
Jonathan, Joseph + Jotaro with S/O nervous/shy about relationships
Josuke + Jotaro making out with S/O hcs
P2 Joseph, 3taro + Josuke being asked out by confident crush
Jotaro, Kakyoin + Josuke with Aries S/O
Okuyasu, Josuke, Gyro + Josuke foodplay hcs đ
Josuke, Jotaro + Koichi with a crush who can use Hamon
Josuke + Giorno getting 'boof'd by their crush
Jotaro, Kakyoin, Josuke + Rohan with an S/O whose stand can fuse with other stands
Oooh, Caesar as a mer would be interesting too. Also funny idea, what if his pink cheek birthmarks were bioluminescent pff
:0
Anon your MIND. Imagine just minding your bisuness in the water looking down and just seeing two bright pink glowing marks - he can say goodbye to ever being subtle in dark waters lmao.
Thinking about Caesar with cute bioluminescent spots too I just had to draw it he'd look so cute!!
Ngl I always like to think about what kinda stand I'd have if I was in Jojo (or what'd just keep me alive tbh bc have you seen the track record for those guys? I choose life, thanks)
Always end up coming back to this one though from one of those b-day stand memes and messing around with the logistics of how it'd work - so have a couple doodles I made in the process!
Also working on some other oc stand users so look out for those too (which I also take requests for btw if you guys ever wanna see your ocs doodled I love hearing about them and their relationships with characters! đ
The Gold Wet's design belongs to the amazing @nitemaremotionless (hope youâre doing well btw Lily! đ§Ą)
Ok so mermay is over but Merman Joseph is so funny tho lol. Love that you kept the "crawling away while playing dead" part đ€Ł
What are your HCs for him? Imagine if after their little incident he becomes curious of Y/N and tries to see them again?
-Mermay may be over but mer AUs live in my heart and brain all year round anon. I'm glad you liked that part it honestly had me giggling the entire time writing it imagining it happening.
Went with some general hcs for Mer!Joseph, as well as how he'd be post-meeting!-
â Josephâs hotheaded nature comes mostly from being one of the only young mers in his pod growing up. Younger mers rely a lot on being socialized young, to acclimatize to different social climates but also to make it easier to integrate with other sea creatures and merfolk. This is typically accomplished within the local hierarchy, since a standard pod usually consists of many family units; and depending on the area and general population, maintaining connections with the other local pods is vital to avoiding conflict of interest.Â
â Joseph however grew up in a relatively small pod with just him, his grandmother and uncle Speedwagon, so Joseph can beâŠtouchy around others. Itâs not for lack of trying of course; Granny Erina and Speedwagon did their best to help him socialize amongst the mers that they knew, and often encouraged him to take a calmer approach. Try as they might, his reckless nature was just something that Joseph simply couldnât shake with age, and more often than not he puts his fin in it interacting with others.Â
â Itâs unspoken, but a lot of that is because Joseph is veeeery protective over his podmates. While Erina has been more than capable of caring for herself and those that have come and gone from their pod in her years, the poor mermaid has been through enough hardship to last a lifetime. The same goes for Speedwagon too, and Joseph will be damned if he doesnât make sure tragedy never befalls them again; if he happens to stir up trouble and twist up some fins for any other mers, so what?
â With that being said heâs still a troublemaker - will antagonize the bigger fish just for the hell of it, sunbathe on whaleback undeterred even when they roll him off or if heâs too close to the blowhole just straight up rocket him off. His granny warned him on getting close to humans, but of course those warnings could only stem the tide of his curiosity for so long (he thinks itâs because sheâs worried about what theyâd do to him if he got caught. Itâs actually because of what heâd do - which in the end only served as a self fulfilling prophecy.)
â Is on a larger scale compared to most merfolk in regards to size, which seeing his grandfather isnât all that surprising. Out of all of the joestars, Jonathan was certainly the largest mer of the bloodline but Joseph is a very close second. Has a brighter color scheme too - greens and teals with faint yellow patterning that are only really visible under bright, direct lighting.Â
â His tail and markings were a lot darker and duller when he was younger, as are most young mers in their early years. With time though as he grew his tail took on the bright hues that you see today; a beautifully vibrant shade, but it makes him terrible at camouflage and any attempts to blend in. Joseph stands out like a sore thumb, and has an equally bold attitude to match - heâs loud and proud and ready to rope someone into his next mischievous scheme.
Post-Meeting HCs
â Joseph makes good on his promise to get you those fish and then some that same first meeting. Despite assumptions that heâd disappear the moment heâd sunk back under the waves, youâd been pleasantly surprised when he reappears half an hour later to unceremoniously dump an armful of fish across your deck with a grin that just screamed expecting praise.Â
â He makes a couple more of these trips; granted, he eats more than his fair share in between and you have to scold him on the mess that heâs making on the floor since heâs got as much dinner etiquette as a dog. The sun hangs low in the sky by the time you have to start directing the boat back to shore. The moment you do heâs gone from the boat before you can blink - doesnât even really give you a chance for a proper goodbye aside from a shout that heâll see you around before sinking out of view - whatever that means.Â
â Joseph checks to make sure that youâre definitely leaving - certainly not just to watch this weird human heâs just met hop off of your boat and vanish into the mainland hefting the haul heâd snagged for you until he physically canât see you anymore.
â Yeah. Thatâs definitely not a thing he did.
â âŠOkay maybe for a second.
â Once the initial adrenaline rush of your first meeting wore off (because even with his foolhardy front and his size, youâre the first human that heâs ever had a close encounter with) Joseph quite literally cannot stop thinking about you. At first itâs the exhilarating feeling of pulling such a risky stunt and having it work out in his favor; not just his usual antics but an honest to god encounter with a human?Â
â The entire swim back home he feels like he could take on the ocean, wanting to brag to any and all passing mers about it - quickly decides against it upon realizing neither granny Erina nor Speedwagon would be particularly pleased to know heâd ended up in such a perilous (not) situation - Erina definitely would have him by the gills about it, even if heâd come back in one piece.Â
â That rush fades however when he realizes with a sudden clarity. What had convinced you let him go? Better yet, though you were equally scared at first youâd relaxed around him just as fast, going from tense to snarky yet forthcoming the moment youâd mutually clocked that you posed no threat to the other. Youâd taken the time to set him free, didnât ask for anything in return in spite of the damage heâd caused to the metal monster you had hanging off of the tail of your boat. You never made any plans to see him again either, none that you mentioned, anyway. And for the mer that just wonât do, now that heâs met you.
â Itâs a few days before he sees you again. Youâre further out to sea this time, and with no net in sight now he doesnât have to worry himself over getting caughtâŠagain. Thereâs no grand flourish this time around, no theatrics of having to be rescued or arguing as youâd freed him. He glides up alongside your boat with ease, sliding his arms up along the handrail till he can comfortably rest his weight against it and pulling himself up to wait you out.Â
â Josephâs smile is all teeth watching you walk by with a passing glance, only to hastily backtrack with a double take at the sight of the merman hanging over the railing acting like heâs always been there. He plays it up too, giving a nonchalant whistle and complaining that you sure kept him waiting - worry no more, your favorite mer has arrived to keep you company!
â That is to say, youâll never know peace again thanks to this Joestar.Â
â Every trip out to sea from this point forward is now spent in the company of the overly chatty and overactive merman.
â He tries to take you by surprise, which when it comes to Joseph who is about as sneaky as a foghorn, rarely works. The one time he did catch you off guard heâd taken a magazine to the face for his effort - it was a knee jerk reflex when youâd looked up from reading just to find Josephâs foolishly grinning mug nose to nose with you. Your magazine was sentenced to a watery grave for the trouble as heâd rolled right off of the handrail with it still stuck to his face, so youâd called it even when heâd resurfaced scrambling to peel back the soaked pages.
â The questions. Never. Stop. Many a trip is spent with him floating beside your boat, hands laced behind his head and tail creating ripples along the waterâs surface while he poses hypotheticals and prods you for answers.Â
â Joseph is curious by nature, and thereâs enough of a barrier between marine life and humanfolk that thereâs plenty about humans he knows nothing about. Sure, there are mers that have interacted with humans before, but this is his chance to learn from the source; heâll conveniently ignore the part where you tell him youâre not a mouthpiece for the whole of humanity. He has no qualms rattling questions off to you the second they run through his mind, which also means they completely bypass any filters. You donât know if heâs too blunt to know better, or if heâs just genuinely that curious to know, but what you do know is that he catches all of your attempts to sidestep some of his questions, and will whine your ear off about them until you finally cave.
â Itâs not for naught though, because Josephâll bring you things in return. This is typically reserved for close podmates only, but for you heâll make an exception; heâs not much of a stickler for traditions, anyway.Â
â He says itâs to pay you back - you make a good human teacher (said by a mer whose only frame of reference is you and that one fisher who was thankfully drunk enough to mistake your scaled friend as a skinny dipper with a skin condition the one time Joseph tried scouting another passing boat.) You learn quickly that itâs also because it gives him excuses to shower you in the oceanâs bounty.Â
â If it looks shiny, or remotely pretty itâs going straight into your hands the next time that he sees you. Thereâs a real proud look in his eye seeing you appraise what he brings you - and if you tell him that youâre taking them home? You donât hear the end of it for the entire day. His gifts? Going to your home on land? Where you can be reminded of him whenever you see them? You have 0 clue, being a human, but it makes him happy so whatâs the harm? The prettier pieces you may even end up using to decorate your cabin window if you like them enough.Â
â Joseph has posed the question on how other humans would react to him a few times. Heâd be lying if he said he hadnât thought about it before meeting you, and sees this as a chance to get a definitive answer. Will get huffy if you burst his bubble with any kind of talk about probably being turned into a scientific discovery or sideshow; but you could probably win him back at the idea of ending up in the record books (he has 0 idea what those are, but they sound important enough to tide him over.)Â Â
â Josephâs bold, thatâs a given. Bold enough that he starts daring getting closer and closer to shore the more time the pair of you spend together. You come to see him at sea all the time, so why doesnât he return the favor?Â
â Other people are the reason, you have to remind him. Dozens of people, especially in the middle of the day when everyone and their cat could potentially see the very obvious merman circling around your boat because he got impatient waiting for you to show up. That stunt had almost gotten you both caught, if people passing by had been just a little more observant. Thankfully you were spared that particular tragedy, though Joseph definitely didnât appreciate the earful he got over it later. Next time he tried it was far later in the night, and on a less commercial part of the shoreline, much to your relief.
â At first Joseph keeps this newfound bond to himself - itâs mostly so he doesnât get chewed out about it, but thereâs no fooling anybody that he wants to selfishly keep this time with you to himself. Who else can say that they have a human friend? Someone who knows him and despite his abrasiveness still looks out for him? He wants to chase this feeling for as long as heâs able, consequences be damned.
â This doesnât last forever, because of course it canât. Caesar catches him halfway to your boat one time and the jig is up the second he sees Joseph circling your ship. The blonde merman had just about tore him a new one upon catching up with the Joestar, even more so when your head had appeared from over the railing to query Joseph on the hold up only to freeze at the sight of one more mer than you were used to.Â
â For a moment it was so worth it seeing Caesar pale just a bit at the sight of you, feeling awfully smug as he made a show of throwing an arm over your shoulder and introducing you as his human (and almost pulling you overboard in the process). Oh he was definitely going to hear about this later, but whether itâs his pod that gets to him first or you for keeping you a secret was another story.
Since it's mermay, what about a short fic where Y/N fishes up merman Joseph who then tries his infamous "Secret Joestar Technique" to get away but since he's on land he's just flopping around đ
-The way this idea had me cackling imagining the scenario it's perfect!
This man's built like a brick house so I had to get creative with figuring out how he'd get reeled up without snapping that line like floss - I do hope I did a good job with your idea.
You have to be - how else could you explain how you got into this damned mess?
You were relatively new to the whole boating thing, nowhere near committed to calling it a stable trade and more so using it as an excuse to get away from land. Inherited from a relative, the boat wasnât commercial but it certainly wasnât big enough for more than a couple of people. It was enough for you, though, while you were still trying to figure things out.
When the weather was decent enough youâd take to the sea. Just you, your ship, and the open ocean for a couple hours until the haul was enough to justify the trip back or the weather got too extreme. You mostly went out for the space though - if you happened to catch a couple of fish to sell in the process, who were you to complain?
Besides, the local stores always appreciated the fresh produce you brought back. The extra chore to your time off was a small price to pay for the discount you got at the stalls that used your fish.
So when youâd woken up that morning, greeted by the first sunny sky youâd seen in the last couple of weeks, blinding you through the crack in your curtains, you were out the door and on the sea without a second thought. Itâs not like youâd be gone for long - what was the worst that could happen?
Famous last words - ones that were coming to bite you in the ass now.
Usually youâd just let the shipâs trawler do its work, dragging along the imperceivable depths below while you whiled away the time with other stuff. It was almost entirely automated at this point, so the most you had to do was wait for the thing to catch a handful of fish, flip the controls to reel it back, and check to make sure it hadnât gotten snagged on debris or sediment.
Youâd been in the middle of flipping through a comic a friend had lent you, tucked away in one of the many cozy nooks youâd made for yourself in the cabin. Humming, you thumb through the pages, working your way up to the big cliffhanger that you just know is coming up when an almighty screech rips you away from your reading. Itâs a scratchy, grating noise that has you cringing, face scrunching up from the sheer volume thoroughly pissed at the interruption right as youâd been getting invested.Â
That is until you realize exactly where the sound is coming from.
âShit, shit, shit-!â
The rickety cabin door ricochets off of the wall with a solid crack as you boot it open, entire frame shuddering from the force. However itâs the least of your concerns as you scramble towards the back of the little boat, muttering obscenities under your breath with increasing desperation.
The trawler groans beneath the weight of its haul, the line whizzing rapidly in a bid to pull itself free from the oceanâs depths on behest of the automated timer. Another sharp hiss of mechanics, this one more strained than the last, and for a moment you fear that the whole system is going to go up in smoke. The noises rend from the machineâs inner workings is concerning, enough that you have no idea whether to get closer or keep a wide berth in case it snaps - the old thing isnât worth losing a chunk of your fingers over. But you canât make out what the problem is if you donât get any closer, so slowly, cautiously, you begin circling around to the far side of the machine.
âPlease, please, please, please donât be broken.â The repeated pleas are whispered to yourself like a matra, as if silently hoping that if you say it enough then it will magically revert whatever is messing with the hunk of junk back to a functional state. No such luck.
Is the pulley on the fritz? You hadnât bothered to change it when youâd inherited it, though youâd at least maintained the upkeep as youâd been told. The old fishers at the shore who had taught you how to use the olâ gal had explained to you that whilst it was an older make, it wouldnât need refurbishing or upgrading for a good couple months at least..Â
âGahh, I really donât wanna fork out on replacing this thing before payday.â you give a defeated groan, giving the hunk of junk a cautionary nudge with the heel of your boot. Maybe a good whackâll kick it back into gear? Not the first time youâve done it, and it's never strayed you wrong before, right?
But then the netting veers right, dragged by an unseen force as it careens into the side of the ship and you stumble backwards, recoiling at the deafening screech it rends from the pulley mechanism. For a moment you can only watch the line jerk around, as though fighting against the pulley trying to yank it back up; that it is not the machine messing up. Your stomach drops as realization dawns that the problem isnât with the net or the pulley.
Itâs reeling something in.
Youâre not even far enough out to sea to have caught anything substantial - a few minutes from shore at most, just barely enough to not risk marooning the vessel. And yet as you watch the machinery struggling to pull something up the tension builds. The corded netting pulls tighter and tighter and tighter-
Then, with a final heave the netting breaks through the waterâs surface.Â
The resounding wet thud rocks the entirety of the boat, forming puddles of water on the wooden surface as the writhing mass is deposited in front of you. As you feared, upon completing its final job the pulley gives up the ghost. With a hoarse sputter, puffing out a few wisps of smoke for good measure the death rattle of metals gradually fades to a chilling silence, the noise still ringing in your ears as you take in the metallic husk with a withering sigh.Â
Youâd bemoan the loss later, however the wriggling, lively contents of its last haul currently demand your attention.
A huge mass squirms and thrashes about within the confines of the fishing net, though at first you canât quite make out what it is. Amongst the large shape are a handful of fish - or more accurately whatâs left of them as theyâve obviously been half eaten, reduced to chunks somewhere between the ocean and your boat. For fucks sake; somethingâs been at your line again - probably those damned sea lions youâve heard are making a home further up coast. But the offending culprit thatâs trapped is far from a sea lion; though when you finally make out what exactly youâre looking at, maybe a sea lion would have been better.
Thereâs an honest to god man tangled up in your net, hulking bare chested frame struggling fiercley against the network of woven rope clinging to his form with little success. Any fear that youâve hauled up a corpse flies out the window along with the barrage of curses the man spews out the second he hits solid land, words barely legible but shouted with enough vigor that you get the crystal clear picture that heâs pissed.
Youâre beginning to think that youâve accidentally scooped up a diver, but itâs while youâre in the middle of mentally debating the legalities of getting sued for picking a person up in your net (because seriously, how are you going to explain your way out of this one???) that the big mound of green heâs curled up with shifts. You swear to god, if thatâs another goddamn person-!Â
Oh.
Thatâs not a diver.
Iridescent scales glint in the sunlight like emeralds, catching in the sun as a green tail unfurling within the ratty old net. Those pretty glistening scales form intricate patterns all the way up the stranger's body, becoming sparser up along the hips until they meet skin and taper off to the very human torso of a decidedly not human man.Â
A merfolk. Thereâs a merfolk in your trawler. Despite knowing what youâre looking at, your brain just canât quite process what your eyes are seeing. Itâs like something right out of a fairytale, coming across a mer out on the ocean. Except that mer is now swearing like a sailor and getting himself more and more wound up in what remains of your trawling net. Heâs done a number on it, sure, but the ratty thing is clinging to the merman like itâs trying to get revenge for the pulley.
The hell are the chances that youâd yank up a mer of all things?! Godammit, you just wanted some fish, not this!Â
Someone up there must be getting a real kick out of your suffering right now, because as if finally sensing your presence the mer goes rigid, tensing up with fingers still wound tight mid-yank into the criss-cross of ropes that wonât budge. His head snaps up, and youâre momentarily struck by the startling blue of the eyes that meet yours, pupils blown wide as they dart across your features.
Oh, damn. Heâs actually kind of handsome - the defined cut of his jaw framed by a mop of dark hair, clinging to saltwater slick skin as droplets of water cling to his lashes.
Silence; for a moment not even the gulls overhead make a peep.
âOH NO!!â
Okay he is WAY too loud. The merman spins away from you (as well as he can while actively trapped), hunching over with a groan. With his back to you, you catch a flash of an odd star-shaped mark on his shoulder - a birthmark? - before he buries a hand in his hair, tail thrashing.
âGranny warned me about getting too close to the human ships. But how was I supposed to know theyâd pull it up!? Aaaaah, sheâs gonna kill me when she finds out!â
Aaand heâs speaking to himself. Great, just what you need; a mythical creature monologuing to himself like itâs normal. At least you can understand him, you guess. He mutters something under his breath and suddenly jolts up, immediately hissing when his back catches on the coarse entanglements.
âThereâs no other option.â he declares with grave conviction. âItâs time for my secret technique.â
Instinctively, you take a cautionary step backwards apprehensive on what this âsecret techniqueâ is. He looks so sure about it that youâre beginning to dread what heâs got up his non-existant sleeves. Are mers dangerous on land? Of course thereâs old wives tales of them drowning sailors, as there are across any corner of the world that touches the ocean, but surely youâre safe on your ship...you hope. And yet the foreboding âwhat-ifâ is enough to warrant another step away for good measure.Â
The merâs hands slap onto the deck, raising himself to as full a height as his predicament will allow. A deep breath - which only cements the lingering fear now that you know he seems just fine out of the sea- as his mouth opens with a bellow of-
âRun away!â
âŠYouâre kidding.
If he was in the water, maybe this amazing technique wouldâve worked wonders. As it stands though you can merely watch, utterly baffled, as the mer makes a poor attempt to flee back to the ocean heâd emerged from. Dropped smack-dab in the middle of your boat by the trawler however, there really wasnât anywhere for him to go, Heâs got plenty of muscle (which isnât discerned bc you were staring at them too hard, definitely not) but progress is as slow going as you imagine it would be for a several foot tall sea creature weighed down by both a tail and a couple pounds of rope.
 As this strange man continues to flop about on your deck, the fear and panic which had once taken hold now dissolves into confusion. Your hands, initially braced to protect yourself drop to your sides and thereâs no hiding the pinch in your brow as you tilt your head with silent judgment.
Wow, talk about anticlimactic.
Clearly, at some point this guy must realize that thrashing around on dry land isnât getting him anywhere, because after what feels like far too long (but is likely just a minute or two) the merman abruptly stills, makes a drawn out, pained noise, and promptly drops down in a tangled, outstretched mess of limbs and tail to the deck.
Is heâŠdead? What if you were wrong, and merfolk could die if theyâre pulled out of the water? This is getting weirder and weirder; however as the seconds pass and you find yourself straining more and more to gauge if heâs still breathing, youâre growing increasingly concerned with the notion that itâs not just another gimmick.
Well you arenât going to be responsible for this guy dying on your watch - the universe would probably curse you twice over for letting some mythical half-naked fish man croak on your ship. Spurred on by that thought you spin around, leaving the too still figure in your peripherals and you stride over to your trunk. Itâs haphazard, and as you wrench it open itâs still full of junk youâve been putting off sorting, making your job even harder as you root through it.
âCome on, come on. Donât tell me I left the goddamn thing back home again- AHA!â
A triumphant shout, followed by the hefty slam of your toolbox. Itâs an amalgamation of tools and tiny knicknacks stuffed away and half-remembered, and you shove your hand into the uncoordinated mess in a bid to feel around for the tool you know you have in there somewhere.
Immersed in fishing through your kit, youâre only half paying attention when a low, drawn out squeak makes you freeze mid-pillage. Whipping your head round, your gaze falls back to the âdeadâ merman splayed on on your deck - heâs in the exact same position, but thereâs a drag in the drying splotches of water on deck, and you could almost swear that heâs a little further away from you than he was before.
You hesitate before turning your back again, slower this time as you return to searching. This time, youâre actively listening out for any further movement; so when it happens again youâre quicker on the uptake. Still not fast enough to catch him in the act, but the marks are longer and heâs definitely further from where he had been.
Suspicions confirmed; heâs playing dead. And getting impatient too, as this time itâs barely a second after youâve turned away that you hear that same squeaky noise. A deep exhale, calmness only betrayed by the slam of your hands rattling the toolbox as you spin back to face the mer.
âListen, I know youâre moving!â
Silence. Heâs really trying to milk the whole playing dead thing.
âI can SEE the drag marks on the deck you know!â
The ruse is up - and seems to âmiraculouslyâ spring the guy back to life. With an indignant huff, the mer rolls onto his back and pushes himself up onto his shoulders to glare at you as though youâre the problem. A glare thatâs looking mighty pathetic from behind the cross-knitted ropes heâs still covered in.
âYou could have at least pretended to be fooled!â his expressionâs wound in a scowl, one that you mirror as you throw your hands up in the air.
âPretended?!You fu-I thought you were dead!âÂ
âYou were supposed to! Arenât you humans dense or what?â
âOf all of the-ugh! Thatâs it!â You paw at the toolkit behind you, blindly grabbing till you feel a familiar weight in your hand and take long strides towards the mer.
Immediately he bristles, that cocksure attitude replaced by a reflection of the panic that youâd no doubt expressed just minutes before. He looks ready to bolt, if that was even an option, eyes flickering between your approaching form and the small safety cutter now brandished in your hand.
âO-Oi, hang on, donât do anything stupid-âÂ
âOh hush.â you snort, amused by the notion that for a second he actually thought you posed any danger. âRelax; Iâm going to cut away the net, and all that thrashing is a good way to lose a fin.âÂ
The mer startles as you drop to your knees before him. His tail still thrashes, but itâs significantly slower than it once was - either heâs getting tired or youâre beginning to get through to him, but you donât want to risk getting closer in case that tail hits you. Still, he makes his protest known, and this close itâs enough to make your ears ring.
âHow about letting me go! Throw me overboard and weâll pretend this never happened!â itâs more of a demand than a request, and a stupid one at that considering his current predicament.
âAnd what are you gonna do about the rope? Wait for it to just miraculously disappear; or let it drag you down to the bottom?â
That shuts him up. Smug satisfaction wells in your chest watching the mers mouth fly open with another witty remark, only to snap shut because you both know that youâre right. It takes effort to hide the grin tugging at the corner of your mouth as you shuffle closer, reaching out for
âExactly. Now can it and hold still.â
His bodyâs wound up, visibly tense as your hand slips through the gaps in the net to pull a portion of it away from his skin. The rope itches in your grasp, coarse and soggy from its stint underwater much like present fishy company. No wonder he was trying so hard to get out - this thing is uncomfortable so torn and tattered.Â
Once it becomes apparent that you arenât actively causing him harm, you watch the merâs form slowly ease, the twisting of his tail settling enough that itâs finally safe to dare getting closer for a better look. Surveying the state of it, you click your tongue at the state of your fishing net. Heâs done enough damage tangling himself up that the netting has folded over itself in places and knotted at awkward angles. Perhaps you could have tried to save it, but it doesnât take a genius to piece together that itâs clearly a lost cause.
You work in silence, for the most part. For how much of a chatterbox he was before heâs eerily silent now, attentively watching over you as you work at the netting around his tail. Itâs tedious, long winded and your fingers are already feeling sore by the time youâre even halfway up the bright green appendage with so much more to go, and yet you donât stop for a second.
A section pulls too sharp when you tug, and the mer hisses at the unpleasant friction when the rope catches. Itâs the only thing to break the silence and you immediately still, a quick âsorryâ murmured as you ease up, taking more care not to be too rough.
A mutter catches your attention. For a second you fool yourself into thinking heâs talking to himself again when you catch him blatantly staring at your face. You glance up, pausing momentarily in your cutting.
âHuh?â
âWhatâs your name?â a blunt question posed by the mer youâre working to free. âYouâre a human; you have one of those too, right?â
You canât tell if heâs joking or not about the name thing. But with no better way to make time go faster, you decide to indulge him.
He repeats your name under his breath a few times, as though practicing how it sounds. Apparently he must like it, as you hear him do it twice more in the few seconds it takes for you to finally cave and chime in.
âIâm guessing you have a name too.â
âOf course! Itâs Joseph.â
âJoseph, huh?â ThatâsâŠnot the name you were expecting from a mythical sea beast, honestly. But then again, what did you expect? Your expression must paint a picture though, as Josephâs expression sours in the wake of your response.
âWhat?âÂ
âNothing. Just-â you choose your next words very carefully, pausing for a second too long before settling on, âIt suits you.â
Joseph halts mid rebuttal, for a moment looking truly stunned till what you say sinks in. You donât think youâve ever seen someone preen before, but the brunet mer looks positively chuffed, grinning like a fool at the compliment. He puffs up his chest, making a move to straighten up as if getting ready to boast about it. That idea is nipped in the bud with a firm reminder to stop squirming before he loses scales as you keep cutting away at his bindings.Â
Your warnings donât seem to curb his restlessness however, a slow, overly dramatic sigh making you regret saying anything in the first place as he huffs.
âAre you done yet?â
âNot yet. Getting there though.â
A pause.
â...How about now?â
âStill no, Joseph.â
â...Now?â
âNoâ
â...Now?â
âYes.â
âReally?!â
âNo.â
âAaaah! This is taking forever!â
You canât help it - Joseph falls for it hook, line and sinker, oblivious to your snickering in favor of flopping back onto the deck to complain more about his fate. While messing with him a little bit longer is a tempting idea, you decide for your own wellbeing to go easy on him.
âIâm kidding. Look-â A few more slices at the remains of the netting fall away between your fingers, joining the scattered pieces that once made up the mermanâs confines. âTada; youâre a free man.â
Without thinking you brush some stragglers off of his tail, the bits falling off with ease in the wake of your hand. Up close the green of his scales is somehow more stark, and though you expected them to be rough to the touch theyâre instead pleasantly smooth against your open palm. Streaks of sunlight still catch on the iridescent tail, revealing faint yellow tones that pattern along the underside exposed to the sun. Thereâs no denying that theyâre beautiful, if not unfortunately attached to such a cocky mer.
âKinda pretty.â you muse aloud, quiet but not quiet enough.
Joseph makes a curious noise - somewhere between a whistle and a click. Youâve got no idea what it means but his smile spells bad news. âWhat was that?â
âNothing.â is shot back too quickly. âI didnât say anything.â
âNo, no you definitely said something.â Heâs leaning closer, any hint of the fear or distrust a far cry from the smug grin heâs sporting. âWhatâs pretty-?âÂ
You reel back in response, making a grab for the tattered net at your feet. âIâll throw this back on you-â
Joseph makes distance between you two immediately, hands thrown up in defense. âOkay, okay! Yeesh, are all humans this testy?âÂ
âThatâs a funny way to say thanks for cutting me free, but youâre welcome.â
Satisfied that heâs not going to make another move, you push yourself upright. Your knees groan in protest, stiff from how long theyâve spent shoved against the deck for far too long. Joseph looks himself over, patting himself down as if to ensure that heâs not short of any of his extremities and letting out a sigh of relief to find out that, true to your word, youâve left him in one piece.
Right on time too, it seems. Heâs beginning to dry out in the sun now, no longer the wet mop of a mer youâd initially dragged up. Josephâs hair is starting to curl a little at the ends, and the sheen on his skin has dried in favor of a pinkish hue in light of the sun.Â
âProbably a good idea to get you back in the water.â you suggest, taking a step back and nodding your head towards the stern of the ship behind him. âYouâre free to go; I gotta head back. Need to let the stalls know Iâm empty handed this time.â
Joseph looks genuinely confused at that last remark, cocking his head. âWhyâd you need to do that?â
âWell taking into consideration that my net is a loss, and the fish I did catch have been eaten.â The pointed glare in his direction is met with a sheepish hunch and glance away (because, honestly, how was he doing to explain the fish bits youâd hauled him up with?). Sighing, you shake your head, turning your gaze back out to sea in the direction of shore.
âIâm out of options. They wonât be mad, but I hate letting âem down when theyâre expecting-â
âI can help.â
ThatâŠwasnât what you expected. In fact, the offer genuinely takes you off guard.
âJoseph, I canât take back the half-eaten ones.â
Joseph looks genuinely offended that you think thatâs what heâs propositioning. âNot those, duh.â he snaps, broad hands gesturing to himself as though the answer is staring you in the face. âMerman, remember?â
In response you arch a brow, hands falling to your hips as you stare back at him. âYou? Really? Youâre going to catch me fish?â
âWhat do you mean, fish love me!â somehow you donât entirely believe that, but Joseph isnât deterred in the slightest.
âGive me some time - Iâll get you enough fish itâll knock you off of those weird legs of yours!â
For the first time you look at him, really look at him. At that haughty overconfident smile and those bright blue eyes glinting as though he knows something you donât. And youâre sure he does - youâve just met the mer, afterall. But something pulls at you, a feeling that whispers that he means it - that you can trust him.
âOkay, fine.â
That smile breaks into a full on grin, the light in his eyes crinkling at the corners when you squat back down and offer a hand. âI can stay a couple more hours, but youâve got yourself a deal, Joseph.â
âGreat!â His hand clamps around yours, careful not to catch you on the sharp cut of his nails as he uses the momentum to prop himself up.Â
âNow help me get off of this thing. I donât have all day!.â
Rewatching Jojo with some friends and when I tell you I am so excited for them to get to part 2!!!
So have some Kars doodles while I try not to blab about everything coming next lmao. Honestly obsessed with drawing his pretty as hell hair I wanna make more.
-Really wanted to get at least one thing posted in time for mermay - I'm a sucker for a good ol mer AU so I made this! I might do some more for other chracters if anyone's interested.-
The sun hangs high overhead as you make your way down to the docks, humming along to a nonexistent tune as you swing the loop of your keys around a finger. The warmth beats at the back of your neck, the heat offset only by the pleasant breeze thatâs becoming more prevalent the closer you get to your destination.
Itâs the same day every week, a practiced routine that you fall into easily. Your pack hangs heavy with the spoils of the day, picked up from home and the many storefronts that line your commute. It bounces at your hip in the wake of your brisk pace as the waters edge comes into view, and you bring your hand to brace beneath it as your steps break into a jog to close the remaining distance.
The sweet nonnaâs who take their lunch at the waterfront cafe catch you as you go, giving their usual fearful warnings between bites of tramezzini and washed down with sips of coffee. Theyâre fretting over your safety with such fond concern that of course you have to stop by to assuage their fears.Â
âBe careful piccola,â they fret in unison, voices dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as if afraid of being heard over the lapping tide. âYou know the Scolioâs boat capsized just last week! Who knows what could be in those waters.â
And just like always youâd flashed that same placating smile, patting away sweet Ms. Abbatiniâs hand who, despite all delicate appearances, has your arm in a vice that takes genuine effort to slip free of. âIâll be fine nonnina;I always am.â you assure them with a confident chuckle as you disappeared down the walkway, waving and calling back, âThe sea is on my side today!â
Their doubtful expressions are understandable. After all, tourists and locals alike knew better than to brave the deep waters alone. And yet you stride down to the ramp to where your beloved boat stagnates with all the confidence of one who knows better than both, allowing your pack to flop onto the deck with a hefty thud as you start up the engine and direct it seaward.
The ocean air whips at your face; the scent of saltwater straight from the open sea forms a pungent tang that welcomes you like an old friend. It perks up your senses, nipping away at whatever tiredness still clings to your bones, and you already feel lighter than you did back on land.Â
It isnât until the shoreline is an amalgamation of rooftops and silhouettes that you cut the motor and drop the anchor, taking a moment to survey the land youâd come from.Â
The ocean stretches wide and vast as far as the eye can see, the light catching shades of teal and marine in a kaleidoscope of blues and greens that almost glow beneath the reflection of the sun overhead.
Nothing disturbs its surface, and gives no indication of what could hide underneath but thatâs fine; that only means that you still have some time to kill. Hoisting the rucksack into your arms you amble towards the stern of your ship. Thereâs a small setup - a pop up tray table and a single lounge chair facing out to the ocean which youâre quick to make use of. Sliding the bag onto the table, youâre careful to ensure that it doesnât sag off of the edge with its weight. If it was any cooler youâd take the time to spread out the contents, but reason that itâs probably better to keep them out of the sun; instead you opt to drop down into the chair, stretching out until youâre a content gangle of limbs, soaking up the warmth of the sun as you wait.Â
And wait.
âŠAnd wait.
âŠâŠAnd still wait.
âŠHuh.
Time drags by; the warmth upon your skin is beginning to morph into an uncomfortable tingle. You squint up at the sun through your fingers, wiping the sweat from your brow with a sigh. With any luck, youâve got two, three hours before the heat grows too much to stay out on the open water, and thereâs still no sign of him.Â
You regret not bringing a parasol, and though the thought or turning back to go grab it is tempting you think better of it. Chances are youâll get an earful from the marina guards for the repeated trips - youâre already on their shitlist for making these rides out to sea unattended, like you havenât defied their warnings since the moment you first inherited your precious ship.
Rumors run rampant through the town, and have for the better part of a couple of decades at least. From tales of poachers to sea monsters, thereâs been enough speculation as to what lurks beyond the shore to generate superstition and caution. Thereâs designated spots that the local fishermen avoid like the plague, no matter how good the pickings are; places on the water that not even the most daring tour guide could be paid to risk.Â
While there arenât any signs or official laws, the word of mouth is enough to spread the unspoken rule that permeates your beloved home. Respect the oceanâs rules if you value your vessel.
Not that you need to worry about that. At least, not anymore.
As if on cue the sound of dull scraping comes from underfoot, snapping your attention downwards. You canât see a thing, but your ears prick up as your eyes tail its imagined path below deck. Wait, no, itâs not just scraping - knocking. Three quick raps against the vessel, followed by the drag of a fine sharp edge catching along the underside from bow to stern.
You know that sound.
Springing from your seat, you make a dash to the portside but youâre not fast enough. You barely catch a flash orange in the water before it vanishes below the underside of the boat so fast you could almost believe you imagined it, if you didnât already know better.
You shoot across to the other side, grappling for the railing to keep yourself from going overboard in your haste. What greets you this time is more than a splash of color. A pair of deep green eyes stare back from the depths, slitted pupils trained on your face as though theyâd been expecting you. Thereâs an intelligence behind them that makes you bristle, for a moment stunned silent as your gaze pieces together what few features you can make out distorted by the ripples in the water.
Then the tension drops from your shoulders. You huff, âAbout time. I was thinking you werenât going to show, Formaggio.â
A face breaches the surface tension, flashing you a smile thatâs biting sharp with too many teeth.
âAw come on, youâre missing me already, amica? Sounds like you need new hobbies.â
You donât take the bait, moving away from the edge and giving him a wide berth of space. âGet up here - the foodâll spoil in the heat if you donât.â
âHello to you too.â Formaggio scoffs, rolling his eyes. Still he follows your lead, muscled arms speckled with bronze and silver slinking out of the sea to grapple for the railing, pulling himself up.
The boat lurches, dipping under his weight as Formaggio hoists his bulky frame on board. He brings half of the sea with him too as saltwater rushes in alongside him, sloshing around up to your ankles as his torso crosses the threshold of the vessel.
His tail kicks up a spray of seawater to propel him over, the appendage brightening from a muted ash to a vibrant orange the further down you look, all blotted with the same dark spots splattered on his back. The caudal fin still hangs over the edge, because of course he canât be bothered to set himself upright when lounging across the entire width of your deck and getting under your feet is an option.
Still you maneuver deftly over the bulk of his tail back to your lounge chair, slumping into the worn wood waiting for Formaggio to finally settle enough that you donât risk stepping on his fins. Only once the shifting stops and those eyes are back on you, expecting again, do you play your next hand, gesturing over to the tray table thatâs miraculously stayed upright during all of his squirming.Â
âPicked up some more of those sandwiches from Cambertsâ,â you note, tone light. âI figured you like them, since you ate yours and mine last time. So have at it.â
The jab is met merely with a shrug, waved off with a hand as Formaggioâs attention strays away from you and over to the rickety little table. âNot my fault you were too slow. Youâve got to be faster than that to catch anything good.â
Sea water runs in rivulets down his face and shoulders, a steady stream of droplets soaking into your pack as he crowds around it that will no doubt take hours to dry later, even with the heat. You hadnât bothered to bring an icebox for the cooler foods, not that youâd need it. Formaggioâs appetiteâs voracious; whether that was just a mer thing or a Formaggio thing you had no clue.
He tears into the packed lunches with little regard for the integrity of your rucksack; good thing it was heavy duty, or you fear Formaggioâs clawed fingers would pull it to ribbons. Clearly conversation isnât the highlight of todayâs âvisitâ, so your gaze begins to drift, landing on the strip of his neck as he cranes his head this way and that.Â
His gills look as though theyâve been carved with a fine knife, blending so seamlessly into his tawny skin that you only catch them flutter as he breathes in the contents of his latest gift. A flash of white and your eyes dart up just in time to see the curl of his lips, revealing those rows of sharp teeth that you find yourself staring at longer than you should with the realization of exactly what youâre now sharing a boat with.
How did you even get into this? This entire arrangement was bizarre.Â
Youâd mistaken him for some weird fish the first time youâd run afoul of the mer several months back - he sort of reminded you of the leopard sharks youâd seen in old science books, if it wasnât for the odd coloration and imposing size.
Formaggio, apparently, had been planning to sink your âlittle toothpick of a boatâ when youâd first met (a title that had earned him a kick to the flank when heâd casually thrown it in mid-conversation the month after because goddammit thatâs your toothpick). That was until his interest had been piqued by the charcuterie board left unattended when youâd moved over to the bow of the boat for a drink.Â
Of course youâd nearly had a heart attack when youâd turned back to find the monster of a mer picking at what was left of your lunch, but aside from the bottle dropped in your shock that had taken days to scrub fully from the deck, Formaggio had caused no further damage. In fact, he actually stuck around.
Lucky for you (or not), apparently heâs developed a taste for human food. God knows how you convinced him to take that over tanking your boat for the hell of it, but now youâre dragged into giving him impromptu âofferingsâ roughly once a week.Â
He says itâs protection pay. You call it an unexpected jump in your grocery bill.
You wonder if Formaggio does the same to the rest of his pod to keep them off of your back. Thereâs at least several more of them that you know of from what he tells you, and how he convinced them to let you stay is anyoneâs guess. You find yourself mulling it over, long enough that your mouth is moving before your brainâs caught up.Â
âHey, âMaggio?â Thereâs a noise of acknowledgment heard vaguely around a mouthful of food - you take that as a sign to continue.
âHow do you know one of your podmates isn't going to mistake me for some fishing boat and capsize this thing? Youâre not here all the time, and I canât always work around you, you know?â The thought crossed your mind before, despite assurances, and you really want to know for sure that the next time you take to the waters for non-mer related reasons that you wonât be reduced to splinters.
Formaggio shrugs, not bothering to look up from the basket. âCapo has a system. What ships can pass through, which ones that canât, and tagging the ones worth hitting.â Somehow you suspect that thereâs more to it than that, but if there is, Formaggio makes no effort to elaborate.Â
He pauses to pop a grape between sharp teeth, chewing thoughtfully before adding, as if as an afterthought, âBesides, they know which mark to look for.â
That gets your attention; you straighten up in your seat. âMark? What mark?â you prod for more, and now itâs Formaggioâs turn to look confused, tilting his head.
âHow else did you think you were staying protected without me?â
As if to set an example, Formaggio drags his knuckles against the railing, that same knock-scrape motion youâve heard him make when he boards your ship. His nails catch on the surface, and even a light graze is enough to leave the beginnings of a faint gouge. The lightbulb goes off and your expression twists, mouth dropping agape as you scramble for portside.Â
He didnât. He wouldnât-
âThatâs what youâve been doing to my boat?!â
Of course you canât make out anything below the waves no matter how far you stretch. Only the sloshing saltwater, lapping languidly at the sides and distorting the view of the boat, are all you can make out; but that doesnât make you any less indignant about the fact that he marked up your beloved vessel.
Formaggio tuts as though the answer had been obvious, smacking a webbed hand to the deck. âRelax, amica; itâs not like itâll sink your stuzzicadenti. Solid stuff, for a human ship.â
âI canât believe you-!â
Running a hand down your face, it takes a deep breath and a whole lot of patience you donât have to not cuss him out. Your groan through gritted teeth doesnât seem to bother him in the slightest; in fact, the lull in conversation means that he can focus on what he deems far more important.
Formaggio turns his attention back to whatâs left in the basket, picking apart a cold cut with his claws and tilting his head back to drop the shreds into his open maw while you stifle the urge to toss him overboard.Â
Would it do anything but piss him off? No. Would it still make you feel better? Definitely.
Gradually, the panic along with the frustration subsides, and you return to sinking into your chair.
âIâŠguess I can live with that.â albeit reluctantly. âSo long as theyâre okay with that too.â
Silence, which around Formaggio typically doesnât exist. â...They are still okay with that, right?â
Formaggio doesn't answer, too invested in picking some leftover bits from his teeth with one of his nails. Your frown deepens, and you hunch over in your seat, hands clasped.
âMag-â
âRelax, relax!â your concern is waved off again, his response too quick. âI vouched for you, right? Weâre good.â
Good god. Your blood pressure is going to get you before anything else if he keeps this up.
âI meanâŠâ Formaggio trails off, choosing his next words carefully. âRis has been getting tense recently. Somethingâs brewing south that he says is too close for comfort.â
ThatâŠdoesnât sound good. At all. What the hell is he talking about? The expression on your face must give away the apprehension stewing, as just like that heâs twisting to face you fully, tail slapping up another spritz of water across your legs that you donât so much as flinch at. Heâs grinning again, but itâs obvious from the twitching in his tail that heâs just trying to play off the serious territory your conversation had been about to stray into.
âNothing for you to worry about, yeah? Weâll handle it!â
Aaaand just like that the stress is back again.
âThatâs not as reassuring as you think it is.â
Your knowledge is limited, from bits and pieces that the mer has let slip around you. (you guess youâre a confidante now???) Apparently there was some sort of territory dispute going on between all of the pods that called this minute corner of the world their home. Formaggioâs group's last bid to expand had gotten two of their podmates gravely wounded - alive, but barely just - and the rest of the team had been forced to drop back to recuperate the loss.Â
Who or what could have done that? Formaggioâs nothing to scoff at, dwarfing even the tallest human you know. So the thought of something being able to leave two as big as him on deathâs door sends a burning chill straight through you.
âTch-â
You blink, centering your focus back to Formaggio who wags a finger at you with all the exasperation of chiding a child.
âThere it is. I told you not to worry.â
Indignant, you glower at him, âIâm not worrying.â
âTell that to your eyebrows.â
On instinct you clap a hand across your forehead, but youâve already lost. Shit, you really donât like admitting that heâs right - heâll hold it over you for weeks.
Formaggio laughs at his own teasing, shaking his head with a fond exhale. âSo easy to rile up. You know, you could give Ghia some stiff competition. Sure heâd freeze your ass off, but hey, youâd probably make the othersâ day!â
The mention of his podmate provides a momentary reprieve from his poking fun; youâre quick to jump on it.
âCould I?â you cut in, voice firm. âMeet the others, I mean.â
The shift in conversation is abrupt - itâs the first time youâve been bold enough to ask him outright. Formaggio hums, expression suddenly pensive. He folds his arms across his chest and leans back against the railing, eyes trained skyward eyeing what few clouds crawl across the vast expanse overhead. And for a time all you can hear is your own pulse, and the gurgling of the waves undulating softly; you canât bring yourself to cut in - to take your request back, or crack a joke, or even breathe too loudly. You merely watch the shark mer with a dawning realization.
Holy shit, heâs actually considering it.Â
And giving it some serious thought, too, with the way his brows knit together as he strokes along the cut of his jaw.
When Formaggio finally, finally answers, you release a breath you didnât even realize youâd been holding.
âI suppose I could convince Illuso to come if heâs in a good mood. Stroke his ego, though. Itâll be better for you if you get on his good side; heâs not as good with people as yours truly.âÂ
Yeesh, if heâs the social one what are your chances here? You donât voice that aloud though, settling for just nodding along. He continues, âPlay it like you mean it and youâll be fine. Now, MeloneâŠâ Formaggio halts and makes a face, nose scrunching up in discomfort. âHeâs got aâŠthing about humans.â
âA thing?â
âYeah itâs a whole thing - merda, especially with the legs-â
âDonât.â you stop him there, wishing that you could go back five seconds to save yourself from the mental image that conjures. âOn second thought I donât want to know.â
Formaggio nods sagely - understanding your pain all too well. âSmart choice.â
Thereâs another lull, and this time youâre the one to start pitching candidates - racking your brain for names.
âWhat about Ghiaccio? Or Prosciutto?âÂ
Formaggio bellows a laugh at that, loud enough that you jump in your seat staring wide-eyed watching him throw his head back. Another blink and his face is deadpan, making a slicing gesture across his throat with the flat of his hand.Â
âYeah, no chance. Heâs foul enough with the heat, never mind throwing a human at him. I was serious about him freezing your ass off, and Iâm guessing you canât grow any of those back." He gives a vague motion towards your limbs and despite the scorching heat the mere mention of it makes you shudder.
Well, thatâs a firm no if youâve ever heard it. Safe to say meeting Ghiaccio just tanked on your list of priorities.
âProsciutto? Maybe, but then youâd have to deal with Pesci too. That guy follows him around like a suckerfish, and he can be a real pain. Youâd probably scare the shit out of him, honestly. Ris could probably-ah, no. On second thought he might scare you off - size and all.â
Alright, thatâs it. âSize?!â you balk, âJesus christ, âMaggio. Is there anyone you know who isnât a behemoth?â
Or isnât questionably freaky, for that matter. That question you keep to yourself.
He snorts, hands shooting up in mock surrender. âHey, you asked. Consider it a friendly warning - in case youâre serious.â
If his goal was to thoroughly disabuse you of the idea of meeting any other mer for the sake of self preservation then heâs knocked it out of the park. You slump back with a long exhale, as though pushing every ounce of air from your lungs will somehow undo the mental anguish that Formaggio has an uncanny knack for inflicting on you. When it doesnât, you settle for basking in the sunlight, limbs splayed out to take full advantage of the heat youâll no doubt be regretting later.
Too bad you neglected to account for the present company.
âWell, since you brought it up, when are you going to introduce me to your pod?â
âŠHuh?
You crack an eye open to squint at him, head cocked, âIâŠdonât have one?â
Looks like that was the wrong answer, from the look the merman gives you. âSure you do. Thereâs plenty of you humans down by the water every day; why not put in a good word for me?â
âThatâs not the same, âMaggio, - theyâreâŠâ Damn, how do you go about explaining this in a way that isnât going to end up confusing the both of you?
Formaggio takes that as his cue. The deck squeaks as he shifts around with a deceptive speed, using the guard rails to pull himself closer to you. Heâs already taking up most of the sternâs space on your dinky little boat, but once youâre face to face your entire field of view is full of nothing but orange and silver and bronze and that lazy shit-eating grin.
âYou wanted to see mine, and I want to see yours. A fair trade, right?â
Okay, now heâs back to just messing with you. Heâs got no intentions of going shoreside, but pulling your leg about it to see you sweat? Thatâs got Formaggio all over it.
Well two can play at that game.Â
âYou know what? Youâre right - I think youâd be a real celebrity to people back on land.â
Formaggio looks pleasantly surprised, moreso that you agreed with him, and his expression blanks for a beat gauging if he heard you right. A hand braces against your knee to keep himself upright, making your chair groan under the added weight as he leans in. Though the sun has done plenty to soak up the excess moisture the webs between his fingers are still damp and tepid to the touch.Â
You try not to think too hard about how weird the membrane against the skin of your leg feels, and especially donât think about how the cool scales in contrast to your own overheating flesh is actually kind of nice. You focus instead on meeting Formaggioâs eyes as he quirks an angled brow, his grin splitting at his cheeks.
âOh yeah?â
You nod. âMhm - got a couple of guards down by the docks who would just love an introduction.â
The excitement drops from his face as fast as the glee rises to yours, his smile flattening to a frown. Green eyes narrow into slits - clearly he didnât find it as funny to have the tables turned back on him.
âYouâre no fun.â
âWhat? I could put in a good word for you!â you cast your reach wide, arms outstretched with a mock gasp. âOh, I get it - if the nonnas are more your taste I can always ask Ms. Abbatini what her thoughts are on fish-â
âYou little shi-â
That does it. In a second youâve got a sneering muscled mer tussling with you, clawed hands pinching your cheeks and rattling the arm rests. Thereâs no actual intent to harm you - youâd be dead three times over if you didnât know for a fact that Formaggio got a kick out of the back and forth banter.Â
The extent of his malice is limited to swiping your chair in the hopes of knocking you flat on your ass. In retaliation you brace both feet against the nearest solid surface, refusing to budge and overconfident that your leg up on the shark is more than enough to keep steady.
That is until you feel a sharp tilt - and itâs not the chair. You hadnât even noticed that Formaggio had shifted his weight to the one side of the deck in the midst of your play fighting. Surely that wasnât on purpose-
But his broad grin says otherwise. Oh, youâre going to kill him-
âFORMAGGIO, THE BOAT-â
Itâs too late. Formaggioâs triumphant cackles drown out your shrieks of âcheater!â as a torrent of sea water gushes on board, drowning every dry inch of flooring and dragging out everything not nailed down as its spoils, your poor chair and you included.
Just your luck. Is the âprotectionâ from this guy really worth all this trouble? Youâre still debating it as a blur of orange and ash dives in after you, looking all too smug for a guy whoâs using the ocean to win.
Hey, I have a request that's both headcanons and a scenario. what about baron zeppeli with a fem S/o that's a pagan witch? And before his trip he can't find his bow tie and when he goes to her room to ask her if he saw it he sees her making a protection spell for him, how would he react? Thank you for answering <3
Hiyya hun thank you so much for requesting! All for spreading some love for the og Zeppeli the PB characters really do deserve some more love! Went for just a scenario for this one bc I got a little carried away with this one. Also my knowledge on pagan witches is very limited but I tried my best!
First fic in a while so bear with me while I get the hang of things I do hope that you enjoy đ§Ą(b á”âœá”)b
The day of the trip approaches, and itâs become glaringly apparent that something important has disappeared from Zeppeliâs suitcase in the midst of preparing for the venture.
Heâd realized somewhere between the third trip between his dresser and his travel bag that he was now short of a signature strip of green from his list of garments. Sure enough, a quick sift through the bag had revealed one of his favorite ties was no longer in the rolled up pocket of space it had been occupying before - taken too suddenly for it to have just been misplaced.Â
It isnât the first time that an item of his has âmysteriously vanishedâ, all of them pilfered by only one devious culprit in a bid to fend off the inevitable. It was the same story whenever Zeppeli had to depart from the home for more than a few days; clothing, shoelaces - always something small, but enough to keep your darling hamon master at your side for a little longer. Youâd even taken off with his top hat once, leading to a hot pursuit through the halls of your home. The echoes of your laughter of triumph had turned to a squeal only when the Baron had resorted to quite literally swooping you off of your feet before you could dart through another one of the winding corridors that made up your home.
It had become a staple in the routine by this point. Just one of the many facets of life that had come with the addition of you into the hamon masterâs life.Â
As such, Will knew precisely where to find you.
Zeppeliâs footfalls are soft against the carpeted flooring underfoot as he makes his way down the corridor leading to your room. Itâs more of a spare room these days - though youâve still proudly staked your claim on every corner of the space, filling every wall and crevice with your beloved crafts and collections.Â
The doorâs half ajar, allowing streaks of light to fill the hallway, and as Zeppeli nears, the scent that rushes to greet him is fresh and aromatic. Your room is a conglomerate of scents, thanks to the herbs and plants you keep bottled and stored for future use; this one in particular is familiar, though the name of it eludes him as his hand presses to the door and pushes it open.
Ah; there you are.
Legs tucked beneath you, youâre perched at your desk facing away from the door, safely squared away in your own little world to the far side of your room. Your shoulders are wound tight with concentration, the occasional hum or click of your tongue the only thing breaking the otherwise steadfast resolve in your focus as you lean further over your desk, the soft fwip of things being shuffled and sifted through the only indication that youâre hard at work..
Oh, how this sight will never tire him. To think this space served any purpose at all before you arrived to fill it with one. Youâre so absorbed in your work that you donât notice the additional company as the Baron sidles up beside you, hands coming to fold behind his back as he leans over to get a better look at you. From this angle he can make out the furrow in your brow, expression scrunched up in concentration as your hands alter and move what youâve got before you with a practised ease.
Zeppeli does not claim to be wise in the ways of your craft, though youâve done your best to share the knowledge openly, just as heâs done for you with hamon. Itâs an amusing balance between your respective worlds, and he cannot help but want to observe for a while longer than to disturb your focus. You appear to be at the tail end of your task - the remnants of incense, candles and a myriad of containers ranging from small bottles to bulky jars filled with all manners of contents scattered across your work space as your attention flits between each.
By this point Zeppeli hovers close over your shoulder, watching for just a beat longer in a profound moment of shared silence.
And then-
âI see, so that was rosemary!â
âAH-!â
You jolt with a yelp, hands slamming down and taking your tools with it. The table rattles from the force; a few glass bottles topple to the side and begin to roll towards the edge of the table just barely missing the swipe of your hands trying to catch them. Thankfully Zeppeli is quick to save them from their shattered fate, scooping the tiny vials away from the edge and into a neat cluster at the centre of the table with a little flourish for good measure. Your hands shoot out to steady the furniture and yourself before anything else goes flying, letting out a small sigh of relief when it finally stills.
Now thoroughly shaken from your reverie you look over your shoulder at the offending party who had startled you so. The placating smile offered is belied by the little quirk of his moustache that gives away his amusement. The look you shoot Zeppeli in return is scathing at the interruption, but mellows into something far gentler as you pout.
âYou know I hate when you do that.â
The man moves like a shadow when he wants to. Zeppeli says itâs a skill naturally picked up from his training, but you swear he just likes surprising you with how his eyes light up in mirth with every shock, squeak or jump. Just like now. The corners of his eyes crease with poorly veiled glee and damn it all if it isnât a little bit contagious.
Your mouth opens with the beginnings of a question, no doubt to scold him for making you jump, but as you move to confront him a flash of stark green catches his attention amongst your workspace and Willâs attention snaps downwards. Both pairs of eyes turn to the tie on the table, still neatly folded as it had been in his bag just an hour before; then to each other; back to the tie.Â
A beat passes between you, and-
âI needed it,â Is the justification offered, leaning back in your chair and turning to look at the shelves lining the wall across from you with a sudden newfound interest. âFor work.â
âWork?â echoing back your words, Zeppeli leans forward, tone playfully inquisitive as he tries to catch your eye again.
âMhm.â You crane your head a little further left arms crossed in a play of nonchalance. âVery important. It simply couldnât wait any longer.âÂ
Your pointed attempt to avoid meeting his gaze is telling enough that itâs more than that, and for all of Williamâs jovial semantics you know that he can see it too. That doesnât save you from the impending prodding you can feel coming. Somehow just looking at the man is enough to make your face warm and your mouth dry like some lovestruck youngster. From the corner of your eye you see Zeppeliâs smile widen knowing this too - for such a worldly man, the baron sure was smug about flustering you.
Instead of deigning him with a response you reach for the garment under scrutiny, taking the bright fabric between your fingers. Itâs soft but well-worn - one of his favourites, and the same one heâd worn when youâd first met - which is precisely why youâd picked it out for your spell. Garments with strong attachments to the recipient worked best, and it was either that or trying to sneak away that bold top hat of his. You brush your thumb over it, fondly studying the slight crease at the mark where Will would always fold it before making a wistful noise.
âYou know I considered cutting off a piece or two to make a spell bag, but I feared I wouldnât have the time.â Youâre only half joking as your gaze flickers back up to the gentleman. âYou still have a few hours to spare though, right, dear?â
Got him. That smirk of his strains, Zeppeli none too subtly moving to the side where his tie rests in your hands and hovering close with a placating hand already reaching towards it.Â
âNow now, cara mia, letâs not be hasty-â
Your laughter rings loud with the kind of joy that strikes Will that heâs been had once again by your tricks. His tie dangles in front of him, your eyes alight with a devious glee even knowing that he could quite quickly snatch it back if he really wanted to. And yet Will only shakes his head, giving a few playful grabs if only to hear your laughter break into a cackle as you scramble to keep it out of his grasp.Â
Zeppeli relents once youâve had your fun and your laughter fades into a breathless chuckle. You twirl his tie between two fingers, giving a dramatic huff and shrug, âI suppose a spell will just have to do then, if you still insist on leaving.âÂ
The air stills and you pause the moment the words leave you, the smile falling briefly from your face. Your own casual mention of his inevitable departure suddenly strikes you just how soon it is. Even without a clock you know that your time is limited; half a day at best, and then your Will will once again vanish from your home as though never there at all, just as heâs done all those times before.
Your pause is brief, heavy enough for the hamon master to take notice. This time Zeppeliâs sigh is deep, carrying the weight of a contention held time and time again. âAmore, you know how important it is that I go-â
âI know you do. And you know that I wouldnât stop you-â
Though how badly I wish I could.
Will is in your space within the blink of an eye, a talent he has yet to divulge just exactly how he accomplishes. His large hands, worn and calloused with life, come to clasp yours tightly, a comforting and reassuring warmth. The tie hangs between you, momentarily forgotten.
âHad I the power, I would spend every waking hour basking in your glorious presence, my dear.â His smile is anything but reassuring no matter how much Will tries; you canât quite meet his eyes. âBut the mask is a danger to the world as long as it exists. Knowing that it is wreaking havoc on the streets of London as we speak, and that its influence spreads, I cannot idle by and allow it to taint more of this world than it already has.â
Your brave, foolish man. Putting the safety of the world above his own life and taking on a burden he knew would bring his death; but you knew the truth to his words, as much as you wished to deny it.
Will Zeppeli had made no attempts to hide his fate, the inexorable road heâd have to travel and the end that awaited him there though he knew not the time. Youâd made your peace with the knowledge, but it never made it any easier whenever he left on his travels to hunt down that infernal thing that had haunted his youth.
There's always the fear however - that every time Zeppeli goes to a place you cannot follow heâll slip from your fingers for good; that the moments you see him crest over the hill of your shared home will be the last you ever see of him. It doesnât help that the pit which fills your stomach sits heavier than before, suffocating rational thought. This time feels different, feels final in ways you cannot describe and the powerlessness gnaws at your soul.Â
And so youâd fallen to creature comforts, pilfering through your materials and knowledge collected over years for something to ease the burden. A protection spell was easy enough to cast, but it had to be perfect - needed it to be better if you wanted it to protect him from the horrors he was set to face.
You had to let him go. But not without arming him with some protection of your own.
The chair drags along the flooring underfoot as you stand abruptly, promptly nudging the offending furniture out of the way till youâre face to face once again with your lover. Willâs hands fall from yours and the puzzlement on his face is clear as this time you crowd into his space.
In one swift motion you drape the tie across his shoulders, deft fingers beginning to loop the fabric as youâve seen him do every morning, ignoring Zeppeliâs noise of confusion. The angle is awkward, especially as Will makes no move to bend down unless you tug him into place with the tie; but youâve had enough experience pulling the thing off to reverse the process and make a decent enough tie. You smooth out your handiwork beneath your fingertips once youâre finished, tucking it safely into his vest. Your touch lingers longer than it should, though your attempts to move back are thwarted as a hand comes to curl around your waist, firm and warm.
Will catches the smell that now clings to the newly settled tie; rosemary and sage linger in a heady combination. Their meaning isnât lost on him as he breathes deep of the scent, and you seem thoroughly pleased with yourself as he puts the pieces together, brows raised in pleasant surprise.
âFor good luck?â
âFor protection.â Youâre quick to clarify, jabbing a finger to his chest. You pause for a second, the hesitation to meet his gaze before now well and truly gone as you take a moment to admire your Will.Â
A stalwart determination mellowed by a contentment only found in your arms, and a softness in his eyes that speaks of all the fondness the man holds just for you. His lips part - no doubt to whittle off about the pedantics - but you beat him to it, tugging him down by the tie and meeting him halfway in a kiss.
Itâs the briefest peck, and you wrestle back a smile as Zeppeli moves to chase the kiss as you pull away, thwarted by the finger you hold up between you as you flash a smile at the sight of his pout.
âThat is for luck.â
The hand around your waist tightens, joined by his other as youâre bundled close against Zeppeliâs chest. Your hands drop once more and Zeppeli seizes the opportunity to diminish the space, smirking.
âWell I can never do without too much of your luck, amore.â
A sigh is lost in this kiss as Zeppeli ducks his head again to press his lips to yours, and for a moment your fears melt away. He smiles against you, feeling the tension seep from your shoulders, and makes a pleased hum as your hands slip over his shoulders to card through his thick brown hair. The sound sends a thrill through you and you press yourself eagerly into what little distance remains between you, seeking more.
One kiss becomes two, then three, each one more passionate than the last. At some point you lose count, not that you intend to keep it when thereâs such a perfectly good man kissing your breath away to occupy your hands and mouth with. By the time you part it takes genuine effort to remember how to breathe - your face flushed red and lungs fighting to even your breath. Willâs on the other hand is steady, he hasnât so much as stuttered, though his hair is now thoroughly unkempt, and gives you that stupidly fond smile you just want to kiss right off of his face all over again.
This time you almost beg him to stay, but the words catch in your throat and you just canât do it. Instead you offer a steadfast smile, watching the creases in his brow soften as the hands pressed to his chest smooth over where his heart hides with a reverence that cannot mask your concerns.
A kiss to your forehead, before Zeppeli presses his face to the crown of your head, breathing deep of you. The words he mutters are lost to your ears, but the affection behind them is clear as one of his hands rubs small circles into your back.
âYouâll write to me?â your voice, notably softer, dares to cut into the moment.
Zeppeli hums against your hairline, âOf course. Only a fool would dare to keep you waiting.â
The answer satisfies you, for now. âGood, Iâm holding you to it now. If you donât Iâll come over there and steal that tie back myself.â
Another half-joke, though this one is more of promise than threat. One that Zeppeli knows all too well that youâd follow through with in a heartbeat despite the teasing lilt in your tone.
You bask in his presence a while longer, more than content to while away the hours away in the baronâs arms until all these talks of justice and duty and whatâs right fade into the background of thought. But it doesnât last; the world still has to turn, to carry on in your wake.Â
The sooner he leaves, the sooner heâll complete his goal and return to you for good. Thatâs the only thought that gives you enough resolve to slip free of his embrace, throat still tight yet masked with a smile as you briskly swat the air.
âNow off with you, before I change my mind and take it back.â Your warning is half hearted. But it isnât until the baron makes no move to budge and you make a playful grab for the accessory again that he finally begins backtracking, nimbly retreating to the threshold of your room.
Zeppeliâs out of the door before you can blink, some quickly uttered excuses about remembering to pack lost in the wake of your devious laughter as you scamper in pursuit, eager to follow behind.
Been working on a some redraws of my old art since late last year so I thought I'd post a couple! Still messing around with styles and stuff but it's fun.
You'll probably find Mista and the first doodle's originals in the older parts of my art tag I think these guys turned out much better than the firsts! I'll probably post some more stuff soon when I dig em up.
Also unrelated but 7th Stand user my beloved I should really get back into playing it đ§Ąđ§Ą
Can I please get a matchup? My name is Kerosene. I'm a demigirl (she/they pronouns), 5â, petite, caramel blonde hair, dark blue eyes (and I wear glasses) bi with no real preference. I'm ADHD, autistic, and have chronic insomnia. And I'm goth/emo. I'm a bit of an introvert but I'm extroverted around people I know and like. I have a sharp tongue and a wide vocabulary of swear words and insults. I'm fiercely loyal to people who get on my good side and I try to make things as fun as possible when I'm hanging out with friends. Also I'm a giggly bitch, I laugh at pretty much anything. My favorite parts are Stardust Crusaders* and Golden Wind*. And if I had a Stand, its name would be Sharpest Life.
(**I ask that you don't pair me with Jotaro, Kakyoin, Bruno, or Abbacchio as I don't want to view them romantically.)
Of course hun! :D I always love hearing about everyone's stand names I think they're super neat! And with your preferences in mind I do believe I've found a good match for you,,,
I match you with Risotto!
I believe that you and Risotto would mesh together really well as a couple! Itâs the kind of love that really takes it time to blossom however; but with a bit of patience on your end and some persistence to get into Risâ good graces, your bond will be unshakable!
Risotto is not an easy man to get close to, not by a long shot. Itâs not because of his nature or general disposition (though he comes off as intimidating at first meetings for good reason, and can play a part in him coming off as callous or uninterested), rather itâs because getting romantically involved with someone, especially outside of the gang, puts any potential partners at great risk.Â
Every member knows this well, and have had to come to terms with that as a fact of life in their own ways both effective and not. Not to mention Risotto has likely never cared for someone enough to want to risk a relationship in his current line of work, preferring to keep any potential romantic partners at a distance. If you were a part of the gang, he would have less reservations, though even then it will take time to get the head of La Squadra to begin opening his heart up to you.
But if you do get close, close enough to ease apart the carefully constructed wall heâs built between his âwork lifeâ and âpersonal lifeâ, youâll find a place for yourself etched into his very soul. Being a Stand user helps to ease Risottoâs fears, if only somewhat. A stand offers an added layer of protection against the seedier, darker corners of the world you both live in - allows you insight into what most canât see just enough to let you know what youâre getting yourself into.
You keep to yourself in the beginning, which suits him just fine - the brief greetings as you pass by one another on your daily commute and the small conversations stolen when you both happen to be lingering in the same place are more than enough. He isnât sure when it happens, when he starts feeling this urge to want to know more about you, to know more of who you are; but once that desire is there itâs impossible to ignore. So he observes, and listens, and tucks every moment that you share into his mind without thinking twice about it. Doesnât realize just how much you occupy his thoughts until heâs in the middle of briefing the rest of his team one day and the image of how youâd smiled at him that day is in the back of his mind the entire time. Congratulations; youâve got this manâs heart hook, line, and sinker.
A sharp tongue also speaks of a sharp wit when used correctly; and boy does Risotto enjoy seeing you use it. You can go toe to toe with Ghiaccioâs attitude, have enough snark to stun even the likes of Melone and Formaggio into silence, and that sharp tongue of yours has even humbled Prosciutto and even Risotto himself for underestimating just how wide that vocabulary of yours is the two times they made the mistake of doing so. That being said, with how quick you are on the draw thereâs a respect for your remarks, which may come off as harsh or biting but Risotto can easily brush off the tone and see your words at face value.Â
On another note, thereâs definitely some goth couple goals going on here- I mean, have you looked at Risotto? The black with enough golden accents to draw the eye (which speaking of HIS EYES??? He was born to goth), combined with your own fashion sense will always draw eyes admiring how well you fit together wherever you go. A few people would assume that your similar styles are due to wanting to be a cute matching couple because of how well you fit together, which is sure to end up with some amusing anecdotes to tell later on in the relationship. But really itâs just how seamlessly you two manage to look so damn good rocking your respective styles.
Sleep hardly comes easy for troubled men. And pile that on with an overall reluctance to sleep in the face of more work, youâll find that many of your nights awake are shared with the assassin far into the early hours. In the beginning of your relationship Risotto would leave your room to go elsewhere in the house to avoid the risk of keeping you awake with his own restlessness. He was concerned heâd done exactly that when youâd wandered into the kitchen not long after heâd settled in for a night spent awake with his thoughts. But when you nonchalantly dropped down into the seat across from him, asking if he wanted to share the leftovers in the fridge while the kettle boiled, that concern dissipated along with the realization that you were as used to sleepless nights as he was.Â
Thereâs a still calmness on these nights, of just existing in one anotherâs company doing your own thing, with less time spent watching the clock hands move and more time. You can tell that these evenings mean a lot to him. Your companionship, just being close enough that he can reach out and pull you close or seek your hand with an unspoken reverence - itâs the closest thing to a break Risotto will ever get, with the weight on his shoulders left at the door in this pocket of space youâve made for just the two of you.
Loyalty is a prized trait, one that Risotto knows from experience has to be earned and maintained in earnest to keep. Itâs loyalty which has kept La Squadra together and such a force to be reckoned with for as long as it has. More than once heâs been sure that your trust would falter and you would turn and disappear from his life the more you learned of his life (which may be why he insisted that your knowledge about the gang's doings remains as minimal as possible). He wouldnât have blamed you for wanting to leave. And yet every time you prove him wrong; your unwavering loyalty making Risotto feel foolish for having ever doubted that faith you have in him. Itâs a loyalty heâs intent on keeping with you, to show that heâs worthy of that level of trust, and itâs a facet of you that he loves.
What Risotto loves most, however? Your laugh. The first time heâd heard you giggle it was at the smallest thing; something so completely random that it actually catches Risotto off guard. Itâs not the last time, but it isnât long that heâs actively listening out for those sparks of joy that come bubbling from you at everything and anything. That schooled, stern exterior softens in the light of your laughter. All of his squad have noticed it, with some making goading jabs and others nudging the others to watch when they see it firsthand like they almost canât believe it.Â
There must still be something good to this world, if itâs able to bring a smile to your face in spite of everything. Even those stifled giggles at something mundane, or a snort of amusement over something most wouldnât even bat an eye serve as reminders to Risotto that thereâs someone to come home to at the end of every mission - someone ready to greet him with that same smile and the beginnings of a giggle that heâs come to adore.
Heyya everyone, I hope that you're having a great day~!
I'm hoping to start chipping away at the inbox the next couple of days to get some scenarios and requests posted - I'll be opening up the inbox so please send in some requests of what you'd like to see and I'll be happy to make them đđ
hello, I would like to request a matchup, if you are still doing those. I am something of an aspiring writer who really likes taking terrible ideas and seeing how far I can run with them. often I will hyperfixate on stupid things and think about them too much, but I try to be self aware about it and donât mind a little ribbing. I also try to push my boundaries and try new things, though I can be a pushover and have trouble saying no. I love eating, terrible puns, and colorful things as well
Hiyya! Apologies for the wait hun but I think I've got your match up all done!...
I match you with Joseph!
Honestly, I can see no-one who matches you better than the loudmouth Joestar himself!Â
The relationship between the two of you is playful; full of joy and vibrancy and lighthearted feelings. Itâs a whirlwind romance, as Josephâs love is the kind thatâs all encompassing - you donât even know youâre fallen until one random day doing something menial; it just hits you how fast the Joestarâs love has wormed its way into your heart and soul, and that feeling punches the lights outta him just as hard. Though expect Joseph to be a hell of a lot more vocal about it.
Joseph is an enabler of terrible ideas through and through. You want to run with a horrendous idea to see how far you can take it before it derails? He will play every part of the devil on your shoulder, egging you on and wanting to know all the best details on how itâs going the entire process. More than once heâs thrown his own ideas into the pot to see if something he says will stick with you and give you more material to work with - though he does pout a bit when you add his ideas to the âterribleâ pile that youâre steadily amassing in your book/phone/ computer, playfully insisting you to add his name in the credits if one of his âsuggestionsâ inspires you to write the next big seller.
He isnât always the best company when you have to focus on your writing however. If anything, he can be a massive distraction that ends up derailing either your train of focus or the writing part itself with his antics. You can see it coming from a mile away - at first, Joseph will try to be real sly about it, resting his head on your shoulder and loosely looping his arms around your waist while heâs watching you write, edit and rework your current draft; giving his input with hems and hms aplenty. But slowly that hold grows firmer, those hms turning into vague suggestions and whines to take a break and go do something else together. Thankfully, thereâs a simple solution to this conundrum, as give him enough Kisses until his mind is a content mush of affection and heâll be set to shut up for a half-hour or so till he starts up again.
The boundary of new things is a suggestion just waiting to be crossed for Joseph - the kind of guy who will see an impossible (and often ridiculous) feat and trick himself into thinking, fuck it, he can give it a go. This rarely goes to plan, but itâs the thought that counts! Having a partner on a similar wavelength who isnât afraid to broaden their horizons and try something new once in a while is an ideal for him. Expect for these new experiences to come out of the blue however; he does plan ahead for these kind of things - sets time aside for the date and such - but heâs just so excited about doing it, especially with you, that he canât always wait till the day of. Hope you like a little spontaneity in your life, as all it takes is a chunk of free time in your schedules and a little convincing on Josephâs part before heâs whisking you away off on the next grand venture.
This goes for food especially. Sometimes you have to wonder if half of the dates heâs taking you arenât just an excuse to stuff his face with great food with you. Not that you mind; Josephâs got a bunch of local places at the top of his list for the best in town, having tried everything from the family run joints to the restaurants with big enough price tags the food would have to be plated in gold to justify it. So he knows what places serve the best grub that you may have never even heard before. If youâd prefer the option to eat in instead of going out heâll be out the door and back with a bunch of food in to-go bags faster than you can blink.
Will ALWAYS play up when you crack out a terrible pun, but loves dishing them out himself. If youâre the one to throw out a terrible pun, Joseph will be so exaggerated groaning about how bad it is - dropping his head in his hands, bemoaning the corny punchline, only breaking the act when you threaten to shove him off of whatever piece of furniture heâs thrown himself against in his dramatics. Josephâs a total hypocrite though with his own and will give you that cheeky grin, giving you a little nudge as he tries to get you to admit that you thought it was funny. âThat was a good one, eh? Right, right?â Itâs up to you whether youâre brave enough to admit they got a laugh out of you.
If you make a point to tell him just how much you love colorful things, a lot of the gifts he gets you. Very much the kind of guy who will see something in the shop window thatâs eye catching and bright and not think twice about buying. Heâll harp on about how much it reminded him of you, so of course he had to get it for his cute partner - isnât he the best boyfriend? Heâd be an even better one if heâd help you start looking for places to keep all of said gifts, because at this rate youâre going to have to invest in more shelves and bigger space to find room for all of this stuff. Thatâs fine, though; youâre always encouraged to leave them at his place - itâs basically a second home at this point, and heâs always looking to spend more time with you, regardless of the time or place.
If your match ups are still open, may I take one for Jojo parts 1-5 please?
Iâm a female demi, but prefers men. Iâm an INTJ, chubby pair bodied, dyed red hair, green eyes, 5â2â gremlin goth mom friend. Iâm blunt/have no filter, have a dark/sarcastic sense of humor, who isnât afraid of confrontation.
I have a wall up for new people due to trauma, but my love languages are quality time and acts of service. Iâm prone to anxiety and depression, but can usually get myself out of it in time. Towards people who get past my wall, Iâm a playful and protective mama bear.
Iâm an artist (which Iâm super passionate about), I love animals (even the creepy crawlies), nature, reading, learning new things, collecting crystals (I just think they look pretty), and games (I can get competitive).
I donât like people who are willfully ignorant instead of being open to new things (I like himbos though lol) and cold and extreme heat/sunlight (I get sick easily). Gore in movies/books, as well as most things donât bother me.
Thank you so much! đ
Thank you so much for the request!! I'm sorry that it took so long to answer but I'm here with hopefully a great match up for you...
I Match you with Kakyoin!
I know you said you like himbos but hear me out here! I really think that you and Kakyoin would make a great pair, with plenty to bond over.
Your relationship is one that builds up over time; the kind of bond that warms up slowly until itâs kindling into that little flame and Kakyoin realizes that what heâs feeling goes deeper than just friendship. The very first meeting is a brief encounter, but leaves the image of you in his mind for far longer than he expects.
Amusingly, itâs probably your hair color that catches his attention first. I can definitely see the likes of Polnareff or Joseph pointing you out to him, a flash of crimson among the other faces in the immediate vicinity, commenting that you share a similar shade with a snicker like itâs the funniest thing. More than enough to get him shaking his head at what they find funny, but itâs also enough for him to bite the bullet and actually approach you.
Honestly, heâd really like how blunt you are from the get-go. It means you donât mince your words with him; wonât hold back your thoughts for fear of a filter. Kakyoin doesnât have to concern himself that youâre holding what you think back from him; and despite how guarded you are, your bluntness gives him a window to the person you are beneath all of that. Granted, sometimes your headstrong attitude and refusal to back down from confrontations can potentially cause more trouble than expected, especially if itâs with someone whoâs just as, if not more competitive. Thankfully Kakyoinâs there to play mediator and step in for you. Heâs not entirely a saint though, as a couple times heâs seen you go off on someone who rightfully deserved it (usually someone whoâs made the mistake of doing your loved ones dirty and setting off the protective mama bear in you), and he was more than happy to chill on the sidelines with a proud smile. Kakyoin canât help admiring the fire behind your eyes and the bite in your words when you get protective, itâs a side of you that he finds himself smitten for.
Kakyoin recognizes that wall youâve put around yourself almost immediately, as heâd done much the same for a significant portion of his own life before meeting the Crusaders. It doesnât take long for him to piece together how your defenses differ from his own, stemmed from the tragedies in your past that have given you enough reason to put up that guard to protect yourself from being hurt further. Kakyoin wonât pry - he knows better than to push someone to reveal a part of themselves that their past has taught them to push down for the sake of self preservation.Â
And sure enough slowly, surely, youâll find yourself beginning to ease up around Kakyoin a little more each day. Thereâs never any pressure to be more, to do more other than just exist around one another for a while. And on the bad days where your anxiety and depression feel a little too consuming, that means more than words could ever convey. Quality time is a love language Kakyoin prides himself over. Being active in being engaged with your partner feels to him like his partner is proving that the relationship matters, that he matters to you; so the fact that you two both share this as a love language only aids in melting down those walls just enough to carve a pocket of space for the pair of you.Â
When your playful side comes out, you donât think youâve ever seen Kakyoin so pleased. Not only because itâs proof that youâre finally beginning to trust him, but itâs oh so entertaining watching this part of you coming to the forefront of your interactions. Be careful, he gives as good as he gets on the playful front, and can spot when the mood takes you from a mile off. All it takes is seeing that mischievous glint in your eyes and a smile is already tugging at his lips as he watches you, eyes following your every move just waiting for you to make the first move in whatever antics youâve got bubbling in that beautiful brain of yours.
Your art is an excellent buffer for when youâre first getting to know each other. Kakyoin has an appreciation for art, and often makes his own when he can find the time and has his supplies on hand. If youâll entertain his inquiries, you two could literally spend a good chunk of time talking about what you like to make, your preferred medium, what supplies or brands you prefer over others. Other times heâs content just to exist in your space while youâre making something if youâll let him; the same goes for reading too while heâs doing his own thing. If youâre feeling up to it, these activities can be enjoyed outside too. Not too far, just the garden or a spot nearby that will give you both the peace and quiet and chance to just sit and enjoy the outside world without people.
Unfortunately, Hierophant's âemeraldsâ donât persist after heâs withdrawn his stand, though Kakyoin often makes use of his stand to produce them for you to admire for a while. It makes him happy seeing you taking the time to admire something Hierophant (and by extension himself) has created. Knows little about crystals, but he sees you gush over how pretty you think they look, so Kakyoin keeps his eyes out on something that youâd like that follows your interests.
If you want someone who can match your competitive streak, Kakyoin is your guy. Going toe to toe in multiplayer matches can get intense when youâre playing against each other. Kakyoin makes a habit to memorize the controls and gameplay to use to his own advantage, so any and all 1v1 matches against him are engaging and victories are often hard won. If itâs an online game that puts you toe to toe with others as a team however? The two of you become a powerhouse to be feared. No one is safe from the absolute unit that your united front offers - you fill in the gaps in each otherâs defense, and with Kakyoinâs bold playstyle he provides ample distraction for your own work; safe to say all of the Crusaders have felt the sting of defeat if they come over on a game night. For single player games Kakyoin will still gladly sit in, though just be prepared for him to fill in your play time with excerpts from the game guide or his own opinions on the game if itâs a title that heâs familiar with.
My love language is physical touch i dream of being someone more important to the world and actually make a difference,Iâm usually quiet unless am with friends and people ik and trust my friends say am sassy sarcastic and yes i will respond âyour mom/dadâ and âup your assâ to every question lmao, i can get angry quickly but it usually goes away quickly lmao i can be very lazy but sometimes usually at night i get random energy and try to clean my room or something but give up 5 minutes later, i cant cook at all like i cant even cook a simple egg, am allergic to cats but will still pet and cuddle them if they let me i can be afraid of the dark after watching something scary but other then that dont really have any fears i like coffee,animals,sweet spicy sour really any food, listening to music, sleeping,watching horror movies and anime,playing games and being on being on my phone usually talking to my friend at 5AM when i need to wake at 7AM my ideal type would probably be someone who jokes more and is less serious honestly i love myself a himbo my ideal date would probably be something more casual like maybe a walk thru a park going to a cafe you know?
Thanks for the request! Took a little time but I believe I've found a wonderful match up for you...
I match you with Okuyasu!
Itâs safe to say that Okuyasu would be smitten from the word go when heâs first introduced to you. Youâre out with friends when you run into the trio of boys, and it doesnât take much talking on your friendsâ part before the two groups gradually just merge into one big hangout together.
At first he thinks that the two of you got off on the wrong foot, and that heâs done something to make you wary of him given how youâre initially so quiet. You seem to want to keep to yourself at first, sticking close to the side of one of your friends, clearly not yet ready to trust these guys youâve just met. Even Okuyasu knows that he can be kind of abrasive and comes off as an intimidating guy at first glance - but the last thing that he wants to do is give you the wrong impression from the get-go! Josuke and Koichi are quick to reassure their friend- youâre just the quiet type, thatâs all! Though itâs the confirmation from one of your friends that youâll warm up to him once you trust him, you just need some time that finally eases his fears. In fact, when your friend mentions youâre actually quite sassy and outspoken with your friends, Oku begins to look forward to seeing that side of you when you finally start warming up to him.
Which, surprisingly, doesnât take that long at all! Especially when Okuyasu goes out of his way to spend time with you on your own terms and show that heâs an okay guy (not that you need convincing, but itâs the thought that counts). It isnât long until that sassy sarcasm of yours finally comes out around him, and out of the blue too.Â
Josukeâs looking for something he misplaced during the usual hang out gaming night, and with how comfortable a position you and Okyusasu have got yourselves into, Josukeâs left to fend for himself on the search front while you watch from the comfort of the couch. At his defeated huff of âMan, where is it?!â your retort is a brisk âup your assâ without thinking twice. The echoed âHUH?!â makes you realize huh, youâve never pulled that line in front of them, have you? Donât worry though, while it gets an eye roll and a grumble about being âreal matureâ from Josuke, thereâs no missing Okyuasuâs snicker. From there, anytime someone asks a question along those lines you can catch Okuyasuâs eye like heâs already waiting for the punchline.
Letâs be honest, Okuyasu is an impulsive soul whoâs quick to rile up, similar to you but different in his own way. The way that you handle that anger however, is actually effective for calming Oku too. He gets heated on your behalf when youâre upset, wanting to validate your frustration and wanting to fix it, however as soon as he sees that youâve cooled off that anger just as quickly it mellows him out too. Itâs actually comedic watching it happen in real time, how just seeing you calm yourself is enough to temper Okuâs mood too.
Donât even stress about the cooking - if you want food, Okuyasu is your guy! I think that even before DIU heâs got a decent grasp of a bunch of quick, easy meals that are really filling! Sure, heâs the kinda guy that prefers grabbing quick bites to eat with you, doubling it as some date time, but watching you struggle to cook even an egg he clocks on that you could really use some help in the kitchen. He sees it as a chance to impress you, hoping that youâll look up to him more and see him as a dependable guy - it gives him the push heâs been needing to start getting serious about cooking too. I like to think he asks Tonio for some pointers and dish ideas to start making some heavy duty dishes that youâll like - swears he was just learning for the hell of it, but thereâs no hiding the pride on his face every time you tuck into food he made with his own hands.
Right, so, depending on how bad your cat allergy is determines how worried heâs gonna be at your insistence to pet them. A mild reaction like redness and itchiness? An understandable sacrifice when youâve got a cat flopped at your feet demanding scritches. But if itâs more serious heâll panic whenever a feline so much as wanders in your general direction, and more often than not will snatch them right out of the way and plop them down far enough away he deems it âsafeâ. The compromise for the pair of you is Stray Cat, as the little guy is more plant than cat but still purrs up a storm whenever you pet him.Â
If Okuyasuâs staying the night when you get those sudden middle of the night energy bursts, I think itâs a tossup of if he can stay awake long enough for you to get them done. Heâs barely conscious when you suddenly hop out of bed, more asleep than awake and his hairâs a total mess but heâll try (and fail) to untangle himself from the sheets long enough to wait out your cleaning montage. Crashes the second you give up - heâs already back to sleep before your head even hits the pillow. Heâll still trip over the stuff youâve reorganized in the morning though, every time, even if you try to warn him when you have to get up.Â
Similar to when youâre on those middle of the night cleaning attempts, Okuyasuâs determined to stay awake to keep you company; however you still begin to lose him around the 3-4am mark. He likes to cuddle close to you when youâre having late night calls with your friends, so at one point in the night youâll likely find a hand blindly patting around the bed for you till Oku can pry his face from his pillow, having him reach out to you mid-call to use your lap as a pillow or muffle his snores against your side that are still somehow loud enough to have you and your friend giggling on the other line.
Moriohâs choc full of places to go - cute cafes to eat out at or get takeout on the days you wanna stay home. Not to mention being surrounded by all that greenery and thick trees a little further out of town, thereâs plenty of places to just walk around and hang out! Okuâs very low maintenance like that, so long as he can hang out and youâre there, itâs a great date! Casual dates work out better for the pair of you; thereâs less pressure to be absolutely perfect and with easy plans thereâs less of a concern for things going wrong that canât be fixed or laughed off. That doesnât mean Okuyasu doesnât stress the hell out sometimes, especially the first few dates, worrying if youâre just saying you like casual dates to make him happy, or that youâre only agreeing to come because you feel bad saying no. Just give him a bit of reassurance, and Oku will soon be riding the dating high all over again.
Youâve confessed to him before how youâve wanted to be someone more important to the world, which confuses him because you are already important to the world. I mean, hey, you made his world a whole lot better just by being a part of it. He says it so earnestly that itâs kind of flustering, but he means it and heâll remind you of it in a heartbeat if you ever so much as doubt yourself. This guy is smitten for you - good luck with his big olâ heart!
If the match ups are still open could I request one from part 3? I'm a 20 year old short, gay, asexual, transmasc who is basically a burnt out gifted kid. I'm really odd I suppose, I like to show affection by grabbing my (hypothetical lmao) boyfriend and screaming quietly and also using words of affirmation and physical touch. I like a lot of childish things so people usually make fun of me and I'm also quite loud and annoying. I really like jokes and the colour blue (I dyed my hair blue bc I like that colour so much lol). It's kind of hard for me to chill unless I'm tired or unmotivated to move ( weird ik /nsrs ). I hope the requests are still open, thank you, have a nice day đ
Thank you for taking the time to request dear! I know that it's been quite a while, but I think I've found your match...
I match you with Jean Pierre Polnareff!
You and Polnareff would click together so fast itâs as though you were made for each other!
Polnareff is a vibrant soul. Loud, open, wearing his heart on his sleeve to the person lucky enough to earn his affection, and especially loving to boot. The two of you seem to be on the same wavelength from the first time that you cross paths, and itâs almost a guarantee that itâs exactly that which piques his interest and draws him in (not to mention that chance to shoot his shot with such a cutie - heâs just lucky the others donât intervene when he meandered over to chat you up for the first time). There is no doubt that Pol is a man that youâll mesh well with. That being said he can also be as blunt as a brick - he tried to deny it but he canât when you were filled in on his escapades on the way to Egypt pior to meeting - but thankfully the pair of you still manage to hit it off, and itâs clear to see among the other crusaders that youâre going to be as thick as thieves.Â
Polnareff looooves physical affection, and will be more than happy to take any and all opportunities to dish it right back at you - itâs one of his love languages, after all!! Grab onto his arm and heâll melt eagerly into your hold. Go in for a hug and heâll damn near sweep you off of your feet and into his awaiting arms like something out of a fairytale. Itâs a great way to get his attention on you when you need it - no sooner has he felt your fingers curl around his forearm or that familiar warmth and weight at his side, that Polnareffâs eyes are on you, effectively pulled away from whatever he was doing to hang off of your every word as though he makes the rest of the world is has to take a step back to make time just for you. You really do have him wrapped around your finger without even trying, and anyone with eyes and a working braincell have clocked onto the effect you have on the excitable frenchman.
Expect him to give as good as he gets though. Love pours from this guy in droves, as though each kiss or hug is trying to convey something that his words simply fail to get across. You can see his affectionate moods coming from a mile off; all you have to hear is one of the many cute nicknames heâs donned you with coyly calling out to you and itâs all over. Granted, it gives you ample time to make your escape or bargain for him to hold off on the affection till later (which in itself is like telling him not to breathe - as Polâs dramatically professed), but if youâre up for some good olâ loving say goodbye to any plans you had and pen in an hour or so of kisses peppered across your face and fingers threading through your hair as youâre coaxed into his embrace. Polnareffâs great to cuddle with too! Thereâs few places that youâll feel safer than in Polnareffâs arms, face buried in your hair or the crook of your neck, and arms holding firm enough that youâd swear heâs afraid youâll slip right through his fingers mid-cuddle as he mutters sweet, affirming words between quick pecks.
Go wild with the words of affirmation! Polnareff is more than happy to bask in every shred of praise and affection youâll give and preen for more, laying it on thick just short of twirling his hair (if thatâs even possible) and kicking his feet. Will occasionally pipe up with something cheesy like âOh stop, stop youâre flattering me!...but go on, go on~!â thatâll have you cracking a smile and wondering if itâs worth letting his ego get this big for how giddy it makes him. There are times where youâll find he gets into these quiet, reflective episodes. Where the charm and the corny one liners and dramatic declarations are replaced with something more muted, solitary. Just stay with him in these moments - sit by his side and fill in that silence with your presence and your affirming words to bring him back - they mean more than heâll likely ever be able to express. Be warned, though, you canât just be all sweet and lovey dovey and not expect to be showered in praise, loving words and kisses in return - it would be an injustice if he didnât!Â
Very vocal about his love too, everyone and their grandma is going to know about your relationship and how much he loves you to the point where itâll border on a tiiinnyyy bit insufferable to others. The Crusaders especially will never hear the end of it the moment that itâs made official - Kakyoin has called you more than once begging you to convince your boyfriend to stop calling him in the middle of the night (thanks to timezones) just to gush over something cute you did that day. Sure, theyâd have to have been blind and deaf to have not noticed the blatant showing off and affectionate stares, but Pol just canât stop bragging about how wonderful you are. Heâll tone it down for you once he learns youâre not the fondest of the overly outlandish public displays, but will compensate when itâs just the two of you to make sure youâre feeling the love.Â
Polnareff wouldnât dream of making fun of you, not even before you got together. Heâll playfully rib you about how passionate you get about your interests, making a show of wondering aloud what heâll have to do to spark that beautiful passion for him. But not unless itâs already been secured between you that itâs all in good fun, and if you even get the notion that thereâs any judgment heâs quick to prove otherwise. Who gets to decide liking childish stuff is a bad thing? Thereâs so much to enjoy in life that stooping low enough to mock what brings others joy is just distasteful. Just hope that no-one who made fun of you makes the mistake of showing their face, or Polnareff will be quick to school them in minding their business and manners.
His jokes are terrible. Thereâs no way around the fact that theyâre eye-roll worthy on a good day, and earn a facepalm and a few new stress lines from his companions when heâs on a roll. More than once heâd bat around ideas for new jokes heâs thought up of off the top of his head with you. During long car rides or just as a way to fill the silence and kill time, once he knows that youâre fond of jokes Polnareffâll have a field day. Regardless of if he gets a groan or a joke back, what matters most is if it pulls a smile out of you. Even just a little quirk of the lip or a lift in your mood means a job well done as your boyfriend.Â
Heâs waxed poetics about your beautiful blue hair before. The cheesy line he made about its color reminding him of the crisp oceans and that itâs a hue he could gladly get lost in was enough to get you to break into laughter just at the sheer boldness of this guy. Will joke that it must have been his charming blue eyes that drew you in - you just couldnât resist. That flirting will break to a downright fluster however if that turns out to be one of the things that actually did draw you to him.Â
Bless this man but youâll lose his attention on the essays. All the more power to you if you think theyâre fun! But Pol is more of a man of action, and heâll get distracted if given half the chance. Thatâs not to say he won't be in your corner though - heâs your number 1 supporter! I just hope your focus doesnât sway easily, as Polnareff is the king of procrastination and when he wants any kind of affection or attention heâs very persuasive about getting you away from what youâre working on.
Now drawing he can get behind! Heâs the kind of partner who is happy to throw ideas and inspiration around when youâve hit a block on what to draw. Bring him anything youâve made? Polnareff is showing it off to everybody in the nearest vicinity. Will act like youâve taken the stars from the sky and put them into your art, and will treat the things youâve made as such. On the long, hopefully fight-free moments on your trip, if you find yourself doodling away youâll soon find Polnareff gravitating over to watch, hovering over-shoulder and vocalizing his fascination with how you pull ideas out of thin air onto paper so easily.
Polnareff has called you out more than once when itâs time to slow down and enjoy the little things in life (spoken like a true hypocrite bc when heâs wound up into something heâs so stubborn about taking a second to chill that youâve had to physically wrangle him a couple times.) It doesnât initially click for him what it takes to get you to feel wound down enough to chill out, but give him time, and a little brainstorming, and heâll be roping you into enjoying some well deserved downtime before you know it!
This is a man who cares with every breath, every touch, every fibre of his damned being. Once youâve secured his affections heâs unwavering in his devotion, and a man like Jean-Pierre is who I think would make a wonderful fit for you!
Here is a list of all Part 8 requests! They can also be found under the #Part8 tag!
(Please note I've had to separate requests that have characters from multiple Jojo parts, so if you can't find what you're looking for please feel free to look around!)
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Yasuho's childhood friend realizing they have feelings for her fic
Here is a list of all Part 7 requests! They can also be found under the #Part7 tag!
(Please note I've had to separate requests that have characters from multiple Jojo parts, so if you can't find what you're looking for please feel free to look around!)
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First date with Gyro!
Getting caught singing to calm down by Gyro and Johnny
Gyro, Johnny, Diego + Sandman with S/O who likes head/back scratches
Mountain Tim fluff hcs
Diego + Johnny relationship hcs
Gyro with twin sons
Johnny, Gyro + Diego's S/O asking to style their hair
Sandman, Ringo, Magenta Magenta + Nicholas dating hcs
Diego in a poly relationship with two bickering S/O's
Mountain Tim with an S/O awkward about expression affection
Mountain Tim dad hcs
Gyro smut drabble đ
Sex with Johnny - pre and post accident đ
Johnny word prompt cuddle drabble
Johnny + Diego teaching their S/O how to ride a horse
Diego, Johnny + Gyro relationship hcs during the race
Sandman growing attached to someone during the race
Fluffy hcs with Scary Monsters! Diego + S/O
Magenta Magenta being fished out of the water in modern day/falling for his saviour