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Easy Peasy Lemon Squeezy

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Chapter 1



"This is all your fault! It's because of you that we live like this! It's because of you that Mom died!" shouted Dio. He wasn't thinking. He was seeing red, could even taste copper in his mouth.

This wasn't going according to plan. He was supposed to be curled up in bed, what the hell happened? Dio shot. Once. Twice. He paused momentarily, watching as the man staggered backward, bottle falling from his hands and crashing on the floor as he clutched his chest. He stared back at his fingers in horror, slowly registering that the murky crimson staining them was his own blood. Dio shot once more, this bullet getting lodged in the man's throat. He fell on his knees, blood springing from the hole. He fell forward with a splat, in a puddle of cheap liquor, shards of glass and blood. It kept pooling, until it reached Diego's feet who jumped back to avoid getting his socks wet.

Dio was panting but he wasn't shaking. He lowered his arms and looked at the corpse with cold eyes, lips pressed into a thin line. This was definitely messier than he had anticipated but successful, in the end. He tended to be reckless when he lost his temper. Luckily, this neighborhood was used to the sounds of gunfire. No one would suspect him. But he still needed to act quickly.

"Help me get him into the car," he said.

"What about all this blood?" Diego was looking at the corpse with wide eyes, half expecting it to rise and start drinking again.

"We'll get him in the car first and then we'll take care of this. Go get some sheets and blankets from upstairs. Some rope, too." The younger nodded and headed to fetch the items.

Dio nudged the corpse with the edge of his foot, irritated that he had to touch something as filthy with his shiny Prada shoes. No response. He wasn't alive, was he? No, he had been poisoned, all of his internal organs were slowly failing and he had been shot three times. Whatever, it wouldn't matter in a while anyway.

Diego returned and the two brothers got busy trying to bundle up the corpse, covering it with the blankets and tightly securing it with the rope. Satisfied with the result, Dio instructed Diego to grab the corpse by the head while he handled the legs. They moved carefully until they had safely deposited the body into the trunk.

"He won't fit."

"Ugh. Should I cut his head off?"

"Yeah. Otherwise, we'll have to put him in the backseat."

Dio looked around. Cutting the head off would take too much time. He pushed the body further inside, taking advantage of its fading flexibility. A sharp crack was heard and he stumbled forward, successfully shoving the corpse inside. He shut the trunk and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

Cleaning up the blood was easy, especially because they didn't have a carpet. He poured the filthy water down the drain and cleaned the sink. As he was about to leave, he noticed the gun. He took it with him, just to be safe.

"I think we're good to go," commented Diego, observing the scene. Nothing seemed out of place in this cramped hole they called home. In fact, it seemed more orderly, more tranquil.

The car was a black Citroen C3 he had stolen from a would-be one-night-stand. It was nowhere near the Lamborghini Dio was dreaming of but at least it was enough to help him move around. The streets were almost empty, quiet. He estimated it would take perhaps an hour to get to their destination. Diego was sitting in the passenger's seat, humming softly as he was looking out the window.

"What are you thinking?" Dio asked. Despite not being the most affectionate person, keeping his brother safe was his duty. His mother had made him swear that when she was about to die. All he did, he did it for her.

"We just killed our Father."

"Does that bother you?"

"It bothers me that we didn't do it sooner." Dio couldn't help but grin. So what if their little poisoning ploy had been found out? Everything had worked out in the end. No one would miss Dario, no one would look for him.

Dio saw the red and blue lights before he heard the siren's screech. He cursed loudly. Diego turned around and looked at the approaching police car. They weren't going over the speed limit, so what was the problem? Dio pulled over, not wanting to raise any suspicions.

"Ah, fuck. Do you have a driver's license?"

"I had Diavolo make one for me." Dio straightened himself as he rolled down the window. He looked calm, a little sweaty but otherwise calm. He had managed to keep his excitement in check, surprising even himself. All he wanted to do was scream, scream and laugh until he was crying. Finally he was free, finally, he had gotten rid of the only obstacle in his course. Soon, he would be able to get high from joy. It wasn't time for celebrations yet.

He glanced at Diego. He was slightly fidgeting. Diego had always been more easily excitable than Dio. He noticed the way his brother was squinting at the approaching policeman. He needed to get him to the doctor, his eyesight was getting worse day by day.

"Take this," he quickly said and handed Diego the gun. "If things go south, shoot." The younger boy nodded and hid the weapon underneath his sweater.

"Good evening, boys."

"Good evening, officer," Dio greeted with his best smile. The man leaned against the window and eyed the pair. "What seems to be the problem?”

“Oh, there's no problem. Just wondering what two young men like yourselves are doing out so late.”

“Just heading home for the night, sir. Nothing special,” Dio said through gritted teeth.

The man hummed. It wasn't that late to be considered suspicious. “Do you have a driver's license?”

“Yes, sir.” Dio handed it to him. He looked at it carefully. The work was perfect, there was no chance the policeman would find the slightest fault. “Anything wrong, sir?”

“No...” He handed the card back to Dio. He took a step back to look at the car. He lazily scratched his chin. “You boys can go but you better be careful. There's a serial killer on the loose.”

“We will. Good night, sir.”

Fucking pig, Dio bitterly thought as he was driving away. How eager he was to do his job, show what a true professional he was over pointless shit like that. Where were they when his mother would wake the whole neighborhood with her screaming? Useless, useless, absolutely useless.

Diego was about to fall asleep when they reached the shed. It was still standing alone in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by tall trees. The night was so still, had it not been for the cool breeze, Dio might have thought that time had stopped. The moonlight was shining upon him, cool and silver, baptizing him, blessing his new beginning. Was this an evil act? Probably. Was it absolutely necessary? Definitely.

Dio helped Diego take the body out of the trunk. They moved inside the shed and the moment the creaky door opened, a dozen starving and infuriated dogs started barking. Dio shot just once and all of them shut up, choosing instead to whimper and look at him with their lustrous, soulless eyes. Controlling these mindless beasts certainly gave Dio a sense of superiority, though not as much as playing with people did. With little difficulty, the brothers undid the knots and let the corpse roll on the floor with a loud thud. Dio kicked the head, making it look the other way. The less he looked at that face, the better. Even if he was dead, simply looking at those eyes made Dio's blood boil and want nothing more than to stab him to his heart's content.

“How do we get them to eat?” Good question, for the dogs didn't seem particularly interested in consuming the man. Dio walked to the lifeless body and after tearing the sleeve from its filthy shirt, made a deep cut with his knife. Upon seeing blood, one of the canines' ears perked up and it cautiously approached the offering, sniffing the air. It gave the new wound a long lick, soon finding the others. Two more joined him, all trying to lick the blood. Soon, they were sinking their teeth into the dead flesh, tearing away large chunks of meat.

The brothers didn't move until they saw that most of the body had been consumed. When the little pack finally dissolved, satisfied with the meal, they saw that the only remains were the shaggy clothes, the bones, and the upper half of his head. Dio chuckled. Not even the dogs wanted to eat his brain. They walked out and blocked the door. All of the windows had been secured too. There was no way this place could be brought down.

Dio lit a match and gracefully threw it at the shed's wooden door. The fire spread almost immediately, the sparks growing larger and stronger with each piece of dry wood it consumed. The flames danced to the sky like hot tongues, the wails on the animals echoing around the dark woods. The wailing grew stronger, the flames became larger. Yet no one would notice a thing. Dio truly believed he had been blessed.

The fire didn't spread. In the morning, only ash remained. No one would ever know what had happened there. Only them.



Living in a house with only one full bathroom for three men very particular about their appearance was certainly not an easy task. And since all three of them were insanely strong-headed and would rather burn to death than step down from anything, mornings were rather eventful, to say the least. Dio wasn't surprised when he found a note saying 'DEATH IS COMING' pinned on the door with a dagger. He picked it up and slid it under Diavolo's door as he strode past it while going upstairs to his room.

Co-existence had certainly not been his first option but it was cheaper than renting a house alone. Instead of living in a petty rat-hole, his house was much better than most university students'. The house had two floors, with Diavolo's bedroom, the living room, kitchen and smaller bathroom being on the ground floor and his, Kira's and the large bathroom being on the top floor. There was even a small backyard, surrounded by brick walls and the neighbors' trees. It was nothing like the multi-million dollar mansion he wanted but it was nice. Of course, he could have always chosen to live with Diego and his friends but he'd rather die. Pucci had offered to house him but Dio wasn't comfortable with hauling his bisexual ass into a strict Catholic household.

His roommates...he wouldn't actually call them friends, though that was exactly what they were. Dio viewed them as necessary allies, the only people he could ever agree with. Despite their differences, they the same ruthlessness and peerless ambitiousness. Out of all his 'friends', Dio treasured Pucci the most, and that came as a surprise to even him. When he broke into a church just to fuck around with Diavolo and Kars all those years ago, he wasn't expecting that the only witness to that crime would one day become his second favorite person in the world. But well, here they were.

Even though his first meeting with Pucci was rather eventful, he met the others in a relatively normal way. He had already known Diavolo since high school, more than often assisting him in his cons, for a price of course. Then he met Kira on his freshman year of college. Quiet, dull, as bland as a boiled potato, with the only interesting characteristic of his being his resemblance to David Bowie. Yet somehow, Kira had fit just right with the rest of them, particularly with Diavolo. Those two used to share a dorm room right across the one Dio had with Valentine and bonded over their common desire for a life in the background. Even four years later, Diavolo insisted that there was more to Kira than met the eye.

As for Kars...Dio and Diavolo had been watching his makeup videos on YouTube religiously since their high school days and after threatening and stabbing a few other fans, managed to meet the man himself during a palette launch in New York. Kars, impressed by both their looks, even offered the two the chance to model for his company. Diavolo had of course declined, but Dio took the opportunity. More money, more fame, more glory. Just what he was after. Besides, he could always use a break from fucking old morons out of their bank accounts.

Like always, Dio spent the best part of an hour planning a spectacular outfit, not neglecting to take the necessary amount of selfies and then deciding which ones to post. Then, another forty minutes to do his makeup and twenty minutes after that to do his hair. He cast a last glance towards the mirror as he exited the room, flashing himself a wink. He looked impeccable, as always, as it was greatly important that on this day he looked his very best. He had to make sure that he dazzled those spineless rich kids, establish himself on the center of attention. He was going to excel, as always. Surely most of them had been pushed into here because of family tradition. Most had names to back up their fuck-ups, as well as vast wealth. But they were dull, shallow. Disgusting.

He came down the stairs and walked into the kitchen to find the other two men that inhabited the house already there. Diavolo was sitting on the breakfast bar, mindlessly stirring his soggy cereal and Kira was in the middle of cooking his breakfast. His mischievous sphinx cat was meowing at his feet, her large eyes trying to find anything to break. Dio didn't like animals but Killer Queen got a pass. Even if he killed her, Kira would probably skewer him. He sipped on his black coffee, enjoying the silence of the perfect domestic scene. Diavolo's phone, the one out of many, buzzed his a message.

“For fuck's sake,” he mumbled.

“What?” Dio asked with piqued interest, leaning over his phone to look at the screen. He snorted when he saw the colorful assortment of emojis that was supposed to mean something. Four years later, and Valentine was still texting like that. “What is that supposed to mean?” They all received texts like that and no one knew how to decipher them. Even if they replied with words, all Valentine sent was emojis. Any rare words were always accompanied by quotation marks, making the entire situation even more confusing. Only Scarlet could tell what the hell Valentine meant, and she got the skill after spending her entire life with him.

Kira sat down next to Diavolo, getting ready to enjoy some eggs with bacon. Kira was the one that cooked since only he knew how to. He looked at Diavolo's screen as well, squinting at the cryptic message. “I can't even tell if it's important. Call him.”

Diavolo grumbled something in Italian and tossed his phone on the counter. “If it's so fucking important then he should call me.”

“You two make a big deal out of everything,” Kira said with an exasperated head shake. “Can you go get groceries later?” Diavolo simply looked at Kira. “You can't avoid this forever.”

“I'll order it.”

“It costs extra.”

“I'll pay for it.”

“Fine. What do you want for dinner?”

“I'd say something light,” Dio said and the other two agreed with nods. Dio did everything to maintain his fit and shapely physique, though the occasional night in with pizza was a treat he secretly enjoyed. “I'll leave it up to you.” He checked the time and stood up, carrying his mug to the sink. “Have a nice day, gentlemen. Cat.”

The early September days were quite warm, albeit a bit humid. Dio had his hairspray to thank for keeping his hair smooth and sleek all day. Since he wasn't a pleb like Kira or a creep like Diavolo, he drove his car to the campus. It was an Audi R8, the fruit of a horse race gone extremely well and fulfilling a CEO's darkest fantasies. The car certainly helped him stand out. Even though those people had wealth, they didn't know how to flaunt it. Dio smiled smugly as he magnetized every pair of eyes as he made his way with pride and haughtiness from the parking lot and into the classroom.

He was pleasantly surprised to find a familiar blond sitting on the front row. Unlike the colorless crowd of mindless husks behind him, Valentine was highly intelligent, on a level that Dio greatly appreciated. His presence meant that Dio was going to enjoy some intellectual competition. That was all he was useful for. They were friends, more like friendly acquaintances, the kind of friends that never hung out together unless someone else was there. Valentine was rich, privileged and spoiled, the kind Dio passionately hated. Effortlessly cultured, never had to worry about anything, with a baffling integrity and a complex code of honor Dio found both entertaining and insanely infuriating. Had it not been for those qualities, Dio might have considered seducing Valentine and not only for his money. He was beautiful, too beautiful, with perfect golden curls, the prettiest pink mouth, dreamy blue eyes and expensive cheekbones. But alas, straight, in a committed relationship and oblivious to any romantic advances, if Diego's numerous failed attempts were anything to go by.

“I thought you were going for Political Sciences,” Dio commented as he took the seat next to Valentine. “When did you even take the LSAT?”

“Oh, I immediately left for Europe after I did. Scarlet and I spent half the summer there.” Yes, yes. Dio had seen Valentine's Instagram. Just because they wanted, the couple had been able to roam through the world's most expensive resorts, something Dio could only achieve by renting himself to some rich fuck. Diavolo was still salty about it. This had been the first summer they had spent apart.

Looking back, Dio couldn't exactly pinpoint the moment when Diavolo and Valentine had become such good friends, with the perfect roast to support ratio.

“How was your summer?”

“I went to Florida with Enrico and spent a few weeks at Kars' vacation home.”

Valentine nodded. “Is Diavolo still mad at me? He hasn't replied to any of my messages.”

“A little bit because you missed his birthday.” Valentine pulled a face. “Come by later, you still haven't seen the house, have you?”

By the time they were done for the day, the sky was noticeably darker, obscured by gray clouds, the occasional distant booming of thunder reaching their ears. They headed to the parking lot to take Dio's car since Valentine came with Scarlet. While passing through a grassy courtyard, hurrying as the first few heavy rain droplets were falling from the sky, a rugby ball cut through the air and landed right in front of Dio's leather Gucci shoes. The impact caused some mud to fly on the expensive material, halting Dio on his tracks to gawk at the damage in horror.

“Sorry about that!” a male voice called and Dio snapped up, ready to rip the disgusting animal's throat out.

However, when the culprit came to view, Dio's eloquence was thrown out the window and his jaw hit the ground. Galloping towards him was a man, a sublime specimen, an Adonis, a demigod. The unknown man stopped in front of Dio and the view was even better. Two meters of raw, hard, sun-kissed muscle, barely contained in too-tight sweats, with the perfect sculpted waist and the roundest ass. The perfection of his body was rivaled by the beauty of his face; a square jaw, sharp cheekbones, sweet, plump, smiling lips, pearly white teeth and glimmering ocean-blue eyes, surrounded by long, dark lashes. To top it all off, a luscious mop of chocolate brown curls was on his head, slicked back with sweat.

Dio placed a perfectly-manicured hand over his chest, holding back a small gasp. Was this God?

“Jonathan!” Valentine suddenly exclaimed. The two men exchanged a hearty handshake, both sporting matching grins.

“It's so good to see you again, Funny!” Jonathan said, sounding genuine. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm in Law. You're in Archeology?”

“Yes!” Jonathan excitedly replied. How dull. What wasn't dull was the way he grasped the nape of his neck, his impossible bicep bulging. “That's all I ever wanted to do.”

Once Dio had calmed from the shock of meeting such a gorgeous piece of ass, he made out a slight accent in Jonathan's voice. British? Definitely sounded the part. Dio straightened himself and cleared his throat.

Valentine placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled. “Jonathan, this is my good friend and coursemate, Dio Brando. Dio, this is Jonathan Joestar, a very good family friend.”

Jonathan's blue eyes gleamed when he saw Dio, lips pulled into an amused smile. Dio grinned smugly, raising his chin and offering a hand which Jonathan shook fervently, with the strength of a 100 men. Dio felt all blood go south at the thought of what those hands could do to him.

“Nice to meet you! Oh, and please, call me Jojo.” he excitedly said. Okay, his excitement about life was a tad tiring but Dio didn't mind yet. Jonathan paused. “Have we met before?”

“Trust me, Jojo. If we had, you would've remembered it.”

Jonathan chuckled, a careless, boyish laugh that resonated within Dio's chest. He bent down and pick up the forgotten rugby ball, offering Dio a perfect view of his godly back muscles. “Really sorry about that. I can have them cleaned.”

“It's fine,” Dio said, surprising himself. “It's just a pair of shoes.” Words he never thought would leave his mouth. Seeing just what his 'good boy facade' was capable of doing was certainly something.

Jonathan smiled at that, relieved. “Jojo! We're leaving!” called another man, a blond, from a little further away.

“I'm coming!” Jonathan yelled back. “I hope I see you two around again. Dio, it was nice meeting you.”

“You too, Jojo.”

The way Dio said his nickname seemed to greatly amuse Jonathan, who backstepped clumsily, smiling lips forming the word as his eyes remained locked into Dio's own amber ones. Dio sat in the light drizzle, watching Jonathan's quickly disappearing form, still feeling the sweet sting of the handshake, heat concentrating on his pale cheeks.

He turned to look at Valentine, who was already in the car. “Who the hell is that?” he demanded once he was inside.

“Jonathan Joestar,” Valentine stated matter-of-factly. He rolled his eyes at the look Dio gave him. “Why? Are you interested in him?”

“Speak, Barbie.”

Valentine sighed. “Alright. Start the car.” Dio did. “Doesn't the name 'Joestar' ring a bell?”

Truth be told, it did. Now that Dio wasn't overwhelmed by Jonathan's presence, his mind became clear once more. The name was vaguely familiar but Dio couldn't quite put his finger on it. “It kind of does.”

“That's because he's the cousin of Diego's best friend.” He took a calming breath. “Johnny.”

Johnny. Dio knew Johnny. Well, he knew he existed and shared an apartment with his brother. Had Valentine not have told him anything, Dio would have never assumed these two were family.

“That's probably why he said he knows you. Because he knows Diego.”

“Yes, but who IS he?” Dio asked, impatient. His patience was already getting thinner. Traffic was even worse during rainy days.

“Jonathan Joestar is the eldest son of George Joestar.” Very helpful. As if Dio gave a shit about the guy's lineage. “CEO of the biggest and richest shipping company in the UK.” Oh.

As soon as the words settled in his head, Dio couldn't help a grin from spreading on his lips. Not only was Jonathan otherworldly but also filthy, stinking, unnecessarily rich. Usually, Dio would target old fools that were more than willing to spend their fortunes on him and go for attractive but less well-off young men and women for sheer pleasure. Jonathan was the whole package and already, Dio's mind was working, devising a plan. They had a shared contact, something Dio could use to his advantage.

“ close are you and this Jojo?” he nonchalantly asked, trying to sound indifferent.

“Eh, not really. Close enough to be invited to his place for the holidays, but we never hang out. He's a good guy but we don't have much in common.”

“I see.”

“Dio,” Valentine started and Dio knew where this was heading. This was the voice Valentine used whenever he wanted to talk them out of doing something stupid and/or illegal. The Voice™ was usually aimed at Diavolo and Dio finally saw why he found it so annoying. “I know what you're thinking and I want you to stop.”

“What are you talking about?” Dio snorted.

Valentine folded his arms over his chest. Attack of the reluctant mom friend. “Jonathan is a good guy. A really good guy. He's not for your teeth.”

There he was, speaking as if he was morally superior. It was a good thing Pucci had helped Dio calm his temper a bit otherwise he would have thrown Valentine out of the car.

“Mind your own business,” snapped Dio. There was no way he was backing down from this. Once home, he was going to initiate phase #1 of his plan; social media stalking.

“He's not stupid and he's straight. There's nothing you can do.”

“After years of knowing me, how can you say this?” Dio scoffed. No one could stay immune to the charm or best the intelligence of him, Dio.




By the time reached Dio's house, rain was generously pouring from the black sky. The change in temperature was greatly appreciated by the slightly shivering duo, as was the smell of food being cooked. Per Kira's request, they both took their shoes off and ventured into the house. Killer Queen stepped out of the kitchen curiously and meowed at the sight of a familiar face.

“Hello,” Valentine cooed in the special voice he used for animals. He picked the hairless feline in his arms and scratched underneath her chin, making her flatten her ears and purr, settling against his warm chest.

“Well, look who it is.”

“Evening, Yoshikage.” Valentine sat down on the kitchen table and Killer Queen jumped off his arms, after having had enough cuddles. For now. “It's good to see you again.” Kira hummed in response, agreeing, as he was wholeheartedly concentrated on cutting vegetables for the salad he was preparing.

“Will you stay for dinner?”

“Judging by the weather, I'll probably stay for the night.” He could always call an Uber, but he kinda wanted to stay and catch up with his boys. “Is Diavolo here?”

“Of course.”

“Which is his room?”

“The one at the end of the hall.”

“Okay. Hey, can you call us when food is ready?”


Valentine quietly walked to the door Kira had pointed out, gently pushing it open. Upon doing so, he was hit by a wave of musky cologne. He peered inside, the thin sliver of light allowing him to make out the shape of the furniture. He shut the door behind him and blindly reached for what he assumed what was the bed. He crawled on top, feeling around for the covers and pillows when his hand grabbed something soft and fleshy.

“Fucking hell, Funny!”

“Sorry,” he whispered as he clumsily climbed underneath the covers. He made himself more comfortable, letting his body relax on the springy mattress. It was so nice and warm inside the room. He could already feel his eyelids getting heavier. “How did you know it was me?”

“I know your smell,” Diavolo replied as if his answer was perfectly normal. To them, it was. Their group of friends, however dastardly and foul, still held a closeness others misinterpreted as romantic attraction. But they didn't care. They slept on the same bed and changed clothes and sat on each other's knees during car rides. And it felt good.

Valentine hummed. “How was your first day?” Diavolo groaned. “That bad?”

“It started just fine, until this absolutely insufferable French fuck showed up,” he growled, voice half-full of sleep, half-full of anger. Knowing Diavolo, who tended to get furious at everything, the 'French fuck' was probably a normal person. “Out of all the damn seats, he took the one next to mine.”

That, in Diavolo's book, was a grave sin. “Show him to me,” Valentine requested, nudging him.

“You're so fucking annoying,” Diavolo muttered but still reached for his phone. The light momentarily blinded the two men. “There,” he said after finding the guy's Instagram.

On the screen was a picture of a ridiculously muscular man, with an even more ridiculous column of silver hair atop his head and a big, bright and happy grin. In that picture, he was holding probably the most annoyed-looking dog Valentine had ever seen, a small Boston terrier, looking at the camera with murderous intent in his little Christmas outfit. Valentine scrolled further down, looking at random pictures, until he found something fairly interesting.

“He's a friend of Jonathan's.”

“Joestar's?” And indeed he was, posing in a picture with several people, including Jonathan Joestar. “So?”

“Dio and I met him before coming here.”

Valentine didn't need to say anything more. Diavolo only sighed and shook his head. Whatever Dio was planning to do, Diavolo wouldn't tolerate him bringing Jonathan here to have sex. The last thing he wanted was a closer look at Dio's rather troubling sex life.

After putting his phone aside, Diavolo laid down on the pillows once more. Valentine was already dozing off and he did too, snuggling closer to the sweet-smelling blond.

While the two were calmly napping, Kira walked into the room. He flicked the lights on but that didn't disturb them. The lighting in Diavolo's room was limited, barely enough to illuminate the entire space. The walls of his room had been painted black, a selection of pictures Diavolo had taken over the years forming a colorful collage on the one facing the door. The only window, offering a view to their little backyard, had been blocked with light-canceling curtains. Staying true to his aesthetic, Diavolo had decorated the room with elegant pieces of furniture, all made from dark mahogany, with fine, carved details. His most impressive belonging had to be the set of matching drawers and bookcase, filled with his favorite gothic novels. That was probably the only sign of tidiness in the entire room. Frowning disdainfully, Kira plucked a pair of purple pants from the floor and folded it neatly, stacking it on an overflowing chair.

He approached the sleeping pair and nudged Diavolo. “Wake up.” A groan. “Wake up,” he insisted, shaking harder.

“What!” Diavolo snapped, opening his eyes but closing them quickly, hissing at the light. “What time is it?”

“Almost eight. Dinner's ready.”

Diavolo nodded. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Valentine had moved even closer, snuggling against Diavolo's chest. “Wake up.” He had forgotten how Valentine slept like a log. “Wake up, bitch. Food's ready.” No response. “Funny.”

Light chuckling. “Fine, fine. I'm awake.”

Reluctantly, the two men left their soft cocoon of warmth. Valentine stretched and yawned, one hand going to scratch his head. He looked down at his clothes, scowling at his now wrinkled shirt.

“I should have taken this off,” he muttered. “Hey, can I borrow a top? I'll return it tomorrow.”


Valentine opened Diavolo's closet and suddenly, at least a dozen cellphones fell at his feet. Slowly, with exasperated blue eyes, he looked at Diavolo, who stopped while trying to put his pants on. “Really?” he asked, voice cold, an eyebrow raised.

Diavolo looked at him in confusion, clearly not realizing what he was doing wrong. “Are you going to lecture me again?” he scoffed. He appreciated Valentine caring about him but it was annoying at times. Most of the time. Like now.

Valentine chose a purple hoodie and put it on, flipping his hair out of it. “Yes. You're going to end up in trouble at this rate,” he chided.

“You're jinxing it.”

“I'm not. I'm simply stating the obvious.”

“I'm just living life.”

Diavolo's idea of 'living life' was to seduce numerous women and men, give them all fake names and phone numbers and never see them again. It had caused quite some drama in the past, but Diavolo shrugged it off. His main goal was to remain perfectly anonymous but he still couldn't help but indulge himself every now and again. This was the only way, whether Valentine liked it or not.

“You have no idea what you're missing out on,” he teased as they walked out, bringing his smirking face close to Valentine's only to be pushed back.

“Ah, yes. The thrill brought by the constant threat of catching a cocktail of STDs. What life is all about.”

“You Americans think you know everything.” They took their seats on the table while Kira started serving the food. “There's more to life than returning home to the same boring face.”

“There's nothing more fulfilling than stability, knowing that you're finally where you want to be.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Kira chimed in. Diavolo rolled his eyes. His two best friends were such stiffs, thinking that having a nice, cozy family was the dream. “But you're still young. You'll play around but one day you'll settle down.”

“You'll find true love,” Valentine added, batting his eyelashes and flipping his hair.

“You guys talk like old men,” he sourly commented. He glared at Valentine with narrowed eyes. “And you speak of true love so easily, Funny, yet you went around Europe, visited the most romantic places on the planet, you missed your best friend's birthday-”

“I'll make it up to you, dearest.”

“-and still no ring.”

“I was kinda expecting you guys would get engaged on this trip, too.”

Valentine lifted his hands, akin to Pontius Pilatus. “It's too soon for that.”

“You guys have been dating for five years.”

“Six,” Valentine corrected. “I don't know. I want to marry Scarlet, I just don't think I should propose yet. I want to wait until we're not depending on our parents anymore.”

“That's how people should be living their lives,” Kira sang, placing a plate in front of Diavolo.

“Stop lecturing me like I'm a fucking child!” Diavolo barked, annoyed at the two meddling idiots while putting his feet on the table, only to have them kicked off by Kira.

“Dio!” Kira called. “Are you coming for dinner?”

Dio walked into the kitchen, nose buried in his gaudy golden iPhone, blindly reaching for his chair and sitting down. Good thing Jonathan's Instagram wasn't private. Dio wanted to stalk him but he didn't want to follow him yet. That would make him look thirsty and clingy (he was both of these things.). Most of the pictures on his account featured several people, including two other young men that bore a striking resemblance to him. Lots of friends, lots of smiles and Dio wondered if any of them were lovers. Well, didn't matter. None could resist the charms of him, Dio. He spotted his own brother, in a picture with Jonathan and Johnny. Dio was almost entirely sure Diego hadn't told Dio about Jonathan out of pure spite and greediness. He was going to show that little lizard, though after he used him for his plan.

“Are we expecting anyone?” asked Kira once the doorbell rung.

“I called Enrico,” Dio nonchalantly replied. He sprung up to answer the door, letting Pucci inside. Not even allowing him a word, Dio impatiently grabbed him by the hand and dragged him into the living room. “We'll be with you in a minute!”

“What's going on?” asked Pucci as Dio pushed him to sit down on the couch.

Dio couldn't say much over the phone, his excitement was far too great. With a grin fit for a giddy child holding a mischievous secret, he showed Pucci his phone, a picture of Jonathan displayed on the screen. Satisfaction spread over his face as Pucci's eyes widened, half-full of surprise and wonder at the impossible man being shown to him.

“Very nice,” he mused, taking hold of Dio's phone to look at the picture more closely. Based on sexual orientation alone, Pucci would be able to provide an insightful evaluation of Jonathan. “Who is he?”

“Jonathan Joestar. Smoking hot AND filthy rich.” Pucci looked at him with a proud smile. “Funny tells me he's straight but I don't think that'd be much of a problem. What do you think?”

Pucci leaned back on the couch, thoughtfully scratching his chin, eyes lost deep in thought. “Tell me a little about his background.”

“Old money, probably conservative.” Pucci hummed. Dio was closely observing his reactions, waiting for the verdict. “He's a family friend of the Valentines', so I don't think he's from a progressive family.”

“It will be hard,” Pucci decided, handing Dio his phone, “but not impossible. When are you thinking of making the first move?”

“As soon as possible. A cousin of his is friends with Diego. I can use that to get the two of us close.”

“I'm sure you will be successful,” Pucci reassured him. Pucci never told Dio what he wanted to hear. He only gave him the truth, acting as his most trustworthy advisor and practically his impulse control. When Pucci told Dio that he was sure of his success, he meant it, because he believed in Dio's abilities, believed wholeheartedly that there was nothing this magnificent man couldn't achieve.

Dio's brain shifted into gear. He started putting bits and pieces of his plan together, crafting his grand scheme. First, he would have Jonathan's heart. Then, he'd have his money. Easy as pie.