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Jun 12

At The Beach, In Every Life [Johnny Joestar x fem!reader; part 10]

series synopsis: your childhood friend and ex-famous jockey, Johnny Joestar, comes to see you off before you embark on the Steel Ball Run. when he discovers his own reasons for joining at the very last minute, you’re unexpectedly thrown into a whirlwind of buried feelings, bad memories and several men now vying for your attention–much to Johnny’s dismay.

part 9

series playlist :)

a/n: this part was quite a challenge to write with lots of rearranging of plot points + rewriting paragraphs until i was satisfied ;;0;; i hope you guys enjoy!!

also i’m thinking of starting a mini series so i can alternate between brainstorming for ATBIEL and a fresh one with a different JJBA character :3c if you are interested, do let me know who you’d be interested in reading x reader heh my top contenders are currently Bucciarati and don!Giorno :D but i am very open to other suggestions

contents: fem!reader, angst angst angst, Johnny is deeply insecure and has very bad self-deprecating thoughts, jealousy, yearning, no comfort, an honest attempt at writing a panic attack without directly calling it that ougghh pls let me know if i succeeded LOL, a loooot of introspection, descriptions of blood and injury, some parts are lowkey inspired by my own experiences with life-long OCD (author lore drop uwu), half proofread lmfao

w.c.: 6k

Johnny Joestar’s stomach feels unwell. a heavy, foreboding sensation sits stubbornly in the pit of his tummy, the kind that can’t be alleviated with medicine or a trip to the bathroom. it’s been churning and twisting nonstop ever since earlier today, when your group of three unceremoniously–and through no choice of his own–gained a fourth member.

neither he nor Gyro were particularly happy about the addition but your unprecedented excitement upon stumbling across the new arrival left little room for them to voice their displeasure in fear that they would upset you somehow.

now, however, as he listens to the two of you chatting from a short distance behind him, about a topic he can’t quite catch, Johnny wishes he’d just been honest from the very start. sure, you might’ve not liked his crudeness but, at the very least, seeking your forgiveness sounds like a much easier task than what he’s stuck with currently–a potent bitterness festering deep in his chest.

it had been ten days since the beginning of the stage and pretty good progress was being made by your team. while none of you would ever complain about a smooth journey, there had been a noticeable lack in obstacles–both terrain and enemy-wise–thus far that had gradually begun to weigh on your collective shoulders.

it came as no surprise that suspicions would be high when something inevitably did happen. it certainly didn’t help that the ‘something’ occurred whilst you were crouching by a river to refill your water canister.

“(y/n)!” a mildly familiar voice called your name from seemingly out of nowhere. by the time you’d risen to your feet and turned around, Johnny and Gyro were already prepped for battle–the former had his nails pointed in the direction of the unwanted visitor whilst the latter had a steel ball gripped firmly in his hand, ready to deploy it at any moment.

“what’re you doing here?” Johnny’s tone oozed with suspicion as he eyed the approaching individual.

the pink-haired racer’s posture as he sat atop his horse gave off a distinct aura of pride, although his face showed less arrogance and more indifference.

up until he’d gotten his first place finish snatched from right under his nose by the mysterious racer, Hot Pants hadn’t made much of an impression on Johnny. all the ex-jockey knew was that he was a lone wolf who had neither friends nor enemies, which is why it felt all the more unsettling that he’d appeared out of nowhere and expressed an interest in you.

Johnny clicked his tongue in frustration when Hot Pants merely responded to his question with a look of utter disinterest. but his annoyance was quickly replaced by genuine surprise when you brushed past Slow Dancer with a spring in your step, waving your hand.

“are you taking the river route, too?” you asked, gazing upward at the pink-haired man without a care in the world, completely unaware of the aching pang shooting through Johnny’s chest.

when did you become friends? why didn’t you tell me?

Johnny’s pupils darted between the two of you as the conversation flowed without so much of a hiccup, even when Hot Pants dismounted his horse in the midst of a sentence. where one would usually find cold, uncaring eyes and a condescending scowl, the expression on the mysterious jockey’s face looked distinctly unusual as he spoke to you.

Hot Pants’ gaze was softer, a hint warmer, and the ends of his painted lips were quirked ever so slightly upward. he looked at you with a tenderness not usually found between simple acquaintances.

it was an expression that seemed wholly unnatural on Hot Pant’s face. despite having never personally interacted up until this point, Johnny had seen the man around enough to know that he’d never shown any emotion aside from utter disinterest and indifference–until now.

“you look like you’re ready to kill someone.” Gyro had somehow shuffled up beside him without Johnny noticing.

“oh, i’m sorry.” Johnny rolled his eyes. “i didn’t realise you were a fan of whatever this is.” he gestured meaninglessly in your direction

“don’t get me wrong, Johnny.” Gyro chuckled humourlessly as he idly adjusted the brim of his hat. “i hate it almost as much as you do.”

“tell him to fuck off then.” the ex-jockey crossed his arms over his chest with a brief huff.

“why’s that my job?” Gyro retorted seamlessly, clearly more amused by Johnny’s reaction than anything.

a beat of silence passed by.

“... whatever.”

it’s been hours since Hot Pants weaved his way into your group, evading both Johnny and Gyro’s more subtle attempts at telling him to go away by engaging in an endless conversation with you. even though you’ve long run out of things to talk about, the pink-haired racer still remains by your side, the rhythmic striking of his horse’s hooves melding into one with the others.

as per usual, Gyro leads the way at the very front whilst Johnny trails closely behind. normally you would be beside him, making little comments here and there about the scenery, smiling at him even when the best response he can come up with is a hum. it feels especially quiet now that you’re no longer by his side, having long strayed to the back of the pack to ride beside Hot Pants instead

Johnny sneaks a glance over his shoulder every now and then, the excuse of ‘just checking up on you’ ready on the tip of his tongue in case he ever gets called out for it, but he hadn’t. he’s stopped looking behind him entirely, though, once it had struck him how much like a pair you looked together–like two puzzle pieces slotting perfectly into place.

he wonders if other people feel the same when they see him with you.

or rather, if they felt the same when they saw him with you.

Johnny digs his nails deeper into Slow Dancer’s leather reins. the spots along the equipment where there would naturally be signs of wear-and-tear, now also sport two areas of significant damage–one for each hand.

those weren’t there in the morning.

now that you’re no longer making random observations by his side to occupy his mind, Johnny can’t help but stew in his discomfort. it certainly doesn’t help that hints of dusk have begun to brush across the sky, tinting it a faint orange that grows more saturated with every second–a signal of how long he’d been procrastinating telling Hot Pants to leave, as well as a warning sign that if he doesn’t do so soon, your overnight camp could very well include the very person he wants gone.

he decides to seize the opportunity to speak with you when the group makes a final stop for water. if he can convince you to tell Hot Pants to leave, this is the perfect place to not only part ways but also build some distance in the between for the journey ahead.

just as he’s thinking about how to bring the topic up in the most nonchalant way possible, the sudden sound of your voice jolts him out of his thoughts and his head snaps instantly in your direction, his body acting on pure instinct.

rather than being greeted by your smiling face like he’s grown used to, he has to grapple with the revelation that, this time, you aren’t trying to get his attention. instead, he finds you talking animatedly with Hot Pants, unaware of the new pair of eyes staring intently your way.

somehow you’d discovered something new to talk about.

Johnny can’t help but wonder if it’s something you’ve told him before, or if this is an entirely new thing he no longer has the privilege of hearing about before anyone else.

the expression on your face makes his stomach sink to the ground, it’s one that he used to be on the receiving end of countless times in his past life. from your dilated pupils to the way you hold your hands behind your back as you gently sway side-to-side, all the while keeping your full attention on the androgynous-looking competitor who easily towers over you in height–every detail screams your budding attraction to this… stranger.

a bitter taste pollutes the back of Johnny’s mouth when he’s hit with the sudden realisation that you could easily do so much better than him; that he’s just a man with legs that don’t work who’s chasing after an impossible dream at the end of a deadly cross-country race; that his confession in the bathhouse, and the bout of intimacy that followed, can so easily mean nothing to you when you find someone so much more capable of giving you what you deserve.

perhaps someone like Hot Pants.

or Gyro.

or maybe even Diego if he manages to find a way to redeem himself in your eyes.

have i lost my chance? so easily, too? the moment someone you find attractive demands your attention, you’re giving it away just like that? what about me?

Johnny wonders if he’s just been lying to himself this entire time. maybe he’d never stood a chance to begin with, and that he’d squandered his only opportunity like an idiot all those years ago when you presented your heart to him on a silver platter.

he wonders if he’s just been limiting your choices this entire time–that if he hadn’t attached himself to you from the very start of the Steel Ball Run, you would’ve long forgotten he even existed.

if i didn’t stake my claim to you since day one, you could’ve met so many new people. you could’ve fallen in love with any one of them.

he wonders if you'll ever grow to hate him for it.

“JoJo?” your gentle voice effortlessly cuts through the cacophonous noise of his intrusive thoughts. his bright blue eyes, sparkling with unshed tears, snap in your direction. you rest a hand against Slow Dancer’s neck as you gaze up at her rider with a worried expression on your face.

his aching heart stutters.

finally he has your attention, the one thing he’s been silently pining for the entire day. and yet, the longer you spend staring up at him, the harder it feels to speak. hours of mulling over what to say, and how to say it, rendered useless in a matter of seconds because for the first time in years, Johnny’s completely unsure what your response will be.

you, the person he grew up with; his best friend who’s stuck by him thick and thin; the girl his heart has utterly surrendered itself to. Johnny used to believe he knows you well enough that he’s able to speak his mind without fear of being misunderstood but now he isn’t so sure anymore.

“JoJo?” you repeat, your other hand now reaching up to grasp his wrist gently. it’s only when your fingers make contact with his skin does he realise he’d started subconsciously digging his nails into Slow Dancer’s reins again. he loosens his fingers and swallows thickly as he takes in the tangible relief spreading through his fingers.

“we can’t keep travelling with Hot Pants.” Johnny’s harsh tone leaves no room for negotiation. your eyes widen slightly in surprise, clearly caught off guard by the suddenness of the topic.

“why not?” you tilt your head, keeping your eyes locked to his.

Johnny feels a sudden chill drape over his skin as a bout of anxiety begins to creep its way towards his heart.

“there’s just something off about him. Gyro and i don’t think it’s worth the risk.” he tries to sound nonchalant, like it’s nothing personal–a purely objective observation.

“well, our alliance with Gyro began right after the first stage. how’d you know we could trust him back then?” you push, stubbornly unwilling to accept the vagueness of his accusation. to be honest, you’d had a lot of fun talking with Hot Pants throughout the entire uneventful day. it would be a shame to chase him away just like that when he’s given you no reason to distrust him thus far–not to mention, you’re not a fan of how decisively he’s speaking, like his word is final no matter what you may think.

“it’s different.” Johnny snaps, regretting it immediately when your hand draws away from his wrist in response. the movement is so automatic, so instinctual, that it registers in his head as something far, far worse than just a mere response to the harshness of his tone. “i needed him to teach me how to use the spin, you know that.” he tries softens his words. “what can Hot Pants contribute to the team? you barely know him.”

your eyebrows furrow incredulously as you huff out a harsh sigh of disbelief. meanwhile, a debilitating concoction of anxiety and guilt begins to slosh around in his twisting stomach. it’s clear that he’s upset you, and he hates himself for it already.

“following that logic, i don’t contribute much either, do i? if anything, i’ve been doing nothing but holding you two back.” your eyes begin to glisten with tears of frustration. months’ worth of frustration that you’ve been painstakingly pushing to the back of your mind comes rushing out in waves now that you’ve gotten the confirmation you so dreaded ever receiving–that you’re being kept around out of pity rather than competence. “so why keep me around?”

behind you, Hot Pants and Gyro don’t even try to hide the fact that they’re listening to every word. if you were aware of their eavesdropping, you wouldn’t even hold it against them. you’d be curious too if your friends started yelling at each other out of nowhere.

“that’s not true.” Johnny’s heart pounds faster and faster as panic rapidly begins to cloud his mind, and he starts speaking without thinking. “you have your Stand–”

“you and Gyro won’t even let me use it to heal your papercuts!” you cut him off with an incredulous look on your face. “i’ve only ever used it to save myself after nearly dying from my own incompetence!” you’ve backed away entirely from Johnny now, leaving a good metre of distance between the both of you.

is that how you see yourself?

Johnny’s so accustomed to viewing you as his lifeline that he’s completely unable to wrap his head around such a concept. you’ve always been so competent, so smart and courageous. no number of ‘failures’ has or will ever taint his impression of you.

i’d take a bullet to the head for you if it means keeping you safe. why can’t you see that?

and he tries, god knows he tries, to tell you that.

he tries to tell you everything on his mind, no matter how embarrassing it might sound spoken aloud in front of others. but the frustration he feels inside quickly boils over into a nauseating concoction of anger, jealousy and helplessness when it suddenly dawns on Johnny that, in all your years of friendship, you’ve never had a falling out like this… not until–

“you’re really gonna let Hot Pants ruin what we have?!” he snaps.

his mind feels fuzzy and his hearing’s suddenly muffled, obscuring every sound except for the rapid pounding of his own heart. although he misses the sharp gasp escaping your lips, he fully catches the way your face contorts into… into…

“Johnny… what’re you trying to say?” your voice just barely registers in his head that feels like it’s about to explode at any second.

no, don’t call me that. i’m JoJo to you. only you.

the world around him begins to spin as the raspy sounds of his uneven breaths join the thump thump thumping of his heart. there’s even a faint ringing noise coming from somewhere he can’t quite put his finger on. no matter how hard he tries, he’s unable to stop the sounds from mixing together into an unbearable cacophony that’s beginning to drive him insane.

through his blurring vision, Johnny’s able to make out the movement of your lips but he can’t hear you. he can see you’re getting upset–the tears on your face–and he hates that it’s all his fault but he just needs the noises to stop for a bit please i just need a second to get a grip stop looking at me like that i’m sorry i’m hurting you please just let me think give me a second to think–

“this is your chance to leave me, isn’t it?! stop pretending like you care and just fuck off already!” his throat stings from how forcefully he’d yelled.

for a split second, Johnny’s unable to grapple with the fact that he’s the one who’d just spoken to you in such a manner. he doesn’t even believe in the accusation he’d spewed so hatefully toward you–even if it did just come out from his own mouth.

he knows your care for him is sincere.

he knows you aren’t like the people who’ve discarded him like trash the moment he lost his worth as a human being.

he also knows that he’d spoken on impulse with the intention of hurting you. driven by an intrusive thought that’s been idly hanging around in his head for years, for the briefest moment, Johnny had wanted to hurt you the same way he felt you had hurt him.

i don’t think of you that way.

but it’s too late for that revelation.

all at once, the noises in his head cease to exist and he’s nearly thrown off by the sudden silence that engulfs him. a part of him wishes the sounds would come back. if it means he gets to take back the vitriol he’d just spewed your way, Johnny will accept any punishment with open arms.

he realises, as well, that in spite of the deep ache still lingering in his chest, all of the bitterness that had been building up has disappeared, like it’d never even been there to begin with; leaving behind a gaping hole that something else wastes no time settling itself into.

guilt.

it eats at Johnny from the inside out, growing more aggressive the longer you stand there in complete silence, rooted to the ground. you can’t even bear to look at him, your tearful eyes glancing off to the side at nothing in particular, as if looking at him would cause more hurt than he’s worth–like you’ve only just realised how worthless he actually is as a human being.

it had taken you a while, Johnny supposes, but everyone inevitably reaches that point eventually. it just hurts more coming from you.

“let’s make camp for the night… shall we?” Gyro suggests as he alights from Valkyrie’s saddle, his voice shattering the palpable tension in the air. “i think we all need to rest.”

“i…” Hot Pants speaks up with a solemn look on his face. “i can go. i’d never meant to cause any harm.”

“stay,” you reply before he can speak any further. the single syllable manages to somehow sound wobbly yet firm at the same time. “if you leave then i’ll go with you–” both Johnny and Gyro’s widened eyes snap toward you “–because it’s clear that i’m… i’m not wel–” you take in a shaky breath as fresh hot tears begin welling up in your swollen eyes once again.

“don’t be silly, cucciola.” Gyro’s warm hand lands atop your head, the simple gesture sending a wave of comfort all the way down to your toes. “the three of us will always be a team. even if that means having an extra person with us tonight.” his green eyes flicker briefly in Johnny’s direction before he leans over to hover his mouth near your ear.

“we both know he didn’t mean it. get some rest and we’ll figure it out tomorrow, okay?” Gyro smiles and exhales softly from his nose when you nod despondently in response. without another word, he strokes his hand along the back of your head, brushing his fingers through your hair, before stepping aside to begin setting up camp.

you learn fairly quickly that your mind contains much more intrusive thoughts than you initially would’ve guessed. the Steel Ball Run turned out to be such a struggle between life-and-death that, perhaps, your brain had been taking mercy on its poor host this whole time. now, though, it feels as though all mental defenses have utterly crumbled, and no amount of freshly cooked rabbit in your tummy or staring at your shoes can steer your mind away from its self-destruction.

the fire that Gyro had built crackles gently a short distance away from you but it does little to stave off the natural frigidness of the night air. the coldness has long seeped into your very bones, making it difficult for sleep to claim you. so, instead, you sit, hugging your knees, staring at nothing in particular as you listen idly to the sound of Gyro sharpening his dagger and the flipping of pages from the book in Hot Pants’ hands. you can tell they’re both poorly pretending to not be glancing at you every few minutes after you turned down their offers to keep you company.

from right across you, you can feel Johnny staring at you as well but you’ve neglected to check. you’re not sure how your body would physically react if you accidentally make eye contact with him.

even without looking at him, the aching in your chest has not subsided in the slightest despite the two whole hours that have long passed since your fight. if anything, the feeling has only gotten stronger over time–as though with every actual second that passes, the wound inflicted on your heart continues to fester and rot.

the last time you’ve ever felt close to something like this was also because of Johnny Joestar–the strange sorrow that’s not anything like grief or fear. instead it’s something you can’t quite name, composed of the humiliation that spreads from your chest and burns at your cheeks and the nauseating sensation that comes from a bitter rejection.

you can’t help but smile humourlessly to yourself at the unfortunate realisation.

even the incident at the hotel with Diego hadn’t cut as deep–and by that point you were so sure you could’ve had a future with him.

‘maybe Dio was right.’ you think to yourself, remembering the words he spat at you from across the threshold that very night.

“what do you know about unconditional love? it’s a pointless concept.”

perhaps love really is just a series of mutual exchanges until either party falls short or dies.

maybe Johnny’s realising what i can offer isn’t worth the trouble of keeping me around anymore.

you feel the familiar sensation of pressure building up behind your eyes as your lips begin to quiver. you quickly prop your crossed arms atop your bent knees so that you can hide the bottom half of your face from view under the guise of resting your head.

he’s riding again. he’s gaining back his fans. he’s found a reliable companion in Gyro. he’s gonna learn how to walk again.

you should feel happy for him, shouldn’t you? the person you care for the most is regaining his sense of self and purpose in life. you should be so happy.

so why are you so sad?

‘it’s because… maybe…’ a voice eerily similar to your own whispers in your head ‘... maybe you were never destined to find love in this life.’

a shiver runs up your spine as something begins weighing down your heart.

maybe your parents were right all along. you should’ve just let them arrange whatever marriage they pleased, with a man decent enough that you could hand him both your future and your heart, and hope that he wouldn’t drop the latter as many times as you’ve allowed it to be thus far.

joining the first ever cross-continental horse race just so i won’t have to get married. how stupid.

you scoff under your breath as fresh hot tears begin streaming down your face. as though your brain can’t ge enough of its own self-loathing, you recall yet another thing Diego had said to you a while ago.

“how naive can you be? do you really think Joestar loves you unconditionally? he only loves you because you dropped everything just for him. if he never got shot, if he was still some big shot American jockey with endless women fighting to dribble over his fucking cock, do you really think he would even bat an eye at you? he never even loved you before, you said so yourself—”

ah… in all honesty, you’d neatly forgotten all about that one. it had helped that not long after, you’d found yourself sitting barely clothed on top of said Joestar’s lap as he moaned and whimpered about how much he loves you.

looking back on it now, you’re pretty sure Johnny had just been caught up in the heat of the moment.

he doesn’t love m–

“hey.” a different voice derails your train of thought. beside you, Hot Pants plops down before stretching out his legs in front of him, nonchalantly getting his shoes dangerously close to the fire. “it’s getting late. you should sleep.”

you hum softly in response, keeping your swollen wet eyes pinned to your shoes but making no move to lay down or rest. it would take too much energy that you don’t feel like you can afford to spend right now.

the pink-haired man beside you sighs gently, as though making an active effort not to sound frustrated or impatient. from the corner of your eye, you catch him leaning closer whilst unabashedly staring at your face. it goes on for almost a few minutes until you’re too curious not to see what he’s up to. the moment you glance over and your eyes meet, Hot Pants shoots you a faint smile.

“so i haven’t turned invisible. good to know.” his deadpanned delivery lightens the heaviness in your chest ever so slightly. “go to sleep. you’ll feel better when you wake up. not totally better but at least not as terrible as you do now.”

“how’d you know that?” you whisper. Hot Pants shrugs.

“‘s how it’s always worked for me at least.” a solemn look flashes across his face, disappearing as quickly as it came. “even if you don’t believe me, there’s no harm trying.”

you nod before pulling your eyes away from him and stretching out your legs, mirroring his posture. you let out a heavy sigh and glance at the unrolled sleeping bag laid out beside you. it’s terribly wrinkled from nights of disuse on account of your habit of sleeping beside Johnny in his.

“i’ll leave you to it.” Hot Pants stands up and stretches. “if you really can’t sleep, you know where to find me.” he taps the crown of your head before starting to head off in the direction of his own resting spot, not too far away.

“i won’t be a bother?” you pipe up without thinking. “if i wake you up in the middle of the night?”

“of course not.” he shakes his head. “why would you be?”

Johnny Joestar doesn’t realise he’s fallen asleep until he opens his eyes and finds himself sitting in a room he hasn’t seen in years. it’s day time–not even noon yet, judging by the way the sky looks out the window to his right. Johnny looks down and notices that he’s seated on the edge of a bed he used to see all the time when he was younger. and then he realises he’s able to move his legs with almost zero effort but weirdly enough he doesn’t feel the excitement he always thought he would if he ever regained his ability to walk.

he also realises that he’s not alone.

beside him is you–or at least, a version of your sixteen-year-old self.

the scene feels familiar to him but not in any nostalgic way despite the setting that surrounds him. instead, he feels an immense dread tugging at his heart, though he’s not quite sure why until younger-you begins to speak.

“it’s whatever.”

“no, i’m genuinely really sorry. i came here as soon as i woke up. you have something important to tell me right? well… now i do, too, but you can go first.” he responds automatically, his mouth and tongue moving completely against his will, like he’s no more than a soul inhabiting a shell he’s completely unable to pilot.

“oh, i mean, it’s not really that important…” you say while idly fumbling with your fingers.

an immense coldness washes over Johnny when he finally recognises exactly where this memory is from.

“it’s okay, you can tell me. mine’s kinda embarrassing, too. it’s super personal… i don’t think i can tell anyone else yet.”

“well…”

“hey, why don’t we say our things at the same time? that way it’s less awkward for the both of us.” he suggests, leaning so close to you that your noses nearly touch.

internally, Johnny braces himself for the inevitable, reminding himself over and over that this is nothing but a dream, and that he’ll wake up eventually no matter how much it hurts to relive this scene.

“do you love me?” you ask instead, your breath gently brushing against his cheeks as neither of you take the initiative of moving away. your question knocks the wind straight out of Johnny’s chest.

that’s not how this memory goes.

“i do. i do love you,” he replies breathlessly as the soreness in his chest intensifies tenfold. his eyes begin watering with hot tears and his throat starts to tighten up. “i love you so much, please believe me.”

“why?” you ask, seemingly completely unmoved by his glistening eyes and whimpering tone.

“wh… what’d you mean why?” he responds, eyebrows furrowing deeply.

“why do you think you love me?” you begin pulling away.

“do i need a reason to?” Johnny tries to will his body into leaning forward, to chase after you, but to no avail.

“if nothing bad ever happened to you,” you reply, inching further and further away. “you would’ve forgotten i ever existed.” you speak with such conviction that Johnny nearly finds himself believing you.

“that’s not true.” he stares intensely up at you, body still leaning in your direction but not moving in the slightest, no matter how hard he tries. “i would’ve still fallen in love with you. i’ll fall in love with you in every life.”

“i don’t believe you, Johnny.” you shake your head.

“stop calling me that.” he begins to sniffle as tears flow freely down his face whilst his heart twists and aches within his ribcage. “i’m JoJo to you. i’m your JoJo.”

you rise to your feet and begin turning around, towards the door and away from him.

“wait. don’t go. please.” he only realises he’s finally able to move when his body lunges itself forward, throwing him onto the ground like a ragdoll.

you don’t bother turning around as your hand curls around the doorknob.

“(y/n), wait!” Johnny cries out while he desperately tries to stand up but his legs have stopped working once again. for some inexplicable reason, he’s lost his ability to walk even in his own dreams. “(y/n)! will you just look at me?!”

your hand falls from the doorknob before you turn your head around ever so slightly, just enough that he can see your expression. it’s one that seems completely foreign to your face. you remain silent as it dawns upon Johnny that he’s gotten this same look from countless people before–pure disgust disguised as a gut-wrenching mix of pity and indifference.

he’s just never received it from you. until now.

a choked sob forces its way out of his throat when you swiftly make your exit shortly after. he calls out your name as he desperately tries to drag himself toward the door. but it feels as though the force of gravity acting solely upon him has increased tenfold, rendering all his attempts to move completely fruitless.

Johnny begins to cry helplessly, pleading in between hurried breaths for you to return so that he can apologise. he begs for you to not leave him behind because he can’t imagine a future without you in it. he feels his face burn hot with shame with every pathetic syllable that stumbles out past his tear-stained lips but he’s in such sheer distress that his wounded pride is the least of his worries.

in the midst of it all, he realises he doesn’t even understand why it all feels so devastating–especially since he knows he’s dreaming–but somehow, for some reason, it all feels so real.

Johnny Joestar wakes up with a start, face drenched in tears as he gasps for air. his head instinctively snaps left and right, eyes frantically scanning his surroundings; his rapidly beating heart only begins to calm itself once he realises he recognises it all. he’d been in such distress in his sleep that his body woke up automatically in fight-or-flight mode.

he notices, with mild relief, that everyone else is still sound asleep, an indication that he wasn’t as noisy in real life as he was in his nightmare. but then, as he catches his breath and looks around once more, his eyes meet yours from across the dying embers of the fire Gyro had made hours ago.

you watch silently as Johnny heaves and sniffles, his heart still pounding painfully in his chest as he gazes yearnfully in your direction. you stare at him back unflinchingly, your body remaining still except for the faint rising and falling of your sleeping bag. the bottom half of your face remains hidden from view, tucked tightly into the crumpled fabric.

he wants so badly to crawl over to you, to climb his way clumsily into your sleeping bag and feel your firm arms enclose him in a comforting embrace. he wants to rest his ear on your chest and listen to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. he wants you to kiss the crown of his head and bury your nose in his tousled hair.

“(y/n)–” the sound comes out as barely a whimper but Johnny knows you hear him because your only reaction is to close your eyes and turn over, facing your back in his direction. he feels his mouth go bone dry as an extreme coldness begins running through his veins.

for years, ever since the incident that robbed him of everything, his life had been nothing but a series of rejections–by his own family, girlfriends-turned-exes, friends and fans. but being unwanted by the entire world never felt too bad when he had you by his side; and yet Johnny’s always been fully aware of the possibility that you, too, might leave him behind some day.

that fear lives constantly in the back of his mind. it had latched onto his subconscious since the day you carried him out of the hospital and refused to leave, no matter how hard he tried. it didn’t matter how many times he’s received your support and affection, he’s always been ready for the day you decide he isn’t worth it any more.

now, though, Johnny realises it has not only clawed its way into the very forefront of his mind but has also long sunk its venomous fangs into his frazzled brain. he just hadn’t noticed until this very moment.

even though he knows it’s all his fault–that he’d allowed himself to behave far too childishly earlier and he’s simply experiencing the consequences dealt to him by fate–a tiny part of Johnny holds onto the hope that he’ll be able to mend the relationship he so ruthlessly tore into. even though he’s still sniffling and hiccuping by his lonesome, he knows there’s still a sliver of a chance you’ll be able to forgive him eventually.

Johnny Joestar goes back to sleep, trying his best to rehearse what he’ll say to you in the morning and how he’ll say it–woefully unaware that in less than half a day from now, he will be shot through the head.

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#jjba #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba x reader #jjba x y/n #johnny joestar #johnny joestar x reader #diego brando #diego brando x reader #gyro zeppeli x reader #gyro zeppeli #hot pants #hot pants x reader

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