As long as you’d known Jean-Pierre Polnareff, he was a romantic.
You had French relations and had moved in with them in their small countryside town a few weeks prior to when you’d bumped into the silver-haired man by accident. You’d lost your balance and fallen to the ground, only to find his outstretched hand offering to pick you up. You noticed then that he had a bandage wrapped around his hands and from the shape of it, it looked like he was missing a couple of fingers. You’d told him that you didn’t want to hurt him, causing him to blush and hold forth his other hand. You took with a smile, thanking the charming gentleman for his help, apologising for your clumsiness when you bumped into him. He’d chuckled, telling you that it wasn’t a problem and that perhaps it were fate that such a pretty person bumped into him. That made you blush, and he blushed too. From that moment onwards, Polnareff sent romantic gestures your way.
He once picked a flower from the wild and handed it to you - “A beautiful flower fitting of your beauty,” he’d said.
He’d bought you a small tarte aux fraises when you’d been eyeing up the delicious looking pastry stall at the local market. You were sure that he picked that one specifically because the strawberries on top were incidentally in the shape of a heart.
He’d asked if you wanted to go for a stroll one day and he ended up taking you through the wilderness of the French countryside to a beautiful little valley with a small creek in the middle. That’s when you found out he grew up in this town. You asked him to show you more hidden spots like this in the future.
All these little romantic gestures were great. Polnareff was a charming man, but also an incredibly handsome one. He was taller than you, especially with his tower-like hairstyle. His body was large and heavily defined by prominent musculature, which looked so huggable. You really wanted to cuddle up to him. The features of his that stood out to you the most, however, were his eyes and his smile. His eyes were a deep blue and sparkled like sapphires. His smile was always so happy and it filled you with joy when he looked over at you with a grin on his face; he looked so enamoured with you.
You were almost surprised that he hadn’t asked you on a date, until you realised that Valentine’s Day was coming up soon. It felt like he was planning a surprise as it got closer to the date.
You awaken on Valentines morning and nothing seems out of the ordinary. You make your way downstairs when you see something on the doormat of the front door. It’s a red envelope and it has your name written in fancy cursive on it! As you go to pick it up, you notice there’s a red string attached to it. You rush around to get ready, knowing that red string will lead to whoever posted the envelope through the letterbox - you certainly can’t follow it in your pyjamas and your hair in a mess. Once you’re ready, you pick up the envelope, opening the door and thread it back through the letterbox so that you can follow the red string.
It lead out of the garden, down along the stone cobble wall. It led into a small park, across to a large oak tree, where the end of the string seemed to be wrapped around. You walked around the tree to find Polnareff sitting at its base, holding the other end of the string. He looked up at you with an ever so innocent smile on his face. “Bonjour, fancy meeting you here, darling?” he said sweetly, obviously feigning ignorance.
You gave him a smile, “Bonjour Jean-Pierre.” You tugged at the red string, making him look at it between you too. “I was led here by this red string.” you tell him.
He grins, excitedly exclaiming, “The red string of fate! Do you know what this means?”
You smirked, “I think I do, but there’s this envelope attached to it. I haven’t opened it yet.”
Polnareff’s eyes widened and he waved his hands towards it, “Well, open it!”
You did.
You looked down at Polnareff, a vivid blush spreading across your face. You kneeled down next to him; he watched you the whole time, blush on his cheeks too and a bead of nervous sweat on his forehead.
A/N: This is a bit of a self-indulgent fic, as I find the moments when Polnareff smokes really hot for some reason, even though I don’t like it irl.
Ship: Polnareff x reader
Summary: On your trip of Egypt with the Stardust Crusaders, you get a little distracted by the charming Frenchman known as Jean-Pierre Polnareff
Content: sfw, a little fluff, gender neutral reader
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1607
⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝
It had been a long day of travelling for you and the Stardust Crusaders. It wasn’t the most pleasant journey, being stuck inside the jeep with four very large men. You were getting closer and closer to the Pakistani border, which felt relatively good. But being stuck between Jotaro and Kakyoin, with no existing elbow room, had frustrated and tired you. You couldn’t really look out the window, stuck staring ahead at the road, although Polnareff’s shoulder obscured that some. Additionally, you felt rather awkward at that fact that you keep meeting Polnareff’s glance through the rear view mirror.
His deep blue eyes were intense and beautiful, sparkling in the bright sunlight of India. You tried your hardest not to stare, instead averting your gaze and trying to hide behind your hands as your cheeks turned rosy. For you had developed a little crush on the charming Frenchman.
You wished you could steal Jotaro’s hat and hide underneath it as the said man often did himself. However, to commit such a deed would be an inevitable failure. That hat belonged on Jotaro’s head and no one else’s. Jotaro would probably break your fingers before they even got a grasp on it and whilst your stand, Mercy Street, had the ability to heal, you still didn’t want to face Jotaro’s wrath.
Multiple times during the day, Polnareff placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it. Jotaro and the aforementioned Polnareff were the only ones that smoked regularly, however you were partial to one from time to time, when you were especially stressed. Every now and then Polnareff briefly turned his head to look back at you when you input something to the general conversation in the car. The cigarette was held between his lips, creating a smoky haze between the two of you. That didn’t stop you from inadvertently staring at how his lips gently kept the cigarette between them. His lips looked so plush and soft. You felt your cheeks heat up once again and you turned your head away. But as you looked past Jotaro to the outside world, you could help but imagine pulling that cigarette out of his mouth, discarding it to the side, and finally pulling the Frenchman closer, planting your lips onto his.
You then realised, as you’d begun to fantasise, Jotaro was giving you a hard side stare. When your eyes met his, he instantly sighed, pulling his hat down over his eyes, muttering what had become his catchphrase, “Yare yare daze.”
Hours later and the sun had lowered to the horizon, turning the sky a deep orange around it and a hazy purple on the other horizon. There was not another town for another 50 miles according to Mr Joestar’s map and you’d all agreed that it would be safer to camp in the wilderness than risk running into another enemy stand user. You’d been tasked with gathering some firewood alongside Polnareff. The silver-haired young man was little less enthusiastic than you, as he’d been driving all day, so you worked out a little plan of you collecting the sticks whilst he held them for you. The Frenchman was quiet as you wandered around the surroundings. As you bent over to pick up another piece of wood, you felt as if there were eyes on you.
Straightening up, you looked behind you to see Polnareff looking up at the sky, a light blush dusting his cheeks. “The stars are coming out, look,” he said, finishing the sentence with your name rolling off his beautifully accented tongue. You felt as if you’d missed something though, as if the Frenchman was trying to distract you from something. You shook it off, trying to get the task done before the sun set completely.
Later that evening, after you’d all eaten and relaxed around the fire, Polnareff pulled out another cigarette and stuck the end of it in the flames briefly to light it. He stood up, glancing at you as he did, and wandered a little way from the camp. The others were getting into their sleeping bags, tired and weary.
You decided to follow the Frenchman.
“Mind if I join you?” you asked, sound rather timid, surprised at the sound of your own voice and biting your lip in embarrassment because of it.
Polnareff shook his head, moving to sit on a nearby rock and patting the rest of the flat part of it next to him, inviting you to sit next to him. As you perched on the rock beside him, you realised how close you were to him. You could feel the warmth of his body next to you. What you would give to snuggle up to that.
You sat in silence for a few minutes, before Polnareff looked down at you. You tilted your head upwards to look at him, having to do so because you were so close now. The cigarette dangled between Polnareff’s lips, burning slowly. It was hard to draw your eyes away from them. A smirk tugged at Polnareff’s lips as you met his eyes.
“I should have asked earlier, but would you like one?” he asked gentlemanly.
Shaking your head, you refused, “No, I don’t feel like it right now.”
Your eyes glanced down as his lips, the cigarette between them, but you quickly tried to hide it, looking away slightly. A blush creeped onto your cheeks as you thought how hot he looked with that cigarette pressed between his lips.
Suddenly, you felt his arm wrap around you. You tensed, surprised at the contact, the blush going a deeper shade of pink. You felt Polnareff’s shoulder slack at your reaction and he tried to move his arm away. However, you quickly grasped at his muscular forearms, your hands looking rather small in comparison as they curled around it. He paused and you looked up at him once more, as if asking for an explanation.
“You...” The Frenchman looked away slightly and you noticed a blush appear on his cheeks. “You seemed like you were cold,” he answered, cigarette bobbing up and down between his lips as he spoke. You nodded, even though you felt perfectly fine, essentially with the warmth of his body somewhat surrounding you. His arm around you relaxed and so did you as you leaned against his large pectorals. There was a growing tenseness in your chest as your mind reeled at the fact that you were cuddling with the man that you wanted so desperately to kiss tenderly. You wondered if you could try it, but you were concerned that this was all just platonic.
You noticed Polnareff flick the now dead cigarette end into the sand as he finished it. You were caught a little off guard when he spoke your name in such a tender tone. You looked up to meet his gaze and when your eyes met this time, electricity flowed between you.
“You looked so desperate for that cigarette, staring at it like that. Are you sure you don’t want it? You seem like you’ve been craving it all day.”
You shook your head, “I don’t want one.”
His brow furrowed, “What do you want then?”
“I want...” you mumbled, eyes drifting to his lips again.
As if reading your mind, the silver haired Frenchman pressed his plush lips against yours. His lips were surprisingly warm and soft, more so than you’d ever imagined. You melted into the kiss like he was the pan and you the butter. It was long and tender, his lips moving gently against yours. He would pull away for barely a second, barely a centimetre, before pressing his lips to yours once again. You mirrored him as you kissed back. It was so hungry a kiss, yet both of you were savouring it, taking in every sensation. There was no rush, no urgency, but it was filled with as much passion, if not more.
Eventually, the fast beats of your heart pushed you to move away from the kiss, being overwhelmed by the love that you felt in the kiss. You leaned into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his neck. He enveloped you in his large arms as you did.
He went to speak, but he could not say even the first syllable as you spoke: “I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long, Jean-Pierre.”
His chest rumbled as he softly replied, “Me too, ma chérie.”
You smiled against his skin and then pressed a kiss against it. “I would like to kiss you some more.”
Polnareff’s embrace around you grew tighter, but it never hurt you. “I would like too as well. But, I am tired, ma chérie. Can we go to sleep and continue this tomorrow?”
You nodded, “Yes, I would like that. If we can kiss the day after tomorrow as well.”
You felt him chuckle, “How about the days after that too?”
You responded to that by moving to press a soft kiss to his lips, but then as you moved to pull away, you took his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging at it gently before letting go. You pulled away from him, standing up and stepping back. There was another smirk on his lips as he rose to stand, towering over you slightly. You grinned, walking backwards towards your sleeping bag.
He took two steps towards you, then stopping, “If I take any more steps,” he whispers, as you’re both closer to the others who appeared to be asleep by now, “I won’t be able to sleep. But I promise, you will get kisses every tomorrow, as long as you want them.”
If you're still taking requests, could you please write a soulmate AU with Polnareff, please?
Hey there, anon thanks for the request and super sorry for the wait (I’ve been busy moving and getting situated but finally found the time to write). I apologize if it isn’t great I’m still kinda getting back into the flow of writing again, anyway I hope you enjoy reading!!!___________________________________ As you took your seat on the plane you notice a young silver haired man approach the seat next to you. You couldn’t help but stare at even the slightest detail of the stranger, he was rather unique in appearance and his ocean blue eyes held your attention. He has a slight limp but it doesn’t seem to affect his mood much as he smiles and gestures toward the outer seat asking politely if you’d be more comfortable near the aisle. You meekly shake your head and assure him you’re fine where they placed you (unless he prefers the window seat). As he settles in beside, one of his legs stiffly pulls in from the aisle a twinge of pain slips past the pleasant smile he greets you with. Your concern is present as you attempt to grin brightly back at the large man. Looking at his (obviously wounded) leg, ”Trust me the homesickness pains me more, but it’s nothing Paris can’t cure.”, he chuckles out. His accent made it clear before that you knew that was where he hails from but this was your first time traveling there. Your conversation lasts hours though it felt like mere minutes with him as if you’d known each other forever. He shares stories of his favorite places and everywhere he had a pleasant memory with his dearly departed sister. (A serine twinkle in his eyes sparks as he talks about her yet you can see the sorrow behind it (his genuine comfort fills you with warmth). You smile and nod as your hand finds its way to his gripping it gently in reassurance a certain glow tints his cheeks as he returns the slight grasp he receives. His face dims as he looks out the window past you and sees the airport feeling an unexplainable sadness of the two of your paths going their separate ways. Even though merely hours ago he and you never met you too could feel this bittersweet ending. The two of you sit solitary for moments letting the other passengers go before you but more so for your own need. It was a desperate raw emotion that was unfamiliar yet the deepest you’d ever felt, and the same rang true in his eyes. You help him stand and he tries his best to thank you with a smile in retort not saying another word fearing you’d sound crazy. Right before you exit the plane he can no longer hold his tongue and asks you if you’d join him for dinner, his eyes shine brilliantly as you agreed. You couldn’t say no even if it was quite possibly insane however something inside told you that it wasn’t nearly as crazy as letting such a deep connection slip from your grasp. Now even over a decade later you thank God for that gut feeling and that handsome stranger who you fall asleep beside every night. That raw emotion you refused to ignore that led you to the beautiful life you live with your gallant knight and little princess. Still, to this day, you feel the same warmth to bare the Polnareff family name but nothing warms you more to see his smiling face every day. The sorrow that once lay behind his eyes while talking about his beloved sister is replaced by the light of his and the daughter that now shares her name. Overall you both knew the day you met was the start of the best days of your lives, that all the loss before this would be replaced with joy and hope for the future, (something that Jean-Pierre had never seen possible but so desperately deserved).
Could I have a fluffy senario where Polnareff is always having his crush patch up his clothes. And maybe as she sews, he casually hangout as he waits and they discover they like each other? Thank you!
Sure thing thanks for the request. Sorry, it’s a bit short and choppy but I hope you enjoy! _______________________________________ You hear a knock on the door of your room, as walk over to answer it familiar voice booms from the other side. ”Ma Cherie, it’s me!”, Polnareff says gleefully as you open the door. He carries the sleek black halter top over his forearm as he looks at you with a red face. ”What is it with enemies and your clothes?”, you inquire with a giggle. You pat the bed beside you and have him sit as you get your sewing kit. He hands you the shirt (that now has a large tear almost separating the sleeve from the garment) you look wide-eyed at the damage done. You get your needle and thread, start sewing the rip as he watches tentatively. His crystal blue eyes lock on you fascinated and seemingly delighted at your fingers nimble movements. With how often he’d bought clothes for you to stitch up it might just be easier to teach him to sew. (Admittedly you enjoyed helping him and spending time with him). You look up and smile at the adoring stare he’s been giving you and accidentally prick your finger. A quiet word of frustration falls from you at the small stinging you feel. He now looks with concern as his hand reaches for yours and gently strokes the small wound. ”Ma Belle, are you ok?”, he asks (with a sense of urgency that only Pol would show for such a small amount of blood). You nod as your face flushes feeling his large hand holding your own. His face meets yours (with the same blush) and he pulls you into a tight hug. ”I’d be lost without you.”, his says voice cracking through each word. You hug him back, holding back a giggle at his severe overreaction. ”I’m fine, don’t worry.”, you say leaning into him farther.
Scenario with which Polnareff tries to strip and sexy dance for his fem s/o, but he sucks at it? But they’re nice and let him think he’s the best stripper in the world.
Sorry it’s a bit more funny and fluffy than sexy. I hope you enjoy it though, thanks for the request! _________________________________________ It’s not unlike Polnareff to go a bit over board with things so certain romantic gestures were normal. However, the position you found yourself in now was a bit unusual for you. He led you to the couch and gingerly pushed you against the soft cushion, seating you as he turned on music. You sat with hands folded in your lap patiently as he dims the light slightly and saunters before you. His hips began to move in a slow an awkward motion. (Though you’d done your share of tantalizing dances to peak your boyfriend’s arousal this time the roles were reversed). You tried your best not to giggle at what would be described as a pelvic thrust like movement. As he started removing clothing it got painfully clear that this was his first time doing something like this. The first thing to go were the leather cuffs he wore, he nervously slips each off (as if was going to mess up somehow). Next pulls his sleek black halter over his head, messing up his perfect hair as he wiggles out of it. A huff of frustration leaves him as the snug fabric finally slips off and a blush paints his face. You smile reassuringly and watch intently, letting him continue. He regains himself and puts a cocky expression on his face as he slowly unzips his trouser. As he removes his pants at a teasingly slow pace you bite your lip (trying to goad him on farther). Now he stands before in all but his boxers and the heart breaker earring that dangled above his shoulders. He comes closer his hips motion in small circles, (only slightly better than the pelvic thrust before). His crystal blue eyes peer at you as he playfully pulls the waistband of his boxer down, just stopping at the region above his manhood. You stare at the sculpted muscles of his lower abdomen and patiently wait for him to expose more. As he finally drags his boxers off he gets caught on the fabric and trips, regaining his balance only enough to flop on the couch beside you. Your face meets his as you both break into a smile and fail to hold back your laughter. His chest and face glow red as he looks at you silently for a moment. He places a soft kiss on your lips and finally wiggles his boxers over his ankles. “Tada!”, he says gleefully with a wink. (The whole interaction may not be the definition of of sensuality but damn it if Pol wasn’t the most adorable man you’d ever seen).
Bittersweet beginnings (SDC Polnareff x Fem reader)
So talking to a few people about what Polnareff deserved gave me this idea. Its just kind of drabble that I wrote while I was bored and I happened to be in a hospital room at the time (hence the random inspiration for this). Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it.
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It was eerily quiet, even with the faint beeping tone of your heart monitor. Usually Polnareff’s voice was booming cheerfully trying to make you laugh or at least smile. Now though he was just sitting solemnly in a chair beside your hospital bed, holding your hand. Every so often he’d try to give you a reassuring smile but the worry showed through his eyes. You knew you’d be fine but Pol couldn’t help to think the worst in these situations. He lost so many people and the thought of losing another was unbearable. (Especially the love of his life).
“Sweetheart it’s not that serious, it was just a bit of a dizzy spell.”, you assured with a gentle squeeze of his hand. His muscles tense up as he tries his best to hide his frustration. “Not serious? Mon Amour, you collapsed in my arms. If I hadn’t been there you would’ve hit the floor.”, he says with a firm voice. (Though he had a tendency of being over dramatic, he was right this time. People don’t just black out and go limp for no reason).
You understand his concerns and explain it’s best just to wait for the doctor. This does little to ease his mind but your expression of serenity helps a bit. The tension in the atmosphere seems to lift as your doctor walks in, with a pleasant grin. Polnareff introduces himself and gives him a firm handshake. “Well congratulations young man.”, the doctor says joyfully gripping Pol’s hand. You both are rather confused at the statement (considering the circumstance you’re in). “I take it neither of you know.”, he responds to your expressions’.
He then starts to explain that some women tend to have fainting spells during pregnancy, (usually caused by not consuming enough calories for the child and mother). Polnareff’s head perks up and almost jumps out of his seat at the implication. Your body language is a mix of excitement and anxiety. As Jean-Pierre kisses each of your cheeks, his eyes well with tears of sheer happiness. “Mon Coeur, I’m going to be a papa.”, he exclaims. He pulls you in for a hug trying refrain from embracing you too tightly. You can’t help but smile at how giddy your boyfriend is to become a father, along with your own feelings of joy. For a man who’d lost so many loved ones, it was more than fitting that he was going to gain one.
A Kiss Could Make It Better (SDC Polnareff x reader)
I haven’t been writing a ton lately, so I decided to write some quick fluff. It’s sfw and I tried to make it gender neutral because I’ve been doing a lot of fem reader inserts. There are light mention of injury/blood but nothing too graphic. It was just a quick idea off the top of my head, none the less I hope you enjoy.
___________________
You knew how dangerous the journey with Mr. Joestar be yet you agreed joined him. Though you didn't possess your own stand, the skills you did have could come to great use to the men. It was quite confusing to the enemy that you could see stands but didn't seem to actually have your own. Often Jotaro, Kakyoin, or Avdol would hide after they’d summoned their stand and you'd act if their stands were your own. Polnareff’s stand was a bit too short range for that (and his pride wouldn't let him). They may not have fallen for it very long but it was usually enough to get the upper hand. Other than this skill you had more normal abilities that were practical as well. You were quite handy in the medical sense and could fix up the men if their wounds weren't mortal.
Polnareff by far was injured the most so you treated him the most. He certainly didn't mind the attention, not to mention the physical contact. It also usually gave him an excuse to take his shirt off in front of you. (So in his mind sustaining small wounds wasn't all that bad). Though you worried when he’d run in bloodied from battle, it was never as bad as it looked. This time was no different, though he was a bit hurt he came in smiling. You rolled your eyes playfully while fetching the first aid kit from your suite's bathroom. (You had to attend to Polnareff so often that Mr. Joestar made you share a room).
Setting the small box of supplies and bandages on the bed you pat the spot next to you. ”Well, take a seat and I’ll see what I can do.”, you say in your usual pleasant tone. The large man sits next to you with a slash and blood stain on his fitted top. He looks at you with a giddy expression ”Shall I remove my shirt?”, he asks (knowing the answer already). ”It’s not very probable to do this work through the cloth.”, you scoff lightheartedly. Before you could even finish your statement Jean-Pierre slowly pulls the leather garment over his head, (obviously flexing).
You examine his muscular form only to find a small slice across, the lower region of his chest. (It was barely a scratch but you decide to indulge the handsome Frenchman). Mon Coeur, see anything you like?”, he says with a cocky laugh, as you look closer. You lightly apply an antibacterial to the area and bandage it appropriately. ”Polnareff, I'm starting to feel like your personal nurse, with how often I treat you.”, you say adjusting the band-aid. ”Well, I certainly think you'd look cute in the outfit.”, he replies with a large grin gracing his face. (He is always such a shameless flirt, you should've seen that response coming).
You decide to actually engage in the provocative banter. ”Keep talking like that and I might kiss it all better.”, you say with a hum and a playful nudge. He sat for a moment speechless, trying to process your words. (It wasn't very often someone could silence Polnareff, you couldn't help but feel slight pride). Finally, he breaks the silence ”Now that you mention it, right here hurts pretty badly.”, he says pointing to his lips with a fake whimper. You lean in closer give them a soft peck. ”Does that feel any better?”, you ask teasingly. He looks at you with a devilish grin ”I think I need more intensive care.”, he replies. You press your lips against his only a few seconds longer than the peck before. ”Does it suddenly hurt less?”, you ask raising a brow. ” I think it’s helping the pain a bit. But I think I need a higher dose.”, replies with a wink.
Warning: Contains explicit language and mentions of injury.
Polnareff
He was a man who was no stranger to tragedy but didn't allow himself to become numb. So when his beloved was battling another stand user he was there too. It all just happened so fast this time though, Chariot wasn't quick enough. All he could do now was run to his lover’s now bloodied body and hope for the best.
Upon reaching you he caressed your body holding back tears, he felt a faint pulse. Thank god, he still had a chance to save the one person he cared the deepest for. Running from his opponent wasn't something he was proud of but he wasn't going to risk your life any further. If abandoning his pride meant you'd stay alive, he’d do it; he’d do anything as long as it meant you'd keep breathing.
His large arms cradled you as he tried his best to not hurt you any further while fleeing. He smiled through tears looking into your barely open eyes and held you tightly to his chest. ”You're going to be fine. I won't lose you too. I can't lose you.”, he said, echoing the last bit to you. Trying to keep your consciousness was a fight in itself, you couldn't, your eyelids grew too heavy.
The last thing you remembered was desperately clinging to life, as your boyfriend carried you just as desperate, looking for help. After that, your vision went dark and you could no longer hear his voice filled with sorrow and terror. You couldn't hear anything at that point. But now you could hear a familiar voice speaking muffled French. Though you didn't understand the words being spoken, the tone was deep and doleful. Opening your eyes, you were met by Jean-Pierre sitting next to you, his head buried in his hands.
Loudly clearing your throat to signal you'd awoken, his face rose to meet yours. Even though he smiled as he reached for your hand, the tears trailed down his cheeks. You whimpered at the unintentional hard touch against the IV, placed in the back of your palm. ”Sorry Mon Amour, I'm just so happy you're... So happy... That you're alive!”, his voice booming, choked through the words. The pressure of the needle in your skin, lightened as he softened his grip.
His inner palms hastily met your face and caressed either side as he leaned down. He gently pressed his forehead against, looks into your eyes, and says ”I just. I can't lose you too.”, letting the tears flow freely. Your own eyes well up, hearing the mixture of hurt and joy in his voice. You kiss and your arms wrap around him, not able to find words to match your emotions. He kisses you, smiling against your lips and hugs you with a soft squeeze. Even with the twinge of pain brought about by his grasp, couldn't make you let him go.
Josuke
Even though he knew he could fix you with Crazy Diamond, it didn't make this any easier. Seeing the person he loves most, injured, and shallowly breathing because of him. If you never met him you wouldn't be in so much danger, it was all because of him. Because of his fucking stand, if he were normal he could love someone and not worry so goddamn much. He had to shrug off thoughts like that, he couldn't let his anger win right now.
His stand was already out, Crazy Diamond went to work immediately. Josuke’s eyes darted around trying to find the bastard, who almost killed you. It was no use they'd already run out of his sight, that fucking coward. His anger was at an all-time high, he had to calm himself. Trying his best to contain himself he hugged you after Crazy D was done healing you. The embrace very hard, very, very, hard, you whimpered at him squeezing too tight. ”Sorry. Sorry. Babe, I'm glad you're ok.”, he huffed through gritted teeth.
You smile, reassuring him that you knew he wasn't angry at you. His grip softens on you and he looks at you trying to hide the rage on his face. (He was normally so calm but when it came to someone hurting you, that was it. Honestly, he probably got more heated than when someone insulted his hair). ”I just love you so much. I can't believe that prick hurt you so bad. Are you ok though?”, he grunts out, still very angry.
You nod and kiss Josuke’s reddened cheek, the warmth almost burning your lips. A smile creeps across his face as he touches where you kissed. His face flushed more as he chuckled in amusement and kissed your cheek back. One of his arms wraps around you and pulls you closer to him. You kiss his nose, grin and hold back a giggle, looking at him.
”Wait... What's is so funny?”, he says with a laugh. ”Awe. you messed up your hair for me.”, in reply. His hand's fumble to his pompadour, now drooping to one side. ”That coward is dead when I find him. Nobody messes with my babe and my hair!”, he mutters.
Jotaro
Of course, he blames himself for this. If he didn't let you out of his sight no one would've hurt you. He would have Star kill if he saw someone try to lay a finger on you. Now you lay to the side in a small pool of your own blood, barely drawing breath. However, he didn't have the time reprimand himself even if it was just in his mind. He'd already finished off your attacker within record time and they were much worse off than yourself. (There's no way he would've let them get away with causing you pain).
You feel him wrap you in his jacket and pick you up, his expression remaining calm. His arms steady you against his chest, while he rushes to get you to a safe place. As much as he hated to admit it he couldn't save you himself. He needed to get back to the rest of the crew and get to a place that can treat your wounds.
Through blurred vision, you see Jotaro’s face filled with worry and hear him muttering. ”We’re almost there. Just hold on a bit longer. Please hang on for me.”, he murmurs barely audible through his heavy breathing.
”Oh my god! What happened?!?”, you hear Mr. Joestar yell from the distance. ”Shut up and start the car, old man!”, Jotaro booms back. Everyone piles into the vehicle with no delay. The last thing you hear is the ignition of a car’s engine before you pass out.
You wake up to the low hum of a fluorescent light and beeps of a heart monitor, in a hospital gown. Jotaro jolts forward from the chair next to your bed and hesitates to speak. He lets out a long drawn sigh before you actually hear his words. ”I’m sorry. Are you ok now?”, he grumbles. Your hand reaches toward his and urges him to take it, he complies with the gesture. Both of his large hands awkwardly encase yours with a gentle touch.
Nodding, you stammer ”W-why, are you sorry.”, with confusion. His face sinks under his hat as he struggles to speak. ”If I kept a closer eye on you, you’d be fine.”, he finally says, voice littered with disappointment. ”It wasn't your fault. It was mine, I stupidly wandered away from the group.”, you explain. The room falls silent as he shakes his head and hugs you, holding you tightly.
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Hey there thanks for the request, sorry if it's a bit sloppy. I got a little lazy near the end, none the less hope you enjoy. Sorry, it’s kinda graphic and has some explicit language.
