angst my beloved and beloathed </3
please, write the Jojo’s winning back their ‘one who got away’ for my heart.
You got it🫡 , I hope you enjoy!!
It was not unusual for charity balls to be announced, so when his father announced that they would be attending one he was relaxed; until he learned it was to be held in your name. Your family was a well known pharmaceutical company, so he shouldn’t have been so surprised.
Yet there he was, hands clammy and he looked like he was about to faint. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost Jojo, what are you afraid you’ll make a fool of yourself again?” Dio snared, though Jonathan paid no mind to him as his eyes scanned the ballroom.
There you were, standing besides your parents as they greeted each guest. It soon became their turn, “Hello (Y/n)” he said as you nodded towards him “Hello Jonathan..” your voice was soft enough for him to pick up, but not allowed others to hear your voice.
“How have you been..?” He asked, attempting to ease the tension. “I’ve been well, and yourself?” You both seemed to wish for something to ease the pain, luckily your parents were able to dismiss you before leaving with Dio and his father.
In your place, your eyes took a look at him. His suit pressed cleanly, his hair still in its usual manner and despite his relaxed demeanor, you could tell he was anxious. “I, um well, I would like to apologize for how I was when we were younger,” he was quick to stumble over his words as you stood there patiently before giving him a light laugh.
“Oh Jonathan, you don’t need to worry about that. I forgave you so long ago” your words eased his heart as he relaxed now, laughing alongside you. “You never answered my letters? I thought you never wanted to see me again” your eyes widened briefly before sighing.
“My apologies, I actually was in Italy for two years right after our fight, I should’ve sent for you” the blue-haired boy relaxed entirely, the relief of knowing that you hadn’t hated him was soft. “So would you care to dance?”
“I would love to Jonathan”
He was once again running chores with Caesar, though this time he scanned the crowds of people and children. He was darting through the busy streets, Caesar trailing behind him with a bag of groceries and far more elegance than Joseph ever bothered to fake.
“Would you slow down?!” Caesar called, nearly stumbling into people as the brown-haired boy jumped up, looking in all directions “Can’t,” Joseph grinned over his shoulder, “I thought I saw someone.” Someone he’d spent years trying to forget.
There, across the market square, you stood beneath a striped awning, your gloved hand reaching for apples. Joseph’s heart stumbled in his chest. Your hair looked longer now. You carried yourself differently—but he’d know your silhouette anywhere.
“(Y/N)?” he said before he could stop himself, You turned slowly as you heard a familiar voice. Your eyes widened just for a moment. Then came the cool smile, polite and guarded “Joseph. Still loud as ever.” your head tilted to the side as you captured him perfectly.
He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. “You, uh… look good. Really good.” despite his voice cracking just slightly you chose to ignore it “You look… taller.” Caesar watched in silence, picking up the tension immediately. Joseph chuckled and stepped closer, the street noise fading behind the pounding in his ears.
“I still have the watch,” he said softly. “The one you gave me. Said it’d help me be on time.” Your expression wavered, before he watched as your nose scrunched, just like you did the day your fight happened “It didn’t.”
“No,” he laughed, chuckling away your cold tone “but it reminded me not to lose time with people I care about again.” Your smile was softer now. Warmer. “Is that your way of saying you missed me?”
“…Every damn day.” And when your fingers brushed as you reached for the same apple, neither of you pulled away.
The local aquarium was introducing a new species within their habitat, so it was a no-brainer for him to attend it, and it seemed many others had the same idea. The aquarium was packed, though many were children as they smushed their faces into the glass.
You were admiring the coral display in the marine exhibit when you noticed the reflection in the glass—him. He was standing behind you, hands in his pockets, trench coat draped over his broad frame.
“…I didn’t think you’d actually come,” you said, your eyes ignoring the small cuttlefish that swam in your peripheral view. “I was in the area.” he huffed out. You both knew that was a lie. As it was known he had an aquarium not more than five blocks from his house.
You turned, your face unreadable. “It’s been years.” Your voice was soft, just enough for him to catch it “I know.” Jotaro looked the same. Stoic, sharp-eyed. But there was something tired in his posture, like he’d been carrying something too heavy, too long.
“I heard about your research. You’re… making something of yourself.” He met your eyes. “I thought if I became someone worthwhile, maybe I’d earn a second chance.” Your breath hitched. He stepped closer, still hesitant, like a man used to monsters and not to softness.
“I don’t expect things to go back. But I wanted to say it out loud. I was wrong to let you go.” You stared at him for a long moment, then touched the edge of his sleeve.
“…Then let’s not waste more time.”
The summer festival was in full swing, with many people of the town gathering around, children laughing and couples clinging to each other “Pft, who needs a relationship..” Josuke huffed, though his friends took glances at each other. It was clear bumping into him took him for a spiral.
“Dude, why don’t we get some takoyaki? I heard Tonio has his own stand!” Okuyasu quickly snatched the pompadour boy to the chief stand user’s festival stand. Though it was quickly discarded as he spotted you by the takoyaki stand, fireworks flashing overhead like stars in a blender.
His heart nearly stopped, You turned around just as he ducked behind a booth “Oh my god,” Okuyasu hissed, leaning his head out to catch a better look “Isn’t that—” Josuke snatched him back away from view “Yeah. It’s them.”
“Well? Go say something!” his persuasion was shut down as Josuke looked in your direction “I can’t!” Josuke whispered, his nerves began to take over “What if they hate me?” Okuyasu stared at him flatly. “You punch holes in buildings for fun but you can’t talk to your ex?”
Josuke wiped his palms on his jeans, took a deep breath, and walked toward you like a man on a mission, or heading to his doom. “Hey…” he said awkwardly, standing in front of you. You blinked, taking in his nervous figure “Josuke.” you said, your voice was weary as he glanced around.
“…You look great.” You raised a brow before glancing down to your clothes. “It’s a yukata.” you said, looking back at him “I know,” he grinned nervously, “but you look good in anything.” You snorted, but the smile tugged at your lips. “Still cheesy.” Josuke rubbed the back of his neck.
“I’ve… kinda missed you, y’know? I kept meaning to say something but then it was school and Stand battles and…” You took a step closer, “Say something now.” He stared for a beat, then said quietly “I was better with you in my life.” You reached out, tugging him toward the festival lights.
“Then come walk with me again.”
He didn’t see you for the rest of the evening. He told himself it was for the best. That the moment had passed and to chase it would be selfish. He’d already taken too much from you: time, faith, pieces of your heart he didn’t know how to return.
But when the moon hung low and the streets emptied, he found himself walking alone through the quiet backroads, his heart louder than his footsteps. Everyone else was fast asleep, so he took the time to truly reflect.
Then, in a quiet corner café, through the fogged window, he saw you. Alone, sipping something warm, your head resting on one hand. You looked tired. Softer. Older, maybe. He hesitated for only a moment.
The bell above the door chimed softly, you looked up, not that you had before. Usually you wouldn’t even bother glancing towards the entrance, yet tonight felt different. And for a second, just one second, something unspoken passed between you. Recognition. Pain. Memory.
He approached slowly. No grand entrance. No roses. “Do you mind if I sit?” his voice was no more than a whisper as you stared at him for a heartbeat, then gestured silently to the seat across from you.
The silence was heavy. Familiar. “I wasn’t sure you’d say anything,” you finally murmured, eyes fixed on the steam rising between you. “I almost didn’t,” he said quietly. “But then I realized… I’ve done enough running.”
You looked at him then. Really looked. The boy you knew had been carved into something sharper, more polished but the sadness in his eyes was unchanged “So why now, Giorno?” He exhaled slowly. “Because seeing you… I remembered what it felt like to want something for myself.”
Your lips parted, words caught in your throat. He reached into his coat and pulled something out. A small pressed flower, perfectly preserved. Its colors had faded, but it was unmistakable. “You gave this to me before I left that day,” he said. “Told me it was for luck.” You blinked quickly. “I didn’t think you’d keep it.”
“I kept everything,” he said, voice low. “Even the guilt.” You watched him for a moment longer, then looked away, staring into the night. “And what now?” you asked, barely above a whisper.
Giorno’s fingers curled around the stem of the flower “Now,” he said gently, “I ask if you'd let me try again… even if only as the man who never stopped wishing he could.” Your hand drifted toward him across the table hesitating, uncertain. “You’ll break my heart again.”
“Then let me spend a lifetime proving I won’t.”
It took hours before you crossed paths again. She was walking back from the infirmary, bruised from a fight she didn’t start, lips pulled into a tired line but her eyes scanned every hallway. Every shadow and there you were, waiting near the visitor offices, arms crossed, gaze locked on the floor.
For someone so put together, you still had that tension about you like something inside you hadn’t settled since the day you walked away. “So,” she said quietly, voice cutting through the silence like a blade, “it really is you.” You turned, allowing your eyes to really see her. She looked the same—only sharper. Tired. Older, too. But those eyes… Those were still Jolyne.
Wild, golden, and burning with a thousand unsaid things “Jolyne,” you said—like her name still meant something. She scoffed. “Didn’t expect to see you here playing lawyer. Thought maybe you’d forgotten all about me.”
“I never forgot,” you answered without hesitation. She flinched, just barely “…So why not say anything? Why not look at me when you passed?” You took a slow breath. “Because the last time I looked at you, I walked away. And I didn’t think I had the right to look again.”
There was a pause. Then she laughed low and broken. “You were always too damn noble.” all while you gave her a sweet smile, the same you always gave her before “And you were always too stubborn to let me be.” You both stood in silence, memories flooding the air between you like ghosts. The cheap apartment. The stolen glances. Her falling asleep on your chest, fingers curled in your shirt like a lifeline.
“Did you ever hate me?” she asked quietly, gaze turned away now “No,” you said. “But I hated how we ended.” She nodded, swallowing hard “Me too.” And then, almost hesitantly, she looked at you.
“So what happens now?” You looked back toward the hallway, where a guard waited for you with crossed arms and a clipboard. “Now? I finished my job.” She started to nod slowly, disappointed but you took a step closer. “But after… if you’ll let me… I’d like to talk. Just us. No bars. No bitterness.”
Jolyne blinked, caught off guard by the softness in your voice. And for the first time in years, she let herself believe “Yeah,” she said, a breath catching in her throat. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
There you were, sitting on your horse, peacefully listening to Diego. The devil incarnate. Gyro could even feel the hatred that filled the air around the blonde American, his green eyes following the blonde Americans eyes as they landed on the two in the distance.
“Nyho-Ho! Do you know them, Johnny?” The long-haired blonde teased as Johnny ripped his eyes off you, snapping them to his friend before huffing “No, just an old friend is all…” Your conversation with the Jockey came to a stop as your horse began moving away.
Your head lightly raised as you heard some laughter coming from your right, there Johnny was with a long-haired blonde. Who seemed to be teasing him, it wasn’t until your horse stopped in front of them that they became quiet.
“Hello Johnny, it’s been a while hasn’t it.” Your voice was soft as the blonde seemed to have forgotten to speak, all while his friend smirked maliciously “Do you know each other?” Gyro asked, earning a glare from Johnny.
“Yes,” you said, voice level, “we dated briefly… before he stopped writing.” Johnny stared at you like the wind had knocked out of him. “You never answered.” he said, his voice plain, yet a small hint of pain.
You tilted your head as you took a real look at him “Because you never sent anything, Johnny.” Gyro blinked, glancing between you and Johnny “Ooooh, drama.” Johnny’s throat tightened, ignoring his friends' teasing. “I gave that letter to my father, I asked him to pass it along when you left.”
You frowned as he noticed a flicker of confusion in your eyes “He never gave me anything.” For a moment, the world stilled, and the realization hit him like a train “…So you didn’t leave because you hated me?” You reached down and gently brushed a strand of hair from his face. “Johnny Joestar, you stubborn boy. I never stopped loving you.” He blinked rapidly—swallowed.
“Then ride with me. This time, don’t go.”
He didn’t know when you appeared. One minute the street was empty. The next you were there. Leaning quietly against the low stone wall, hands in your pockets, expression unreadable in the dim glow of the streetlamp.
His breath caught, you didn’t speak. Neither did he, until you finally did “You looked at me like you knew me,” you said quietly, eyes never quite meeting him. “But then you didn’t say a word.”
He swallowed hard. “I didn’t… I don’t know how.”
“Because you don’t remember me?” He froze. That ache came back. A hot, pulsing weight behind his ribs. “I don’t,” he admitted, voice breaking. “But I feel like I do. My chest hurts when I look at you, and I don’t know why.”
A long silence. The wind carried the distant sound of cicadas and the creak of old wooden fences. “We were in love,” you said, so softly he almost missed it. “Before you lost who you were. Before the Locacaca. Before they renamed you.”
His heart stuttered “I knew it,” he whispered, a slight hope whispered from him “I knew I hadn’t just made you up.” You gave a faint smile, tinged with something tired and sad. “I don’t blame you. I want you to know that.”
“You should,” he said, suddenly stepping closer. “I left you behind without even realizing it. I don’t remember our story, but I remember how it feels to have lost something I needed.” Your hand twitched at your side.
“Can you forgive me?” he asked, eyes searching yours. “Even if I’m not… who I was?” You stepped forward too. Close enough now that he could see the slight tremble in your chin. The shimmer in your eyes “You’re not who you were,” you whispered. “But maybe neither am I.”
Then slowly, gently like remembering a dance, You reached out, and he didn’t flinch. Your hands met, fingers brushing in a quiet, desperate truce. And something clicked in his soul, like the first piece of a shattered mirror sliding back into place.
“Then let’s start from here,” you said, voice steady. “Even if we have to learn from each other all over again.” Gappy nodded, breath shaky.
“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s find out who we are… together.”
