Male Reader inserts

chantefleur||speedwagon

[Fluff & Angst]

Source: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Phantom Blood

~

Jonathan was sweet on you. It was easy to see when he'd sit with you under the oak tree just slightly off campus and listen to you speak about your poetry, and him about his archaeology. It was visible in the way he'd stand so close by your side in the hallways, almost brushing each other. It made you soft, thinking about how lovely and gently he cared for you.

You felt you cared for him the same, maybe, and wouldn't mind spending the rest of your life with him. But you did know that you were not the only one who vied for his affection. Erina Pendleton, going to the woman's college down the way, adored Jonathan so vividly, so heartfelt, that you felt a bit underdressed in terms of loving Jonathan. You couldn't compare, with your soft compliance of just existing beside Jonathan. But until she made a move on him herself, you were going to keep him beside you.

You went to his rugby games and cheered him on, you went over to his house occasionally to help him with homework and essays, you let him rant to you about how he wished he could connect more with his brother Dio, because even though the blond had been a bitch of a kid (your words, not his) Jonathan still wanted to have a brother. You were a rock for him, and he loved you, cherished you.

That's why you were the first to know when, immediately after graduating college together, Lord Joestar had fallen incredibly ill.

Your heart ached for him, truly. Your parents had died in your teens, easily leaving you in the hands of an uncle and aunt you rarely saw, so you understood the pain of possibly losing your only parent. You'd sat with him under that tall oak tree as he cried, face buried in your smaller shoulder, for hours on end. With eyes puffy and red, he had looked at you as if you were the only person on Earth, so reverent and loving. You had loved that look and simultaneously had felt immense guilt. No matter how hard you would've tried, you'd never be able to look the same way at him.

You had walked him home, hoping to calm your guilty conscience and make sure he was alright. But, upon his doorstep, right before he left you alone in the dark, something flashed in his eyes and he boldly asked if you'd fancy to stay over for the night. Too dark and dangerous for someone like you, he said. It wasn't that dark - the sun had just started to set - and you were a man. Whatever would happen to you would be much less plausible. You were not as masculine and large as Jonathan, but you were no way going to be mistook for a woman.

Jonathan had pouted, but relented, wishing you well with a deep hug that had you smelling just like him the entire walk home. It was comforting and helped you relax as you walked along to rural road towards London, towards the boarding house where you were currently staying at to avoid living in the giant and empty shell of a manor. The roads were dark, only slightly illuminated by the flickering light of streetlamps. You were used to this ominous lighting. You weren't exactly staying in the most ritzy part of town.

A shiver ran down your spine as you crossed a stretch of dark alley, and you stopped to look at the darkness. The world was quiet around you for what felt like an eternity. Someone was watching you, and only when you realized that, did you notice that you were completely alone.

Your heart sped up and a cold sweat covered the back of your neck. Murders had been happening around Whitechapel, and you had neglected to take into account how close that was. You tried to reason that you'd be fine. The killer had only targeted women, and prostitutes at that. You were neither and couldn't be mistaken for such ... could you?

Your eyes scanned the endless abyss, fear so tangible on your breath that it misted out white with each shaky exhale. You couldn't hear anything, just the heavy rapid beats of your heart and the rushing of blood in your ears. Your heart felt like it would burst with fear and if you moved a single limb, your bones would shatter like fragile glass. The pressure of the eyes you knew were watching you felt like you were ten thousand leagues under the sea, slowly but surely being crushed into nothing.