Archive of Our Own

By the time the enemy stand’s last attack dated back to 20 minutes ago, Jotaro was gradually succumbing to his exponentially rising panic.

It was ironic in a way he’d usually appreciate: The gentle caress of the soft breeze on rich wheat fields, the fresh scent of grass enveloping him. The calm serenity of being closer to the mountains than the nearest trace of civilization, the peaceful authority of nature only challenged by the lonely transmission tower about a hundred feet away - and the ridiculously stark contrast his surroundings formed with the raging war in Jotaro’s head. A near unprecedented chaos so completely at odds with the controlled person Jotaro had thought he was.

Clearly, he had been plain fucking wrong.

“J-Jotaro, it… hurts.”

Josuke’s breathing was rattled and labored as he gasped for air, an effort that seemed increasingly pointless as time crawled by - if the destructive heat painting his skin a furious pink didn’t kill him, suffocation would.
The longer Jotaro tried, the more frantically he searched his frazzled mind and his surroundings for a solution, a saving grace, a way to help, any way to cure the raging fire the stand attack had lit in Josuke’s throat, the more hopeless it seemed. You couldn’t exactly blame him for being desperate.

“You idiot! I told you, there’s nothing else you can do!”

The continuous cackling of the enemy stand user was as pleasant as the sound of a dying car engine and made Jotaro’s temper flare about as much. A fitting way to compliment its off-putting appearance. Jotaro had seen actual human-shaped piles of molten flesh that looked more appealing. Whoever had had the fucked up idea to name the thing Burning Love must have been on drugs.
Even as it slowly faded into nothingness, soon to join its user in hell, the bastard still had the nerve to drive Jotaro up the wall. Jotaro wanted to break something - or someone, preferably - but the little fucker had long become too translucent for Star Platinum to crush.

“Just how slow are you up there!” the stand mocked. Its eyeless face split around its crooked grin, an expression of both contempt and sadistic glee, complete with the disturbing sight that was the flailing of its meat-pudding arms. “There’s only one thing that will save the kid now and you know exactly what it is!”

Jotaro did know, deep down, somewhere amidst the toxic current of foreboding stewing in his gut and the adrenaline rush of his mind that seemed to stretch every second of this nightmare like rancid chewing gum - but he’d be damned if he accepted the cruelest of solutions as the only way. Not before he’d tried absolutely everything else. But fuck was he running out of options quickly.

Still, Jotaro had a history of giving fate the finger and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna stop when his kid uncle’s life depended on it. No matter how much icy panic was starting to undermine his mental capacity.

“Jotaro,” Josuke rasped from where he was sprawled out in a bed of dried wheat, Jotaro’s coat his sheet, his form boneless, hardly able to muster the strength to reach out to Jotaro anymore. Jotaro had rolled him on his back after he had collapsed face first. Now he almost wished he hadn’t, just so he didn’t have to see Josuke’s pained grimace, his youngish features torn in gut-wrenching agony. He must have been unable to form a coherent thought for minutes now. Jotaro wished he didn’t know how it felt - to ache so terribly one’s brain ceased to function.

It was an experience too horrid to wish on anyone, let alone someone he cared about - well, DIO. Jotaro would wish it on DIO, and DIO alone. Case in point.

“Jotaro, it hurts… so much…”

Tears were falling from Josuke’s eyes - Josuke, the kid Jotaro hadn’t seen crying for as long as he’d known him, even as Josuke had watched his life turn into a boiling mess of horrors and cost him more than anyone his age should ever stand to lose.
But now, there was none of that commendable strength and pride that had helped Josuke keep his despair in check. Though it was easy to miss, considering the tears evaporated the moment they touched Josuke’s flushed skin.

It ached to see him like this, more than Jotaro had expected let alone been prepared for. Jotaro had thought he was familiar enough with this despicable feeling, the ruthless tear at his heartstrings, to become numb to it. After all these years, all the disasters he had failed to prevent, all the people he had watched die… it would make sense. But no, fate was still a loathsome bitch with a grudge against him and his loved ones specifically.

Jotaro let out a shout of frustration and defeat, more feeling than seeing Star Platinum’s hand appear at his side to pummel the ground, to drill another inch deep hole into the earth to add to the dozen craters around them. Like it would make Jotaro feel any better. Like it would make Josuke feel any better. If the kid was in better health right now, he would probably be joking about how much the ground looked like a cross between Swiss cheese and a battlefield, with all the chunks of wheat and earth littering the meadow.

But as much as this was the shittiest situation Jotaro had been in in over a decade, a calamity without a bearable end in sight even now, it got worse still: Jotaro could have avoided this altogether - Josuke’s current suffering was no one’s fault but his own.

-

The entire mess had started a mere day ago when a disfigured corpse, later identified as a policeman, had appeared in a side alley of Morioh. Jotaro’s initial instinct had been to steer clear of the case - regular killers weren’t his business to deal with, not when he was already swarmed with work.

However, his decision had taken a 180 the moment he had learned the exact kind of disfigurement present in the corpse, one far beyond a regular human’s capabilities. Only a stand would be able to melt a body beyond recognition in a semi-public space, especially since no traces of acid had been discovered on scene. In fact, the pattern of the melting itself, seemingly originating from a single point of contact within the body, was unlike anything the investigators had ever seen. Especially when they, with the help of the Speedwagon Foundation, identified the cause of death as the melting of the victim’s inner organs due to immense heat.
‘Bizarre’, the leading officer called it. Jotaro personally thought ‘deeply unsettling’ was a more accurate description.

The lengthy visit to the police station left him with an unsettling crawl in his gut, the likes of which he had long learned to associate with especially dangerous stand cases. The feeling only grew when another corpse displaying the same symptoms appeared the following night - they only came to suspect the victim was female because she was found in a public women’s bathroom. The corpse itself had been mutilated far beyond identification.

With the assurance the police would keep out of the investigation for their own safety, Jotaro wasted no time mobilizing his team of allied stand users in Morioh, save for the non-combat ones like the old man, to track down the culprit and put him out of commission before another civilian wound up dead at their doorstep.

Despite the urgency of the situation, their severe lack of information on the enemy didn’t sit right with Jotaro - too often had limited knowledge led to unnecessary casualties. Even having his allies form groups of two or three, pairing together complementary stand abilities, with the order to report back to him the moment they discovered anything even remotely resembling a clue, didn’t soothe his unease the way it usually would.

Still, logic insisted they would persevere - it was this very group that had taken out Kira, after all, one of the most formidable enemies Jotaro had ever had the displeasure of encountering. Especially with Josuke and Crazy Diamond’s power around, any mistake would be easily salvaged.

And that - allowing himself that single shred of complacency amidst his unease, in the way he had sworn not to, never again, no matter how confident he was in his allies, no matter how fucking exhausted he was - had been his first mistake.

-

Patrolling the outskirts of Morioh - alone, because he’d rather the kids look out for each other than his depressed ass - Jotaro was the first one to encounter their target. Though it took him a minute to recognize the revolting lowlife raping an unconscious woman in a deserted alley full of garbage bags and piss-stench as the bastard they were looking for.
Regardless, his first instinct was to pummel the asshole within an inch of his life. The fact Jotaro couldn’t handle most women didn’t mean he would stand back and watch that.

However, Star Platinum stilled inches from the pair when Jotaro spotted something that made his thoughts halt for the briefest of moments before kicking into overdrive. The woman’s skin over her bare hip. It was dripping off of her in sticky smears, exposing the flesh beneath, its consistency so reminiscent of pudding it made bile rise in Jotaro’s throat. A sight ominously reminiscent of the corpses he had spent hours brooding over the previous day. Besides, what were the odds of encountering two body-melting stands in the same city in as many days?

In the few moments Jotaro’s mind spent racing through the implications of this situation and the best subsequent course of action, the man, apparently too lost in pleasure to notice Jotaro’s presence, threw his head back with a satisfied groan that made Jotaro grimace in disgust.

Jotaro stood frozen in shock and repulsion alike while the rapist - the enemy stand user - slowly came down from his high and pulled out of the woman, leaving her motionless form to slump into the dirt. Much later, Jotaro would be grateful his gaze was too focused on her midriff to take note of much else or he might actually have thrown up right then and there. But as it stood, all that registered in his mind was the way her flesh and skin hardened back into their supposed shapes, leaving behind a burn scar the size of a dinner plate. The stand had stopped being effective? Was it because the user had called off its ability? Unlikely, considering the state the fucker was in.

Distracted as he was, the brief warning Jotaro got before the guy’s stand appeared out of thin air and made a grab for his neck - a glimpse of movement in the corner of his eye - was barely enough for him to stop time and dodge the attack.
He barely caught sight of a red-brownish human-like silhouette before the stand vanished as quickly as it had showed its ugly face. Except… was it even a face if it had no eyes to speak of? Fucking disturbing.

“Should’ve known you wouldn’t be so easily taken out by my Burning Love, Jotaro Kujo,” the guy growled, spitting Jotaro’s name like an insult. An equally off-putting and hilarious combination with the way he was fumbling to pull his pants back up.
God, Jotaro was sick and tired of every enemy he came across knowing exactly who he was. No helping it. And what the fuck was up with that stand name?

Not important. Not when he had more pressing questions to ask. “What the hell did you do to that woman?!”

The stand user, an ugly but inconspicuous bastard in his 40s, decrepit and unshaven, looked briefly taken aback before cackling obnoxiously. “I know what it looks like but it was actually consensual! She begged me to help her in the end so of course I had to extend my grace to her. Pathetic little thing. Shame it took her so long to make up her mind - she’ll have those ugly scars to show for it.”

Jotaro’s eyes widened, his mind immediately picking up on what he identified to be the most important detail of the enemy stand user’s rambling. It still baffled him that most of his opponents liked to brag enough to reveal crucial details to the enemy but he definitely wasn’t complaining.
“You’re saying she’s still alive?!” he pressed, his gaze falling on the too-subtle movement of the woman’s ribcage. She was breathing, if barely.

An ambulance. Jotaro needed to call an ambulance right fucking now. Or even better, Josuke. The kid would be able to save the woman immediately while a regular doctor might be altogether powerless. Either way, her life had to be Jotaro’s priority. The rapist bastard could wait.

“What do you mean?!” The enemy stand user looked seriously affronted. Probably clinging to the last of his screwed morals, not that it made him any less of a despicable scumbag. “I promised I’d give her the antidote and cure her so I did. I keep my promises, you know?! I’m not that dishonorable!”

Jotaro snorted, the sound laced with condescension.

“But I guess I did mess up this girl pretty good.” The lop-sided sadistic grin splitting the guy’s face at the realization made Jotaro want to punch his teeth in all the more. Fucking shitstain. ”You wanna return the favor, you’ll have to catch me first,” the enemy stand user mocked, already taking off down the street towards the fields, his belt still unbuckled. He was fast, despite his average height. And probably intent on leading Jotaro straight into a trap. Good freaking grief.

Like hell was Jotaro going to give him the attention the fucker so clearly craved. Again, priorities. And, judging from the state of the unconscious woman and her labored breath, he had to be quick about it.
His subconscious agreed, clearly - already, Star Platinum’s hand was floating in the air next to him, offering him his walkie-talkie. Jotaro had known arming his allies with a way to keep in contact would come in handy.

“Josuke. You read me?” He didn’t bother waiting for a response before adding, “I’m on the western outskirts of Morioh. There’s a victim. She’s alive but I need you over here as soon as possible. Over.”

A crackle sounded from the speaker, seconds before Josuke answered. Even with the poor connection, Jotaro could tell he was out of breath. “Got it. I’m on my way. Where are you, exactly?”

Of course the kid couldn’t be bothered to adhere to basic radio communication rules. A discussion for later.

Jotaro had been prepared for the question, Star Platinum’s eyes already locked on a street sign a few feet away. “Sakasen 1-2. Across the street from an Owsen. It’s hard to miss. Over.”

Now, while he waited, better to make sure there was still a living person for Josuke to heal when he showed. Administering first aid was always an especially delicate matter when dealing with stand victims - Jotaro just hoped repositioning her body to ease her breathing would suffice. He really, really wasn’t in the mood for CPR.

Josuke, bless his fickle little soul, arrived at the alley in record time. Slithered around the corner and almost ran Jotaro over, more like. He was heaving like he had just run a marathon, which was probably the reason his assigned partner, Koichi, was nowhere to be found. Another careless act to reprimand him for later. Jotaro appreciated Josuke’s appropriate sense of urgency, but seriously? Especially since the victim wasn’t even the first one Josuke directed his attention at.

“You okay?” Josuke panted, looking Jotaro up and down with visible panic. Crazy Diamond hovered at his side, armored pink hands twitching with the need to fix. Good grief.

“I’m fine, kid.” Jotaro resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Josuke’s concern made his chest warm and the corners of his mouth twitch upward - a stupid, untimely instinct he immediately nipped in the bud - but still. Sentimental idiot. “She’s the victim here. Get your priorities straight,” he scolded, nodding to the unconscious woman.

“Oh.” Jotaro ignored the pink flush sneaking onto Josuke’s cheekbones for the sake of practicality and no other reason.

For how embarrassed he was, Josuke got to work remarkably quickly, Crazy Diamond’s powers enveloping the unconscious woman in a soothing yellow glow. Jotaro waited until the scar on her waist had disappeared before filing the matter away as settled. Which left him with one pressing problem to go.

“The enemy stand user fled into the fields. C’mon.”

Josuke watched in mild surprise as Jotaro turned to wander down the street, where summer fields replaced rows of houses and the scent of the breeze shifted from stale to fresh. “You don’t look like you’re in much of a hurry. Besides, how do you know the guy isn’t long gone by now?” Still, he had risen back to his feet, Crazy Diamond fading out of existence, and hurried to Jotaro’s side. Like a little duckling.

Jotaro shoved down the instant satisfaction at the image before it could show on his face as he turned toward Josuke. A tiny smirk in response to Josuke’s question was the most he allowed himself. “Oh, trust me, he’s still out there, waiting for us. He wants us out of his way as much as we do him. On his own turf, preferably - not that it’ll save his ass.” The fucker’s reaction before turning tail and running like the coward he was hadn’t left a doubt in Jotaro’s mind. “Just keep your guard up.”

“Roger!” Josuke saluted mid-walk, pulling a fond chuckle from Jotaro, the sound of which promptly made Josuke’s step falter and nearly caused him to trip over his own feet. Good grief. He was such a dork. An adorable dork but still.

If not for the mission, Jotaro might have given in to the urge to stop and hug the kid right then and there. The need had become more present recently, as much as Jotaro tried not to let it interfere with either his work or his interactions with Josuke.

Still, he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t hyperaware of Josuke’s reactions, to an admittedly disconcerting degree. Like the fact Josuke was still watching him even now, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip as a sheepish grin crept onto his face. It was details like these Jotaro had been observing far too closely - eerily similar to how he suspected Josuke had been watching him right back, learning to read in the subtlest shifts in Jotaro’s expressions.

“So you think we can handle him with just the two of us? You trust me to have your back?“

Josuke’s tone was so delicate, so vulnerable, such a stark contrast to the childish humor he had displayed only seconds ago, that it made Jotaro tense. This wasn’t a reaction he wanted to cause in Josuke - he was supposed to make the kid feel safe and valued. Believed in. To the point such questions shouldn’t even come up.
Josuke had every right to be confident in himself and every moment he spent with Jotaro should remind him of just that. Such was the level of trust Jotaro was trying, had been trying to build between them. The kind where he was the most solid pillar of Josuke’s security system, a protector and friend alike, the person Josuke always felt heard by, the one Josuke was comfortable turning to and seeking advice from no matter the topic-

Fuck. If a simple question from Josuke, made up of more hesitant teasing than doubt, sent Jotaro spiraling, the old man might have been right to doubt his… emotional stability. What a fucking surreal thing for Jotaro of all people to admit to.

-

The conversation in question, easily the most uncomfortable one Jotaro had had since his wife - ex-wife - had dropped the divorce papers on his desk without any preamble, had taken place a week ago. Jotaro had sought out his grandfather in his hotel room, hoping to find him in one of his recently more frequent moments of clarity, in order to discuss the recent intel from the Foundation and maybe request a picture or two from Hermit Purple.

A task he had completed successfully, expecting to be left to his own devices immediately after so he could return to his thesis.
But no such luck. Which was, annoyingly enough, Jotaro’s own fault for underestimating Joseph’s current lucidity.

“Jotaro. I need to talk to you. About Josuke.”

The mention of his kid uncle made Jotaro freeze in his tracks halfway to the door, his brows furrowing. Judging from the old man’s tone, this couldn’t be good.

And indeed - the expression on Joseph’s face when Jotaro turned back against his better judgment was the most serious one Jotaro had seen on his grandfather’s face in over a decade. The worst possible omen from a guy who was 60 percent kitschy humor and 40 percent senile bullshit.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Josuke lately. Helping him with his school work, training his stand abilities, having him assist with your research… Didn’t you take him on a boat trip just last week?”

The intensity of Joseph’s gaze grew with every sentence, like he was trying to see right through Jotaro. Well, tough luck, old man.
“I also heard you volunteered to go to his parent-teacher conference when Tomoko couldn’t make it. You keep saying enemy stand reconnaissance is a one person job, yet you’ve been taking him along. You’ve spent more time with Josuke lately than with anyone else, haven’t you? Including yourself.”

Jotaro leveled Joseph with a glare of his own, much sharper than anything the old man could hope to muster. Yes, he had been doing all that. Not much of a surprise, considering the kid was the best company one could come by in this shithole of a town. Or anywhere, really.
Either way, when Jotaro crossed his arms over his chest to underline his glare, the gesture turned out more defensive than he would have liked. So did his tone. “Your point, old man?”

Joseph heaved a sigh, as though Jotaro was the one being difficult here. “Jotaro… I really appreciate you looking out for my son when I can’t. I initially felt bad dropping this on you and wondered if I’d unconsciously pushed you into my supposed role in Josuke’s life by sending you to Morioh in my stead.”

Hell no he wasn’t gonna-

“But this isn’t about Josuke at all, is it? This is about Jolyne.”

Fuck.

Jotaro’s eyes narrowed dangerously. The old fuck better read the room and drop the topic before he said something he’d regret.

Then again, reading between the lines wasn’t exactly a skill Joseph was proficient in anymore. “I feared you wouldn’t be stable enough to be a responsible leader to these kids, with how recently the divorce was finalized and with you losing custody of Jolyne…”

That bastard. Jotaro might have forfeited the right to most of his honor in the past twelve years but comments like that still drove him up the wall.

“Don’t you fucking talk to me about mental stability, old man. Especially not in the same sentence as my daughter.”

But Joseph, entirely oblivious to the threat sharpening Jotaro’s voice, chuckled sadly. “I know I sound like a hypocrite, Jotaro, I do. But I also know no one else will tell you all this so it’s time for your old man to step up. Now listen, kiddo - if you’ve been treating my son as a replacement for your daughter-”

“You think that’s what he is to me? A substitute?” Jotaro’s previous anger paled in comparison to the fiery rage rising in him at the accusation. How dare the old man suggest…

What made it all the worse was that deep down, Jotaro knew Joseph had a point.

Joseph raised his arms in surrender, gesturing wildly, almost stumbling over himself in the process. Jotaro didn’t step in to steady him.
“Don’t get me wrong- I know you care deeply about Josuke.” Damn right he did. “But that’s exactly what has me so worried. That you might care too deeply, maybe without even realizing. I know you’re not the most in touch with your emotions.” No concept of subtlety and now he was adding insult to injury? Damn, old man.

“But this… dependency on Josuke that you seem to be developing… I don’t think I have to tell you how unhealthy it is. Neither of us will be able to stay in Morioh for much longer and the more invested you get in this pseudo-parenthood you feel for Josuke, the more leaving will feel like losing your child all over again. Not to mention - I highly doubt Josuke sees you as anything resembling a father figure.”

Like the asshole had any clue what he was talking about, considering he hadn’t even known he had a son until a few months ago. When Jotaro had found Josuke. Which, in hindsight, was probably another shovel to Jotaro’s grave - another pile to add to the mountain of responsibility he felt for Josuke.

Jotaro knew all that - contrary to popular belief, he was usually more in touch with his emotions than most. It came with the trade. No knowing the enemy if you didn’t know yourself first.
And yes, he knew damn well he had been viewing Josuke as the closest thing to a son for a while now. He was intimately familiar with the great potential of these messed-up feelings to destroy him all over again. Didn’t mean he could help it. Besides, being torn apart couldn’t be all that bad anymore if it happened for the third time, could it?

-

In the end, Jotaro couldn’t quite tell if it was his sense of responsibility or his self-destructive parental feelings talking when he made the most obvious choice. His second mistake.

“Yes, I got you. The two of us.”

Some more of that overdue family bonding time, he didn’t say but the implication hung heavily in the air anyway. Not that Josuke would have noticed - he was too busy grinning like a moron as they headed down the street and onto the path leading into a sea of yellows and browns. Wheat season in its final stretch.

There was a skip to Josuke’s step now, like Jotaro had agreed to do him a huge favor. Ridiculous. Then again, was this a sign of how much Josuke valued Jotaro’s trust in him?
Stop it, you’re projecting, muttered an unwelcome voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like a disappointed Joseph Joestar. Jotaro batted it away easily enough. Focus.

They made their way through the field in silence as the path grew narrower, eyes and minds peeled for any sign of danger, pushing aside strands of wheat here and there.
But eventually, as he tended to when a less interesting task seemed to drag on endlessly, Josuke’s attention strayed from the goal at hand. Out of the few disadvantages of working with him - there weren’t many, as Jotaro could confidently say after months of fighting together, complete with a swell of pride he had no business indulging - this was definitely one of them.

Jotaro should have immediately chastised him for it but the content of Josuke’s words made him hesitate. His third mistake. Getting complacent at the worst possible moment. After all, if anyone had the power to cloud Jotaro’s judgment, it was Josuke.

“Hey, Jotaro?”

The hum Jotaro uttered in return came before he could consent to it - pure muscle memory at this point.
Josuke, of course, took it as his cue to continue.

“I just wanted to say I’m grateful. That you indulge me and hang out with me all the time. It means a lot.” So that was it, huh? Josuke’s gratitude felt entirely uncalled for. Jotaro had been the one to instigate most of their “hang out” sessions, not that he’d call them that. So really, who was indulging who here?

Not that there was any merit in correcting Josuke. “Don’t mention it,” Jotaro grumbled, most of his attention still directed at the field. That made one of them.

Josuke chuckled awkwardly, a sound that finally led Jotaro to abandon his search, if momentarily. He liked the sight of Josuke smiling too much. Especially since that wasn’t all he got rewarded with upon facing the kid: Josuke was biting his bottom lip, his grin crooked. Like he was somehow nervous about this conversation.

“Soooo when do you wanna meet up again after this? Outside of recon, I mean.” God, he was way too adorable when he was nervous.

Josuke had turned towards him fully, both eyes set firmly on Jotaro and nowhere else. Another red flag Jotaro should have recognized immediately, considering their situation - if he hadn’t been so distracted by Josuke’s following offer.
“Whaddaya say we get dinner after this, just the two of us? You know, some harmless family bonding ti-”

Jotaro spotted it a split second before it happened - a red-brown, fleshy hand shooting out from the wheat strands behind Josuke, aiming for his neck. Way too close for comfort.

“Josuke!”

Jotaro’s shout of alarm remained unheard to the world, lost in the void of stopped time - Star Platinum had materialized next to him and activated The World before Jotaro even had the chance to command it. A manifestation of his soul, vessel of his conscious and unconscious desires, all that. The most prominent of which, as of late, had been to protect Josuke.

Still, even with time stopped and the crisis seemingly averted, Jotaro’s thoughts flashed back to moments just like this one, calls too close to bear. Moments of Jotaro giving in to distraction, overwhelmed by the feeling of an entirely new kind of companionship - Bug Eaten, his inability to protect Josuke from Aqua Necklace - and now this. A fleshy hand wrapped around Josuke’s neck.

But not anymore. One well-aimed punch from Star Platinum and the hand was left suspended in mid air, its owner about to be catapulted backwards by the sheer force of the attack. Far away from Josuke’s wide-eyed grimace of shock. After all, Star Platinum’s punches became all the stronger proportionally to Jotaro’s emotions and fuck was he furious right now.

Time resumed. Though not fully, apparently - it was in slow motion that Jotaro watched Josuke’s hands fly up to his neck, to the crimson handprint that had no business being there because Jotaro had removed the enemy stand in time, dammit, it hadn’t even really touched-

Still, the expression of horror intensified as Josuke gasped for air, as his knees gave in and he slumped towards the floor, his body losing all tension.

The moment the flow of time returned to its natural course, Jotaro was by Josuke’s side, arms wrapped securely around him, catching him before he could fall. As was his duty. Well, technically his duty, his responsibility, his need, was to protect Josuke with all he had and yet- yet Josuke was limp in his arms, his face flushed and contorted in pain, radiating heat-

No. No.

There was a rustle of movement in the wheat to his right. The shout of fury when Star Platinum attacked once more, a merciless hail of fists raining down on what Jotaro faintly registered as a human body, didn’t belong to his stand but to Jotaro himself. He distantly felt skin and flesh alike give way under the rage of his fists - Star Platinum’s but also his own. Bones snapping like twigs, spine fracturing, skull splitting.

The enemy stand user collapsed out of the wheat, crumbled on the ground, a mess the likes of which his own stand had been causing all over Morioh. Never again. The bastard would never fucking open his eyes again.

It wasn’t enough. Not even remotely. It didn’t make Jotaro feel better. No triumph at a job completed, a threat eradicated.

Josuke whimpered. His eyes stared up at Jotaro, glazed over and unseeing. He clearly hadn’t even noticed the defeat of the stand user. Or anything, for that matter - not since the enemy’s first and only attack. At their feet, the bastard’s deformed shape released its last broken groan and exhaled its final breath, his spirit dissipating. Off to whatever horrors ghost alley had in store for him. Reimi better make it gruesome.
But still, still Josuke was feverishly hot against Jotaro, nauseating warmth seeping through Jotaro’s clothes and making him shiver.

Why? The stand user was dead - his powers should have been wiped out of existence with him. Why was Josuke still under their control?!

“Jotaro, what- what is happening…” Josuke’s voice was a powerless croak, so fundamentally different from his cheerful tone mere seconds ago, he was getting worse by the second instead of better and this couldn’t fucking be happening.

“It’ll let up in a few seconds, it has to-” Jotaro didn’t know who he was trying to reassure. To convince. After all, his words were the very opposite of what his instincts told him. His instincts, the only part of him that was hardly ever wrong.

A noise broke through the storm of his desperation - an obnoxious cackle that made Jotaro spin around towards the source, Josuke moaning weakly at the sudden movement. A human shaped pile of molten flesh. An eyeless face curled in gleeful triumph. The enemy stand hadn’t disappeared along with its user.

“Really thought you’d get rid of me that easy? Huh, Kujo? Well, sucks to be you. You might’ve killed my user but unfortunately for you, I’ve always been the more powerful one of the two of us.”

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck- Jotaro had seen cases like this one before. A stand outliving its user, continuing to exist independently. It was rare but not unprecedented. Why, of all the dangerous bastards out there, did it have to be this one?!

“Ora!” Star Platinum aimed its fists once more, again without Jotaro’s order, ready to subject the fucker to the same treatment as its user - but its fist soared right through the stand’s fleshy form. Transparent?!

More ear-splitting cackling polluted the air. “I told you, idiot - no getting rid of me now. Don’t have much time left but as long as I’m still here, you can’t do shit. I’m keeping my front row seat to your little insanity speedrun.”

Jotaro gritted his teeth, his mind racing, fighting desperately to grapple with the sheer impossibility of the situation - the stand user was dead but his stand hadn’t vanished, Josuke had been hit, he was under the influence of the stand’s body melting powers, the very powers that had already cost at least two people their lives and Jotaro-
Jotaro had to do something. He had to fix this. Somehow. He had to get the stand to take back its powers. Was that even possible? It had to be. But he didn’t have any leverage against the fucker. So instead, Jotaro would find another way, a safe way out - there was one, there had to be, there always was-

“Jotaro?” Gentle hands reached up to him, feeling for his face as though to identify him. Their touch was already so impossibly hot against his jaw. “I don’t know what’s going on… it’s so hard to move all of a sudden. My vision’s all blurry.”

“Just… don’t worry. I’m working on a solution.” It was a redundant attempt at comfort. Flimsy, weak, useless, much like Josuke’s voice. The kind of attempt Jotaro usually wouldn’t bother with - logically, it was a waste of breath. But seeing Josuke in this state between lucidity and unconsciousness, all because Jotaro hadn’t been fast enough… His mouth moved on its own.
Even so, was this the best he could come up with? Pathetic.

Seeing Josuke like this - it plunged a blunt knife straight into Jotaro’s chest. Pulled at his exhausted heartstrings in the worst of ways. This - Josuke was dying. He didn’t look the part, not yet - more like he had a high fever, raising his temperature and making him sluggish, his thoughts thick like jello, refusing to cooperate. It reminded Jotaro of that one time Jolyne had had a fever and he had almost dropped everything and rushed her to the hospital-

The hospital. …No. The sickness spreading inside Josuke was too far removed from anything natural. Besides - Jotaro looked around, finding his suspicions confirmed. They were too far out, lost amidst wheat fields, more than a half hour away from civilization. Who knew if Josuke would survive the trip back to- no. Don’t think about it.

Then - their allied stand users. Tonio’s Pearl Jam. Rohan’s Heaven’s Door. The stands able to alter a person’s physical condition. Jotaro doubted that loophole existed for this particular stand power but he had to try. Leaving Star Platinum to lower Josuke into the grass with all the care in the world - the stand even grabbed Jotaro’s coat to spread on the ground as a makeshift sheet - Jotaro grabbed his walkie-talkie.

“This is Jotaro Kujo. Josuke’s been hit. Requesting immediate assistance. We’re at-” The static cracking of the speaker cut him off. Jotaro inspected the device with furrowed brows. Was it broken? No. Out of range. Of fucking course.

Trying Josuke’s walkie-talkie yielded the same results - nothing, even after having Star Platinum punch the damn thing a few times. An action not primarily born from the need to make the device work but still.

What was left, then? Josuke was heating up. That meant Jotaro needed to cool him down, right now. Ice. Unavailable. Water, then.

There was a small rivulet flowing along the side of the field. Jotaro ripped a few sizable chunks out of his pants - preserving his clothes, custom or no, was at the bottom of his list of priorities right now - and soaked them in the stream. Cold wraps. Not as cold as he would have liked, not in the summer heat, but it would have to do. He needed to make this work, no matter how limited his resources. There was simply no other option.

When Jotaro returned to Josuke’s side, the situation was looking more dire than ever. Jotaro had barely been gone a minute but in that short time, Josuke’s temperature had risen by at least a degree and his entire body had started shaking violently, punctuated by dry sobs of pain. Star Platinum’s concerned form hovered over him, brushing sweaty hair from Josuke’s forehead as it came loose from his meticulous hairdo, though the stand’s efforts provided little comfort. No wonder it was wearing an expression of desperation - that was, after all, what Jotaro felt in his very soul.

Jotaro’s feeble hope that the wet slips of clothing would cool Josuke down was soon eviscerated - the supposed cold relief faded mere moments after it had made contact with Josuke’s skin. The closer to his neck and the enemy stand’s point of attack, the worse the problem. His attempt at forcing at least a handful of water down Josuke’s throat failed just as quickly.
Despite the dry air, the cooling effect of Josuke’s sweat didn’t do much good either - not with how quickly the droplets evaporated against the heat of Josuke’s skin.

But Jotaro wasn’t out of options yet. Far from it. The cool stream. It should be big enough to submerge most of Josuke. Star Platinum didn’t hesitate to lift Josuke’s groaning form, the stand’s hold cautious but urgent as it lowered him into the water. Another wasted effort, it immediately turned out - Josuke’s sigh of relief was short-lived when the water evaporated the moment it touched him. It shouldn’t be possible according to the rules of human biology that Jotaro had once been foolish enough to believe in, and yet. Yet, hot steam brushed over his face, just short of burning him, as Josuke cried invisible tears of pain.

“Jotaro,” he sobbed, his voice aimlessly tumbling over itself, nearing the point of incoherence. “It hurts. It really fucking hurts. I’m scared. Am… am I melting? Am I going to die?”

Jotaro gritted his teeth against the renewed assault of sharp pangs digging into his heart. No time, ignore it.

Water was off the table. Then, the ground? Could Jotaro dig a hole deep enough to reach a colder layer of earth? But it hadn’t rained in weeks and the ground had to be more parched than his throat…
What about fanning Josuke with Star Platinum? No, not even remotely enough, especially without the proper tools on hand.

But what else was there? Jotaro had to be missing something obvious. It would make sense, considering his brain hadn’t been working properly since Josuke had been hit. He just had to fucking get his shit together and find a solution, a loophole, anything-

But Josuke was running out of time. Jotaro didn’t need to hear the increasingly gleeful insults of the puddle of goo floating close by, its revolting form dissipating one particle at a time, to be painfully aware of that. He had watched the stand’s power in action back in that alley, had watched the condition of that woman worsen just as Josuke’s was now. Though her melting process had been… further along. How long did Jotaro have until Josuke’s skin started dripping off his body? Half an hour? 40 minutes? Not nearly enough.

Well, there was one option, if the events back in that alley were to be believed.

And yet… No. Despite the severity of the situation, how could Jotaro ever even consider doing that- And to Josuke, of all people? Josuke, who he’d recently begun to regard as…

This hadn’t been in the plans, dammit. Not that Jotaro hadn’t become used to his plans being fucked up thrice over by a bunch of unpredictable teenagers. And yet, Jotaro had had the arrogance to believe he still had a hand in choosing his future. Not his destiny itself - that had been written in stone a long time ago - but the people he got to spend it with.
Well, one of them. Jotaro had lost one kid to his responsibilities already but Josuke… Josuke wasn’t helpless. In fact, he was the least helpless teenager Jotaro had ever met. He could protect himself, at least to an extent, so Jotaro had thought that maybe, just maybe, their combined efforts could be enough - enough to keep Josuke safe even in Jotaro’s orbit with all its constant dangers. And judging from Josuke’s behavior, Jotaro’s orbit was exactly where he wanted to be. Where they both wanted him to be.

Or maybe Jotaro had been rationalizing the fact that he could no longer imagine a future without Josuke in it, at least in some respect. Be it annual visits, living together, anything in between - Jotaro needed Josuke, maybe to fill the gaping hole that losing Jolyne had-

No. Joseph was wrong. Josuke wasn’t a substitute - or at least he was so much more than that. A person as unique and colorful as Josuke could never be a mere replacement for someone else and if Josuke happened to occupy a similar spot in Jotaro’s life to the one that had belonged to Jolyne… that didn’t change the fact that Josuke himself had long become irreplaceable to him.

(Well, that was what he got for allowing himself to believe a good thing - the best thing - could ever last. Not for him.)

Behind Jotaro, the enemy stand was still cackling. “So you’re gonna risk lasting damage because you’re too much of a coward to do what you can to save him?”

Jotaro’s teeth ground menacingly as he wrestled the urge to have Star Platinum attack the fading face of the stand bastard once more. Only half of that smug grimace left now - not for long. Blowing up at the asshole again would only waste his energy. Another hole in the ground, evidence of his failure.

Of course the fucker would neglect the other types of damage its supposed cure was sure to cause - the kind that went deeper than physical wounds, that would scar Josuke in ways much harder to heal than the body. If at all. Then again, the stand would welcome that. Craved it, even. Why else would it have such a fucked up power?

Its primary purpose - the inevitable outcome of this situation as per the stand’s despicable nature, no matter how much Jotaro tried to deny it - was plainly obvious. Obvious from what Jotaro had seen in that alley, from the stand’s words, from the way Josuke’s body had taken a burning temperature that brought ruin to his surroundings, yet his skin irrationally had yet to burn Jotaro. From what Jotaro’s intuition had been telling him all along.

Jotaro had never been good at lying to himself, no matter how much he wanted to be, no matter how much he tried to, over and over - in hopes it would make the burden lighter, ever so slightly. But no such luck.

There was no lying to himself about this, either. About the fact that this was going to ruin him. Them. The relationship Jotaro had come to cherish so deeply. It was another crushing weight he would carry for the rest of his life, not the heaviest but likely the most painful. It would cost him yet another part of his family - leaving him on his own so much sooner than he had expected, than he could bear.

Then again, Jotaro had long learned to live with the unbearable.

If this was the price of protecting Josuke, he was more than willing to pay it. Anything. Jotaro would rather fight DIO all over again than fail Josuke like he had Jolyne. Let alone worse than that.
Josuke was young. Resilient. He would recover from this, Jotaro would make sure of it, not least because he would have someone other than himself to blame. To hate. The same couldn’t be said about Jotaro himself.

Josuke groaned and thrashed weakly when Star Platinum lifted him out of the stream, laying his heated, limp form back onto Jotaro’s coat. His alarmingly dry form, despite sweat and water.
Jotaro kneeled at his side, no thought wasted on the dirt staining his pants. (They were already ruined anyway.) A big purple hand reappeared to brush a few messy strands from Josuke’s forehead, surrendering to the desperate yet hopeless need to grant him even just a sliver of relief. His skin was searing to the touch. Jotaro’s gut lurched.

The sensation of ghostly skin against his own made Josuke stir once more, his right hand twitching as though to reach for Star Platinum. His eyes fluttered open despite the obvious effort, their ocean gaze hazy. Searching. “Cold,” he croaked, “More.”

Star Platinum obliged long before Jotaro could give the order.

“How are you feeling, buddy?” Jotaro’s tone had softened beyond what he was used to, what he had thought himself capable of, even when speaking to Jolyne.

Josuke’s responding groan was even weaker than his voice. “Hurts.” Of course.
And still, Josuke’s hand was moving, reaching, inches at a time, his expression pleading. “Jotaro, if I’m…” He swallowed, shallowly, like his throat itself was betraying him, constricting around the words he was so desperate to voice. Jotaro waited, Star Platinum’s hand caressing Josuke’s temple, hardly soothing.

“If I’m…” Josuke heaved, his eyebrows twitching with effort and pain alike and Jotaro fought the urge to interrupt him right then. To stop Josuke from torturing himself like this, no matter how important his words. “If I’m… gonna die… need to tell you-”

Jotaro’s hand covered Josuke’s lips before he could finish. No. Jotaro refused to entertain that thought and Josuke wouldn’t, either. He was going to get Josuke out of this mess safe and sound, no matter what, and he needed Josuke to know that. The kid had suffered enough already.

“You’re not dying here. Not today. Not as long as I’m around. I said I got you, didn’t I?” And he fucking intended to keep that promise.

Jotaro pulled back - to get some much needed physical and emotional distance between them, a first barrier to protect Josuke from this, from what Jotaro was about to do, what he had to do, no matter how harsh the sting of betrayal it would cause Josuke.

Even so, before he retreated completely, instinct made him lean back down and press his lips to Josuke’s temple where Star Platinum’s hand had been because fuck, he cared for that kid, that gorgeous adorable contradiction of a boy. So damn much. He couldn’t fucking believe he was going to lose this over a stand attack.

Still, as much as even just the thought of it tore him apart, there was no avoiding this. No mitigating the effects, no matter what he said, what justifications and excuses he came up with. Even just trying would be a waste of breath and precious time alike, and yet. And yet, his mouth disobeyed him once more. “You’re gonna hate me for this. You have every right to. I just need you to know that I’m so fucking sorry, Josuke.”

Useless.

There was a small mumble on Josuke’s lips, one that sounded suspiciously like “could never” but Jotaro brushed it off. Even if Josuke had still been in his right mind, that opinion would have been temporary. Set to burn out like twigs in an inferno once Josuke realized his fate.

If only Jotaro wasn’t the one to have to do this. If only it was one of Josuke‘s friends. Someone who could make this easier on Josuke, who could be forgiven after. There was little Jotaro wouldn’t give.

If only Josuke hadn’t told Jotaro just last week that he was a hopeless romantic. The kind who had resolved to save his first time for the right person, no matter how long it took. And Jotaro… Jotaro, an older relative and supposed friend and protector, the furthest from the right person, was about to take that from him. The thought made him even more nauseous, tightened his chest past the point of breathing.
As much as Jotaro adored Josuke for it, he couldn’t help wishing the kid wasn’t such a dreamy idealist.

But Jotaro didn’t deal in what-ifs. It was no help to anyone, least of all himself - not when he had the gruesome present to focus on.

Speaking of the present and the responsibilities that came with it… how the hell was Jotaro supposed to do this?! The logistics eluded him.

Figure it out, then. Focus on what’s important.

From what Jotaro had deduced, the cure was as simple - as simply impossible - as having someone orgasming inside the affected person. The thought alone made his gag reflex kick into gear but he shoved it aside. Focus.
Whether the cure was sperm or the orgasm itself remained unclear but made little difference, considering the two were usually mutually exclusive.

Either way, the easiest and least traumatic point of entry had to be the victim’s esophagus, which required oral access to the victim’s body.
If only it was that easy, maybe Jotaro wouldn’t be about to burn his bridges. However, in Josuke’s case… Jotaro had seen that water evaporate on his tongue. And that had been minutes ago. He could only hazard a guess that Josuke’s mouth was too close to the epicenter of heat and move on to the alternative. The considerably worse but only remaining alternative.

Jotaro had no experience with anal penetration and if he had planned to ever find out, this scenario certainly wouldn’t have been on the list. For him and Josuke both.
The bits and pieces he had picked up over the years were so sparse he wouldn’t have used them to form an emergency plan on a bad day but today, it wasn’t a question of whether to put them to the test - it was a question of how. Somehow, Jotaro had to make it work.

Which left the most glaring problem, one that became all the more obvious the longer Jotaro looked down at Josuke’s thrashing and groaning form. Whether orgasming or cumming was the goal here, both required Jotaro to be significantly aroused. Or at least anything other than completely turned off. But aroused by an underage family member he regarded as his own? Jotaro could think Josuke was the most beautiful being in the world - he did - and it would still be impossible.

At any other time, Jotaro would have laughed at the absurdity - the fact that this was proving to be his greatest obstacle in this critical endeavor.

Probably best to cross that bridge when he got to it. For now, he better focus on something he knew was physically possible. Preparation. While it hadn’t exactly done Jotaro any good in the past and would pose an additional problem now, the one time it actually counted, he knew he wasn’t exactly small. Damn those Joestar genes. All they had brought their heirs was misery. It would have been a different story if it affected only Jotaro himself but Josuke?
Still, there was no way Jotaro was inflicting any more pain on Josuke than he already had to. Not if it could be avoided with proper care. He just had to be quick and efficient about it.

Still, it would probably be better for the both of them if Josuke wasn’t conscious through any of this. Over the years, Jotaro had learned ways to painlessly knock out enemies and victims alike with Star Platinum, should the circumstances demand it. But despite his command, his stand remained where it was, kneeling next to Josuke’s head, one ghostly hand still placed on his forehead, giving Jotaro a glare he hadn’t thought it capable of. Mutiny? By his own soul? At the mere thought of doing Josuke harm, even for his own sake?

Jotaro gritted his teeth against the frustration threatening to shatter his prized composure. Fine. Fine. Josuke would be awake throughout it all, then.
A small, treacherous part of Jotaro cheered at the thought. Something to examine and be disgusted at himself for later. Focus.

(Even if Jotaro had the presence of mind to notice that the enemy stand had vanished in time to miss the spectacle it had created, quietly and without another snarky comment, he would have felt little more than indifference about it. His approach didn’t allow for distractions, lest he lose his nerve. Unaffordable.)

Josuke’s pants went first, crusty, long dried fabric peeled off Josuke’s heated skin and discarded carelessly in the grass beside them. Josuke was wearing snug purple Moschino briefs. Of course he was. Extra even in the places no one got to see. The places not meant for Jotaro to see. Not important right now. Move on.

Josuke began to stir at the sudden movement around his lower half and the no doubt unexpected feeling of warm yet comparatively cool air on his bare legs. “Wha-”
If he had the strength to, he would assess the situation, sit up and punch Jotaro as he deserved. Jotaro wholeheartedly wished he did.

But alas, Josuke struggled with himself for another second, uttering a noise of confusion, then went limp once more. And with his squirming went any excuse Jotaro had to hesitate.

So he continued. He reached for the waistband of Josuke’s underwear, pretending his hands weren’t trembling because that would mean his control was already slipping, even though he desperately needed it to see this through. Moments later, the briefs joined Josuke’s pants in the grass and Jotaro went still. So Josuke really was beautiful everywhere. It seemed the Joestar genes hadn’t neglected him, either.

Which… were two thoughts definitely not on Jotaro’s mind right now. Because that would be inappropriate. Beyond disturbing. Pull yourself together, dammit.

But Jotaro’s involuntary goal lay lower still.

Josuke’s skin was even hotter to the touch now than before, even this far from the fever’s point of origin. His thighs, when Jotaro pulled them apart gently yet insistently, his gut doing somersaults of nausea, had the temperature of a heater in the middle of winter.

There it was. Josuke’s asshole, pink and puckered, surrounded by rosy skin. And definitely too small for Jotaro’s purposes. Still, pain was out of the question or Star Platinum might just turn on him completely - the last thing Jotaro needed right now. So, careful stretching it was.

The absence of a better alternative for lube forced Jotaro to stick his fingers in his mouth and suck. Coating them in saliva had to be sufficient. At any other time, his pride and the thought of how stupid he must look might have kept him from pushing through - not now, though. Not with so much on the line.

Jotaro had to actively wrestle down the awareness of how much he dreaded the next part and everything after when he lowered his saliva-covered hand between Josuke’s legs, the other fixating Josuke’s thick thigh, heated flesh pliant under Jotaro’s grip. When his finger brushed over the tight ring of muscle, Josuke was once more roused from his stillness. His back arched off the ground, a reaction more instinctive than purposeful, a noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan slipping from his lips, small but heavy.
Jotaro froze, the shock deep in his bones. Logically, he had known to expect sensitivity in that spot but…

“Why are you… down there…” Josuke’s voice was so weak it barely reached him but even so, the confusion in his tone was unmistakable. Jotaro had to briefly shut his eyes against the force of the guilt flaring up inside of him - Josuke’s skin might not burn him but this most certainly did. Jotaro welcomed the pain. It was well-deserved. Grounding.

His finger briefly circled Josuke’s hole, irrationally hoping it would help him relax - not that Josuke had the strength left to preserve any tension in his body to begin with. When he dipped his fingertip inside, yet to meet any resistance, Josuke shivered. Stronger than the tremors that had been rocking his body for minutes now. “Wait- Jotaro, this isn’t how I wanted…”

Yeah, this wasn’t how Jotaro had wanted this afternoon to go, either. Not that it did either of them any good now.

Jotaro’s finger pushed deeper inside. One knuckle, then two, enveloped by tight, burning flesh, and still he found himself baffled at the ease of his advancement. The sky didn’t split apart and strike him for his transgression, nor did an earthquake break open the ground to swallow him. Jotaro kinda wished it had. Not the point.

Like every new experience Jotaro approached, his process was methodical: He stretched Josuke with all the care he could muster, curling and circling his finger. All the while, he listened for an indication of pain in Josuke’s uneven breathing, an irregularity in his quiet, incoherent groans. Nothing.

Soon, he wasn’t even sure anymore if Josuke noticed his touch at all. Probably better that way. The less of this Josuke was mentally present for, the better. Not that Jotaro dared allow himself such optimism.

Minutes passed, their flow dense as tar, movements blurring along with Jotaro’s vision. Like the loss of his eyesight would make the bumpy flesh against his fingertip feel less vivid, like it could drown out the stench of sweat, sin and desperation permeating the air or the bitter taste of bile in his throat. The tense non-silence stretched ruthlessly on, interrupted only by the mockingly gentle breeze rustling the wheat, brushing over Jotaro’s cheek in a disdainful taunt and the incoherent word fragments tumbling from Josuke’s mouth. At least they provided some distraction from the fact that unfortunately and thank fuck, Jotaro was still as turned off as could be. With no sign of that changing any time soon. (It better. It better fucking not.)

Jotaro added one finger after the other - two, then three. One knuckle each, for now. Superficial - one step at a time. Patience and care. No matter if Jotaro’s mind happened to be the opposite of calm, roaring like a thunderstorm. Not important right now.
What was the requirement in this situation? Three fingers barely seemed to measure up to the size of him so Jotaro inserted a fourth. The change caused more of a reaction from Josuke - he stirred. A somewhat conscious reaction, as far as Jotaro could tell. Hard to say if the attempted movement was directed towards or away from Jotaro’s hand but Jotaro would have to take his chances.

Was he wasting precious time? No. The pain had to be kept at a minimum. That one wish of his soul, Jotaro refused to struggle against.

Once Josuke had adjusted to the width of four fingers, stilling to the point of unresponsiveness once more, Jotaro pushed deeper. That was when his fingers brushed past a bundle of nerves that made Josuke’s entire body jolt, his back arching on reflex, a punched-out moan wrenched from his mouth. Louder than before. Yet, the noise wasn’t born from pain - one fact among many Jotaro didn’t dare unpack right now. Or ever.

Movement caught his eye, just outside his tunnel-vision focus on his goal. Against his better judgment, Jotaro made the grave mistake of looking up. Just that tiny bit, just a glance. It was enough - far too much.
Josuke’s penis had begun to rapidly fill out, a process Jotaro hadn’t noticed at all - was it recent? Had to be, considering the nature of his ministrations. Jotaro was powerless to react, powerless to do anything but watch as arousal seized Josuke’s body. A sight no parent relative should ever witness, one that left Jotaro entirely frozen in shock.

But then Josuke moaned again and the sound sent a rush of something through Jotaro, not familiar yet not entirely foreign - he didn’t dare name it. Out of a self-destructive instinct, protective need and morbid curiosity alike, he made another fatal mistake, the one of glancing up at Josuke’s face: twisted no longer in pain but in a different emotion entirely, spit-glossy lips parted around a groan, eyebrows arched and eyes wide and glazed over - pleasure, the kind Jotaro rarely stumbled across. The kind that should not rouse a treacherous voice in his head, whispering that he was missing out - not if Josuke was the one displaying it. Because wouldn’t that be fucked up.

Even so, there was no denying it - yet again, no lying to himself. No doubt that, in response to Josuke’s reactions or maybe at the sight of Josuke’s arousal, he felt heat gathering in his stomach. Not anger, not despair. A feeling as foreign as the sight of Josuke’s expression, a usually unwelcome inclination. Distracting. Unmistakable.

No. Fucking. Way.

How cruelly ironic. To think it would be the sight and sound of Josuke’s pleasure that turned Jotaro on. It was easily the sickest thought he’d ever encountered - a can of worms he absolutely couldn’t afford to open right now. (Or ever.) Not if this was his ticket to saving Josuke’s life, this sickness, graciously provided by a part of his mind so depraved he had thought it couldn’t possibly exist.

Yet here he was. Yet this was what his reality looked like. Distorted, wrong, despicable.

His only option was to forcibly restrain the terror, self-disgust and vomit rising in him. Another lie. It didn’t need to last long, just for the duration of this nightmarish endeavor. Then he could break down and hate himself for it all he wanted. Puzzle through what the hell was happening to him, what was wrong with him. And have an identity crisis about it. Because if this reaction wasn’t worthy of a full-blown identity crisis, Jotaro didn’t know what was. (And a sexual crisis to boot. At fucking 28.)

But all of that later. For now, gratefulness. This was exactly what he needed. Nothing counted right now but Josuke’s survival, no matter how deplorable the means by which it was achieved.

So Jotaro needed to not fucking think about it. Don’t. Think about it. Not now.

Get a grip already.

Was this enough preparation? Probably, though Jotaro would have preferred to spend more time on it, just in case. Time he didn’t have. He needed to seize this opportunity while he still had it. When Jotaro pulled out his fingers all at once, frowning in disgust at their heat-flushed and sticky state, Josuke made an incoherent sound - one of his loudest yet. If Jotaro hadn’t known better, he would have interpreted it as protest rather than distress, but alas.

“That… spot…” Josuke still seemed stuck on that one touch - the one that had somehow made the worst situation of Jotaro’s life impossibly worse. Yeah, Jotaro had been similarly shocked by both their reactions. Which, in hindsight, he really shouldn’t have been - his studies had been centered around but by no means limited to the biology of marine organisms, after all.
Josuke stirred once more and this time, there was no question he was trying to wriggle towards Jotaro rather than away - had the fever begun to trigger unconscious reflexes? Jotaro better hurry. Get this over with.

He wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of spitting in his hand and spreading saliva over his half-hard erection, but alas. Maybe touch would finish the job Josuke’s arousal had started. Speaking of… Josuke chose that moment to make a noise Jotaro wasn’t about to mistake for the needy whine it sounded like. He didn’t know what would be worse - Josuke somehow enjoying this terror or Jotaro gaslighting himself into thinking he did. Either way, the sound made a new wave of heat rush through Jotaro’s system and down, down, down.
…Well, that took care of that. Moving on.

Jotaro’s left hand returned to its spot high on Josuke’s pleasantly squishy thigh - now that was a thought he didn’t appreciate, what the fuck - as his right guided his cock towards Josuke’s hole, spit-wet, twitching around nothing, eager to invite him in. Without that last one. Definitely scratch that last one. You’re insane. Get a move on already.

So Jotaro did. When the head of his cock brushed Josuke’s skin, the sensation drew another one of those definitely not addictive noises from Josuke that couldn’t possibly be needy moans… But what if he really was urging Jotaro to continue? He wasn’t, not for reasons other than wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. Which made two of them. But once Jotaro’s lust-clouded brain had picked up on the idea, it was near impossible to ignore.

“I got you,” he muttered, more on instinct than anything resembling conscious control. It certainly wouldn’t have a comforting effect on Josuke so what was the goal here? Personal gratification? Fucking hypocrite.

You're losing focus. Do. Better.

He pushed inside, inch by inch, agonizingly slow, gritting his teeth to keep from moaning as sensitive skin was enveloped by crushing heat. Somewhat like entering a hot spring dick first - that, but multiplied by apocalyptic.
Josuke was tight. So fucking tight. Apparently, no amount of stretching could make this feel any less like Josuke’s insides were trying to snap his penis off. Though it might just be a worthwhile sacrifice for this.

Josuke, for the first time since the attack, was completely silent - no sound, no breath, no movement. Like Jotaro had punched the air right out of him.
No signs of pain, though - it didn’t feel like the preparation had helped much but apparently, it had, thank fuck - so Jotaro sank deeper into that illegal heat, overwhelmed by the way wrapped around his entire body, an embrace of sensation, indescribable in a way he couldn’t decide was good or bad. (Another answer he might be better off without.)

Eventually, he bottomed out, buried to the hilt and panting at the exertion of- he didn’t know what. Still with no notable reaction from Josuke.

That wouldn’t do. “Josuke, I need you to talk to me. Are you okay?” A hypocritical question to ask, one Jotaro wished wasn’t primarily for his own sake rather than Josuke’s - after all, how could Josuke be anything other than miserable in his current situation? But that silence… it made icy fear sink into his gut, easily overpowering the heat. Terrified him in a way little ever could. Had he lost Josuke already?

Except, when Josuke answered, his eyes pointlessly searching for Jotaro, his face was twisted into a grimace that might just be an attempt at a grin. “N’ jus’ okay. ‘M great,” Josuke slurred and he sounded like he meant it - damn, why did he sound like he meant it? When had that open book of a kid learned to lie?
A white lie, too. Because Josuke was far too kind-hearted for his own good, even now - then again, that was probably because his heat-fuzzy brain hadn’t caught up to the severity of Jotaro’s transgression. Yet.

Still, he had nowhere to go but forward, be it in an attempt to escape the conflict taking over his body and mind - that unnamed sensation intertwined with terror. So much terror.

“Josuke.” Fuck, Jotaro couldn’t believe he was about to say this. The fear of hurting Josuke forced him to but- Maybe that was why his voice sounded so impossibly calm and detached when he spoke. Foreign, like it belonged to a different person altogether. An even more horrible person. “Brace yourself. I’ll move now. But I promise I’ll try to get this over with as quickly as possible.” Not that he had high hopes.

Josuke made another whimpering sound that Jotaro had no choice but to read as approval - another brittle lie just to keep him afloat. Shouldn’t be too much to ask. So he pulled back, ever so slightly, shivering instinctively at the sensation, before pushing back in with the same hesitant care he had applied to the entire process. Josuke’s responding gasp absolutely should not feel like a reward to his sick mind but alas - Jotaro was losing it a little more with every second. Every second inside Josuke.

When, once again, no natural disaster occurred to prevent him from falling even deeper into the most disgusting depths of depravity, Jotaro repeated the motion. He retreated further this time, Josuke’s inner walls clinging to him like a vice, until only the tip remained inside. Josuke’s responding groan encouraged him to fall into a steady rhythm, agonizingly slow, driven by desperation - the sound was clearly born of surprise, not pain. Good. Jotaro would rather die than inflict any more of that on Josuke.

More pants, more gasps and word fragments cut through the breeze, like Josuke was trying to tell him something, something important enough to warrant his continued attempts but Jotaro- Jotaro just couldn’t. He couldn’t hear Josuke say it, express his shock, his disgust, his inevitable rejection. Not now. Not when he needed to preserve the strength to push through this.

Except… the emotional effort it took to continue wasn’t as heavy as Jotaro had expected. As it should be. With every gentle, measured thrust, every rush of undefinable sensation, every sigh and whine, it became easier, too easy, until Jotaro’s breath was more uneven than the physical strain could explain, until unnatural heat was pulsing through him like adrenaline, every part of him, until Josuke wasn’t the only one groaning. Like Jotaro too had contracted the stand’s curse, except it didn’t hurt. Or even feel bad. Why didn’t it feel bad?! Jotaro needed it to. He needed this to be the most reprehensible experience, the most horrible sensation he had ever felt, if he wanted to be able to go on after this. If there should be at least a part of him left that he could live with.

He was torturing Josuke, no denying it. And if this was torture to a person Jotaro had come to love so dearly, it had to be torture to Jotaro too. He couldn’t abandon Josuke in his suffering, couldn’t possibly derive something as abhorrent as- No. He couldn’t even put words to it.

But Josuke had started rocking his body as much as his paralyzed muscles allowed. And still, he wasn’t trying to get away - for some unfathomable reason, he was rutting against Jotaro in time to meet his thrusts, making those sounds that had Jotaro’s insides squirm. In a way he desperately wished was disgust even though he had to concede it wasn’t.
Logic told him Josuke’s moans could no longer stem from surprise or shock and he knew for certain it wasn’t pain - not before, not now. Jotaro had made sure of that. So the only explanation left, one that might be impossibly more devastating than the alternative-

With no small amount of horror, Jotaro had to admit that this felt good. He was enjoying this. And it would be best to fucking quit before he had the chance to entertain this insanity any further.

Not that Jotaro had the luxury to quit. He didn’t. He had to keep going, no matter how much this was ruining the both of them, no matter how much it hurt because it didn’t hurt the way it should, no matter how much the despicable noises of betrayal spilling from his own mouth proved his pleasure. Undeniable. The more his own, much more subdued groans mixed with Josuke’s and the more Jotaro realized he wasn’t nearly as repulsed by the combination as he should be, the harder they became to suppress. The acrid feeling in his throat had faded but he needed it back, dammit, he needed more than the pathetic puddle of remaining nausea rippling in his gut, it should be a tsunami, dammit, a fucking tsunami, why had it abandoned him, why-
Why was the only tsunami he felt, crushing and merciless, the intensity of his lust.

Stay focused. Is this really what you want him to remember you by? The sick pleasure you get from violating him? From your crime?

Jotaro didn’t want Josuke to remember any of this. If he did… Jotaro wouldn’t be able to bear it.

You know you don’t get to choose your fate. So don’t waste your energy making pointless wishes.

This realization gave rise to a myriad of questions about himself. Questions Jotaro hadn’t thought anyone other than complete human scum would ever receive. For others, such concerns might not have come up - sex was, after all, usually indulged in for the purpose of pleasure, even more so than its primal purpose of recreation. To Jotaro, however, any enjoyment derived from the act had always been connected to the identity of his partner rather than the sex itself. Which meant that some repugnant part of his libido considered it a good thing it was Josuke under him right now.

And because somehow, impossibly, the pleasure was mutual, Josuke would have to ask himself the same questions. Some of them. It was easily the part of this that made Jotaro hate himself the most - the ways in which those questions would traumatize, maybe ruin Josuke. Jotaro wouldn’t even be around to protect the kid from the aftermath of his crime.

Jotaro couldn’t tell when his eyes had begun to sting - in between his rhythm, the flood of sensations, Josuke’s noises and his spiral of thoughts, there wasn’t exactly much of his attention left - but the next thing he knew, there was moisture on his cheeks. Something other than the stream of sweat caused by Josuke’s heat.

Jotaro hadn’t cried in over a decade. Since that dreadful moment after Egypt when he had finally been alone with his thoughts, no further distractions to keep him from mourning all the things, people and all the parts of himself he had lost. How ironic yet fitting that it was a tragedy of his own making that had driven him back into that abyss. Pathetic.

Then again, wasn’t Josuke’s torment worth so much more than a few tears?

“I’m sorry, Josuke. I’m so, so incredibly sorry.” Jotaro’s voice, tattered by breathlessness and emotion, didn’t amount to more than a desperate whisper - one he repeated over and over, like a mantra. Like he truly still hoped it would make a difference. (It wouldn’t.)
Still, no matter how much Jotaro regretted every single moment that had led to this most horrid of decisions, no matter how much his insides writhed with nausea at what he was forced to do, no matter how much they didn’t - with Josuke’s life at stake, he would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

Josuke twitched beneath him and when Jotaro focused his blurry eyesight back down, Josuke’s arms had lifted ever so slightly off the ground in a fever-weak attempt of reaching out. Like he was beckoning Jotaro closer. Why he would, Jotaro had no idea. Must be his fucked up imagination.
But if this encounter had taught Jotaro anything, it was the extent of his own selfishness, so he leaned in anyway and pressed a kiss, almost too careful to be a touch at all, to Josuke’s cheek. Josuke’s cheek that he knew would be tear-stained like Jotaro’s own if not for the constant evaporation.

“Jotaro- here…”

The flutter of Josuke’s arms was a poor clue as to what he was asking, though Jotaro had a hunch. An intrusive thought, more like - one that should get him locked up. Still, if Jotaro had ever had the ability to deny Josuke anything, no matter how nebulous the request, now was not the time. And Jotaro was apparently a revolting lowlife on top of his other offenses and he craved it more than anything else. Things couldn’t get much worse than this anyway.
So he gave in to his selfish desires and ducked his head to steal a kiss from those pink, heat-parched lips. Possibly another first he had robbed Josuke of - perhaps the most cruel one, considering this theft alone wasn’t born from necessity. Additional fuel for Jotaro’s encroaching self-loathing.

But even so, which was somehow worse, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. (Not yet.)

Josuke’s already chopped breath stuttered and a broken sigh escaped him. Not the reaction Jotaro had expected, to say the least - no thrashing or whining of protest or disgust. Josuke didn’t sound or look nearly as horrified as he should - the heat must be impairing his control over his facial musculature as much as his reasonability.

Instead of his expression, it was Josuke’s inner walls that tightened and Jotaro, as much as he despised himself for it, couldn’t hold back another groan at the sudden increase in friction. Jotaro- Jotaro was going to cum like this, buried deep inside the sinful heat of Josuke’s body, staring right into those gorgeous ocean eyes, suddenly clear and wide with an emotion Jotaro couldn’t seem to identify. Probably better that way. (Though part of him knew it wasn’t anything remotely appropriate.)

If he had needed another nail to his coffin - he must be running out of space by now - it would be the way he growled Josuke’s name, clearly audible despite his gritted teeth, when the heat built up to its climax. Sensations crashed into him like a tidal wave as he came between erratic thrusts, spilling himself into Josuke. This better fucking be the cure - after all, it felt like his soul had left his body along with his load. If he even still owned one of those after everything he had done today.

The roaring in his ears almost swallowed the unintelligible sound Josuke made, somewhere between a whine and a cry, when his body tightened and convulsed around Jotaro’s spent length. The feeling made him shudder as Josuke too found his release, painting his flushed skin a pearly white. Undeniable proof of the extent of his pleasure, not that Jotaro would have needed it.

When the last signs of tension drained from Josuke’s body, Jotaro chanced a glance downward. The relief that overcame him when he confirmed the heat hadn’t immediately altered the liquid consistency of the white fluid was overwhelming to the point it made his vision black out.

This could only mean one thing. But even so…

Not yet. It’s not over. He still isn’t safe. Not out here.

Fresh tears beaded down Josuke’s cheeks, glittering in the light of the setting sun, drops of sweat forming on his skin even as it cooled rapidly, the bright red fading to a muted pink. All signs of undeniable recovery.
Jotaro had done it. Brought Josuke back from the brink of certain death, though the cost for that feat was and would continue to be astronomical. For now, Josuke had slipped into blissful unconsciousness, granting Jotaro a brief moment of respite before the consequences of his transgression inevitably crushed him.

There was still a war he had to fight with himself, more brutal than the one he had just endured. But that was for later, for the oppressing silence of his hotel room. (Where he would also have access to a perfectly good toilet bowl to empty his guts into. To soothe the waves of nausea flooding back to sear his insides - too little too late.) For now, Josuke remained his priority - Josuke and damage control.

Jotaro choked out a sob at way his body protested when he pulled out of Josuke. How could it have come to this. Star Platinum took to washing the scraps from Jotaro’s pants in the stream with swift movements, much too steady to fit the storm of Jotaro’s mind, even as it slowly ebbed away.

By the time the stand returned the cloth so Jotaro could cleanse Josuke’s skin of the remnants of sickness and depravity, his mind had fallen into a state of deceiving calm. The calm he settled into when it all became too much - whenever a stand pursuit led to too many casualties, too many corpses with Jotaro’s name etched into their bloody flesh. The dull, oppressing void he only welcomed because the alternative was a gun in his hand and a bullet in his skull. (Who was he kidding, Star Platinum would catch the damn thing long before it could hit its mark.)

Now more than ever, the void was a welcome companion. Jotaro would take any reprieve he could get, even if it meant trading the knives for emptiness.

He worked in concentrated silence until no trace of tears, sweat and cum remained, Josuke’s skin slowly regaining its peachy tone, no furious crimson handprint in sight. Once Jotaro had redressed Josuke with Star Platinum’s assistance, allowing as little direct contact as possible, it looked as though the past hour had never happened. Even the treacherous stench of musk and sex had long dissolved in the wind, leaving behind nothing but the fresh scent of nature, a mocking caress against Jotaro’s flushed skin. Like Josuke had simply been exhausted from a stand chase and decided to take a nap in Jotaro’s lap amidst the gentle peace of the field. Something that would never happen after today.

Lifting Josuke’s limp form into his arms was surprisingly easy. It would have been surprising, anyway, if Jotaro’s current emotional scope had amounted to anything but the bottom of a well. Wasn’t the kid supposed to weigh the same as Jotaro? Didn’t matter - not beyond the sickening concern creeping into his gut at the reminder. If Josuke hadn’t looked vulnerable before, unmoving and so strangely small without his beloved pompadour, almost fragile, he certainly did now.

If the way back towards the town, towards Josuke’s home, his safe haven, the absolute least of what Jotaro owed him right now, led over the enemy’s crippled corpse, Jotaro hardly noticed. Cellphone reception wasn’t for another half mile but Jotaro had long lost any concept of time - his numb legs moved on their own, driven by nothing but the dull sense of obligation that had become his entire being. Still better than the pain tugging at the edges of the void, looming.

The SPW had suspected something was off, unable as they had been to reach Jotaro with an update on the corpses. Well, too late for that now. By the time Jotaro reached the requested car waiting back at Sakasen Street, his arms, too, had lost all feeling. He couldn’t have cared less about the half curious, half concerned glances the driver cast his way when Jotaro tucked Josuke into the backseat, Josuke’s head pillowed on Jotaro’s lap. His hand had started carding through dark strands of eerily dry hair before he noticed his urge to, let alone mustered the strength to suppress the desire. Except it didn’t matter, either. He couldn’t do any worse by Josuke than he already had.

He couldn’t, and yet he had never handled anything, let alone anybody (except maybe a newborn Jolyne), with more care than he applied when he lifted Josuke off the backseat an indefinite amount of time later and carried him up the steps to his front door without looking back. Insignificant. There was no gratitude for Star Platinum’s help in locating the key in Josuke’s pocket, no glance spared at the stand’s concerned expression. Before Jotaro knew it, he was in front of Josuke’s bed in a room he should be able to enjoy visiting for the first time, if his vision hadn’t been in the process of fuzzing over once more.

Whether he dropped Josuke’s body onto the bed or his arms simply gave out, he couldn’t tell. But this, too, wasn’t of importance, not as long as Josuke was out of his grasp now. Safe at last.
Or he would be, if Jotaro could stop himself from reaching out one last time to brush a hand over those soft curls, even in their current salt-sticky birds-nest state, with no semblance of its original structure. He hadn’t intended to free Josuke’s forehead by doing so or maybe he had, what with the current disconnect between his mind and self but something about the sight of uncovered skin must cause a chain reaction because Jotaro’s body leaned down of its own accord to place the softest of kisses right there, on that perfect patch of peachy tan.

His lips, too, moved entirely on their own. “I love you.“ Well, it was the truth, and it wasn’t like anyone was around to hear it and use the information to fuck Jotaro over. He was already plenty fucked, thank you very much.

Josuke didn’t move nor did he miraculously open his eyes and declare that Jotaro voicing his love for another human being for the first time in twenty years somehow made it all okay again. A simple confession, no matter how honest or meaningful, sure as hell wouldn’t salvage his crimes. Nothing would.
And neither would another truth, much less one he had spent the whole afternoon repeating over and over. But fuck it. “Josuke. I’m sorry.”

The words didn’t mean shit now. Never had, no matter how deeply he meant them, from the bottom of his sick, shattered heart.

Jotaro forced himself to step away. To leave without another look back before he somehow, impossibly, managed to ruin this even more. After all, he had learned long before meeting Josuke that despair was best faced in solitude.