Jean Pierre Polnareff x Reader: Somewhere I Belong
When this began
I had nothing to say
And I get lost in the nothingness inside of me
(I was confused)
And I let it all out to find
That I'm not the only person with these things in mind...
*****
“Of course you’ll come with me, once this is all over. France will be your new home, and Hautvillers is such a lovely place to raise both- non, mon dieu, I meant to say all three babies…-“
What the hell…
What in the name of god did you just agree to?
Jean Pierre Polnareff had not stopped talking since he got down on one knee in the sand, asking for your hand and heart in front of god and everybody (much to the chagrin of your youngest blood relative). Like himself, the proposal was grandiose and over the top, it sure made everyone stop what they were doing. Mr. Joestar had even almost burned dinner, something that would have caused a major melt down, considering your crew was down to the last of the eggs. He made the proposal during your late meal, and then when everyone piled back into the car, you two took the front as driver and navigator while he blabbered away at you as though he had been released from a ten year vow of silence.
Jean Pierre Polnareff loved to hear himself talk. It did not matter what. Any kind of things… Trivial things. The list was never ending: expectations of who would do what housework (outdated and sexist notions that boiled down to you doing cooking and cleaning while he earned a living), the location of your new home (he told you he hadn’t sold the family home in Hautvillers yet, and it was a good thing because now he would carry you back there as his bride), it seemed as though he would never stop talking. For what reason, who knew? Maybe he’d never had someone who was willing to listen for this long?
You sure didn’t have anyone like that, let alone have any proposals along the sad series of unfortunate events you called a life. A runaway at the age of eleven, just days after you started puberty, it was like being a piece of bloody meat dangled in front of wolves. One morning you woke up to the slaughter, saved only by sheer numbers of people saving you along with police. They hunted you for sport, an offering of flesh for their master. Dio’s followers had taken everything by that point, there was no place you were safe. Foster families and even the orphanage they tried to put you in were destroyed thoroughly until you had nothing. You had limited access to your inheritance, it was hard to hammer out the details when you refused to stay on land for longer than a few days. Your education was little to nonexistent, luckily you were a voracious reader as a child and continued the habit to present, but you still were completely inept when it came to things like basic math. Intellectually you were a young adult, but often the others laughed because you mispronounced difficult words and counted on your fingers when called upon to add or subtract. You lived like an animal who knew to dress itself in clothes and talk. You had a sad existence, but it was freedom none the less. Lucky for you that Queen of Cups had been your companion since birth, your one protector who offered you the choice of fleeing to the sea once your family was gone.
You’d never told anyone except Mr. Joestar, your one connection to any family, about your sad tale. It embarrassed you to no end when he’d asked you to figure something for him and you froze, beginning to cry because it was such a simple mathematical question for anyone else. Finding him was a godsend, a red string of fate from the past, to find that this man and his grandson bore the same brand on their shoulders you did. A brilliant star connected you to him, and you were ever so thankful at the end of it all to fall into his warm embrace and feel the connection of any kind of parent and child relationship. He poured over details with you of what you could remember, the names that tied you to a family that no longer existed, and to your everlasting shock you both discovered a common ancestor.
The man’s grandfather had taken a lover, conceived a child, and the lover was lost halfway across the world according to his foundation. With no memory and a fatherless child, the lover made a home in Spain where your bloodline lived in relative peace, until all things ended with you, a lone star in what was once a prominent galaxy.
You loved Mr. Joestar and Jotaro. For once you had a family that you did not have to worry about. They protected you as well as themselves. They gave you friends. Security…
They even indirectly gave you a husband…
“… and… Mon amour, I know it embarrasses you, but I was thinking once we go home, I’d like to help you learn the language. I know you struggle, but with a little hard work I’m sure we can find some way to help you back on your feet, I’d like you to live as normally as possible. Don’t you’d think you’d like that?”
You were so deep in thought, you almost didn’t reply until Jean Pierre nearly stopped the car to see if you were ok.
“Uh? I… sorry Jean Jean… I wasn’t paying attention…” you whispered.
“Wha-?? Seriously??? So you didn’t catch any of what I said?!” whined the Frenchman.
“No… I wasn’t paying any attention. I was too busy thinking about other things, and I’m sorry but, if we’re going to be married… there are some things you need to know about me…”
You held back a lot of things when it came to him, wanting your relationship to be built on the façade that you were a functional adult now, but the truth all came spilling out of your mouth. You told him how you couldn’t do basic mathematics, you’d never experienced any affection that wasn’t predatory and grooming in nature, and frankly his adoration for you was frightening and alien even though you were sure you were deeply in love with him. Fact of the matter was you were broken, even though you had a Stand that could heal broken and hurting things. You would probably never want a child because you never knew what it was like to have a childhood, and now that you were safe, soon to be safer with the coming defeat of the century old vampire who lusted for a nineteen-year-old reincarnation of his object of desire, you wanted to spend the rest of your life healing from the trauma of having to continually run.
“I want to heal… I want to feel and experience everything in life that I couldn’t… I doubt I can go back to elementary school at this rate, but I want to find a way to learn what I missed.” You confessed, “I know you have all these expectations for me, but I need you to know that although I am grateful for you, I’m not obligated to listen. I need to heal myself… I just… it’s up to you whether or not you want to be there with me for the journey.”
“Of course I want to be with you!” he cried, nearly swerving off road at this outburst. You gripped the car handle, caught off guard as he began to insist that he’d be there every step of the way, no matter how long it took you to heal from all of the strife you endured since childhood.
The night drive continued on in this manner, as though you two were the only ones on earth. You learned about his past, shared traumas with scars that ran so deep into your hearts that no amount of revenge or fixing the past would be able to immediately reverse the hurt with true love’s kiss. Continuing on into the night, it was cathartic. You felt seen. You felt validated. Maybe you had rushed headlong into a relationship that you weren’t ready for, but that was something you felt that you wanted to try.
No one would understand. The only person who seemed to have an inkling of the risk you were willing to take was the one you would soon call your husband, the one who could not seem to focus long enough on the road to drive properly, because eventually his antics woke everyone up and forced their hand to kick him from the driver’s seat for reckless driving.
You wanted to take this chance… You wanted to heal yourself and find the one place where you belonged. Maybe this was finally your chance.
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