Bizarre Stars (OC/reader x jotaro kujo)

☆ What's the problem? ☆

"I, well-"

"We're all smart individuals, Mr. Joestar," you defend. "We can think of something."

You lit a cigarette, resting it in between your fingers.

"Ooh! I've got one," Polnareff exclaims. "Do you know any tricks?"

"Tricks?"

"Yeah, can you do any tricks with your cigarette?"

"Do I look like a clown?"

"Do you want me to answer that?"

"You French brat-"

You reach over to slap him, but become distracted by the cigarette slipping from in between your fingers.

"I know some," Jotaro confesses.

He pulls the cigarette up to his mouth, instead of taking a drag, he puts the entire cigarette in his mouth.

"Woah! What are you doing, Jotaro?"

Polnareff looks astonished.

You lean forward in curious amusement. The smoke from the cigarette comes out of his nose. Polnareff whoops in excitement. He seems oddly energetic for the time.

"You look like some dragon!"

"That'd be a great nickname if you were yakuza,"

A silent exchange between Mr. Joestar and Muhammad occurs before the elder is clearing his throat.

"Well, you youngsters have fun."

"Mr. Joestar!" Polnareff calls, "you can't leave!"

"Let them go, the elders need their sleep,"

"Goodnight," Kakyoin waves them off before closing the door.

"Akira, did you bring your tarot cards?"

"I did, I think. Why?"

"Give me one of those readings, I wanna know about my love life?"

"You can't force the cards to predict something that won't happen, bud."

He looked disappointed. Jeez, you didn't mean to hurt his feelings that bad, but you also can't lie on the cards. You have some sort of unspoken oath with them, they speak for themselves and you just interpret the message.

"You know, Jean, I could read your palm."

"My palm?"

"How do you do that?" Noriaki walks to sit next to Polnareff, seeming intrigued.

Jotaro sat next to you on Noriaki's bed, leaning over your shoulder, seeming just as intrigued.

Both beds were in close enough proximity that you could reach out and grab Polnareff's hand without straining yourself.

"The lines on your palms, they're said to tell your life's story," you point out all the lines on his hand and what they mean.

"Oh! So, tell me! My love line, what's it got in store?"

You looked intently, tracing your finger across it. You were only an amateur, but you were no fool. His love line was barely existent, however his life line was strong. You looked into his eyes, he was so expectant.

Fortunately for Jean Pierre Polnareff, you had no oath to this practice.

"you're going to find a beautiful wife, one who loves you dearly, and whom you love just as much."

"Oh my god! Really?!"

"It's fate," you nod.

He jumps up, pumping his fist in the air in victory, boasting to the other two in the room.