jjba x reader oneshots (requests open!)

🍋Doppio, He Means Well | Wild Cards

*THESE ARE NOT POSTED IN ORDER OF WHEN THEY HAPPEN IN CANON FIC, JUST WHEN I FEEL LIKE MAKING THEM*

Here we got our fucking imbecile of a man, tatted out with piercings, dyed hair like a mf

I know you all absolutely love this shit and so do i so let's get this started

(Like before, this will be an extension of a pre-existing chapter in Wild Cards. At the moment, it's not posted, however it eventually will be. Keep an eye out!)

I know yall thirsting for diego, i'll get him next if I can

Last time it was not discerned whether or not the reader had a strap or a real pp, and it will be the same this time as they are gn, but do understand that they cum (amab reader essentially) (There just isn't enough of them, though i will do afab reader at some point too)

4k words of me trying my best

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Night has come again and nightmares do not sleep.

The office is dimmed to something low and sleepy, only a lamp keeping the vast place lit within its tight corner, tinting everything a homely warm glow. Doppio is sat on the couch, as he has been for the past few days, reeling.

A middle-aged man staying up with his superior, because of nightmares. The embarrassment of it wouldn't grant him rest if he could actually sleep in the first place.

A rapid clicking rattles throughout the room, and despite its obnoxious sound he finds comfort in knowing your there-- even if your presence means you're drowning in work.

He wishes so desperately the sandman would come and do his thing already, knock him out with his sparkling dust and whatnot. But there is never a kindness spared for a wretched man.

"So," He tries to spark conversation, but your insistent key-clicking does not falter to let him speak. Doppio swallows his words and returns to silence.

He looks at you, practically glued to your office chair throughout this entire day, not once excusing yourself for a break. Things have been a tad too tense for him since your argument with Pucci, and he's starting to worry.

Worry about you getting too attached to him. Everyone sees him, everyone knows Pucci is your little favorite employee, with Kira a close second. No matter what you say, he knows you're lying, when you stare at Pucci from across the room

It's annoying. How come he can't get a smile like that? He has to do the most grand of things to even get acknowledged, but Pucci gives you a massage, or some stupid flowers, and you simply crumble? 

But this morning, after that ugly fight, he's never seen you so distraught; your pen could barely scrape a papers surface without being thrown across the room, your temper so incredibly thin that Dio even looking at you set you off. It was his fault for it all, to be fair, but it was scary to watch.

The effects of the quarrel haunted you, it seemed. Doppio could spot the agitation you held, pulsing on your neck in a thick vein, watched as it festered in your hands with each punctuated punch of the keys.

This could be his chance. Doppio fiddled with the drawstring of his sweatpants in thought, waiting for the moment you paused your work for him to speak.

"You still seem upset." He said, in the rare moment you paused to let yourself breathe. 

You don't return to your work like before. The office chair swiveled to face him, showing a clear portrait of agitation on your face.