JJBA Oneshots

Dio Brando; Love.

A/N:
Dunno. Wanted to write something where Dio actually feels something extremely close to love. It was fun to write, plus I've been wanting to do a Dio oneshot for FOREVER. Proud of myself because I managed to write this while I was sick and couldn't do anything but sleep. Inspired by this youtube video!

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=7mjtE5A2zMY&t=68s

^ please tell me if the link doesn't work! I'm not so sure it will because Wattpad hates me.

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His pale palms moved melodically, as his slender fingers diligently pressed on the black-and-white keys of the old, grand piano. A tune he had learned when he was a child, much too long ago. So long ago, in fact, he couldn't even remember where or how he had learned it.

It was like a twitch in his nerves. It had come to him naturally. He knew how to play a few other songs on the Piano, but this more fluently. His mind didn't have to read off paper or think of keys to press unlike with other hymns. His hands did the work themselves.

It calmed his nerves. Shocking, how an immortal being had nerves and worries. But he did, and the simple fact that he did, annoyed him to the very core.

A god-esque man shouldn't have to worry about if the 'army' (of to be frank, imbeciles), he had acquired could do the task he had assigned them to; to take down his long-ago step-brother, Jonathan Joestar's descendants. It was a job only fit for Dio Brando, that he did know, yet he figured if he wore out Joestar's lineage of heirs with a group of people who could, somewhat, put up a fight- maybe they would admit defeat before they even imagined of stepping foot in front of him.

Although he had always been cockily, psychotically, over-confident, he did acknowledge that there was a quarter- wait, no, a sliver of a chance that he would meet his demise if the Joestar's prevailed. He didn't like to think about that, much.

But what he didn't like to think about even more, was what they would do to you.

Ah, his beloved, his betrothed. Something he never desired to need or want, a partner. Well- let's take a step back...he had had many partners. Partners of all races, genders and sexualities. No, what you were, was a lover.

The lover who lazily rested her eyes in the large, king size bed which placed adjacent in the master-bedroom behind him. A thick, oak open-arch separated the two rooms, and the lovely music he played with his lean digits cascaded solemnly.

Dio still remembered the exact day he had met you. It was years ago, now, but he had recalled it as if it was yesterday. That foggy night in November, you had met by accident; fate, you would suggest.

He had caught your gaze in the hazy local tavern of the town he was passing through. Immediately, it was if you had frozen his already still-beating heart.
He didn't stay for long. The energy was like two magnets being drawn together. He didn't understand it, and, honestly, he didn't want to understand it. He'd never felt this way before, and that would remain the same. Or so he hoped.

He had left with haste, and it took him a moment for his enhanced hearing to catch onto a pair of heels clicking behind him. His shoulders tensed, he could sense it. The girl from the bar.

He drew aggravated. Why was she following him? She clearly hadn't known who she was dealing with. His teeth gritted and his lips snarled. He whipped around, his long trench-coat looking merely like a cape behind him.

No words were said. He was met with a pair of mesmerizing eyes. Big and bright, but with a twinge of mystery.

"I've never met someone like me, before." Voice soft and intrigued, she looked at him like he was some sort of creature.

"Pardon me?." His brows furrowed.

The way you smiled made him feel sick. Sick, from how enchanting he thought it was. He couldn't comprehend; he had seen other women with adequacy to your beauty. But you were different.

"I haven't seen you breathe since I first saw you," She grinned, widely. "Did you ever teach yourself how to respirate manually?"

Wide-eyed and tight-jawed, he glared intensely. He never thought someone could pick up on his un-moving chest and shoulders. His lungs cobwebbed and dusty, he found no use for them anymore.

"Who are you?." He growled.

"I'm one of you. We're hard to come by, these days, aren't we? You're the first one of our kind I've seen in years. Amazing, isn't it?."

"I don't know what you're on about, girl." He waved her away, and turned on his heels. Whoever she was, he needed to get far away. He didn't like this feeling. The warmth.

"Oh please!," Her palm placed on his shoulder. A jolt of electricity shot down his arm. "Don't pretend to be dumb."

She leant into his neck. "You have a speck of blood on your boots, by the way. It smells wonderful," She licked snarled fangs, and he felt himself swell on the inside. "She must have been delicious."

"What is your name?." His voice rasped.

"(Y/n) (L/n)."

"You're coming with me."

That night, you both had the best sex of your life. Better than any foolish mortal could give you. From then on, you were his, and he was yours.

It was out of character for him. Even back when he had metallic liquid coursing through his veins, it wasn't in his blood, in his genetics, in his making, to feel love. To experience what the closest thing to love a Brando, or now, a dead-man could experience.

To this day he still hated what you did to him. The way your eyes sparkled and your lips etched, the way your hips moved and how the moonlight bounced off of your legs. It made him almost as hungry as he would be for a living person. Although in retrospect, he believed that's what love was like for him. Feeling so much care and adoration for someone, and hating both how you feel for them and how they make you feel, that it made you want to puke your guts out. He'd never admit that he had gotten used to the feeling, much less, that he actually liked it.

You peered your light-weight eyes open. Vampires couldn't sleep, per say, but they could go into small bouts of unconsciousness to rest the body, to best explain it. You loved when he played piano. Dio had always been skilled with his hands, in more ways than just one. You smiled into the silk pillow.

You hadn't been with very many men throughout your life, especially after you had become immortal. But Dio, you had been absolutely smitten with, since day one. If you had believed in love at first sight, or soulmates, this would be it. You were meant to be, to simply put it.

You stood to your feet, the satin maroon dress you wore flooded around your ankles and drug against the old wooden floors with a train. The pearly-ring he had robbed from a meal nestled securely on your delicate finger. You weren't legally wedded, but he was the king and you were his queen, and that's all that mattered.

You slipped behind him slowly, and when you wrapped your loving arms around his neck, his hands didn't even waiver against the keys.

"Hello, my love." You murmured.

"Hello, dear."

You hummed along with the tune and nestled into his neck.

"How was your 'nap'?." He asked.

"Very nice. Listening to you play really helped drift my mind away," You ran your fingers through his hair.

Something hung tightly in the air.

"Are you alright?." You questioned, curling his blonde locks around your fingertips.

No, he wasn't. But he couldn't, more like he wouldn't tell you that, and he definitely wouldn't tell you the reason why. He didn't want you to think he was weak or foolish, to think less of him. He couldn't tell you he was afraid he couldn't protect you, or that they'd get to you before they got to him. He didn't care about his damn self, but you...he did. And Dio Brando, was never afraid.

"I'm quite alright." His voice was stoic, but you could tell he had fibbed.

"My darling," You placed hot kisses on the exposed skin of his neck. You had already known what he was thinking. "Do not fret. You will crush them with your bare hands."