Wild Cards (JJBA Villains x Reader)

25| Needles and Other Pricks Like You

Doppio follows your gaze, and he sees them finally, too, the audience of horror and dismay. His hand slides to sit atop yours, the very one that burned and prickled up at every thought of another one of those bastard eyes, stabbing--

Something dulls their glare. Suddenly they aren't there at all. There's an old, stained apron resting atop them.

Doppio stands between you and where those glimmering eyes were. His eyes are level with yours. His hand is brought to your cheek, again, and you wonder what the obsession is.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to ask-- Are you afraid of needles?"

You scrunch up your nose at him, giving him a look of "Nuh-uh"-- though your sniffling and slight shaken demeanor said otherwise.

He gives you a pitiful look, and kisses your forehead. His lips feel almost like they aren't touching you at all, and you think, had he even made contact? You lean forward into him, coming to learn they were so careful and so patient that they had taken a slower pace in meeting you, so soft that you hadn't known they were there. 

He leaves you with a phantom feeling of warmth right in the middle of your forehead. As he tries to moves away and get to work, your hand catches him, gloved still, and he looks back at you.

"How do I know I can trust you." You ask.

Doppio gives you a silly look. "It's a bit late to be asking that now."

"Answer me."

"You aren't very good at keeping the secret that you don't trust anyone, (Y/n). I hope you know that." He slips from your grasp, and your hand is left reaching out to him. "The fact that you had shown me that on your own, that says you can trust me."

Doppio faces a table-stand, a bottle of alcohol sits on top of it, half empty, with a few other gizmos and gadgets with it. His back to you, you come to know there's a certain air about him you weren't able to pick up on before.

Amid the stifling and choking chaos the others bring, Doppio does not stand out very much as his personality does not so harshly clash with others like Valentine and Diego, or Pucci and Diavolo. He flows with everyones insanity as if it's natural, the binding of their unity so small yet never insignificant. 

In this place, you can see it. This warm glow he gives, the soft touches he leaves, he's a kind soul. You know this. And you are a horrible person. You crave, hunger for just a bit more. You want to feel warm, you want to feel soft. It is so tiring carrying this tough shell around, you need him to--

To what? You're not sure, but the warm affection planted on your forehead is beginning to fade, and you'd like another.

"Are you ready?" He asks. "What are you staring at me like that for?"

Staring? You blink a few times, and casually turn the other way. Your attempt at playing it cool is poorly executed. "Just staring off."

Doppio rolls over in a stool and stops just at your side, where you sit upright, legs dangling off the table.

"It's scary, right?" He says. "Do you know how scared I was doing all of these?"

Doppio rolls up his sleeves, higher than before, and you realize he has much, much more art apart of his body than you realize. You wonder where else it is. What would they feel like, beneath you- not like that, of course not, but just beneath your touch. You think he'd be soft.

"Here, I've actually been wanting a new one..."

Doppio invites you inside his shirt, undoing the first few buttons to show the part of his chest where his sleeve bleeds into the rest of his body, streaks of ink reach out to this oddly empty space.