JJBA Reader Insert One-Shots

Jolyne x Reader: "5 Minutes"

You flinched as the sound of rusted iron hinges grated into the silence. Cuddling even further into your blankets, you shrank away from the light that glared into your cell. You heard a grunt, a yell, the slap of flesh as it hit the cold stone floor. A woman cursed. The gate swung shut with a clang that reverberated throughout the claustrophobic chamber, beating into your eardrums as you winced at the faint pain. But you were used to it. You were used to it all.

You hadn't done anything wrong, though you eventually gave up telling this to the guards. But it was the truth. You attributed all the catastrophes that had befallen you to dumb luck. A man had spoken harsh words, had teased you, had groped you. And then he fell backwards into the street. Your roommate had held a knife to your throat as you cried out choked screams. And then she had a stroke. The guard harassing you had shot his own foot with his gun. The girl trying to steal your cafeteria food slipped on some mashed potatoes and broke her collarbone. You hadn't done anything wrong. Had you?

At this point, being assigned to room with you was a sentence unto itself. None of your roommates had ever died, or at least you hoped not. But they never ended up terribly happy in the end. And that's why they left you with the worst of the worst. The murderers, the torturers, anyone who particularly pissed off the guards. At some point your roommate was bound to get on your nerves. And that's when disaster struck.

"Come meet your new friend, (y/n)! This one's pretty tough. Maybe she'll last a week!" The gravelly voice sounded through the bars. You shielded your eyes from the light, just wanting to get back to sleep. The guard disappeared down the hallway, cackling as he joked with one of his compatriots.

Then, you heard a light sigh, and a chuckle. You peeked out from underneath the ratted blanket. She was younger than a lot of the previous roommates you had had to deal with: tall and slender. Her hair was... unique to say the least. Colored braids held her two buns in place, and you marvelled, thinking about how long and thick her hair must be when she wore it down. Like most of the other prisoners, she sported several tattoos, but they were bright and vibrant unlike the dull, faded ink of your previous... victims.

You turned back to settle into your covers. It was odd that you somewhat took pity on her, considering she was probably around the same age as you, and held herself much more confidently.

There was a tap at your shoulder. Begrudgingly, you rolled around to face her. To your surprise, she stuck her hand out with a smile.

"Name's Jolyne! I've heard a lot about you!" About your misfortunes? Your claims that you didn't belong in prison? Or the unhappy accidents that seemed to befall anyone who got on your bad side?

You squinted at her with suspicion, but sat up nonetheless. Her handshake was firm, and she continued to smile as you moodily rolled back into bed.

Getting to know your temporary roommate was not always your top priority. You had always just accepted that they would be gone in a week or so, regardless of whether they threatened you or merely stepped on your toe. But something about this girl was different. She chatted with you as you were escorted to lunch, invited you to sit at her table, introduced you to her other friends. You wondered if she was merely trying to get on your good side, but her smile was kind and genuine. That, and she knocked a girl out over a stolen chicken nugget.

But, you knew, something always happened, no matter how passive you tried to be. Jolyne had been acting strange for a while, almost as if something irritated her. She would groan and sigh for no discernable reason. It was understandable for her to complain about her case and her ailing father. However, nonetheless, it was beginning to get on your nerves.

"Oww!" Her fist hit the wall. "Dammit!" She punched again. You heard her grunts and cries of pain as she continued to attack the stone cold wall. You curled the tattered blanket over your ears, simply trying to get to bet. You didn't want to provoke her. But you didn't want her to provoke you. "DAMN! YOU! PUCCI!" She accented each word with a punch before finally screaming in frustration. You had to do something before something bad happened. You sighed, crawling out of bed and approaching her under the dim cell lighting. You gingerly placed your hand on her shoulder.