Wild Cards (JJBA Villains x Reader)

6- Saccharine

( some pucci content for you lovely babes)

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Life never spares its inconveniences to its best. God only troubles those at the bottom of the chain, and Pucci theorizes that this was one of those times he was looking to be entertained again. Ever his loyal jester, Pucci puts on a show.

He doesn't remember when he passed out, barely even recalling the reason, when he awakes in a disgustingly bright white room. The air reeks of rubber and cold, and his body shudders against the cool table he's layed on.

There's an unmistakable throbbing in his ankle, a pounding that serves as an instant reminder to his mistake. There was a spill-- he thinks it was a spill-- in the kitchen that he slid upon, and fell as a result of. 

He can hear his breathing in his ears, and winces at the oncoming headache steadily creeping towards him. You stand not too far away, he notes, talking idly to Vendetta, someone he never really had to take notice of before now.

He's only the slightest bit shorter than yourself, clad with a white coat that fell to his knees, and blue gloves that squeaked with each movement of his hands. He doesn't come off as someone particularly dangerous, though Pucci would suppose that nurses aren't meant to be threatening anyway.

"Ah, you're awake!" He chirps, peeking around your shoulder to beam at him. "If you'll give me a minute, I'll let you know of everything wrong with you so you can get back to resting."

You turn around as well, looking at him with an obvious expression of pity-- or maybe disappointment? Whatever it was, he didn't like it.

Vendetta was quick to cut his conversation short, scurrying over to the side of his hospital bed with a single sheet of paper in hand. The heavy brown curls on his head danced like springs as he moved about, checking along Pucci's body as he listed off everything worth taking note of.

His twisted ankle was the biggest concern. It was swollen to nearly the size of a plum, and almost as purple as one too. The rest of the bruises and cuts he could care less about, as this was the only thing impeding him from his work, something that gave him a sense of stability, however slight.

"For now, you just need some rest. I've been made aware you possess particularly strange abilities like the rest of us, so I expect your healing to come along a lot faster than normal. Give yourself a day and all should be fine." Vendetta advised. "Just keep pressure off it if you can."

"Of course. Thank you, Mr. Vendetta."

"It's my pleasure."

He couldn't have left the room any quicker, scampering off into the room neighboring the one he was in, most likely to document the injury and what not before putting it in the records. 

You remained quiet, standing stiff as a soldier at the foot of his bed, with that same insufferable look you had before. 

"I'm sorry this happened," Is what he thinks you're wanting to hear. "I wasn't paying attention and didn't even notice the hazard, and now you're out of someone to handle the kitchen. I'll be fine with working on my breaks to make up for what's been missed."

"Don't be ridiculous." You scoffed. "An accident is an accident, don't apologize for something as stupid as this."

"But I must. You're a busy person, Mx. (Y/n), and I've all but inconvenienced you in the worst way."

"Nonsense. The people will do fine without some food, they do well enough on alcohol alone anyways. If I need to, I'll have Doppio step in."

"Work, Mx. (Y/n), I need something to do else I'll go mad. Just laying here, on a bed more akin to any table than a place to rest, I'd lose my mind in a matter of minutes." Pucci was never one to complain, though he finds himself divulging in the desire against his will. "If there is anything you could spare to keep me distracted, I would appreciate it greatly."