Wild Cards (JJBA Villains x Reader)

15| Pumpkin and Patch

halloween oooooo

long chapter for you lovelies!

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Nightfall sinks the country into a desolate shade and you add a tally to the number of nights you've failed to submit to. Another line creases beneath your eye, another sore develops in your side, gradually, as your laptop reacquaints itself with you over, and over. 

Your shadow stretches onto the wall in a spectral shape that does nothing more than act as your phantom, an observer to something that it refuses to recognize as itself. Such phantom follows your movement as you pick your head from where it dipped, and looked to the clock.

Weary eyes glazed over its ugly red numbers, stinging with light-- Any minute something should happen, you convince yourself, and you will have earned a reason to take a break from your work.

But nothing gives you the pleasure.  

So with a sigh, you remain in a half-conscious state as you work, returning to the mind-numbing occupation that was-

"Mx. (Y/n)?"

Hadn't there been armrests on either side of your chair, the floor would've welcomed you stiffly. Brooklyn stands at the side of your desk staring at you, unmoving.

A moment passes in silence. 

How did she get in here?

You glance at the door, seeing it cracked ajar, the bright of the hallway leaking in to your painfully dim office. Like a vampire reeling away from the light, your body pulled backwards into the comfort of coming night. 

"Christ, child, what do you want?"

"Sorry," She half whispers. "Mister Giovanni wants to talk to you."

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"Explain to me again, why I'm here, wasting my time--" You gesture broadly with a loose hand. "--At a fucking pumpkin patch."

Valorie is already lost among the stretching rows of orange masses, swollen with air and seed. She carefully inspects each one with expert detail, as if no decision meant more in life than that of which will be chosen to bear the brunt of a dull knife. 

Doppio and Brooklyn, who insisted to come with ugly, pleading faces and bribes of whatever Halloween candy they scrape together, weren't too far behind. In fact, your assistant seemed more into the choosing of the pumpkin than the child bound to ruin it. 

And with their successful plea deal, more begged to come along, hoping to see the opportunity as an escape from work and a vacation from the smoke-stained casino. Even the newcomers happily filled the empty seats of your car.

"We come here every year and you ask the same stupid question." Giovanni sighs behind you.

"And every year, you decide to wear heels to a farm."

He laughs and sticks his leg out in flashy demonstration. A gaudy ankle-breaker, as you favor to call them, shoots a thin spike from his heel. "Louis Vuitton, sweetheart." 

You flick it from sight as Giovanni laughs, and brings the waste of money back to earth with a punctuating step. He waves to a figure way out, a smudge against the horizon.

It's hard to believe he would have any influence or authority over Dio and Diavolo, the two that had since been picked to... Entertain. But they listen well enough, at least to the point where the only thing Giovanni complains about is that he wishes he could have similar certain features Dio possesses.

Speaking of the asswipe, you could see him far off yonder, in the distant reaches of the patch, carrying two pumpkins on either shoulder. 

He grades each pumpkin he passes with an expert eye, and if there is one that surpasses the quality of either he holds, he will drop it to the ground and let it crack into messy splinters before picking up a new one.