Work Header

love addict love addict

Work Text:


Doppio knows fully well that if the boss (always the boss, no matter who holds his seat now) couldn’t defeat Giorno Giovanna, then he certainly has no hope of doing so himself. He wants to try, but this life he has is precious and he knows the boss wouldn’t want him to waste it.

Giorno reads him well. He affords him the exact amount of freedom that someone with strong ties to the previous leadership and no fondness for the current head of Passione deserves - which is not very much - but with no unnecessary amount of cruelty. Giorno is not a cruel person, merely a smart one.

Doppio will grant him that much, that he is intelligent. That though his methods of running Passione are far different from the boss’s, they are well-calculated, and Passione survives the initial period of adjustment. Thrives, even. The drug team may be gone, and some of the wealth the gang had lost, but Giorno seems far happier with a gang that suits his desires than with the one he joined originally.

Doppio can’t say he’s unhappy with the gang itself. He’s never had an attachment to anything the gang did, necessarily, only to the boss. If the new Passione doesn’t kill when it doesn’t have to, doesn’t sell drugs, doesn’t treat itself as a way only to gain power, Doppio has no issue with that.

A gang is the product of its boss. If a nobler gang comes about because the old boss is deposed, what does that say about him?

Gradually, almost unnoticeably, Giorno allows Doppio more freedom in his coming and going. Gradually, Doppio feels less of an urge to take advantage of that.

The boy in the boss’s seat, so young and yet so much stronger and more firm than Doppio could ever be, is responsible for the end of the man who was Doppio’s everything. If Doppio’s world expands to include more than just one person, the loss doesn’t sting as badly. It might never fully go away, and he might always feel like half a person left behind to struggle.

...His purpose in life has been to serve Passione. Maybe, if he keeps that the same, things will be easier. Giorno is not and will never be Diavolo, but if there’s someone he can serve and still keep a sense of self, maybe that’s healthier for him.

When he notices, Giorno smiles at him like he knew he would make that decision all along. Doppio’s smile back is nervous, but not faked.


It’s unlikely that knowing how to play a video game will ever be a matter of life or death again, at least not for Jotaro, but nevertheless Kakyoin takes it upon himself to teach him some of the basics. Partially, it’s just in case, and partially it’s because it seems like a fun way to spend an afternoon.

Kakyoin skips over the racing games for now and starts with fighters. Jotaro picks the biggest, toughest-looking character despite Kakyoin explaining that he’s slow and has the largest hitbox, making him easy to punish. It’s very tempting to, because Jotaro doesn’t know a single combo, but Kakyoin goes easy on him.

After Jotaro announces that he’s bored of that, probably because he keeps losing to a maid character, Kakyoin chooses a puzzle game, which Jotaro immediately declares to be stupid and do people really waste their time moving colored blocks around. He does better at this one, though, thanks to his quick reaction speed.

He outright refuses DDR.

They waste their afternoon that way, Jotaro seeming to be uninterested in every single game Kakyoin tries to teach him. Frustrated, Kakyoin decides to call it quits early, and says so, with a brief and only somewhat sincere apology for wasting Jotaro’s time.

Jotaro doesn’t hesitate to ask if they can do it again next week.

Surprised, but more than pleased, Kakyoin promises to bring more games next time.


Prosciutto is used to having Pesci’s undivided attention. That any man could be more important to Pesci than himself bothers him. That it’s a man who Prosciutto doesn’t particularly care for is even worse.

(Then again, half the reason Prosciutto doesn’t care for him is because of his involvement with Pesci. Pesci could be dating Mother Theresa and Prosciutto would have problems with her.)

Pesci tries to make them both happy, Prosciutto knows that. Sometimes he’s included in the fishing trips or other outings, though they’re always awkward experiences. Occasionally, he’s included in other things, like this.

Normally, he’d be pleased about Pesci quivering underneath his hands, but with Buccellati on the other side of him nibbling at his ear he doesn’t feel anything but deep desire to make sure he’s the one who brings his Pesci the most pleasure tonight.

He runs into Buccellati’s hands on his way down from Pesci’s chest and, scowling, lets Buccellati handle Pesci for a moment while he prepares him instead. Pesci has always been sensitive that way, so he isn’t too put out… He’s sure that the groans coming from Pesci are from his ministrations.

Buccellati’s tongue is sliding down Pesci’s body, reaching its destination at the moment that Prosciutto fully enters him. Pesci moans loudly and Prosciutto can’t tell what from, and still can’t tell as he begins to move and Buccellati sinks his mouth over him. Pesci is no help, unable to form a coherent name and settling for wordless cries and gasps that grow louder and louder.

Pesci almost tears the bedsheets when he comes, and Prosciutto notes from his haze of pleasure that Buccellati swallows without hesitation. His own climax follows shortly, and the afterglow is too brief as he watches Pesci reach for Buccellati. He might feel better if Buccellati gave him a smug look as Pesci gets him off, or something, but, they’re focused on each other and ignoring him completely.

He feels like a third wheel, but he can’t just let it go. Not with Pesci.


High school graduation is a funny thing, where the closer it gets the less prepared Okuyasu feels for it. College and real work loom up ahead of him like monoliths: huge, terrifying and completely beyond his comprehension.

He expresses some of this to Josuke, who nods but says, “It’s nothing we can’t handle. I mean, we fought a serial killer, what kind of boss is gonna scare us now?”

“We can’t just punch our bosses. Can we?” asks Okuyasu.

“...They fire you for that, I’m pretty sure. But even if we get fired we’ll just get another job! We’re young and talented and we’ll do great. If we work hard, we don’t have to worry about a thing.”

Josuke sounds convinced. If Josuke’s convinced, then that eases Okuyasu’s mind completely.


F.F. gets better at blending in with humans every day, but they’ll never completely fit in.

Part of it is that they don’t care enough to. They’re in love with the feeling of being alive and conscious, but humans have a lot of funny mannerisms that F.F. doesn’t have any desire to adopt, like treating people differently based on their genitals, and not putting mayonnaise on everything.

They don’t need to fit in with humans, because Hermes lets them eat whatever they want to no matter how “weird” she calls it, and whenever they act outside of human social norms Jolyne lets them know what the standard is and then lets them decide for themselves whether or not they want to follow it, and no matter what they do Hermes and Jolyne are always there, not caring a bit that F.F isn’t human.

F.F. thinks that being truly alive wouldn’t even be possible without those two.

Diego/Hot Pants

If Hot Pants believed in divorce, there wouldn’t be a day she didn’t think of getting one. And even as things were, there were times when she seriously wished it was an option.

Selfish. Vain. Not a hint of romance in his stupid dinosaur bones. Couldn’t read the atmosphere to save his life. Quite possibly the worst husband she could have ever ended up with. Diego Brando was not a person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

“I want coffee.”

“Then make it yourself.”

“You’re right next to the coffee maker.”

“But I don’t want any coffee, so I’m not going to make any, especially when I haven’t been asked.”

Diego grumbled loudly. “Would you make some coffee?”


“Would you please make some coffee.”

“All you had to do was ask.” Hot Pants turned to the coffee maker, a satisfied smile on her face. Maybe, at the very least, he could be trained. Lizards were trainable, weren’t they?