#Next door neighbor verse | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daisynik7 · 1 year ago

Note

“S&M” by Rihanna for Toji Fushiguro - smut

S&M

I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it. Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.0k

cw: smut - PIV sex (doggy style), cunnilingus, mild S&M practices - whips, blindfold, handcuffs, protected sex (for once lol), use of safe word, rough sex, pet names (cutie, sweetheart)

Summary: You are next-door neighbors with a man named Toji Fushiguro. You don’t know much about him, except for the fact that he’s a divorced father who spends every other weekend with his young son, Megumi. On the weeks he doesn’t have him, you notice the same trio of women visiting his house. One night, his package gets incorrectly delivered to your door. Too curious, you walk over to return it, only to find the front door unlocked and a naughty secret to discover.

Author’s Notes: Thanks for the request anon! I love Rihanna, so it’s no surprise that she’s on the y2k karaoke party playlist! I personally am not well-versed with S&M practices, so this was an experience to write, definitely a little bit out of my comfort zone, but I hope it’s still okay! This is more on the milder side, I'm sure. Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are always appreciated, thanks for reading! MDNI divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

You’re not usually this nosey when it comes to your neighbors, but something about Toji Fushiguro draws you in. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s a divorced dad who takes good care of his adorable son, Megumi. Or maybe it’s the mysterious trio of women who frequently visits his house on the weeks he doesn’t have his child. Or maybe it’s his obvious good looks and impressive physique that you can’t help but notice every time he steps foot outside. Whatever it is, whether it’s a combination of all of the above, you just can’t get Toji Fushiguro off your mind.

On this particular Friday night, you’re staying in, binging a TV show with a glass of white wine in your hands and a frozen pizza that you just baked in the oven. There’s a knock on your front door, which surprises you because you aren’t expecting anybody at this hour. You give it a few moments, seeing if there’s another knock. When none comes, you get up to scope it out, finding a large package directly in front of you and a delivery truck driving off in the distance. You check the shipping label, reading Toji’s name on it instead of yours. You glance at his front yard, spotting his car parked in the driveway and no one else’s. His girlfriends must have already left; you noticed their vehicle earlier beside his.

Not bothering to change into anything presentable, currently wearing your sweats and fuzzy slippers, you carry the wrongly delivered package to its rightful owner, hoping if you can find some truth behind your neighbor’s unique bi-weekly ritual. You’ve thought about it before, the most likely answer being a polyamorous relationship or group sex. Still, it’ll put your mind to rest to know exactly what he does in there when little Megumi is away and Toji is free to play. So, you carefully lift the box, which isn’t heavy, over to his front door, setting it down to ring the bell. You push the button, then notice that the door is already open, slightly ajar. Another ring, and no one comes, though you’re certain you hear movement inside.

You should turn around. Go back home, sink into your couch, continue the night as normal. Yet, your feet guide you in, closing the door shut behind you, tip-toeing farther into the house, waiting to catch Toji in the act, whatever that could be. Eventually, you make it to the living room, where you stand in the doorframe, searching for your neighbor, who you find sitting on the couch with his shirt off, scrolling through his phone.

You knock on the wall, announcing your presence. He looks up, confused, inspecting you carefully before saying your name. “What are you doing in here?” He’s way more cavalier than you imagined he’d be, which you’re thankful for.

You present the box to him, a nervous grin on your face as you explain, “This just got delivered to my house on accident. I rang the bell, but no one answered. And your front door was open, so I figured I’d just come inside to give it to you.” It’s a poor excuse; you really shouldn’t have barged in without permission.

He seems to buy it though, rolling his eyes, muttering, “Damn Kimi. She’s always doing that.” He approaches you, grabbing the box from your hands. “Thank you for getting this to me. Been waiting for it all night, so I was bummed it didn’t come in on time.” He sets it down on the floor, kneeling beside it, ready to unwrap.

You search the room, trying to find any clues of what they could be doing inside here. It looks normal, nothing nefarious standing out. Slightly disappointed, you take this as your cue to leave, turning on your heel to make your way back home. Before you can, Toji calls out your name and asks, “Don’t you want to see the little present I got? After all, it was almost yours. Would have loved to see your reaction if you opened it by accident.” His tone is playful, yet there’s something wicked behind his words. Something naughty.

You swallow hard, mouth already salivating. This isn’t how you planned your night to go, but you’d be lying if you said you haven’t thought about it before. You face him again, stepping towards the box slowly, sitting on the other side. He uses a pocketknife to slice through the tape, eyes lighting up as he reaches inside, holding up his delivered item like a treasure. It’s a riding whip, soft leather on one end, handle on the other. He smirks at you, slapping it against his palm, making a loud crack sound. You jump up, startled by the noise. He barks a laugh at your reaction, laying the whip down on the coffee table next to him. He reaches in again, pulling out three sets of fuzzy handcuffs, twirling one around his fingers. “Damn, would have been fun to use these tonight.” Glancing over at you, legs squeezed tightly together, arousal seeping through your panties, he scans you up and down, giving you a wicked smile. “You want to try these out, neighbor? I promise, I’ll go easy on you.”

It's ridiculous, right? Completely silly and irresponsible for you to agree to this, right? You blurt out your answer before you can even contemplate those questions logically. “Yes.”

He chuckles, biting him lip, eyes focused on your loins currently throbbing against the fabric of your sweats. You really wish you dressed up now, but it doesn’t matter, as he commands you to, “Strip.”

Almost too eagerly, you obey, kicking your slippers off and undressing, starting with your shirt, which you toss behind your shoulder. He studies you carefully, eyes following your every move as you slip out of your pants, down to only your underwear and bra now. He licks his lips, stepping closer to you. “Yeah,” he purrs, breath hot on your skin. “This will definitely work.”

~~~

Within minutes, you find yourself naked in his bedroom, blindfolded, wrists handcuffed behind you, face buried into the pillow, and ass up, perfectly vulnerable for him to do as he pleases. The two of you establish a safe word: mignon, because he thinks you’re cute, and the filet mignon is his favorite cut of meat. He suggests several acts he wants to perform on you and lets you decide which ones you want to go through with. You make your choice, asking to be spanked with the new whip he received. Something about breaking in one of his new accessories turns you on.

Not being able to see anything, you listen carefully to what he’s doing behind you. You hear him unwrap the condom wrapper, sliding the latex over his cock. Then, there’s a squelch, most likely the lube he’s pouring into his hand, coating his shaft with it. “Are you ready, cutie? I’m going to start with the whip first, okay?” You nod, heart pounding in your chest, nervous and thrilled all at once.

“Words, sweetheart. Use your words. I have to hear you say it.”

You swallow your spit, trying to speak coherently. “Yes. I’m ready.”

“Good. That’s a good girl.” You feel the cool leather against your skin, anticipating it as he counts down. “Three, two, one.” Then, smack. It’s quick, painful for only a few seconds. You can tell he’s holding back, cautious of you. “Did you like that?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say, wiggling your ass to him. “Give it to me harder.”

He chuckles, swearing under his breath. “Fuck, okay. I’ll go harder then.” He counts down once more, the slap definitely more intense this time. Your skin stings from the contact and it feels like you’re already gushing from your cunt, core tight with pleasure.

He continues this until he’s delivered ten smacks to each of your ass cheeks. Your body is sweltering now, the skin on your ass surely hotter than the rest of you. Your pussy flutters, aching to be filled, clit throbbing, desperate to be licked. “Toji,” you whimper, drooling from the sides of your mouth. “Fuck me.”

There’s that laugh again, low, taunting, so fucking sexy. “Not yet. Want to make you come before I fuck this pretty cunt.” He positions himself beneath you, between your legs. “Fuck my face. You can be rough with me. I can take it.”

His grip is firm on your hips, guiding you as you ride him, spreading yourself over his wide tongue and gaping mouth. He’s eats you better than any guy you’ve ever fucked before, sloppy and wet, as if he thoroughly enjoys slurping at your juices. He slides his hands over your ass, massaging the skin made raw from his spanking. And before you get a chance to warn him, you come all over his face, gushing into his mouth.

“Fuck yeah,” he muffles, lapping up your slick. “So fucking good for me.”

Desperate now to be filled, you beg, “Please, Toji. Fuck me. Need you inside me.”

He slides out from beneath you, positioning himself behind you with his cock pressed between your ass cheeks. “I need it too, cutie. Need to pump my fat cock inside this perfect pussy.” He moans loudly as he slides himself inside you, stretching you out, inch by inch, until you swallow him whole. He thrusts into you, slowly at first while you adjust to his length. Gradually, he picks up the pace, pounding you hard and fast, his grip on your wrists, still bound by the handcuffs. The stretch in your shoulders is starting to burn now, arms pinned way back as he uses it for leverage. It’s not enough to coax the safe word out of you, yet. You need more of him to satiate this overwhelming desire.

“You’re taking it like such a good girl,” he moans, pumping himself into you. “Did you ever think about this before? Think about me?”

“Fuck yes. All the time,” you admit, drooling onto the pillowcase.

“Shit, I knew it. I knew I should have slutted you out sooner,” he growls, bullying his way deeper. It’s almost too much. Almost. A couple more strokes and it actually is, your shoulders sore, nervous they’ll pop out of its sockets. You’ve had your fill of him, your guts feeling like they’ve been rearranged by his massive cock. You’re tempted to stay quiet, not wanting this to end just yet. But your body is begging you for a break.

“Mignon,” you croak out, throat dry from the incessant moaning.

“Fuck,” he mutters, pulling out, immediately unlocking the handcuffs on your wrists and untying the blindfold. “You were taking that so good.” He flips you over on your back, inspecting you. For the first time since you started, you make eye contact with him, your heart swelling from the genuine smile on his face, gazing at you fondly. “Are you okay, cutie?” He brushes the tears from your eyes, cupping your cheek in his calloused palm.

You nod, mumbling an exhausted, “Yes,” closing your eyes to lean into his touch.

He cuddles you, kissing your neck as he continues to stroke himself off. He trails down your chest, latching his lips around your nipple, sucking until he comes inside the condom. When he’s done, he removes it, tying the open end closed and tossing it into the waste basket next to him bed.

It’s silent for a few moments as the two of you relax in each other’s arms. Eventually, he clears his throat to say, “This was fun. I usually don’t do this outside of the group.”

You understand that he’s referring to the trio of women who you saw earlier, and finally, the mystery is solved. Slightly disappointed, you respond, “I’m sorry if I messed anything up.”

He smiles at you. “You didn’t.”

You snuggle closer, kissing him softly. His lips melt into yours, tongue slipping inside your mouth. When you break apart, you ask, “Then, should I only show up when they show up?”

He shakes his head, smirking. “No. I think I want you as my own special plaything from now on.”

#toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #jjk toji #toji x you #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x you #fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro toji smut #fushiguro toji x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #y2k karaoke party #milestone event

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janeyseymour · 7 months ago

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Love Thy Neighbor again because I can't get over it. Mel introduces reader and Ellie to her family, the reader is a nervous mess and Mels Grandma and Ellie become besties with Ellie proudly stating that she's an honorary schemmenti and making Mel start to think about making reader a official schemmenti 💜

I got you, but know that this has spawned a new little mini-series within this verse

Love Thy Neighbor, Two Families Become One- pt 1

You honestly don’t really know how you’ve made it this far without meeting Melissa’s side of the family. She’s met your parents, and they absolutely adore her. You remember how that meeting went- Melissa was an absolute nervous wreck, and Ellie couldn’t understand why for the life of her.

“Mel,” your little girl had rolled her eyes playfully at the redhead as she twirled around in her dress. “You’re bein’ silly. It’s just Grandma and Grandpa.”

“Just nervous,” Melissa told your daughter. “I want them to like me.”

“They will,” Ellie promised your girlfriend. “Because Momma loves you, and I love you, and that’s all that care about.”

The redhead looked at your daughter with soft warm eyes. “Thanks, El. But I still have to do my best to impress.”

The three of you made your way across town to your parents house, and as you climbed out of the car, Ellie attached herself to Melissa.

“Up, please,” the little girl asked quietly as she raises her arms up.

Of course, the second grade teacher immediately obliged your daughter’s request before taking a deep breath and walking up with you to the front door.

“It’s okay,” Ellie squeezed Melissa just the slightest bit tighter and pressed a kiss to her cheek in hopes of calming the woman’s nerves.

The redhead just gave a tight, nervous smile before turning her attention to the door that had just whipped open to reveal both of your parents.

Your parents engulfed you in hugs, acting as if they hadn’t seen you in forever when it had really only been a few weeks.

“And this must be Melissa,” your father looked your girlfriend up and down with a stone face.

“I am,” the redhead smiled nervously. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Your dad stuck out his hand and shakes your girlfriend’s sternly.

“Pop, stop trying to scare Mel!” Ellie giggled. She whispered in Melissa’s ear conspiratorially, “Pop is like a teddy bear, he’s tryin’ really hard to be scary.”

That got your father to break out into a grin as he reached for your little girl’s belly to tickle. “Ellie! You can’t give me up that easily! The name’s Frank, and the ol’ lady next to me is-”

“Frank!” your mother batted at your father playfully before smiling to your girlfriend. “Rita,” your mother introduced herself. “Don’t listen to a word that man says. Ellie is right, he’s just a big teddy bear.”

“Play nice, Dad,” you rolled your eyes as you stepped into the house that you had grown up in. “Is dinner ready? I’m starving.”

“Some things never change with you, kid,” you father chuckled. “It’s on the table and ready.

Dinner with your family was pleasant. Ellie made sure to highlight just about every wonderful thing there was to say about Melissa and state just how much she adored your girlfriend.

“Pop! Did you know that Mel teaches with Momma? Did you know that Mel pushes me on the swings and takes videos of me when I go down the slide?! She’s just the best,” Ellie gushed.

And by the end of the night, Melissa had gotten the stamp of approval from both of your parents.

“See?” Ellie exasperates as Melissa buckles her into the carseat to head back to your apartment complex. “I told you there wasn’t anything to worry about.”

“I think you were a big help,” your girlfriend chuckled. “Thank you, little girl.”

“Gram and Pop would be…” she lowers her voice. “Stupid… if they didn’t like you.”

“Elizabeth,” you raise a brow as you turn in your seat to look at her.

Your daughter just shrugs. “I’m just bein’ honest, Momma.”

You chuckle. “Okay, little girl.”

But now that you were going to meet Melissa’s family, take those nerves that Melissa had felt previously, and multiply it by ten.

You’re in the middle of putting your face on in the bathroom when Melissa comes in.

“My love,” she sighs as she wraps her arms around your waist and kisses your cheek. “You don’t need to wear makeup.”

“I know, I know,” you mumble. “But I don’t want to show up looking like a slob.”

The redhead rolls her green eyes. “Babe, you’re beautiful no matter what, and my mom and Nonna are going to love you.”

“And what if they don’t?” you ask as you continue to apply your eyeshadow.

Melissa looks at you like you just asked her the dumbest question on the planet. “There’s not a chance in hell they aren’t going to love you, and Nonna is going to absolutely adore El.”

“What about me?!” Ellie pops her head into the room. She then sees that you have your makeup out. “Ooh! Sparkles!”

“El, tell your momma she doesn’t need makeup to look beautiful.”

“Mom is right, Momma,” your daughter tells you seriously as she perches herself on the sink. “Why are you putting makeups on anyway? You only wear makeups when it’s a special occasion.”

“It is a special occasion,” you say softly. “We’re meeting Mel’s mom and grandma, and I want to make a good impression.”

Ellie’s lips into a little ‘O’. “Can I wear makeups to make a good impression too?”

That makes you pause, and you chuckle softly. “Pick one eyeshadow, and I’ll put it on for you.”

She squeals with delight as she looks at your palette. She ends up deciding on a very neutral but sparkly shade, and you gently put it on her eyelids. As soon as it’s on, your little girl is leaning in to look at herself in the mirror and giggling.

“Do I look good, Mom?”

“You look beautiful as always,” Melissa leans over and kisses Ellie’s cheek. She then pecks yours. “Just like you do.”

“What time do we have to be there?”

“We have to leave in thirty minutes,” your girlfriend tells you. “And I’ll make sure we have Ellie’s stuff in the car for her so you don’t have one more thing to worry about.”

“Thank you,” you sigh softly. “I should be ready within the next twenty minutes.”

“C’mon, El,” Melissa smiles down at the little girl. “Let’s let your Momma get ready while we get your stuff ready for the car.”

You manage to get yourself together before the promised twenty minutes, and you enter the living room the to sight of your girlfriend and your daughter lounging on the couch together.

“Hey,” you get their attention, and Melissa’s jaw drops just slightly. “What?”

Her eyes sparkle with love for you. “You look… stunning.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you laugh softly as you run a hand through your loosely curled hair. “I look like I do everyday we go to school.”

“And?” your girlfriend asks as she stands from her place on the couch. “You look gorgeous there too, and you should know it- I only tell you everyday.”

“You look really pretty, Momma,” Ellie smiles at you as she hands you your purse.

You look down at your little girl as you ruffle her hair. “How much did Mom pay you to say that?”

“Nothin’!” your little girl gives you a cheeky smile.

“Are you ready?” the redhead asks you softly.

You take a deep breath. “As ready as I’m ever going to be,” you tell her.

The entire drive over to the Schemmenti household, Melissa’s hand rests gently on your thigh to provide warmth and comfort. She’s pulling in far too soon.

“We’re here,” she tells you gently. “But we’ll go in when you’re ready.”

You nod. “I’m ready.”

Melissa holds Ellie’s hand as the three of you make your way up to the front door, and you’re greeting with a woman that can only be Nonna.

“Nonna!” your girlfriend confirms as she embraces the shorter woman.

“There’s my Melissa Ann,” Nonna smiles. “Looking beautiful as ever.”

The redhead is nearly a spitting image of the woman in front of you, and when her mother comes to the door, it’s like there’s three generations of your girlfriend.

“Nonna, Mom,” Melissa smiles brightly. “This is my girlfriend, Y/N and her daughter, Ellie.”

You smile shyly and give a wave before tucking a hair behind your ear. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Hi!” your little girl squeaks with a smile. “I’m Ellie, and I’m seven.”

“Oh, aren’t you a cute little thing,” Melissa’s grandmother coos as she pinches your daughter’s cheek gently. “It’s nice to meet you, Ellie. You can call me Nonna.” She stands up straight to look at you. “The pleasure is all mine… Our Lissa has talked a lot about you- can’t believe it’s taken you this long to make it over for dinner!”

“We’re glad to be here,” you smile as you stick out a hand for her to shake. Then you face her mother. “Thank you for inviting us over.”

“We’ve been telling Lissa to bring you over for months now,” her mother chuckles. “Annette.”

“It’s very nice to meet you Annette,” you smile as you shake her hand too.

“Well, come in, come in,” both women say at once.

“Dinner is almost ready, but there are some snacks out in the meantime, and can I get any of you anything to drink?” Annette asks.

“Wine for me and Y/N,” Melissa answers as she makes her way into the kitchen. “And El, what do you want?”

Your little girl looks up at your girlfriend and shrugs.

“We made sure we were stocked up for you,” Nonna chuckles. “Lemonade, apple juice, grape juice, orange juice, water… you name it, kiddo.”

“Can I have lemonade, Mom?” Ellie asks quietly. “Please?”

At the term your little girl uses, you stay quiet.

“Sure thing, El,” Melissa smiles softly as she lifts Ellie to sit on the counter.

Nonna and Annette both raise eyebrows in shock, and it mirrors the same face that your girlfriend makes when she’s surprised.

“Mom?” Nonna asks gently. “Lissa, is there something you aren’t telling us?”

The redhead rolls her eyes playfully. “She started calling me Mom, and if she’s comfortable with it, I’m more than happy to be Mom.”

Ellie grins and leans over to kiss Melissa’s cheek while Annette pours a lemonade and Nonna pours the wine.

“Can I help with anything?” you offer.

“Oh, aren’t you sweet?” Annette smiles as she hands you your wine. “No, Nonna has it handled.”

“Can I help?” Ellie chirps from her place on the counter. “Mom and Momma let me help with dinner all the time, and I love it!”

Nonna grins. “Oh, I could definitely use the help from you, little one. The rest of you, out of my kitchen!”

Melissa chuckles as she presses a kiss to your daughter’s head and pulls you to the living room couch. “I knew her and Nonna would get along like two peas in a pod.”

“Yeah?” you ask softly.

“Nonna loves the little ones, and Ellie is the best little girl out there,” Melissa shrugs as she kisses your temple.

“So…” Annette looks at the two of you.

You and your girlfriend spend the time that dinner is being prepared chatting with Melissa’s mother about everything under the sun. Occasionally, you hear Ellie squeal with joy. It brings a happiness to your heart- knowing that your daughter is making a connection with one of your girlfriend’s favorite people.

“Momma! Mom!” Ellie comes bouncing in with the biggest smile on her face. “Dinner’s ready!”

You, Melissa, and her mother all stand from your place on the couch and head for the dining room. There’s a beautiful display on the table.

“Nonna teached me how to set a table properly!” your little girl absolutely beams.

Nonna smiles a smile that matches Ellie’s energy.

Dinner is wonderful, and you absolutely insist on helping clean up and help to set out dessert with Melissa and Ellie while Annette and Nonna sit back and sip their wine.

“So, what do you think?” Nonna asks.

Annette smiles. “Lissa did good with this one. She’s better than Joe.”

“Her little girl is the cutest little thing,” Nonna notes softly. “If her manners and sweetness are anything to go by, Lissa may have found her person.”

“So?” Melissa asks you quietly.

“Your mom is so sweet,” you tell her genuinely.

Ellie grins. “Nonna is my most favorite person! She teached me to fold the napkins, and that the sharp side of the knife should always face the plate when you set the table.”

The smile that washes over your girlfriend’s face is gorgeous. You peck her lips gently as you finish washing the last of the dishes.

After dessert, you find yourself with another glass of wine while you lounge on the couch and chat with your girlfriend’s family. Ellie curls up in Melissa’s lap, happy to drink her lemonade and cuddle. You can tell though as the night goes on that your daughter is getting sleepy, and it’s clear that Melissa can too.

“Is Ellie girl gettin’ tired?” the redhead asks as she kisses Ellie’s head and takes the cup out of her hand.

Your little girl nods against Melissa’s chest as she rubs at her eyes. The two of you glance at the clock- it is getting to be the time where Ellie starts to wind down for the night.

“I guess we should probably start heading out for the night,” your girlfriend tells her family. “But we’ll have to get together again soon… maybe you can come over to our apartment for dinner one night.”

“That would be lovely,” Nonna smiles. “I’d love to get to see Ellie again- you know, she reminds me of you a little.”

“Really?”

“Full of life, eager to help,” the eldest woman smiles. “She’s a little honorary Schemmenti.”

Ellie gives a sleepy smile that quickly turns into a yawn as she plays with the chains around Melissa’s neck. “Ellie Schemmenti,” she mumbles against your girlfriend’s chest.

If the kiss that’s pressed to Ellie’s temple is anything to go by, you would say that Melissa is quite happy with that little statement.

“Alright, Ma,” your girlfriend stands with Ellie in her arms. “Nonna. It’s time we head out and get the little one to bed, but thank you for having us.”

“Seriously,” you chime in softly. “Thank you so much. Dinner was wonderful.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” Nonna and Annette tell you at the same time.

As you hug Melissa’s grandmother, she whispers in your ear, “Seriously, anytime. You’re family now.”

Nonna was never the best whisperer though, so Melissa hears the sweet words that are said. Her smile doesn’t leave her face the entire walk out to the car.

Once you get on the road, Melissa takes your hand in her own and brings it up to her lips. “I told you, there wasn’t anything to worry about. They’re both a lot like me… tough on the outside, softies on the inside.”

“I guess you were right this time,” you chuckle softly.

“When are you going to realize I’m always right?” your girlfriend teases you. “What did you think though, for real?”

“I see where you get a lot of your personality,” you tell her. “And I love you, so I love your family.”

“And my Nonna’s comment about Ellie being an honorary Schemmenti?” the redhead presses just slightly.

“The cutest thing in the world,” you sigh in content.

When Melissa pulls into the driveway, she expertly lifts Ellie out of her carseat and into her arms without waking her before taking her into the house. The two of you tuck her in together, and she only wakes up slightly when you press kisses to her face.

“Goodnight, Momma. Goodnight Mom. I love you,” Ellie mumbles out, still half asleep.

“We love you too, love bug,” you whisper as you brush away a few of the stray hairs. Melissa repeats the sentiment before you head off to prepare for bed yourself.

She’s in bed before you are, and when you slide in, she seems to be deep in thought. You curl into her arms.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you,” she whispers as she kisses the nape of you neck.

“I think I’m the lucky one,” you sigh out softly, a bit breathily.

Your girlfriend shakes her head. “That would be me,” she tells you as she nips at you. “I don’t know how I managed to land a gorgeous and kind woman like you- the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

You push away from her slightly. “I am loving these compliments, but honey, I’m too tired to have sex tonight.”

“That’s fine,” she tells you as she pulls you back into her arms and lets you lay your head on her chest. “Get some good sleep, hun.”

You fall asleep rather quickly, exhausted from the events of today, but Melissa lays awake as she replays her Nonna’s words in her head- that Ellie was an honorary Schemmenti, that you were part of the family now. And that gets her thinking… Should she forego the ‘honorary’ portion of your titles and officially make you Schemmentis? She falls asleep thinking about this.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

#melissa schemmenti would buy it and take a baseball bat to it #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #melissa schemmenti

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 9 months ago

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I’m loving so much the new disowned verse omg, it is so good, you are a genius.

But I’m curious, how did reader and jason met?

The apartment was in a cracker box of a building with thin walls. His neighbors were a young couple that fought about money 25/8 and an elderly 'Nam Vet who liked his porno but- he could cope.

It was different than Gotham. There weren't constant gunshots. And that was weird. But. He knew better than to think his PI license wouldn't make him some money. Even out in the sticks. There was always a contentious divorce. There was always something not quite right. Cops in over their heads.

And he'd have down time. He could read. Work on his bike. Fuck. Maybe even actually go see a movie... Sure. He knew eventually he'd get bored but. For now, he was looking forward to it.

He shut the door and locked it behind him, frowning just slightly and making a note to get a better lock while he was out. He doubted he could find anything super great in town- he'd probably have to order something but. He'd passed a hardware store in town so... it might be worth checking out. If he made friends with the old guy that probably ran it he could probably get some special orders if he needed it.

So he set off that direction, wandering on foot down the sidewalks and taking note of the other houses. It was the middle of the afternoon. And the lunch whistles at the old factory still sounded at nood and then 30 minutes later. Tucked away from the tree-lined main drag, the houses back here varied from run down to better homes and gardens.

That tracked.

They got better closer to the front. The older show homes outweighed the eyesores. American primitive lawn decor. A surprising number of pineapples- and he snorted, wondering if it had come from a big box store or if it was a signal. Or both.

Still.

By the time he made it to the hardware store, he was reasonably certain he could stay busy. All was not as Leave it to Beaver as the Town Council would have you believe. And the first place he was gonna leave a flyer was in the beauty shop. Those old biddies HAD to have some shit to stir up.

He shouldered the door open and a bell, an actual bell, chimed. And he smiled a little taking a deep breath. The smell of dust, tools, and old well-maintained wood hit his nose and he exhaled. Definitely not going to find any high tech locks here. But, he had a soft spot for independent shops.

"Be with you in a minute!"

The voice made him jump. Not the gruff voice of a grumpy old fuck he expected. And it made him search of the source. Curious. "No worries," he said, walking a little farther towards where he'd heard it. Finding a young woman on a ladder stocking some boxes of bolts on a shelf. A pink canvas gardening apron tied around her hips to hold more boxes. "You got door locks?" he asked.

"Aisle 5 next to the paver catalogs," you tell him, steadying yourself so you can turn and glance down at him.

"Perfect," he said, "Thanks."

"Mhm, let me know if you need anything else," you tell him.

Jason paused and looked around, "Think you can put a tool box together for me I just moved and-"

"Ah, yeah. One Bachelor special," you tell him," Jumping down from the ladder, "I think I can get you fixed up. At least enough to get you started. You'll be smashing your thumbs in no time."

"Got a first aid kit too?"

"Right up at the counter," you snort. "But if you want anything special, you gotta see Adam at the Pharmacy. Mine are pretty basic."

"I can deal with basic- at least until you sell me a band saw-"

"Oh lord."

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #disowned!verse

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chiriwritesstuff · 1 year ago

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Meet Me at the Farmers Market! - 1. Jealousy, Jealousy

Farmers Market! Joel Miller x Confident! Plus Sized F! Florist Reader

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: What does a Contractor do in his spare time? Sell his wood carvings at the Saturday Farmers Market, of course! A Grumpy x Sunshine Joel Miller series collective of one shots, Updates every Saturday!

Rating: M

Word Count: 1063

Warnings: Jealous! Joel Miller, Tommy is a meddling little shit, Reader likes to ogle her too-hot market neighbor (I mean, who wouldn't?!) no outbreak! Verse Joel Miller, everyone has asses that just. Don't. QUIT!!!!

Summary: Tommy thinks y'all should stop dancing around your feelings for each other and just date already.

A/N: Hello there!

This is completely a self-indulgent fic! I was completely blown away by all of the interest in this series, and I want to thank every single one of you who has liked and reblogged my series masterlist so far!

This isn't going to be in a linear format or have continuous chapters, but will be more of a short-story format between the lives of Joel and his Sunflower. Hope you all enjoy!

Divider by the lovely @saradika

"You know, I think you guys should date."

As Tommy helps you unload a basket of baby's breath from your van, you look at him and ask, "Is that right? Pray tell, Thomas Miller, Why do you think that?"

"Well, for starters, you're crazy about him," he replies, waggling his eyebrows. "I can see how you stare at him like he's the finest cut of meat at Whole Foods. I should get you a drip cloth for all that drooling you be doing," he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest.

You roll your eyes and shove a bucket of single-stemmed roses into his chest. "Oh please. I think it's more concerning that you just compared your brother to a piece of meat," you say as you place a checkered tablecloth on your foldable table, preparing for the morning market.

"His head is definitely full of it," he laughs. "Besides, I think he's crazy for you too."

You laugh and reply, "All he does is complain that my tent is encroaching on his 'walk space' and how my bouquets attract all the bees. I don't think he's said one nice thing to me since I started vending at the market."

"Don't you know that the more you hate, the more you love?" he teases. "I know my brother," Tommy says, motioning towards your grumpy, yet attractive, next-door vendor. Joel, in his green flannel and almost too-tight jeans, it's criminal, really, how nice his ass looks in them - finally acknowledges the two of you with a roll of his eyes.

"Tommy," Joel yells across the way, "I could use some help, once you're done flirting with little miss Sunflower over there," he says, placing his crate on his table with a little more force, mumbling to himself as he calls for Sarah.

"See? He's jealous. Thinks I have the hots for you," Tommy appraises your form, whistling. "I might have mentioned how you looked really nice last week, you know, in your denim cut-offs. And he might have mentioned that you had an - and I quote - ass that just doesn't quit."

"He did not!" you reply as you playfully whack his arm with a towel. "Come on, help me with this sign so you can go back to Mr. Grumpy Butt over there. Wouldn't want him grumbling about how I stole his brother…"

"He's a big boy, he can manage. He only has those little critters that he carves, and you have buckets of flowers. I'd like to think that my services are better utilized here, don't you think? I mean, look at him!" Tommy motions to Joel, who has stopped setting up his stand and is openly glaring at the both of you, his hands clenched and knuckles turning white. "I'm doing you a favor, honey bee. He's just shy under all of that grumpy ass attitude. Just ask him out, see where it goes." Tommy crinkles his eyes at you as he pats you on your head.

You swear you see Joel looking at the both of you as Tommy winks at you and heads back to his 'Reclaiming Miller' stand.

"What kind of a business name is that?" you think to yourself, chuckling as you close the doors of your van.

Later, as the market comes to a close and you place the final empty bucket into your van, you walk over to Joel's 'Reclaiming Miller' stand as he folds a tablecloth.

"Do you need a hand?" you ask sweetly.

"I got it," he replies with a grunt, dismantling his fold-up table and propping it against his truck. "It's funny," he adds, glaring at you, "that Tommy is nowhere to be found when I need help but magically appears once your van rolls in," he shakes his head. "Why don't you put him out of his misery and just ask him out?"

"… sounds like you're jealous, Mr. 'Reclaiming Miller'."

"Trust me, I'm not," he replies, rolling up the sleeves of his flannel as he tries to accommodate the Texas heat. You try very hard not to ogle the veins that run down his arms, swallowing as you try to remain indifferent to the very hot, grumpy man in front of you. You had a crush on Joel ever since you started the Saturday markets, approaching your new neighbor with a small bonsai tree as you introduced yourself. He took it from your hands carefully, inspecting it with a bit of wonder in his eyes. "Your tent is three inches off from your marker, by the way," he replies as he places the bonsai off to the side of his display table. "You might want to get that checked out, don't want to get a fine or anything like that." You decide then that he's one of those vendors, the ones who are sticklers for the rules and complete nightmares to those around them, but yet…

He is rather nice to look at, you think.

"… why would I ask someone I'm not interested in out on a date, Joel?" you reply, approaching him. "I mean, he did tell me that you thought I had an 'ass that just doesn't quit'," you say in his ear, tiptoeing up to his broad form, "is that what you really think, Miller?" you tease, his Adam's apple bobbing. "What if I want to ask you out? What would you say? Would you say yes? Because I think I would like that if you did."

But then, to your surprise, he smiles.

"… I thought we already got past dating, Sunflower," he replies as he kisses you, soft and sweet. His hands grab your hips as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. His hands travel to your ass, squeezing them as he groans into your kiss.

"Besides," he adds, "You know damn well how much I appreciate this ass." He winks, slapping it for good measure.

“Yeah, yeah, Miller. I'll see you at my place later?” you say as you head over to your van. “It's your turn to choose the movie tonight, if it's a good one you might just get laid” you tease.

“Oh baby girl, I'll get mine regardless, don't you worry,” he replies hungrily, waving as he enters his truck. “You just wear that thing I like, and I'll make it worth your while, promise.”

“You better!”

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x plus size reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #tlou fic #joel miller x oc #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction

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theglitterypages · 1 year ago

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JJK MEN PRESENTS: What kind of woman they'd fall in love with and how they would fall in love. Featuring Toji Fushiguro/Zenin

•Judging by Toji's history with women in the canon verse, I believe that Toji's type of woman is the woman that is like Megumi's Mother.

•Let's put it this way, Toji left his clan broken, misunderstood and he had no one to make him feel what love really is.

•After he left his clan, Toji was a sugar baby, that's for sure. Older women loved this man and even if Toji didn't really like that part of his life he had no choice but to use his body to survive.

•Toji was more used to handling older women, he knew how to please them and as he got older, a woman at the same age as him just doesn't seem like a good fit for him.

•Toji has given up about finding true love because of this, so he just kept on accepting clients to clients and survive, as long as he's not back to that shitty clan, he'll be fine.

•That was when Toji met an innocent, young lady who only sees the good in life. He has no idea why he was even interested about whatever you do in life. You moved in at the unit next to his, you just graduated from college and you have a decent job, but Toji thinks that you're too nice.

•He first saw you when you were talking to the old man who lives across your unit. Toji just received a call from his client, and as he locks his door, he couldn't help but listen in to your conversation with the old man.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

You were busy talking to the old man across your unit, he was talking about how he loved the cookies you baked last time. You gave jars of cookies to your neighbors when you moved in and you appreciated that this old man loves it. "Thank you for the kind words, Choji-san! Don't worry, I'll make sure to save a jar for you once I baked another batch." You smiled. The old man smiled back and held your hands. "I'll look forward to it." he said as he caress your hands for quite some time, you weren't uncomfortable but you didn't want to pull away because you realized that he was a man who lives on his own he's probably missing his daughter or something.

Toji narrowed his eyes at the way that the old man was eye-fucking you while he was holding your hands. It's obvious that you have no idea what kind of a pervert this man was and Toji wanted to step in but your phone rang and you excused yourself to the old man politely and made your way to the parking lot.

Toji gave a firm look at the old man and the latter immediately entered his unit. Coincidentally, your car was parked next to Toji's, and even if he promised not to mind something that's not related to him, he couldn't help but want to give you a warning.

"Oi, Unit 27..." since he doesn't know your name, he just decided to call you by your unit's number.

You turned upon hearing a deep voice behind you, you recognized the man living next to your unit and you smiled. "Hey, good morning Unit 26." You giggled a bit.

Toji was taken aback by the warm smile and your sweet voice, it's no wonder that the old man can easily get away from being a perv with you, you look too innocent.

"You should choose who you befriend wisely." He said before he climbed up his car to go to his client's location.

It was obvious that you didn't get Toji's warning and he decided to take matters into his own hands for some reason.

He started matching his schedule with yours, sharing little moments of short chitchats and bumping into each other at the convenience store nearby. Whenever Toji is around, the old man won't make an attempt to talk to you and he made sure that he wouldn't have a chance to.

Toji wasn't sure when did he even start falling in love with you, all that he remembers and realizes is the fact that he seemed to forget anything bad whenever he's with you. You look at the brighter side of life, you're nice, you're sweet and you're too innocent for this cruel world.

Toji realized that he didn't want your innocence to be taken away from you, he wouldn't want to see that sweet smile of yours to fade, and he realized he wanted to be the one to protect that smile of yours.

His life was all about his own survival but this was the first time that he wanted to care for someone, he never knew how to because he never felt cared for before. But you showed him how, making sure he's not eating take outs, you wouldn't fail to check up on him from time to time to see what he was up to, your eyes sparks whenever he sees you.

Before he even knew it, you became the center of his life.

"Toji-san?" You waved your hands in front of Toji when you realized that he's been quiet for a long time. Toji snapped out of his thoughts and he realized how close you were.

You smiled when you finally got his attention, but blushed when you realized how close your faces are, you can see the scar on his lips up close, and for some reason, your body moved on its own.

Toji felt your warm hands touch his scar, he froze, but you gently traced the scar on his lip that he almost forgot how he got it in the first place. It was a living evidence of his family's cruelty, of how he was abused and treated like a trash.

But the look on your eyes makes him forget all of that, his hands found their way to your waist and he gently placed you onto his lap, your hands still busy tracing each of his facial features.

You softly gasped when he held you tighter and you blushed, stopping yourself from touching his face. "I'm sorry, Toji-san. I got carried away." You tried to stand up but Toji held you close.

"Drop the honorifics, doll." He breathed out.

"D-Doll?" You asked, not sure if you heard it correctly because all you could hear was the fast beat of your heart.

Toji smirked and nip your chin in between his fingers to tilt your head so he could see you better. "You look like a doll sitting on my lap right now. You're tiny and pretty." He said before pinching the tip of your nose.

You were scared, not because of Toji but because of your own feelings. You don't know if you're supposed to feel this safe in someone's arms, is it right to desire to caress his face and be this close to him every time you have the chance?

Whenever you're with Toji, he makes you feel safe, love, and cared for. You want nothing but to ease that tensed jaw of his, to bring sparks in his eyes, and if it's even possible take away everything that hurts him.

Toji could read the look in your eyes, you were silently begging and longing. He decided to be the one to take the risk and close the gap between the two of you.

The moment that he felt your lips against his, Toji could swear that this is what heaven feels like, he couldn't hold back his smile when you tried to keep up with him.

He made sure to kiss you gently and slowly, because he wouldn't want this to end anytime soon. Kissing you was not a job or something but his whole life depends on it.

When Toji pulled away from you, he let his forehead rest against yours.

"I love you, Doll."

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sitkowski · 2 months ago

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xo ( matt dierkes x oc)

pairing: matt dierkes x zephyr (oc) cw: no real warnings. a little bit of angst, a healthy dose of fluff, neighbors to lovers, making out, meddlesome…dogs? word count: 1.5k author's notes: this is my first matt centric fic (not the last there will be more of these two!!), and i had to fit him into the riptide verse. @darksigns-exe inspired the shirt that zephyr's wearing on their dinner (not) date 🫶🏻 title comes from the song by fall out boy (of course!). dividers by @sweetmelodygraphics 🩷

⇉ masterpost || taglist signups || riptide verse masterpost

Apparently before the band made their decision to take their break, Zeus learned a new trick while Matt was on tour. He learned how to unlock the back gate, which is why he’s gone when Matt opens the sliding glass door to call him back into the house. It would have been nice if the neighbor kid who’d been looking after the dogs had thought to tell him about Zeus’ new trick when he came home. Boo is just sitting there by the open gate, as if to prove that he knows he isn’t supposed to be on the other side of it.

He brings Boo inside, relatches the gate and grabs Zeus’ leash and a couple of treats in case he needs to be coerced back to the house. He doesn’t think he could have gotten far, he wasn’t outside that long. Matt walks out his front door, looking left and right to see if he spots him right away. It’s not until he steps off the porch that he realizes Zeus didn’t go far at all. He’s sitting in the front lawn across the road, and he’s not alone. The girl sitting with him isn’t someone he’s seen there before, but he assumes she lives there. His dog is all but in her lap, soaking up the attention she’s giving him.

Walking across the street, Matt calls out to him, and Zeus pops his head up, wagging his tail at the sight of him. The girl waves at him and stands up, keeping a hand on Zeus’ collar so Matt can clip on his leash.

“I’m sorry, he came running right over as I was coming out of my place,” she explains. “We kind of have a ritual, he and I.”

“He staged a prison break, he’s not usually supposed to be off leash out front without me. Did Clay let him loose a lot?”

“Oh no, not at all! I’d just say hi to him on his walks, maybe sneak in a treat or two,” She holds out her hand. “I’m Zephyr.”

“Matt,” he shakes her hand, and then looks down at Zeus. “This little criminal is Zeus, in case you didn’t know that already.”

Zephyr smiles brightly, reaching down to pat the top of his head, “Yeah, I read his tags.”

Matt feels himself blushing a little, and he nods, “Well, thanks for making sure he stayed put. I’m gonna have to secure the back gate better so he won’t get out again.”

“If he does, I’ll be sure to bring him back to you.”

He thanks her again, and takes Zeus home. The gate is an easy fix, and both the dogs stay put. But now he sees Zephyr every morning, and every night when he walks the dogs. He feels like it would be rude to ignore her, so they stop and chat with each other. Boo and Zeus both seem familiar with her, and that itself is a green flag for him. He thinks it’s cute that she does have a bag of treats on her to sneak the dogs, apparently she does it for every dog in the neighborhood.

Eventually, it progresses to Zephyr coming on the walks with them, her holding onto Zeus’ leash and Matt with Boo’s. He tells her about touring, she tells him about her catering business. Somehow, these walks turn into her promising to make him dinner. Matt can’t believe that it’s happened as fast as it has, but time seems to slow down when they’re off tour and he has to get used to moving at a normal pace again. So, he agrees to dinner after Nicholas, Jolly and Noah all bully him into it via text messages when he tells them about Zephyr.

He tells himself it’s not a date, it’s just dinner between neighbors. Even though he doesn’t think that Mr. Birkhoff from next door has ever invited him over for anything ever. It’s been a few weeks of evening walks and long conversations, a few shared beers on his back porch while the dogs run around in the yard. And yeah, he’s thought about it being more, even when his mind is normally consumed with work and touring. This is the longest break they’ve had in a while, and he knows that everyone else is using it to their advantage. He should be too.

Matt almost talks himself out of it twice before he’s standing on Zephyr’s front porch one Friday evening. He rings the doorbell and waits, second guessing himself until the door opens and he sees her. She’s wearing a shirt that says #yeetisildur in elvish and he really hopes she can’t see the sudden hearts in his eyes right now. Smiling that bright smile of hers, Zephyr steps aside to let him in.

“Whatever you’re making smells great,” he compliments as she leads him into her kitchen.

“We’re having homemade mac and cheese, sriracha maple brussel sprouts and grilled chicken breasts.”

Matt leans against the counter, accepting the Dr. Pepper she offers him from the refrigerator. “Are you interested in locking me in your basement and making me your personal guinea pig?”

It sounds ridiculous when he says it but she still laughs, knocking her bottle against his. “Just so you know, there’s a homemade dessert for after.”

“No seriously, the band can figure out the sound without me.”

“It’s called sex in a pan.”

Obviously she was waiting to seize her moment, because she says it the second he takes a drink, and predictably, he chokes. Soda nearly shoots out of his nose, and Zephyr just giggles and pats him on the back before she passes him a paper towel.

“I couldn’t help it, I’m very sorry,” she says, “I promise to behave the rest of the night.”

Matt doubts it.

Dinner’s great, and Zephyr blushes every time he tells her how good it is. The conversation over dinner gets a little heavier than their usual night time walk chats; for a brief moment Matt thinks she’s eventually going to ask about how the band is handling the break. He didn’t miss seeing the familiar vinyls stacked by her record player, even though she’s got a whole bunch of random stuff there. But it wouldn’t be the first time. She doesn’t mention them once though. Instead, they’re talking about her dad who taught her how to cook before he passed away, and Matt’s got a feeling she doesn't talk about him often.

After they eat and he has two pieces of the dessert that she made, Matt helps Zephyr with the dishes despite her protests. And when the night is over, she walks with him out onto her front porch, kisses his cheek softly to say goodnight, a barely there brush of her lips that he feels more than he should. She’s still standing there when Matt lets himself into his place, waiting for him to get inside.

Matt hasn’t done this in a long time. He doesn’t really know how to go about it with someone like Zephyr, who has no expectations of him. The longer he knows her, the closer they get. The more open she is with him. It’s a new feeling, becoming friends with someone and the crush just hitting him smack in the middle of his chest while they’re watching Chopped reruns at his place, a dog on either side of them.

They’re playfully arguing about which dish was going to make it through to the next round when Matt turns his head and leans in to kiss her. She doesn’t seem as if she’s expecting it, and he likes catching her by surprise. He starts to pull back but she reaches out and curls her hand around the back of his head, pulling him in and kissing him again. She sinks her fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss. They break apart once, to catch their breath, before she’s pulling him back in. Matt puts a hand on her thigh, trying to pull her closer.

But then there’s a big problem, because Zeus realizes that someone else is getting attention, and leaps over Matt to worm his way between him and Zephyr. She lets out a surprised laugh, wrapping her arms around him and putting her chin on top of his head.

“Sorry, I think you have competition for my affections,” she says as Zeus’ tail keeps thumping against Matt’s chest. If he didn’t know any better, his damn dog was smiling at him. “Looks like you’ve gotta step up your game, Dierkes.”

Matt looks from her to Zeus, to Boo who seems content to just watch the steak being sliced on the screen. “Okay, who wants a treat? And to go play in the back yard where I can close the door for five minutes?”

Both dogs are up and running for the kitchen at the word treat and Zephyr grins, fisting her hand in Matt’s shirt to tug him closer for another kiss before they notice he’s not getting up yet.

⇉ taglist

@deathblacksmoke @ladyveronikawrites @circle-with-me @baddestomens

@dominuslunae @malice-ov-mercy @rumoured-whispers @cookiesupplier

@sorrowofsilence @collapsedglasshouses @thatchickwiththecamera @collidewiththesavannah

@th4t-em0-k1d @blackveilomens @illmakeyousaywow

if you ’d like to be added to the taglist, you can find the form at the top of this fic! thanks for reading/reblogging 🩷

#matt dierkes fic #matt dierkes x oc #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic #the riptide verse #.ficbysitkowski

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wxywardsun · 2 years ago

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So I created a little universe or AU for supernatural comprised of fluffy meetings,neighborhood shenanigans,house decorating,slow burn so slow that the consideration of watching paint dry sounds tempting,moving in moments,and much much more!

This universe is of the x reader/HC sort so if that interests you,consider tuning in for more!

Welcome to The Next Door Verse!

#hyped this shit up like it’s a new season of a show coming out 😭#basically imagine being next door neighbors with supernatural characters #neighbors to friends to close friends to lovers!#castiel x reader #dean winchester x reader #cas x reader #sam winchester x reader #please no problematic requests..#this is just cutesy neighborhood slowburn stuff #spn #supernatural #spn headcanon #au posting #The Next Door Neighbor Verse #Next Door Neighbor Verse

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philtstone · 2 months ago

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24. Showing up injured at their friend/mentor’s house: for shawn? :)

[emerges from writing this fic bloody and beaten and on the verge of collapse] ill explore karen vicks character in an overly complicated post-episode missing scene fic or die trying! set immediately post "right turn or left for dead". i genuinely dont know if im happy with this but i also cant figure out how to fix it. actually, it would have probably been easier to write if i was willing to rewatch the episodes its based on. which i am not, because i am a sensitive little soul. so i winged it. i think there are like 10 different ideas that crop up and theyre all equally fascinating as character threads but i have no idea if i tied them together in an even remotely coherent way. also, WOULD she say that??? i had to call my brother twice to ask. this is what yall get for sending me actually interesting prompts, huh

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Henry’s voice said on the phone. “I’ll send Shawn over with them on his way out. He's going in your direction, anyway.”

In her short tenure as the junior detective to Henry Spencer’s lieutenant, Karen Vick observed two things:

First, that he was a far more clever strategist than most people gave him credit for. Despite the ongoing wreckage of his impending divorce and a kid who was slipping through his fingers as everyone looked on, Karen didn’t agree with the other junior detectives’ impression of him as a smash-the-door-down old school hard ass with thinning hair and a worst attitude. The man played four dimensional chess right out of a bonafide Star Trek episode. When he really wanted something done, Henry Spencer could bullshit and bluff and battle plan with the pros, and half the time you’d get too caught up in the blustering misdirect to realize his game was intricately thought out three steps in advance.

It was how they caught the Shorttown Killer, and also how they got that idiot Trembley at the mayor’s office to finally replace their coffee maker. Karen went home to her then-boyfriend, now-husband, and, right before bed, pulled out an old school workbook and took notes.

The second thing was that Henry Spencer loved his son.

Not a lot has changed since then, Karen thinks, staring down the weirdness that she now faces through her open front door.

“… Oh — Mr. Spencer,” Karen says, because it’s rude not to greet your employees when they show up at your home outside of work hours, and are also your old friend-slash-colleague’s kid. “Hello. Thanks for — bringing these over.”

“Dad said it was urgent,” Shawn says.

Urgent isn’t quite how Karen would describe it, but hearing through the grapevine that your department might be facing an audit sometime in the next quarter does light a fire under the proverbial ass. Karen would rather bend a few rules and make sure the last year’s i’s and t’s are dotted and crossed right than leave her detectives vulnerable to the whims of a mayoral stooge.

In general, Karen prides herself on caring about the people under her command just enough that it inspires genuine friendship and loyalty. The just is important. Care needs tempering – it’s important to pull back, press pause, keep certain lines uncrossed. It’s especially important if you want to be successful as a woman in an authority position where lives are often on the line.

What she’s saying is that she tries to make it none of her business what her employees get up to in their spare time. She really genuinely does. She’s shut O’Hara down gently midway through the twelfth sweetly-frazzled attempt to overshare about her dating life (or her efforts to befriend her next-door neighbor, or the endearing personality quirks of her last cat – rest in peace, Triscuit, you will be missed –) enough times to be well-versed in the art of I Won’t Ask, You Won’t Tell, But You’ll Probably Know I Care Anyway.

An invaluable rapport to maintain. In any situation, Karen thinks, but especially when you’re a person who regularly hires and works alongside Shawn Spencer.

She’s not sure whether what she’s looking at right now makes her want to second guess or double down on her usual policy.

“Special delivery,” Shawn adds, like everything is super normal.

Karen narrows her eyes. She glances behind them into the quiet residential street.

“Shawn,” she says.

“Yes, Chief?”

“You didn’t drive here, did you?”

“Ha,” he says, half rolling his eyes to accompany a weird aborted grin. “No. Even I don’t think riding a motorcycle with a concussion is a good idea. What if someone who wasn’t me got hurt? That’s — that would be no good, then you’d have to arrest me. Wouldn’t that be a huge bummer for the whole team, Chief? Gus would cry. And my dad wouldn’t let me take his truck.”

Karen stares at him. Shawn stares at the ground.

“I got a cab,” he says.

“And you are … taking another cab – home?”

Shawn looks quite suddenly like he’s going to be sick.

“Sure,” he says.

Shawn looks terrible. Bruised face, bags under his eyes, and a weird frenetic energy twitching in his limbs that doesn’t pair well with his general air of exhaustion. He’s holding his shoulders stiffly and can barely meet her eye. His t-shirt and sweatpants are rumpled, like he slept in them, even though it’s too early in the evening for Henry to have woken him up to send him here, and when he thrusts the promised files out into the air toward her, abrupt and, admittedly, Shawn-like, he only just hides the awkward wince that immediately overtakes his left side.

The last couple days have been a bit of a whirlwind, so Karen can’t say she necessarily blames herself for not looking more closely.

Even so.

Slowly, Karen reaches forward and divests him of the case files. They slip a little bit, because Karen can’t seem to stop peering shrewdly at Shawn’s face while she does it, and on instinct he reaches forward to stop the stack from toppling.

It does help, but the autopilot he moves on makes it harder to mask what is to Karen’s eyes a very obvious flinch.

“Alright,” is all he says. “Well, good to see you. Time to head back to the old hay stack.”

Like a needle in a haystack and time to hit the hay, Karen supplies needlessly in her own head. Aloud, she says, in many ways against her better judgment,

“Mr. Spencer, are you okay?”

Shawn sways on the spot for a second, one fist clenched, mouth half open. For a strange moment, Karen gets the impression that he’s trying really hard not to say the wrong thing.

“... As rain,” he finally manages, then nods to himself like he achieved some great feat. “Okay. Well –”

“Did something happen to your shoulder?”

“What? No!” Shawn’s eyes flutter closed and he shakes his head, “I’m – fine, Chief. It’s not – I mean, I’m – normal, fine. Fine in a normal way.”

“That’s not something an individual who’s fine in a normal way would say,” Karen says.

“Uh, is it not! It is. I would know, because I am that individual. It’s – I was – there’s just mild – pfft … stab wound – or something, who would even …”

Is Shawn broken? is the unhelpful thought that pops into Karen’s head. She’s never heard an attempt to bullshit collapse so quickly into pathetic nothingness before – certainly not from Shawn.

Perhaps even more than his father, the kid’s a pro.

And then the rest of the sentence catches up with her.

“A mild stab wound?”

Oh boy. She watches Shawn’s eyes widen with the panic that proceeds an unquestionable blunder.

“Chief –”

“In.”

“Chief, I really, really don’t think –”

“Inside my house. Now.”

He’s certainly uncoordinated enough that he doesn’t put up much of a fight. Karen herds him through the door as firmly as possible and leads them in a beeline past Richard’s office toward the bathroom, ignoring the reedy stream of consciousness that spills out of Shawn’s mouth as they go.

“Oh, hey, woah, it’s been like forever since I was in here. Did you redecorate? I swear that lamp wasn’t there the last time we visited. It could be the tacos I had earlier, but I’m sensing a distinct neo-modern Chinese aesthetic going on here, Chief, which calls to mind the merits of cultural appreciation in suburban home decor – hey, is that your husband’s office? Can I meet him? Is he home? That man is a true enigma to us, Chief, and it’s leading me to believe that he must possess all the facial and personality qualities of the pop superstar Mr. Pitbull Worldwide –”

Richard is home, actually, and Karen needs to alert him to the fact that they have an unexpected house guest, so, ignoring Shawn completely, she calls out,

“Honey? Shawn Spencer’s here for a couple minutes about a work thing! I’ll go up to put Iris to bed in a second!” in the finely-honed There Are Many Layers Of Complicated To This secret married tone that Richard should probably be able to catch through the closed office door.

“Alright,” floats out her husband’s pleasant voice. “Tell him hi from me.”

Perfect. There’s about a ninety-three percent chance he understood.

They make it to the bathroom, only stumbling slightly. Shawn says,

“-- or The Rock. Does your husband look like Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson? I really think that would make so many things about the Chief Vick family make sense –”

Karen closes the bathroom door with a snap and crosses her arms.

“Sit,” she says, in a voice that even he knows brooks no argument.

Shawn does. He looks – well, beyond uncomfortable, and more than a little bit miserable, and probably closer to completely dissociating than either of them are prepared for. Karen wonders belatedly if he's gotten any sleep at all in the last forty-eight hours.

“I’m assuming you have not been to the hospital.”

He gives her a baleful look, like he really expected better of her. She only just stops herself from rolling her eyes in response. And there’s that huge goose egg on his forehead, too. What, exactly, he got up to in between Carlton’s wedding reception and oh-eight-hundred hours this morning Karen has no idea, but he looks like someone’s run him through the world’s most aggressive industrial tumble dry cycle and spat him mercilessly back out.

Or maybe over with a truck.

Sending a silent prayer to the universe that Iris never hit puberty and remains a sweet-tempered six-year-old forever, Karen gets to business.

“Well, I had to at least ask. Shawn. Does it need stitches?” He mumbles the answer the first time, and then looks beyond startled when she grabs him under the chin so he’ll look her in the eye. “Listen. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. But you’re going to tell me the truth. Got it?”

Shawn grimaces so hard at her words it’s almost a flinch.

“No,” he says finally, clearly enough that she hears him. Karen raises an eyebrow. “No, I don’t think it needs stitches,” he articulates, but doesn’t meet her eye.

“Hm. Alright. I have gauze and tape in the medicine cabinet. Can I … is it alright if I pull up the sleeve of your t-shirt?”

Released from her hold, he groans and presses his face into one palm. “Chief –”

“I don’t really know what you expected, coming here! It’s not like I’m any less of a hardass than your father.”

“Yeah, but I can bitch back at my dad,” Shawn says, sounding like he’s finally realizing the magnitude of his mistake. Karen smiles grimly.

“Tough. Now pull your shirt up while I get the first aid kit.”

While Shawn proceeds to wrestle awkwardly with his t-shirt in a muted shuffle against the toilet seat, Karen rummages efficiently through the cabinet and eyes him through the bathroom mirror. He seems oddly reluctant to expose himself. In fact, in a stark contrast to his usual insistence on making his presence and contributions as obtrusively obvious as possible, Shawn seems intent on shrinking into the aforementioned Asian-flavored floral wallpaper (which does need an update, unfortunately) with all the equanimity of an anxious chameleon. Karen feels her eyebrows crease. Taking the first aid kit in hand, she brings it over and deposits it into his arms, ignoring his small startle.

“How about you hold that,” Karen says. Shawn does, against his chest, like a pillow. She walks around him and surveys the damage, antiseptic gauze in hand.

He wasn’t lying about the severity, at least. It’s a shallow thing, already mostly congealed, and has only stained his shirt in a small smattering spot of crusty brown blood.

Karen swabs at it with the alcohol using light careful fingers.

“Ow, ow ow ah –”

“Don’t be such a baby. It’s hardly a life-threatening injury.”

“Super insightful, Chief,” Shawn snaps, as genuinely sarcastic as he’s probably ever been with her, “never thought of that myself. Totally the reason why I just had to go to the hospital.”

He doesn’t pull away, but she can feel the tension radiating through his back. She blinks, one eyebrow crawling up her forehead.

Alright then. So that’s how it’s going to be.

“I’m assuming your father doesn’t know about this,” she says.

Shawn grunts, noncommittal. Huh. Maybe he does know, then, and has just been disallowed from doing anything about it right now.

She tosses the first used antiseptic wipe into the trash.

Goddamn four dimensional chess.

She supposes she’s never been bad at the game. She may as well work her way backwards through the moves: Guster, the most obvious node in Shawn’s turn-to-in-a-crisis-system, would never voluntarily abandon his friend in a time of need, so Karen assumes that whatever this is has either already included his support or not been made known to Gus at all yet. Henry’s likely exhausted his own usefulness in the situation, and Detective O’Hara is …

Karen has to work very hard for her hands not to pause in a way that gives away her hard-earned mental sleuthing. A bad feeling wholly unrelated to her ill-advised hangover of the day before begins to bloom at the back of her gut.

“You have really small hands, Chief.”

Shawn’s voice is notably more subdued than before.

“Do I?”

“They’re like … little kangaroo hands. Like the mom kangaroo from Whinnie the Pooh.”

“Didn’t you know?” Karen says, not unkindly. “They’re given out at the hospital when all first-time moms leave with their baby.”

He lets out a tired little laugh, more boyish than he probably means it to be, and in spite of herself Karen feels her heart clench. She isn’t blind. In all her last seven years as the leader of their chaotic little precinct, she has never seen Juliet O’Hara look as ill as she did yesterday morning. The usually sweet-faced young woman had all the pallor of a Victorian ghost, and stood so far away from Shawn in any given room that to an unassuming observer he might have had the plague.

There are only a handful of things, Karen thinks, that could have invited that particular evolution in their dynamic. She rips the surgical tape from its canister a little bit more harshly than is strictly necessary and fights the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose between her fingers.

“So,” she says conversationally, laying the tape down in neat, gentle little strips, trying not to pinch the wound too tightly. “Any fun plans for the evening?”

Shawn sniffs. She can see him gripping his hands together over his knee from where she stands above him.

“Um, yeah, uh –” he clears his throat, “you know me, Chief. We’re working our way through a Robert Guillame marathon, which means some good old fashioned Benson, running commentary on the quality of that child acting, naturally.”

“Naturally.”

“Then Gus and I were gonna hit up the new, the new chili cheese joint up by Hermosa, you know – they’re doing sliders –”

“Chili cheese sliders?” Karen hums, contemplative.

“Buy ‘em by the pound,” Shawn agrees. “Then I was thinking of getting a tattoo, maybe a belly button piercing, I’ve been really – really needing a change – would you let Iris get one, if she asked?”

“A tattoo?” Karen clarifies, cutting off the next piece of tape. The skin around the cut is warm to her touch but Shawn’s arms have goosepimpled. The hair at the back of his head sticks up unstyled, like he slept weirdly and couldn’t be bothered to fix it come morning.

“Of a marmoset. That’s what I’m thinking. With distinctly effeminate vibes.”

“Well, Dick hates marmosets. So I’d probably encourage her toward something else. Perhaps a sea lion.”

“Like Shabby.” The nervous note has bled into his legs again, and his earlier subdued tone has gone back to sounding strained. “Yeah, that’ll – that could be it.”

“All in one night, huh?” Karen says.

“I –” Shawn doesn’t even hiss when she presses down with a cotton gauze to cover the last of the thickened blood. His legs are properly jittering again. “I was – yeah, y-you know me, Chief, total night owl.”

“Shawn?”

“Yeah?”

“What about going home?”

Silence. Shawn doesn’t answer for a moment long and pregnant enough that Karen wonders if her question will be ignored entirely.

Then,

“Chief,” he says finally, in an awful, tiny little voice, “I really, really fucked up.”

Finally, her hands do falter in their ministrations; as emotionally exuberant as Shawn often is, she doesn’t think she’s ever actually heard him close to tears. For a horrible moment she wonders if Shawn Spencer will suddenly start crying atop her toilet seat for reasons neither of them are capable of discussing honestly. Then she wonders if her horror makes her a terrible boss.

Boss – mother – person.

Oh, dear.

She sets down the surgical tape and lays a ginger palm over the newly-bandaged gouge in his shoulder. It’ll probably scar, but not at all badly. She doesn’t like to think about the far more obvious one just below, puckering in a violent yet unassuming divot. Another narrow miss for Henry’s boy.

At this point there are so many of them to count, Karen has to question the statistical likelihood of the whole thing. Becoming a mathematical anomaly is, Karen can attest with confidence, not exactly the future the Lieutenant Spencer she knew dreamed of for his increasingly unmanageable teenager.

Doing what he loved, on the other hand – absolutely. Being with a person he loved, even more so. Karen grits her teeth at the irritating web she’s spent the last six years constructing around herself and wonders if this evening right here is some kind of cosmic karma for leaving Iris in the care of nannies for the first three years of her life.

That sounds like the kind of thing those horrible parenting magazines and Karen’s mother-in-law would claim, anyway.

“Shawn,” she says slowly, because she has to at least knock this possibility off the list before risking her career in an attempt to mediate her detectives’ love lives, “did you … you weren’t – unfaithful, were you?”

“What?!”

Shawn yanks his shoulder away and whirls around to face her with such a look of horrified betrayal on his face that it’s almost comical.

“No!”

Thank fucking God, Karen thinks. Aloud, she says,

“Well, I’m sorry, I had to at least ask!”

“No! No! What the hell, Chief!”

“Oh would you be quiet! I’m gathering my evidence here!”

“How could I – I would never – you’d even think that I could –”

“I know! Shawn, for God’s sake –” He’s scrambled to his feet in the cramped bathroom space, glaring, and has probably messed up all that surgical tape in the process. The half open first aid kit and his crumpled shirt press lopsided against his front and her garbage can is now full of oxidizing bits of cotton. Karen officially gives in to the urge to press her palms against her forehead. “I had to ask!” she repeats finally. “You and I both know you’re not gonna give me much else to work with, and you sounded so – so sad!”

Shawn barks out a hysterical little laugh. Karen almost growls in frustration.

“I am not going to risk all the very hard-earned rules I have in place without knowing for sure that my instincts aren’t wrong. Is that so hard to appreciate?”

Does it count as sound police work when the framework for your investigation is an unacknowledged lie? Karen doesn’t really know. Probably there’s another math metaphor to be made in there (you screwed your proof from the very beginning, maybe, Richard the professor would definitely have thoughts), or just a straight up joke. How to solve a case that’s cold before it ever has the chance to go live; a cover-up if she ever saw one. Unlikely that O’Hara will peep a word, and things will be a true mess for a few weeks, if she can’t make an educated guess about it. And no one will be explaining anything to Carlton, either …

Right before their goddamn audit, Karen thinks, aggrieved. She wonders if Henry considered this in his calculus. Send Shawn over, have her deal with him. Offer a huge unspoken you’re gonna be walking into a shitstorm tomorrow canary for her perennially chaotic mess of a coal mine.

She can’t help but feel begrudgingly grateful, but that doesn’t mean she and he won’t be having words about this later.

“Jesus, Karen,” Shawn mutters, pressing his face back into his free hand. Karen shakes her head and squares her shoulders.

“Well then! Back to the issue. You fucked up.”

“You know what? I can’t talk about this with you.”

“Oh, Mr. Spencer, I assure you I am more than well aware.”

Shawn blinks at her between his fingers, looking genuinely confused for the first time since he showed up at her door.

Karen does not bother to clear up his confusion; it’s better this way, anyhow.

“Will you be sleeping at Gus’s place or your father’s?” she asks, crossing her arms.

“I’m – I don’t –” Shawn doesn’t meet her eye. The earlier thread of anxiety is back. “I wasn’t …”

So, neither.

“Put your shirt back on,” she says. “We’re relocating to the living room.”

“Chief –”

“That was an order, Mr. Spencer.”

The living room is as quiet and mundane as it was an hour ago. It’s past Iris’s bedtime – she’ll have to go up, and soon at that. Karen seats her guest, retrieves a mug and a bag of chamomile from the kitchen, and removes the fluffy throw blanket from the basket behind the couch on her way back in. He’s deflated completely by the time the tea and blanket are set in front of him. Small and exhausted. Caught. It’s a horrible way to think about it. But she can’t avoid the hundred yard stare – Karen has seen it one too many times in people only just realizing they’re about to go away for life.

“Shawn,” she says, firm as she can make it. “Drink the tea. You’re dehydrated.”

“I’m … what?”

“Your lips are dry. You shouldn’t be dehydrated with a concussion.”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and Karen suddenly wonders if he’s going to get up and leave. She has experience with these things – she knows a runner when she sees one.

“I might as well have,” Shawn finally whispers.

She doesn’t catch it the first time. “What?”

“I – I might as well ha – Chief, I …” Deep shuddering breaths. He’s finally shutting down, she realizes. She can’t send him back out like this; Henry would give her the stink eye for a month.

Goddamn Spencers and their goddamn irritating overcomplicated lives.

Karen pushes the tea directly into his hands and tilts her chin so she can meet Shawn’s eye. He’s still lucid enough that she doesn’t think he’ll start hyperventilating, but now that the outrage and adrenaline has worn off, the symptoms of shock are pretty hard to miss. “Shawn,” she says again, and wills for him to understand.

“What if she – what if I never –” He can’t get the full sentence out. He looks at her, eyes wide and terrified.

Life sentence, Karen thinks again. The messy stack of files Shawn brought over sits almost unimportantly on the coffee table between them and a memory comes to her, unbidden, of words penned carefully in the corner of a modified police report that she pulled the minute the door closed on the McCallum case seven years ago.

Date: May 4th, 1995. Reporting Officer, Spencer, Lt. H. Perpetrator a caucasian male, brown hair, five foot nine, insists on wearing those stupid earrings just to spite me. What the hell do you want me to write here, Chief? Spent two hours in the fucking principal’s office convincing them not to expel him one month off from graduation. All that effort, and I still booked the kid. It’s gonna follow him for life, and it’s gonna be me that did it to him. For life. You think he’ll ever forgive me? He’s the greatest thing in my pathetic little world and he keeps breaking my heart, and I can’t even properly accept that it’s my fault.

How’s that for a fucking crime.

She needs to go put her daughter to bed. It’s the thought that keeps running through her head, oddly enough, like a strange antidote to the impotent anger and heartbreak and frustration she’s feeling for the people under her care.

With all the notes she took in that little workbook, she still let herself become complicit in the painstaking, convoluted resolution of Henry’s mistakes without accounting for all the variables.

Richard’s footsteps sound muffled in the next room; he’s made his way upstairs in Karen’s absence. She needs to go. She wants to hear the soft and sleepy love you Mama that with her unpredictable hours and regular long nights isn’t nearly routine enough.

“Shawn,” she says evenly. “Do you love her?”

It’s hard to reconcile the smarmy kid who tried to barter with her for twelve hundred a day with the devastated young man sitting on the couch in front of her.

“Chief …” he starts, barely above a whisper.

“Good. Then she’ll see that. Detective O’Hara is a smart and observant woman. What she chooses to do next is her decision, but … you might be – well, comforted by the fact that she’ll know that – truth.”

Shawn stares at her. The tea steams in front of him, cooling in increments. She takes a deep breath and gets to her feet, patting his uninjured shoulder brusquely.

“I have to go check on Iris. When I come back down, I can drive you to the Psych office.”

Iris is fast asleep when she gets there. A library book lays open face down over her stomach, and her soft brown hair fans out against the pillow, silhouetted by the soft glow of the unicorn nightlight in the wall above her. Karen turns off the bedside lamp, tucks her daughter in, and kisses her forehead. Just before she leaves, she hears it: murmured, half-awake.

“Love you, Mama.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Karen goes back to her living room, car keys in hand. She’s planned her next move in the driver’s seat enough times throughout her career that it shouldn’t be too hard.

#my writing #psych #psych usa #psych 2006 #shawn spencer #karen vick #henry spencer #shawn x juliet #shules #situations prompt meme #not sure if i want to put this on ao3 yet we'll see #if it gets zero traction on here ... maybe lol

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starversresource · 1 year ago

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dynamic prompts, but with a few more-obscure ones

send in the corresponding number(s) (and verse if needed) if you are interested in plotting our muses in…

a friends-to-lovers dynamic

a “‘pretend to be my date’ but we develop feelings” dynamic

a queerplatonic dynamic

a joined-at-the-hip best friends dynamic

a friendship dynamic

an “we aren’t necessarily friends but we ride and die together” dynamic

a sibling-like dynamic

a parental dynamic

an “i occasionally come across you and you seem nice, we aren’t close but i would hate if something happened to you” dynamic

a coworker (affectionate) dynamic

a coworker (derogatory) dynamic

a boss-employee relationship dynamic

a patient and professional service provider dynamic

a teacher and student dynamic

a mentor and mentee dynamic

a therapeutic dynamic

a professional workplace relationship dynamic

an “i want to be your friend but you don’t want me around” dynamic

a “researcher and their test subject” dynamic

a “creator and their creature” dynamic

a “bodyguard and their charge” dynamic

a “you’re my next door neighbor” dynamic

a “hired hitman and their target who keeps escaping and it’s kind of funny actually” dynamic

a friends with benefits/being “friends” for one to take advantage of the other dynamic

an antagonistic (not necessarily hate each other) dynamic

a “we hate each other i hope you die” dynamic

an “i hate you but nobody else is allowed to hate you” dynamic

a rivalry dynamic

a casual, amicable superhero-and-supervillain-esque dynamic

an intense, serious superhero-and-supervillain-esque dynamic

keep in mind that these are just ideas for plots, and can develop into other dynamics as our muses progress! relationships of any kind can be layered.

#rp memes #roleplay memes #roleplay prompts #rp prompts #rp meme #plotting memes #dynamic memes #plotting rp meme #dynamic rp meme

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dejwritesarchived · 2 years ago

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀human, choso kamo

it's been two years since the fall of the jujutsu world, and now choso kamo is finally able to keep the promise that he made with special-grade sorcerer yuki. to no longer live life as a curse but as a human. just his luck; his bubbly next-door neighbor is the one that helped guide him through it.

♔ ˖ ✧ — general warnings: female reader, her/she pronouns, female anatomy described, black reader written in mind and their will be descriptors, modern au but also in jjk verse, kinda my own interpretation and theories on how jjk will end, super self-indulgent bc it's my bday, neighbors to lovers (is that a trope), love making yay, mention of other jjk characters, a lot of jumps that are separated by dividers btw, somewhat plot twist at the end // smut warnings: missionary position, hand holding, mentions of hickeys/love bites, usage of spit, big d*ck choso is a warning in itself, implied of oral (m.receiving), handjob // word count: 5.5k, minors dni.

YOUR NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR, CHOSO, WAS EXTREMELY MYSTERIOUS. He only came out of his apartment for a couple of things—going grocery shopping, possibly working, and jogging. You never saw him being friends over. You never saw him bring a lover over. Nothing. Your curious mind always wondered if he was just a loner; maybe he didn’t have any family members alive. It was just him in the small countryside of Japan, and he was just taking his very lonely days day by day. Or was it cruel of you to assume? It wasn’t really your business as a young foreigner just enjoying her youthful years of traveling.

You’ve been everywhere, searching for a permanent home after deciding to step away from your actual job. Malaysia, Nigeria, Brazil—you have been traveling for a while, and now it seems you may have found your permanent home for good. The small town wasn’t as busy as Tokyo, but it got lively when the people got together to throw small festivals to celebrate things. If you recall, tonight’s festival celebrated the anniversary of the eldest married couple living in the community. Everyone was prompted to bring a dish, baked goods, or gifts. You took it upon yourself to make onigiri because it was one of the easiest dishes you couldn’t butcher without the eldest questioning your cooking skills.

With your best outfit, you glanced at Choso’s door and began your journey down to the main court of the community with your dish. You could hear the laughter and music of the people in the community as they were setting up. You could see the eldest couple, Mr. and Mrs. Aoki, slowly dancing to the music that was blasting through the speakers. Huge smiles on their faces caused their eyes to crinkle and for them to hold on to each other a bit tighter. Despite such a fast-paced song playing, they took their time indulging in each other’s company as if they wouldn’t have each other anymore the next day.

“You look gorgeous,” You heard one of your friends, Hinata, say.

“I can’t let you outdress me this time,” You joked while placing what you brought on the table with the other variety of foods.

“It’s only room for just one hot person in the small community, and it seems like it’ll be me,” He responds. “Now it’s three,” He jokingly sighed in despair.

“Three?” You questioned as you were glancing over the drinks that were offered.

“You, Me, and your neighbor,” Hinata responded. He ran his fingers through his sandy brown colored hair before speaking again, “I’m so jealous. I’m stuck with Old Man Keigo as my neighbor.”

“He’s not that bad.” You laughed.

“He knocks on my door at three in the morning, asking if I have seen his cat. I didn’t even know we were allowed to have pets.” Hinata sighs.

“Choso literally never leaves his place. I don’t even think he watches tv,” You responded.

“Still better than Keigo,” Hinata answered.

“Is it, though? You’re not curious about why he’s so lonely? If he has a family? Friends? If he wants to make friends?” You asked, and Hinata’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“Maybe he’s running away from his past life,” Hinata said while searching for a plate. “You should give him some food.”

“Why do I have to do it?”

“You have an adorable, friendly face. Would you rather Old Man Keigo do it?” Hinata’s head motioned to the older man, who was nodding off to sleep in the corner. The children in the community managed to begin to place items on his lap to see how long he wouldn’t notice.

“The goal is to get him out of his apartment, not scare him in.” You grabbed the plate out of Hinata’s hand. “How am I supposed to know what foods he likes? If he’s allergic to anything?”

“Hm, just give him one of everything. Now my lovely friend has arrived to help me get through this party. Toodles.” He disappeared in the sea of people, leaving you alone with a plate of food.

You knew he was most likely meeting with his local drug dealer, getting his weekly weed fix to get him through his work week as an administrative assistant at a law firm.

You did what Hinata suggested, placing one of everything on the plate. You were positive that the amount of food on the plate would have been the same amount that the community's people would give him. Especially considering that some already whispered about him. They weren’t bad whispers or gossip but whispers of kindness. You remember Mrs. Aoki telling you how he helped her carry her groceries in her house. Or the young mother that lived in the home down from your complex told everyone that Choso taught her young son how to ride his bike without training wheels. So, if Choso were to finally leave his home—maybe he would see how kind everyone was and how this community was like a huge family. He had already been helping out around here.

As soon as you were done, you returned to your apartment. Your steps were slow and steady to prevent you from spilling food everywhere. When you reached Choso’s door, you mentally prepared yourself for what to say. Should you do an introduction first before giving him the food? Should you lie and say Mrs. Aoki told you to bring the food? What if he doesn't accept the food? Well, that wouldn’t be so bad. You were his neighbor who only said hi or bye to him, giving him food. He’ll probably think it’s been poisoned or something.

You knocked three times. Two times softly before a loud one that could be heard in the small apartment. You stepped back when you heard the sound of the door unlocking. When he stepped out with a towel wrapped around his waist, your heart glanced down in embarrassment. Your brown skin heated, and your heart felt like it was flinging around your chest like a balloon that had just deflated. You never thought a plate of food was so interesting until now.

“Uh, I’m sorry for interrupting your plans. I just thought that I should bring you food from the festival. Mr. and Mrs. Aoki are celebrating their anniversary.” Your words were moving so fast that he even was trying to comprehend what you were saying.

You took a deep breath before speaking again, “You never leave your apartment, so I thought it would be nice to get you some food. I wasn’t sure what you like, so I bought a bit of everything.” Your hands extended the plate outward, and he grabbed the plate out of your hand with the hand that wasn’t grasping on the blue-colored towel that was wrapped around his waist.

Now that the plate was no longer in your hands, your curious eyes couldn’t help but take a peek at his body. His body was like it was sculpted by the best sculptor in Japan. The many Greek statues of God’s body used him as a reference if possible.

“Thanks,” Choso says, and his lips curve into a sly smile before he returns back into the comfort of his own home.

With a smile on your face, you turned around to return to the celebration and Choso on your mind. The festival continued, and you even shared a rolled blunt with Hinata to end the night as you gossiped about random things. He asked about Choso and could tell by how your glossed lips curved into a smile that it went well. He didn’t question more of it since the intoxicating high of marijuana finally hit him. However, he did point out that he believed Choso and you would get along quite well.

Hinata’s prediction wasn’t far off, considering two weeks afterward, Choso tagged along with you to go grocery shopping. You remembered dragging your shopping cart down the stairs loudly as he followed you.

“What’s up with the cart?” He asked as he walked by your side; he noticed that you didn’t take the usual turn towards the community exit but instead went towards one of the elder's apartments.

“Oh, I usually go grocery shopping for some elders. It helps so I won’t have to carry all the bags from the grocery store.” You gave him a smile. “You have to work smarter, not harder, so you won’t have back problems in your early thirties.” You joked.

Choso’s lips formed a perfect shape ‘o’ as he realized how smart the idea was. The closest grocery store is about a fifteen-minute walk from here; it would make sense to have something that would be easier for you to carry your bags. His dark eyes followed you as you went door to door, asking some of the older people if they needed anything from the grocery store. You did with such a bright smile that Choso found his cheeks growing hot as he watched you respectfully bow before wishing farewells to your neighbors.

Kindness, you had so much of it and weren’t afraid to give it out. Perhaps that’s why Choso admired you so much. You were like a ray of sunshine; he questioned where you were during the Shibuya, Culling Game, and other events that shook the sorcerer world. How could someone like you be so kind and bubbly when such events happen? He wondered if you had family members that died during the Shibuya incident.

“I have three people's grocery lists and money. You know you don’t have to tag along if you don’t want to.” You said as you dragged the cart behind you.

“I have nothing else to do, and I have grown to enjoy your company compared to your friend,” Choso admits as he walks by your side. “He’s a hyper one.”

“Oh, Hinata? Yeah, you have to catch him when he’s off work. Other times he’s either high on weed or caffeine.” You chuckled. “I appreciate the company, then. It isn’t a lot of people around our age that live here.”

“I noticed,” Choso responds. He shoved his hands in his leather jacket pockets. “I like it like that compared to the city.”

“You used to live in the city?” You asked as you stopped at the crosswalk.

“Well, I work in Roppongi as security at some clubs. That helps pay the bills and such. I did live there originally, but it was too busy there. As if Roppongi never sleeps or something. So, I moved.” Choso explained while you two crossed the street.

You noticed that your arms kept bumping into each other with each step you took next to each other. It was like two magnets that kept gravitating toward each other despite being far apart.

“You as a security guard? You don’t give me security guard vibes,” You chuckled.

“Really? My boss says otherwise,” He runs his fingers through his hair. “He said I look intimidating.”

“Maybe it’s the mark across your face.” You motioned to your own face. “What is that anyway? A tattoo? Birthmark?”

You watched as Choso rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. His cheeks staining the color of red before speaking, “Birthmark.” He says before his eyes averted downward in embarrassment.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” You nudge his side. “It’s cute.” She adds before skipping ahead to enter the grocery store.

Choso followed behind you with heated cheeks as you held the first list. You were putting stuff in the cart you brought along. “Have you always lived there? Seem like everyone knows you.”

“Only for about four months now. I traveled a couple of places before settling here.” You answered. “I must say that Hinata did make it much easier. I was like you at first. All bottled up in my apartment, and then Hinata became my friend. The rest is history; Hinata even decided to set me up with one of his friends.”

“And how is that going?” Choso asked.

“He canceled the first two dates, and we’re supposed to hang out another day,” Your shoulders shrug as you look at Choso, who couldn’t quite comprehend how nonchalant you were taking the situation.

“What about you? Anyone special in your life? Met someone nice during your security gigs?” You asked while grabbing another thing off the shelf.

Choso took the other list out your hand and started to search if any item on the list was in the aisle you two currently were in. You couldn’t tell if he started helping to avoid your question or if he was genuinely being kind. He reached behind where you were standing to grab something behind you.

“I don’t really do relationships. Yeah, I have had flings here and there.” Choso explained. “So, there’s no one from my security gigs.” He chuckles.

Your eyebrows raised in curiosity at his question, but you didn’t want to pry anymore into his business. You took the list from his hand and motioned for him to pull the cart. With a sly grin, Choso followed behind you. The dark-haired male was growing comfortable with you, and he couldn’t explain to himself the warm feeling he felt when he was around you.

A DRUNKEN HICCUP ESCAPED your lips as you let your head fall into the palm of your hand. Your mind felt like it was spinning, and your body felt like it was a bowl of Jell-O. You brought the glass to your taking another sip of the intoxicating alcohol that you knew you had too much of. Finishing the last bit in the glass before letting your face collide with the table you sat at. You knew it was irresponsible to drink alone, especially considering you had to travel about five blocks to your house. But you didn’t think you would get stood up by Hinata’s friend. They were supposed to be here to walk you home and ensure that you got home safely. But they didn’t bother again.

You sat up, running your manicured fingers through your coils, before you saw a familiar figure walking by the bar that you were in. It seemed like he felt your drunken glare since his eyes met with yours when he turned around. Choso. You hadn’t seen him since he told you about his brother when you guys walked together to the grocery store. You watched as he raced to the door to approach you, and you couldn’t hide the foolish grin on your face.

“Choso! Come, sit down and have a drink with me!” You shrieked, holding up the empty bottle of sake.

“You’ve reached your limit, Y/N. It’s time to go home.” He says.

“But he hasn’t shown up yet. Hinata’s friend didn’t come.”

“Just stay here while I pay your bill, okay? Don’t move!” His finger points at you, and you can only smile and give him a thumbs up.

You plopped back into your seat, watching as he paid for the drinks you had within the night. He returned and helped you up, but you stumbled back, causing him to grab a hold of your wrist to catch you. He noticed the short skirt you wore tonight and wanted to question if you were cold, but right now, he had to get you home. A long sigh tumbled from the dark-haired male before he unzipped his hoodie. He tied the hoodie around your waist and turned around. “Hop on.” He says, motioning to his back.

“Choso, you’re going to carry me all the way home. You’re such a gentleman.” You happily sigh as you climb onto his back.

He carried you in silence until you were so curious about why he was out so late. “Why were you out so late? It can be dangerous out here when the sun goes down, you know?” Each word that left your mouth was interrupted by a hiccup.

“Says the drunk one; someone could have taken advantage of you if I didn’t see you.” Choso lectured. “You’re so irresponsible, you know?”

Your lips formed a pout as you wiggled your legs with each step Choso took. “I just thought he would show up. I’m sorry for my ir-responsible-ness.”

Choso chuckles at your words, considering that you completely butchered the last part of your sentence. “It’s okay. But to answer your question, I just went to the cemetery to visit my brother. It’s much more peaceful for me when I go at night.”

“Well, did you enjoy your visit?” You asked.

“I did. I’m sure he’s tired of me bothering him, though.” He responded.

“Well, I wish I would have been able to meet him. If he’s as cool as his older brother, I’m sure I would have liked him and his company.”

“He would have liked you also. Especially considering you being so nice to me. Seeing the good in every fuckin’ body. Including that guy that stood you up.”

You grew silent. Choso’s words suddenly sober you up. You blink several times before speaking, “He promised he would come.”

You found yourself repeating that phrase again and again.

“I heard you the first time you said it,” Choso answered as he began to walk up the steps connected to the complex's top level. “Just wish you would see that the guy clearly isn’t interested in you.”

“And how would you know that? You told me weeks ago that you don’t do relationships or haven’t even been on a date. Just hookups,” You backfired.

“I don’t need to be a relationship expert to see that you deserve better than to get stood up in some busted bar that hardly anyone knows about as if the guy is ashamed and is afraid to be with a foreigner. Now, can I have your keys to open your door?”

Silence overcame the two of you again. Why were you two so comfortable enjoying each other’s silence? Why was his silence so comforting? Why did it calm you down? Why did his words hit you so hard like that?

“I think I left my purse at the bar.”

“Seriously?”

“I’ll just go wake the landlord up; I’m sure he has a spare key. Then I’ll just go get my purse tomorrow. I'm friends with the owner, so I’m sure she’ll put it up for me.”

Choso didn’t say anything. Instead, he walked next door to his apartment, unlocking the door. “No need to be a nuisance to the landlord so late at night. You can crash here until the morning, and I’ll get your purse.”

“You’re so kind. One day I will pay you back plus some.”

Choso opened his apartment, and you were in awe at how he decorated his small space. Maybe, your mind was mentally hyping it up due to the alcohol in your system. But you felt at peace in here; it could have been because it smelt like Choso. A scent that you grew familiarized with the more you spent time with him. You noticed how clean his place was. He had a couple of plants in the corner that were clearly taken care of. He had a record player in the other corner with a stack of vinyl records. Your eyes couldn’t help but remember the small details in his apartment. So caught up in your surroundings you don’t even notice Choso kneeling down to remove your heels after your feet finally hit the ground.

“I could have done that myself.” You said.

“Mhm, sure.” He sarcastically responds before searching his closet for something you can change in. He gave you a shirt and some shorts. “The bathroom is all yours.”

You stumbled into the bathroom to change into the clothes. The shorts and shirts are clearly too big for you. Your arms wrapped around your waist as you glanced at yourself in the small mirror above the sink. You looked a mess, and you couldn’t believe that Choso saw you in this manner. Felt like he was viewing you at your lowest all because you got stood up by some guy.

Choso seemed to be getting ready to shower when you were done in the bathroom. You swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in your throat before walking further into the room, “I can sleep on the floor. I am the intruder here.”

“Nonsense, I don’t mind sharing the bed. Unless you’re like-“

“No, it’s not that. It’s just you’ve done so much for me tonight. Carried me home, paid my bill at the bar, now this.”

“It’s okay. It’s kinda on my list to be kind to someone similar to how my brother would be.” Choso answered truthfully.

Your eyebrows raised at his comment, but you didn’t argue as you climbed into the bed and got comfortable. You rolled over on your side and tugged the blankets further on your frame to attempt to sleep. Choso went on to take a shower, and minutes later, he joined you in the bed. The bed sank downward when he joined you, and you hated to admit that you wanted to move closer foolishly. You bet he was a wonderful cuddler; he had the arms for it. Before you could utter goodnight to Choso, the alcohol you consumed caused your body to finally relax on the fluffiness of the bed. Your eyes fluttered, attempting to fight your sleep until you finally fell into a deep slumber.

When morning came upon you, you woke up and could feel an arm around your waist and warmth upon the back of your neck. If you concentrated hard enough, you could even feel Choso’s face upon the top of your coils. It took you by a shock that you didn’t fall asleep twisting your hair and throwing on a scarf, but then you remembered the events of last night. You remembered the piggyback ride. You remembered the talk about you being too kind and always seeing the good in everyone. You remembered forgetting your purse. You figure you were such a nuisance, so you had to make your grand mistake.

You attempted to wiggle out of his grasp, but the grip got a bit tighter. A subtle groan escaped from Choso before you wiggled your way to turn around to face him. Your lips gasp apart to stare at the sight in front of you. His black hair sprawled across his face creating the most reckless bed hair. You took in the way he let out a soft snore here and there. How long his eyelashes were. The birthmark that decorated his pale skin started from one cheek to across the bridge of his nose and to the other cheek. Your cheeks heated, seeing his eyes flutter open and catch you staring.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.” You stuttered your words out in embarrassment before turning around to break eye contact. You’ve given up wiggling away at how close the two of you were, but he didn’t loosen up the grip either. Actually, he pulled you closer. As if he didn’t want to let you go.

“Choso?” You asked as you could feel the tip of his nose on the back of your neck.

Your skin was littered with goosebumps, and your body's hair stood up.

“Hm.” He groggily answered.

“I may have been drunk, but I do recall you mentioning a list. You said one of the things on the list was to be kind to a person the same way you would think your brother would. Is that what you’re doing with me?”

“Yes.”

Now you were back, turning around to meet his sleepy alluring gaze. “And you think your brother would do this? As in, cuddle his neighbor?”

“He’ll carry you on his back if you were too intoxicated, but I don’t know if he’ll do this. I can stop if you want,” His arm detaches itself from your body, and your body suddenly feels cold without it.

You grabbed it and put it back on your waist. “No, I’m okay with it. It’s just I’m curious to know why me. Why be kind to me?”

“Because you’re kind to me. Always been kind to me.” He answers truthfully. His fingers brushed one of your coils out of the way, and those goosebumps returned again.

“I know, but no amount of kindness equals cuddling and shit.” You said. “I’m not complaining because this is very comforting, but I don’t want you to feel obligated to be kind to me-“

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“What? Choso, that’s such a-“

“I know, and I’m not expecting a response to that just yet. I know it’s quite hard to process especially considering that you’re most likely hungover at the moment. But I am willing to wait whenever you’re ready.” His eyes shifted closed as if attempting to fall back asleep.

“And what if I have a response to that right now?” You asked.

“Then, spit it out already.”

When those words left his mouth, you rolled a bit closer to place a kiss on Choso’s lips. It started off innocent at first. Quick, subtle pecks before the kiss deepened. Before he pulled you closer, by the way, to taste more of you eagerly. Just as his strong arms brought you closer, you could feel his cock poking at your plush brown thighs—rubbing against you for some form of friction that caused Choso to let out a breathy sigh in between breaks of the kiss. Your hand climbed in between the two of you to rub at his hardened cock through the gray fabric of his shorts.

“Shit,” Choso’s head fell back on the pillow after biting at your full plump bottom lip.

The heated makeout session lasted until the two of you were breathless, and your mouth was wrapped around his cock until he began to feel your pussy around him. You tore each other's clothes off until they decorated the wooden floors. The taste of Choso stained your tongue, and you felt like you were intoxicated. Not due to the alcohol you consumed the previous night but to Choso’s actions. He kissed your neck and collarbone with his body on top of yours. The kisses on your golden skin made you whimper out for more, and for you to grow wet. His teeth bite down, and the gasp that you let out causes all the blood to rush to his cock. Choso’s fingertips tip toed in between your bodies to cling onto the fabric that was in between his callous fingers from indulging in toying with your clit.

His plush lips kissed your lips, and in between the heated kiss that was causing Choso, he could only say. “Tell me what you want, Y/N.”

When you made eye contact with Choso, you felt so soft inside. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you stared up at Choso. You lean up to kiss his lips, but he pulls back. “Tell me what you want,” He’s dipping down to kiss upon the bite mark he left on your flesh. “Use your words.”

“I want you.”

Those were the words Choso wanted to hear. In just a quick and eager motion, he’s pulling your panties down. Like a hormonal teenager, he’s letting his hardened, clothed cock rub against your wet folds teasingly. Your juices staining the cotton fabric of his grey-colored Calvin Klein briefs. You wouldn’t believe labeling him as a tease, but he drove you insane. How can he make you confess that you wanted him and edge you on until you can feel your own essence staining the inside of your thighs?

He kisses you lightly, but it feels heavy and rough because it takes your breath away. His right hand tugged down his boxers fully, and you couldn’t help but feel your heartbeat increase at the weight of his cock on your abdomen. He hawks some spit in his hand to coat his cock in it, wanting to make this experience pleasurable and comfortable for you. With his fingers intertwined with yours, he’s sliding inside you. Choso felt how tightly you gripped at his hards, with your eyes squinted shut, getting used to his large size.

“I’m sorry.” He’s repeatedly saying as he’s peppering your face with subtle kisses. His cock rested inside you until you finally opened your eyes.

The once intense feeling of his cock stretching you out was replaced with the satisfying feeling of wanting more. Choso didn’t need to hear your voice to begin moving. His hips rotate forward into the cushion of your spread thighs. It was quite a sight to see how your pussy was swallowing his cock with each thrust forward or roll of Choso’s hips. However, the half-curse-half-human couldn’t think straight with how your moans echoed in his ear. They sounded so sweet, so wonderful. One of the most beautiful things he has heard after that band Tame Impala. His callous hands, you were sure had many sins imprinted on them, push your thighs apart just to tug his cock out of you.

“You’re going to make me come, fuck.” He said breathlessly.

Even with his comment, he still pushed himself fully inside of you again. Surrendering in wanting you to feel full once more. The sound of his headboard smacked against the wall, and Choso was so grateful that you were his neighbor because any other person would have been knocking on his door for him to keep it down.

You never really thought that this would happen. That you and he would cross such a line to express how you felt for each other. But you weren’t complaining; you enjoyed the way Choso’s hand grasped at every part of your body. You enjoyed the way his face was red as ever due to a mixture of the feeling of his cock being balls deep inside of you and exhaustion. Or how he let his fingers rub at your clit to send the most dangerous electric shock down your spine.

“I’m about to come.” Your words tumbled out like a broken record.

Before capturing your lips onto his—Choso says, “That’s what I want.”

And with those words cursing your lips, you felt like you were on cloud nine. The enthusiastic feeling felt like you were tugging a rubberband back and letting it snap back into its rightful shape. The lower half of your body felt like it went through a slight shock as Choso fucked you through your orgasm. In your mind, you were screaming for him to just come inside you. But you knew that could have just been the bliss of the moment. As if he read your mind, he’s pulling just as his face scrunched up in pleasure. His cock twitches in anticipation as thick ropes of cum begin oozing out, decorating your tummy. The only thing you could do was admire the sight of Choso coming down from the fleeting feeling of busting a nut.

Just like that, your relationship with Choso blossomed when his body collapsed next to yours, and the only thing that you could hear was your loud thoughts about a mere promise you made two years ago. But you knew that the only thing that mattered right now was the fact that Choso was happy.

The autumn leaves crunched under your shoes as you walked around the cemetery. You grew accustomed to visiting here once every month since you managed to start the progress of that promise you made to him. When you finally found the tombstone you were looking for, you could tell that someone had stopped by possibly a day before you. Bright red tulips were next to his picture to replace the ones you put out a week ago. Placing the flowers down before kneeling to pay your respect, you smiled brightly before speaking. Quite odd to be talking to a tombstone, but you were sure he could hear you somewhere.

You placed the flowers on the grave as you kneeled to show your respect. You smiled brightly before speaking to the tombstone that sat in front of you. It was wonderful to see that the gifts and flowers that were around still looked fresh. You assumed someone else most likely was here before you.

“Hey, Itadori, it’s me. Y/N. I just wanted to update you on the promise I made to you.” You let out a sigh, realizing that you had lied to Choso.

You fed him some story about moving here to Japan after exploring the world, despite you technically already being familiarized with Japan. You’ve witnessed it all before deciding to leave the sorcerer world behind for good. Granted, it sat heavy in your heart, and you felt like a coward not helping in the gruesome war of taking down Kenjaku and Sukuna. But you had to put yourself first, which you wanted many of your friends to do.

“Choso is doing well, just like you said he would. He’s okay, and he’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about him, Itadori. He’s adjusted to the human world quite well. He no longer feels like a curse but a human. ”

━━ ♡ TAGS // @maydayaisha @eiflawriting @violxtbxbyy @shirohyorin @kama-star @maxi8898 @calandra24 @tashniko @certifiedlovergir1 @alekstraszas @soumies @thismf7 @shyartnerd564 @longloes @succubusonthedoorstep @stunnababyyabyyy @comatosebunny09 @si00p

#choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #choso kamo smut #anime x reader #anime smut #female reader #black reader #jjk x black reader #anime x black reader #x black reader #black fem reader

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fandomaya · 1 year ago

Text

Shadows in Reflection

Pairing: Ryoumen Sukuna x Reader

CW: No curses!AU, Sukuna is related to Yuuji, Reader has dark brown/blackish eyes, food is mentioned, reader is a university student, implied age gap, overall fluffy and a tad bit philosophical. NOT PROOFREAD!

WC: 1.4k+

Summary: In the heart of art and introspection, you find yourself entangled in an unexpected connection with Sukuna, the enigmatic cousin of your neighbor, Yuuji. Sukuna's fascination with your perception, particularly your "pitch-dark" eyes, unravels a profound connection that transcends the canvas of a melancholic painting. The day unfolds like a vivid masterpiece, leaving you questioning the boundaries of freedom, the comfort of darkness, and the unspoken secrets hidden within the gaze of those mysterious, crimson eyes.

a/n: There's no specific painting mentioned here, just some vague descriptions and philosophical interpretations spun out of thin air. But if you really want to visualize, then this piece of art comes close: https://www.artic.edu/artworks/154235/the-girl-by-the-window. Please enjoy the work below!

“What do you see?”, Sukuna murmurs next to your ear, his head gently on your shoulder. You wonder how he feels so comfortable being close to you, and surprisingly, why don’t you feel uncomfortable with the goosebumps lining your skin underneath your clothes? But you decide to focus on the painting in front of you, although your thoughts partially lean towards how Sukuna agreed to meet you in this art museum, of all places. Maybe it isn’t that astonishing since in all the little conversations that you have had with him, he is quite well-versed in literature and art.

You are the next-door neighbor to Yuuji, a sweet boy who is studying in a nearby high school. You are acquainted with him just because you are a university student, and you tutor him for some extra academic lessons on the weekends since he is not that bright in studies, unlike sports where he is impressively well. Plus, you need the extra money for your expenses as well.

Sukuna happens to be a distant cousin of Yuuji, though he is only a few years younger than his dad. It's hard to believe, but the same shade of light pinkish hair shared by Mr. Itadori, Yuuji, and Sukuna serves as proof. But Sukuna is distant in his demeanor too, and you sometimes wonder about his outcast behavior, though he seems to be an all-rounder who is good in almost everything, including finances, philosophy, sports, and even cooking. It was a couple of chance meetings and one fine day of exchanging numbers, and today all of a sudden Sukuna wanted to meet you out of nowhere. And here you are, gazing at one of the last paintings in front of you and bearing the weight of his head on your shoulder.

“I asked you a question, little thing,” he says, mildly annoyed, which brings your complete focus back into the present.” What do I see? As in face value or interpretation?” you reply absentmindedly, immersing yourself in the hues of the canvas in front of you. “Do not complicate the question. Just answer what you feel like”, he says in a moderate tone. You move away from him a bit and keep on glancing at the painting that has got you enraptured.

You then turn towards him and say, “I see a woman who tastes freedom for the first time and consequently getting her expectations shattered”

He chuckles and gently turns you back and points to the written board beneath the art, "But here the artist has titled it as melancholic night because her husband has left her for her mistress. Seems like a painting inspired from real life, huh?”

"Yes, it is melancholic indeed. Who said freedom is always happiness? Yes the heart, the soul or whatever does feel lighter but when you find comfort in carrying burden, the void, the loss of it makes you difficult to stand your ground firmly"

"And why do you say freedom? Her husband just left her. She seems dejected to me."

Now it was your turn to chuckle and Sukuna was mildly amused as if you had all the answers to unanswered questions of the universe. You gathered yourself and replied, “maybe to you, but not to me. For me her features are gradually relaxing by the windowsill under the glow of pale moonlight and light winds caressing her face, that same face that craved to be caressed by a man who didn't regard her ever but…” you paused for a moment before turning back to face him again and meet his eyes “Anyway the realization is dawning on her that um there is no point in you know being devoted to a concept that doesn't serve your soul. Also notice how she is stepping into the light and freeing herself from darkness"

Sukuna swiftly shifted his gaze back to the art. “You mentioned shattering expectations. How does that happen?”

Sighing softly and tilting your head slightly in deep thought, you mused, “Um, I don't have an exact expression for that honestly. I feel it's more like once you are in darkness for so long it starts to feel comfortable and freedom feels like unworthy. Maybe the freedom she did get, it doesn't make her happy because she feels a void and tries to soak in the light, but I cannot figure out if it's helping her or not”

The man in front of you just looked at you wordlessly, wondering about the seemingly simple wisdom that perhaps could be the key to taking him out of the misery of his own life. But he pushes aside those thoughts to wonder about them in the loneliness of the night where you invade his heart with your uncomplicated demeanor, the warmth that comforts and not a signal for some impending burn or destruction. Pushing his left hand into his jacket pocket, he extends his other hand to interlace his fingers with yours, “Let’s go kid, we got to eat something”, and so he drags you aimlessly, but you don’t have it in you to say something else. After all, the natural warmth of his palms is something that you don’t want to miss.

The café is quaint and nostalgic, which reminds you of all the times you used to sit alone to do some assignments or read a book in solitude. But now you aren’t alone and a seemingly handsome man is in front of you along with a few pieces of pastry and a milkshake for you while he is stirring his cup of espresso.

You know only bits and pieces about him from what Yuuji has told you. You don’t want to pry into his life through others, as that would come off as creepy. But your curiosity wanted to know more about him in any way whether it is knowing about his intricate tattoos or the way he is so distant towards his relatives who seem you never know what must have happened to him to behave this way. Again, your stream of thoughts is broken with Sukuna’s intervention.

“Your eyes are indeed mirrors. Nothing can escape, whatever is perceived”

“Huh? What do you mean by that?” you were dumbfounded at this sudden remark

He takes a sip of coffee and looks out of the window. “Earlier, you mentioned feeling bad about having dark eyes, but I see that as your hidden power—an abyss that can drag someone down.”

You take a loud sip of your milkshake, which makes him turn his head towards you only for a moment before looking towards the glass window and staring at his faint reflection.

“Your eyes are pitch dark and reflects what isn't reflected by anything else in the human realm. What enters your eyes through your vision doesn't escape your thread by thread articulation of the visual fabric”

“Hmm, that’s poetic or should I say philosophical. I wish I had such wonderful eyes that you describe of, but unfortunately, they aren’t” You smile softly while stirring your milkshake.

He holds your palm and tugs you towards him, making eye contact that is so vulnerable that you get lost in the crimson of his vision, and he just whispers, “Well you do. A part of me is scared to look you in your eyes because I will find a version of myself that I buried deep. But another part of me wants to confront what lies within me through the reflection of your dark orbs that glimmer when rays of light hit your eyes, and you rarely ever squint”

This felt like some divine confession, as if it is a secret of the universe that he wants to make you a part of, as if you can never hide anything from him because he knows things about you that you do not even know of. He lets go of your hand and gets back to finishing his modest cup of coffee.

After a few moments of silence, you finish up everything on your plate though you feel Sukuna has hardly eaten anything, but he just shrugs and expresses that he is not fond of such “treats”. You end up rolling your eyes and trying to ignore his remarks, convincing yourself that at least you are indulging yourself at his expense. Ultimately, you feel contented that you spent an interesting day at the art museum and had pastries in the nearby café and now Sukuna will surely drop you back home, so you are looking forward to enjoying the car ride as well. You hope to know more about him if destiny permits, perhaps what is his music taste in case he plays something in his car.

a/n: Do you know the original WIP was more than a year old and the intended character was completely different at the time! It was actually Akaashi from Haikyuu but um anyway I changed it to Sukuna for no specific reason other than wanting his classical ass' attention. Also, what ideas do you have about his music taste? In my opinion, he probably listens to orchestral music in his car but heavy metal while working out.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna #sukuna fluff #sukuna fanfic

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