havoc_haven

i post on ao3 and on here. i wanted to talk to my commenters because i <3 them

[haven-in-havoc]

But basically jean is mikasa's ex and your mikasa's friend. She's like yeah date him whatever.

She cares about him of course, he's her friend, but they weren't meant to be. He'll be fine right? Eren sure won't be, he takes priority. Jean's strong in ways Eren isn't, sensitive in ways he isn't too

Jean like pavlov dogs is so in tune w mikasa still, acting up to the chime of her bell and following command like her puppy. Like to the extent he still thinks of when she's on her period and thinks of what dark chocolate she'd prefer. He still buys her coffee order (trick - she likes tea not coffee) and made the mistake of getting her order for you on a date and brushed it off by saying "didn't sleep a wink" when he's been sleeping twelve hours like an infant. Really like a depressed teen

The breakup was 'mutual' but it wasn't really. Jean still loves Mikasa and mourns her near constantly. He misses her dark hair and braiding it that Eren convinced her to cut short after the breakup. He misses her smile in the mornings when she woke up to the scent of him cooking. He misses how she'd embroider on his bed while he sketched her at his easel

There's a graveyard of unfinished projects in his room now. They're locked under his bed, in a box in a closet, in a space too big he's trying to rent out to you

Jean isn't doing his best

Especially cause she went back to dating asshole Eren addicted to coke and Jean is not happy it feels like she left him to date someone who's hurt Mikasa time and time again in favor of his vices

Not just her, their whole friend group in some sort of way. Especially Mikasa and Armin, but Eren is known to start fights when he's intoxicated because apathy is replaced with aggression. Then an apology in the morning and the expectation everything is back to normal

Jean thinks he's being tested nearly biblically, something he hasn't felt since his first confessional in his mom's catholic church and how pointless he found it all to be

Jean starts and stops projects, unable to feel inspired unless there's a half smoked bowl

That half smoked bowl turns into a full one, then suddenly three

Connie thinks he's loosened up, Reiner sees too much of himself in Jean now. Enough he's worried. Ymir misses Jean's sharp tongue, the only one in the friend group worthy of a linguistic battle, but she'd never admit that

Armin is too focused on his studies to handle both Jean and Eren, so he picks Eren. He thinks Jean can recover, that he needs time to be fine and that's where he and Eren differ. Eren needs someone watching to get better

No one ever thinks Jean needs help. No one thinks he needs a hand to hold. He's spent too long holding other people's hands for anyone to ever see they've been empty, weak, too damaged to hold a thing

No one ever extends him the same concern they give to Eren time and time again, even as he has little intent to curb a horrible habit

A lesser man would leave the friend group and be done with it. Give up and get gone

Jean thinks about it

But he has insightful Marco and intuitive Sasha and hilarious Connie

Ans now he's starting to see he has you

The kind girl asking for his help to make a game about growing up a girl, something Jean has no idea about, but he knows how to create art

The kind girl who works in the art center organizing supplies, who rallies for more funding despite not having any real stakes in it and even got the annual art fair up again

The kind girl who volunteers at an animal shelter and tutors kids in writing for free

Jean wonders how anyone could have so much time to be kind

What Jean doesn't know is that kind girl, intelligent and thoughtful, has thought she'll kill herself any day now

And it's Jean keeping her from doing it

He's the only one who's ever looked at her like she's something

[dolcemisu]

“for every first i was having with him, he had already had his with her.”

it was stupid really, feeling insecure over something both of you had no control over. it wasn't like he could build a time machine and go back in time to stop himself from getting in his previous relationships. but oh, did you wish he could.

you couldn't keep track of the amount of times it has crossed your mind. were you good enough? by all means, your lack of experience didn't go unnoticed. he talked you through most of it, showering you with love and giving you the utmost patience. it didn't seem to bother him at all, so why did it loom over you? you could be sharing a good moment between you two, and your mind will immediately give into the the voice in the very back of your head, whispering insecurities until they manifested themselves into reality.

late at night, you'd scroll through his exes' social media pages. at first, it was out of pure curiosity. what did they look like? what did were they like? and so on. sukuna answered all your questions honestly, but he didn't think the way a girl did. some answers you needed to find on your own. one of them was the chapter president of her sorority. she was absolutely breathtaking, very popular and sociable... and sukuna's longest relationship. you found yourself staring at her profile the longest, comparing yourself to her in every which way. it made you sick to your stomach, but you couldn't stop. you had to see it from his shoes, what made her so great, even though you couldn't give yourself the same grace. you still didn't know why he wouldn't pick someone pretty, outgoing, and experienced over someone who got excited when your hands brushed. it just didn't make sense.

you still hid your face when he brought you over the edge, still held your tongue instead of letting him hear how good he was making you feel. you'd bet none of them did that. you bet he never had to take time to pause and make sure you were okay since it was all still very new for you. all of these things hung heavy on your heart and led to slowly distancing yourself from him. you weren't trying to punish him—it was the exact opposite actually. you didn't feel worthy of his touch, his praise, his anything. the more you spiraled, the more you pulled away. and one thing about sukuna, is that he'll always say it to you straight.

you heard a knock at your door and you slowly rose from your bed. you already knew who it was. only one person would be bothering you at this hour. you took a deep breath before unlocking the door. your boyfriend stood there in a disheveled state. his hair was slightly mused and his eyebrows were furrowed in concern, eyes wide as he took you in.

"we need to talk," he said instantly, brushing past you as he walked in uninvited. you blinked at him and closed the door. he made his way into your room and sat on your bed like he's done hundreds of times, but this time was different. you could feel it.

you sat down beside him and stared at your feet. moonlight poured in from your window, shining down on the two of you like a spotlight. taking center stage was you, anxious out of your mind for what was to come, and sukuna, who was silent despite coming all this way just to talk.

by the time he cleared his throat, you had convinced yourself it was over. everything felt wrong: the awkward silence between you too and how far away he was from you. sukuna always wanted to touch you somehow, by hugging you, holding your hand, and so on. despite your nervousness surrounding it all, you didn't dare look up. you weren't sure if you could stomach the look that was probably crossing his face. a stricken expression, you were sure, that said everything that was on his mind without him even uttering a word.

"whatever is going on, please just say it," he sighed and shifted on the bed. "i can't keep continuing like this." the soft creaking snapped you out of it and you snuck a glance at him. he was staring right back at you and your heart broke right there and then. sukuna, your ever so arrogant boyfriend, looked so meek sitting there on your bed. he loved being in control, and he was anything but right now. the uncertainty that surrounded your relationship had seemingly crushed his ego and confidence. "i've been up all night, trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong, but i can't. help me understand," he swallowed hard, "like you always do."

your stomach lurched at his words. you felt sick. help me understand, like you always do. did he really have to make this harder than it needed to be? remind you of tutoring sessions that brought your together, and ultimately, here. your eyes flew to the door like you were planning to get up and run if need be. of course you were being ridiculous, but it felt like your dinner was what was to leave your mouth instead of an answer. you pressed your lips in a firm line and sighed.

"i've just been thinking a lot about things...how you and i differ and it's affected the way i view us." that was the best way you could put it. you didn't know how to put your newfound insecurity into words. it crept up on you before you saw it for what it really was.

from the corner of your eye, you saw him shake his head and scoff. "yeah, we're pretty different, that was obvious when we first met. but we've always made it work, haven't we? what in the world could have possibly changed since then?" he asked, his tone strained. he was once again, using every ounce of patience left in his body, on you. why? he never gave anyone the same grace. if you were anyone else, he'd sure to have dismissed them out by now. written them off without a second thought. the special treatment made you feel sick. you weren't some charity case.. you hated the fact that it was what made you stood out from everyone else in his life. you finally pinpointed it: over time, it felt like the entire relationship was built on pity for you.

"maybe we've been wasting our time here," you heard yourself say, "maybe it's all just a lost cause." you don't remember rehearsing that line over and over in your head like you typically did. it seems like you were on autopilot with the goal of ending the conversation as soon as possible. even if you were too scared to be anything but subtle.

the silence after your insinuation was gruesome. you fought the urge to sneak another look at him because you knew you would fold. dealing with those thoughts everyday was absolute torture. you felt stupid in your own skin. it wasn't enough to stay with him in the dark. it wasn't worth sacrificing your sanity over.

"alright, if that's how you feel then." he finally said. you heard shuffling as he got up to go to the door. he paused, and you felt his eyes on you. of course he just had to shoot you one last glance before leaving entirely. when you heard the front door slam shut, the ache in your chest was almost instant. the reality of what you'd just done crashed down on you. were you really walking away over that? like he said, the two of you always made it work. well, not as of late but—

and him. he didn't even fight for you. if the roles were reversed, you'd have insisted to actually discuss things and have a productive conversation about each other's feelings. four, maybe five sentences were exchanged between you two, all of it anything but productive. what did you just do?

those five words rang in your head as you fumbled for your phone. he couldn't have gotten too far. maybe if you just called him, he'd hear you out. you found your phone around where he was sitting and froze. you didn't see him go on it...but then again, you barely looked at him for longer than two seconds.

you opened it and immediately found his contact. or, his number. the contact was deleted and his number was blocked. the asshole did the rest of hard work for you. you were speechless. had he been secretly want things to end too? did he see the opportunity and ran with it, letting you do all the hard work? whatever it was, you were stunned. you didn't unblock his number. you didn't call him and beg for him to turn around. instead, you spent that night drowning in your own tears, reminiscing all the good times before it all went wrong.

series m.list

© DOLCEMISU

sorry for disappearing my loves. been a hot minute since i've written angst so please excuse me if it's not the best. did you catch the tif day and tatbilb references? 🥹 maybe even a slight njz one... PLEASE READ: i saw another writer point out how some people will join taglists, comment, like, n whatever on the posts, but not even follow you, so i cleared out some people on the taglist.

[haven-in-havoc]

i don't think i'll ever write anything as good as an artists calling lowkey

[haven-in-havoc]

jean x reader "best junkie you adore"

may expand upon this, may make it a short story, may leave it as is. who knows

tw: drugs, doing gross things for drugs, breakdowns. just angst and i guess comfort but it's a rough situation to comfort

jean x f reader ; will make a graphic later for this

He’s never known a version of me without powder on the rim of my nose or my hand around a beer. I used to be classy, a woman who drank daiquiris and didn’t snort off toilet seats for a free line. My humiliation cost more than hundreds of dollars a gram and yet I did it. I did it twice, three times—more than that. I watched him run his hands through ginger hair while cackling, a man with dilated pupils getting not nearly as much of a kick out of it. 

Floch and Eren, the terrorists on campus. Or in my case, my first line of enablers.

He’s never known the girl who used to watch the classroom for my teachers, the girl who had only A’s until depression grew too strong to fight, the girl who smiled so bright a boy said I swallowed the sun. There’s only the slightly yellow teeth from smoking pot and nicotine, the crooked grin I have when drunk, the bitter taste of depressants dripping from my nose down the back of my throat. 

He’s left with the worst parts of me. The parts I mistook for the best of me. The competence my body has when high, the kindness on my tongue on ketamine, the ditzy vacancy behind my eyes when I’m floating from a headrush to nic-sickness. He’s left with the vomiting in the bathroom, the hollowed cheeks, the burn of another night I made a dumb mistake. Another night of babysitting his girlfriend, another night of me not getting better. 

“I’ll never change.” My voice is sparse, between dry heaves, and there’s an emptiness in more than just my belly. 

He’s brushing my hair off my shoulders with a hand, his touch gentle. I’m so embarrassed, so ashamed. Not even an hour ago I was doing lines off the brim of this toilet seat for a few free lines. I’m still orbiting but everything else I’m on has crashed. I’m circling the drain, stuck in a hole. My vision is fuzzy and I think I’ll die here. 

“You won’t always be like this.” It’s meant to be a comfort but it isn’t. 

“I will be.” I’m crying, the tears a rarity with how dehydrated I always am. My stomach twists into these painful knots. 

“You have to want to get better to change.” I don’t like when he’s right, when his words align with truth. They do more often than not. I love that about Jean, how much of a realist he is, but it’s the pessimism of reality that drags me down. I hate knowing I’m wrong. That I’m the problem. 

“I’m here for you. I just…” Jean’s hands are warm against my skin, clammy and paler than it ought to be, and his voice sounds tired. He looks tired. Eyebags and his stubble has grown to a shallow beard and his hair is rugged. I think I woke him up when I called him here. I feel awful to bother him. I bother him more often than I don’t. “I need you to want to change. I can’t help you if you don’t want to be helped.” 

His lips press against my forehead, like a promise, and I don’t know how he could stand to kiss me. I smell like vomit and maurijauna and alcohol and everything he’s given up to be a good example for me. He doesn’t even smoke before he paints anymore, giving up the vibrancy of his oil pastels to free me from temptation. Yet I still find it. In every invite to Eren’s parties, to every offer Floch gives me, in every excuse to talk to Connie in hopes for a free smoke session. I’m the worst of everyone I know. 

“Jean, I’m so sorry.” He’s used to those words. I’m sure they’re tattooed across his skull, memorized like a script he never asked to read, with how often I’ve said it. I say it once a week, usually upwards to five times a week, and I hate myself more than I could ever communicate to him. Even with the cigarette burns on my wrists or the thin lacerations down my thighs. There’s nothing that’s enough to translate this mental anguish to a physical plane. I don’t know why I can’t give up all these awful habits. 

“I know.” It’s all he says now in response. He used to tell me it isn’t my fault, that my upbringing of watching people medicate through unregulated pills was to blame. That I am a victim. I don’t know when Jean stopped seeing me as a victim. I think he’s switched his thinking to viewing me as a perpetrator, as the person ruining his life too. I hate myself. I hate what I am. I can’t seem to stop even with all the hatred slowing my heart. Or is it coming off? 

Jean’s arms are around me. There’s spit shining on my lip and my lipstick is smudged. I can see the color matching the smear on the toilet seat from where I accidentally brushed it in doing my line. I’m so embarrassed, I’m so ashamed. I can’t stop even with all these negative feelings swirled inside of me. I am a mosaic of the worst moments. Of all the moments pointing to Jean leaving me in the end. Who wants to be around this? Who wants someone as flawed as me? 

“I’m here because I love you.” Jean’s a mind reader. He knows when to say what. “I want you to get better because I love you.” My body is slumping against his now, my head falling against his chest. I’m cradled like an infant and I wish I could relive innocence. “This could never make me stop loving you.” His hand lifts to brush my hair from my face again, my dazed eyes staring into his clear eyes. Like molasses, his eye color and the patience he has for only me. I’m so special to him for no valid reason. “I adore you. I want to adore you for as long as I can.” 

I don’t have the heart to tell him it’s closer to a short time than a long time. Between everything I do, every powder and every pill, I don’t know when the bandaid will be ripped off. I can’t tell him that. I can’t tell Jean I can’t stop, that I sold my soul the first time I snorted. 

So instead I cry. I cry and cry in his arms while Jean holds me close, holds me upright, and I already feel closer to a corpse than a real living woman. I sold my childhood for alcohol, my boyfriend for maurijauna, and I’ll die doing lines of ketamine to an audience of laughing assholes. 

I don’t know how—with everything I’ve done and can’t stop doing—he still loves me. 

“Stop thinking.” Jean’s words are like a quiet plea rather than a command. He’s asking me to do another thing I can’t manage. I’m always thinking, my mind on a treadmill set to the highest setting. It’s why I drink, why I snort, why I can’t fucking stop. “I know you’re scared. I know you feel bad. None of it matters, not now.” Jean’s kissing my cheek, not minding the drool of my lifeless complexion. “You’re the only important thing to me here.”

[haven-in-havoc]

drunk at 3 pm this the type shit i put in my reader inserts

[haven-in-havoc]

writing some evil smut w reiner and reader ngl

tw heavy themes

i am your aot x reader (specifically jean x reader) author for modern au angst

maybe will be a fic that's about insecurity, codependency, being a neurodivergent girl, hypersexuality as a coping mechanism but oops asexual, and never being enough for anyone

been going through a battle in the head guys

sorry i keep starting and pausing wips

i just have so many ideas i love but it's hard for me to write certain things at certain times while at other times it's easier than easy has ever been

[haven-in-havoc]

can someone ghost write my smut i am feeling too sex averse for this... was feeling hypersexual earlier but ugh 180

[haven-in-havoc]

anyway solution is in a seltzer

[haven-in-havoc]

expect an update

[haven-in-havoc]

can someone ghost write my smut i am feeling too sex averse for this... was feeling hypersexual earlier but ugh 180

[haven-in-havoc]

anyway solution is in a seltzer

[haven-in-havoc]

can someone ghost write my smut i am feeling too sex averse for this... was feeling hypersexual earlier but ugh 180

[haven-in-havoc]

i may be allergic to a happy reader insert

[haven-in-havoc]

story idea: everyone in the friend group but eren gets to have sex with reader

[haven-in-havoc]

tryna write but sigh the words aren't wording. i have this sex scene i need to write but i can't get through it. im lowkey asexual btw guys

[papersteeth]

Jean S. Kennedy

If anyone here follows my twitter, then you'd know I've been heavily involved in Resident Evil since RE9's release. My friend, twt@/tsutokki, and I mentioned how Jean is very Leon, and, as someone who loves AU's, this happened.

[dojikkodere]

this is how that one scene went in my head

[haven-in-havoc]

Mdni straight filth

Armin and Connie are friends right

I see them as good friends. They smoke together and talk about everything and nothing. Armin asks the heavy questions and Connie responds so hopefully Armin forgets he struggles with his self worth. Every time Connie is reminded that it matters that he's so funny and who he is unapologetically

What if Connie's fwb, aka you, get roped uo between the two of them...

You are at first shocked and ask if Connie is seriously asking for you to fuck Armin so he can feel better about himself

Connie explains that it's just so Armin can practice flirting and no fucking has to happen

Connie watches in the corner the whole time, his phone in hand as he scrolls through reels, as Armin nervously looks at you. He's so endearing even as he's moments from running away from nerves

Will write a whole little thing about it later but basically Connie directing Armin's hips while he fucks you 😛 like he's guiding Armin's motions and telling Armin he's doing a good job while you're losing it under supposedly inexperienced Armin

Armin would totally cum inside you while looking right at Connie

And Armin has known he's at least somewhat attracted to guys

But when he watches his dick slide out so Connie can begin fucking your cunt next, his cock glistening from precum at watching Armin fuck his fwb, Armin wishes he could repay Connie with a blowjob and his ass next

While Armin recovers from the intense high he's unware Connie's already asking if you want to have a real threesome later as early as now

who next

Sasha x reader x Mikasa

Ymir x reader x Historia

Voting ended onJul 30

[haven-in-havoc]

Will write this in depth later but contest between Connie and Jean on who can eat you out better 😍😍😍

[haven-in-havoc]

Connie would get your name tatted on his neck and act like a rapper whenever someone mentions it. Does a y2k type font and it's a bit obnoxious how big it is. Connie does it not out of a big gesture but because it seems right to be stamped yours

Jean would get your name tatted but in a thoughtful way. Like if your name is in a song he loves or you love he'll do the lyrics. If it's a flower name he'll get the flower. If it's related to mythology, smth regarding the myth. He's into symbolism so he'll pick that route rather than just your name. He wants to see you and not just a word. Probably gets it over his heart

Eren got 'babe' tatted because it's his default pet name. He's had that tattoo for years on his sternum but when he meets you you're not just babe. You're 'dove' and he gets one on his forearm and when you become official, maybe even looking at wedding venues, he adds your name and the date he met you by it because you're the one thing about him he doesn't ever want to change or forget

Bert always says he wouldn't get a tattoo but he lets you write your name wherever you want with a sharpie. It happened one night when you were drunk and now his wrist often has your name and a heart by it. One day when you're about to refresh the ink you find it's permanent and Bert got your handwritting on his skin forever

Reiner gets your name as a tramp stamp when he was on shrooms. He hadn't even gotten to know you yet, he was just in love and out of his head and had been drinking too. When he woke up in the morning he didn't regret it. He took it as a vow to finally talk to you and make the act of desperation into a sweet gesture (by saying he got it after you started dating and not as prep for it)

Armin doesn't do tattoos and is a little scared of the needles. Instead he has your name embroidered on his favorite sweater by one of your favorite things, like an animal or quote

Sasha gets a heart in your handwriting on her ankle right by where her anklets sit. You have one in her handwriting too. Whenever she sees you she'll touch your hearts together and promise it means forever. Knowing Sasha, she means it fully. It's the only tattoo she plans on getting because you're the other half of her heart and any other tattoo would be a distraction from that

Mikasa gets your name on her ribcage on the right side. She probably has a couple other tattoos framing it, like branches or smth like that. You're close to her heart so that's where she wants your name and she may add a couple little things that remind her of you as she builds her sleeve and gets a tattoo on her chest

Marco doesn't want a tattoo but he keeps a picture of you in his wallet. He'll pick his favorite polaroid and you have a matching one. Marco is a little sentimental, not nearly as much as Jean, but seeing your picture always makes him smile. Maybe one day Marco would get a tattoo, something small, designed by you or with you in mind