jotaro x f!reader. going to a wedding is hard when you run into your ex who isn't quite your ex. | divider by @cafekitsune, wc 2k
cw alcohol consumption, implied age gap (reader is in her late 20s/30s and jotaro is in his 40s/50s), implied unhealthy relationship.
You feel like a fish out of water.
This would be a hilarious joke for you, marine biologist, to make if anxiety weren’t currently making every inch of your skin crawl. In search of another glass of champagne, you exhale your relief when a tray is walked right past you. A glass is plucked off, carefully, and situated between your fingers so that you can take a moment to assess the situation.
This isn’t even the first wedding you’ve been to within the last six months. Unfortunately, it is the first where you may accidentally run into a man you’ve been hoping to avoid as much as possible.
Jotaro.
Just the thought of his name makes that itchy feeling return.
You pinch the underside of your right wrist with your left fingers, reminding yourself to keep it cool and together. There’s no guarantee he’ll even be here, perpetual flake that he is. This is a wonderful opportunity for you to reconnect with your former research lab interns, now professionals either working in the field or furthering their education.
Like clockwork, one of them approaches you. You remember him as Alexander though he told you many times to call him Alex, a boyish young man with deeply tanned skin and hair that you’re certain he gets professionally permed to give him a beachy and easy going appearance.
“Hey doc!”
Smiling, you nod. Last year was your first postdoc, although you still find yourself uncertain if academia is for you or not. You’re still in your lab this year, sticking close to the place you’ve made your home. At least for now.
“Hey, kid. It’s good to see you.”
Pleasantries are exchanged, the two of you idly chatting about what has happened since the last time you saw each other. His life is far more exciting than yours, doing his time at the Speedwagon Research Station in Newfoundland just as you did yourself nearly a decade ago. Time passes so quickly even if little changes it leaves you breathless but you drown the anxiety with another sip, allowing the talkative young man to take the conversational lead.
“You know, all of us assumed last year that you two were, like, secretly married and just didn’t want anyone to know.”
Your former intern laughs, a jovial lopsided grin on his face. He did a lot of that over a year ago too, mostly at your goofy jokes or whatever playlist you picked for light lab days that would make your program co-head shake his head and silently return to his reports, a hint of a smile across his lips. Things felt good back then. Stable, at the very least. The lab was full of life, you and Dr. Kujo worked in tandem verifying research and giving advice to kids who someday hoped to do the same things the two of you have been able to do.
It sucks you haven’t heard much from Jotaro since then but hey, you understand that life happens. Always cool, always rolling with the punches, conveniently blocking out that your mattress has a permanent indentation in his shape now.
“We used to refer to you colloquially as the doctors Kujo.”
The smile you give him back doesn’t reach your eyes. It’s polite, curving just enough to show your teeth to seem less tense. You’ve perfected this smile over years of schmoozing for grants and an audience to your research alike and only reach for it when completely necessary. There’s only one person who can tell the difference between your fake smiles and your real ones anyway.
You hope his flight got delayed while tossing your head back.
“It has never really been like that between us.” That smile fades as quickly as it appeared. Lifting your champagne glass, you take a quick sip and raise your eyebrows. Smacking your lips together, appreciating the acidic bubbles over your tongue, you raise the glass halfway and nod your head.
“It’s just me, myself, and I most of the time. Tonight especially.”
The trainee turned apparent Lothario leans in toward you, that lopsided grin becoming something a little more flirtatious. You picked up on these vibes when it was definitely inappropriate and politely warded him off back then.
“So you’re single right now, eh doc?”
Now, though, you fight the urge to indulge him just to assuage your loneliness.
The difference in age between the two of you is significantly less than the gap between yourself and Jotaro. Shame simmers in your stomach while you honestly contemplate giving this bright eyed man a chance. Maybe he could make you feel wanted or needed or beautiful even, just for the evening until he heads back to where his current research has taken him in the morning.
Pathetic.
Sipping from your glass again, you shrug, washing away the words that are on your tongue. Flirting back would be a cruel thing to do to him anyway when you’ll never mean it, your heart forever stuck on one man. The energy behind you shifts and you feel a gaze on your back, a familiar voice speaking from over your shoulder.
“Give it a rest, Alex.”
Your trainee beams and looks up, up, up over your shoulder, tempting you to do the same. Turning to the side, you look up and away as quickly as you spot him. The salt and pepper sides of his hair are slicked back and his face is as unaffected as ever, aquamarine eyes flicking from the bare skin of your shoulder to the twenty something year old man across from you.
“Dr. Kujo! I was wondering when we’d bump into each other.”
The younger man holds out his hand to shake and the older one takes it. You allow the distraction to give you time to get a good look at the proverbial ghost that haunts your every dream, in disbelief that he’s real and here.
He looks amazing. That barrel chest is encased in a perfectly fitted button down shirt, his wavy hair is completely off of his face; the lines around his eyes look deeper, maybe he’s been smiling more, and you ignore the sting in the middle of your chest imagining someone else is doing that for him.
Do you even have a right to feel that way?
The conversation around you fades and you’re only acutely aware Alex is departing, holding your hand up to offer a small wiggly fingered wave and wishing him a good time. It’s just the two of you now. Jotaro wastes no time collecting your empty glass, letting it dangle from his fingers while an attendant breezes by with another tray full of them. He carefully grabs one, pinching the stem delicately, and hands it to you.
“Think he may still have that, what did you call it last year? Puppy dog crush?”
Despite yourself, you laugh. Accepting the glass with a polite nod, you don’t bother to think before you speak.
“You’re twice his age, Jotaro. Act like it.” Rolling your eyes, you sip from your champagne. You’ll need about four more glasses to protect your good time tonight, especially if Jotaro is hell bent on going down memory lane but you play along. “Besides, a year isn’t that long depending on who you ask. He didn’t forget about me.” Casting him a sidelong glance, your mouth falls into an unimpressed line. “Unlike some people.”
“Is that what you think?” He asks, face impassive as ever despite the offended lilt in his tone.
How could you possibly think anything different? Eight months ago he kissed you goodbye in the apartment you had one month left leasing, telling you he’d see you later. Between then and now you’ve moved, started another term with fresh interns, and grieved. Sometimes silently, pensive and alone staring at your hands and your journal wondering when it will stop hurting. Sometimes loudly, bitching to your friend on the phone about how impossible and fake it feels to move on when nobody you go on dates with makes you feel the same way he does.
All you do is sigh, looking over his shoulder at the guests you do not know passing quietly, unaware. You could walk away to your assigned seat but you know his assignment is right next to yours, the neatly folded place card warning you for his pending arrival. Naively you assumed he’d leave you alone. Not that you wanted him to but you hoped he had sense enough to stay away.
“Answer my question.”
It’s hard to tell who is really lacking sense here. You giggle, a bit hollow and humorless.
“I never know what to think but regardless I’m happy you made it. Have you seen Maddie and Ben yet?”
The bride and groom, the pair that was brought together in this holy matrimony thanks to their time spent as your interns. You watched them blossom before your eyes and even told Jotaro you imagined that they’d end up together someday, happy, studying rocks and plankton and water temperatures. Having little babies they’ll eventually take to the beach, leaving nothing but footprints and giggles behind.
A life you used to idealistically imagine for yourself but have outgrown. You’ve never really been the type for marriage and family, a reminder popping your dreams like a needle to a balloon when you steal another glance at Jotaro’s profile.
He leans in closer to you, nodding, eyes dipping to look at your quickly disappearing drink. “Yeah, they look happy. I’m surprised it took them this long to make it here, they seemed really eager to get to the…you know.”
An honest to God laugh leaves you, for the first time since you can remember. It takes all you have not to double over with laughter at this grown man in particular suddenly censoring himself around you.
“You can say fuck, Jojo. It’s nothing I haven’t heard or done with you before.”
The return of the old nickname, one he confided in you years ago makes him feel at home, tells him that you aren’t so angry he can’t fix things. Your body language speaks volumes, fully turned toward him with a little smile on your face. Perhaps nothing was even broken to begin with. Aside from the little hairline fractures on your heart that heal themselves each second he spends looking down at you, eyes shining like the waters you both love so much.
“Okay then.” Jotaro dips his face, hiding a smile of his own lest anyone see it and forget he’s a big, mean, scary man. He bows low enough that his head naturally rests just above your ear, chin tickling the side of your head.
“They seemed really eager to fuck back then.”
Another laugh and you grab his bicep, wrapping your hand around it to balance yourself. His hand falls naturally to your waist and the two of you are once again existing in a world made just for lovers, void of sound and sight despite two pairs of eyes on you from across the ballroom that has been transformed into a reception space.
“I’m not gonna lie dude, I still think they’re married. They definitely arrived separately to keep it a secret.” Alex leans in to another one of your former interns, an unimpressed looking young woman who leans to the side to catch the two of you actively speaking.
Your hands move a mile a minute, Jotaro watches every single twitch and movement. She swoons, laughing to herself but turning her smile toward the man next to her.
“I used to think you were making shit up but honestly, you’re right.” She nods, wrapping one of her arms around his extended one. “Only people who were made for each other behave like that.”
You can feel his eyes on you by the time you’re finishing up with the elementary schoolers, and before you turn to address Jotaro, you make sure to remind the young boy who’d just been staring wide-eyed at the echinoderms you handled gently in your hands while lecturing to walk, not run, out of the exhibit. He nods emphatically, and his first step, more of a skip, slows to a stiff walk immediately, which makes you giggle.
Jotaro takes this as an opportunity to move closer finally, polite and careful around you as always. His hands are shoved in his pockets as you suspected, and he forces an expression of feigned indifference on his features as he approaches, but there’s no reason for him to be tailing you so closely as you handle the visiting school children on Marine Science day, and yet he does. It’s only because the most interesting thing in this entire aquarium has always ever been you.
If only he had the courage to say it out loud.
“Are you diving with me next week?” he asks as you dry your hands on the side of your cargo pants and give him your full attention. He’s dressed in the same uniform as you are, although still insisting on wearing his lab coat around the place - something about the long sleeves and long length part of his personal style - and you wonder, as your eyes pass over the width of the cling of the fabric of the cotton polo shirt to his chest how easily you could swim in that coat yourself.
Rather than dwelling in the thought, you raise your eyebrows at him.
“Am I not on the list?” you ask. Jotaro blinks, realizing his question, only meant to segue naturally into a conversation with you, only managed to confuse you.
“No, I mean, yes. You are.”
So why are you asking? should be your natural reply, but you allow him enough mercy but addressing the subject tangentially. “Is it your first one?”
“No.”
“Mm. That’s good.”
As you continue to engage him in chatter, you’re looking around, making sure the kids did not leave any papers or knock anything over. There’s not too much to sweep, but Jotaro follows you, like some kind of pensive shadow, as you search in a hidden door along the walls of the decorated open plan room for the utility closet. He holds the door open for you wider as you search for a broom, watching you carefully, reaching for the accompanying dustpan before you can.
“Is it yours?” he asks. You give him a nod in the affirmative as you sweep, and you can tell that he already probably knew that. He pauses for a moment, and the environment remains still around you, aside from the run of the constantly running water in the tanks, sea creatures moving too close to the surface of the water, and the sound of the broom’s bristles brushing against the soft carpeted floors.
These quiet moments with Jotaro are often like this, where you can tell what he’s saying in his heart is far more than anything he’s willing to say aloud. Sometimes you wonder if that ghost he swears follows him, the one that won’t let him come to any harm, the one that he insists is fond of you as well and won’t let you come to any harm, be it land or sea, knows the depth of his heart.
You’d like to know a little about it too, but for now you settle with letting him learn to speak his mind.
“I only asked because I didn’t want you to be worried,” he finally admits. “Because it’s your first time and because you looked a bit concerned back at our meeting.”
You stop sweeping for a moment, and look up towards him. He’s not the type to blush or frown, but even if he’s looking in your direction, the dustpan appearing small and silly in his hand, he makes sure his eyes don’t look directly in yours, but at a fixed point behind you.
“Will your ghost protect me?” you tease.
His eyes focus back on you, a crack of a smile on his face.
“You don’t think I could?”
Your face warms, and you regret not having as good of a poker face as he does. Perhaps because you don’t have a ghost to confide all your feelings to, them instead being written all over your face.
“I trust you,” you offer.
This widens his smile, as he steps closer to you, bending down to receive the pile of dust you’ve collected before you.
Always ready to make your life easier in any way he can.
jotaro x f!reader. cw alcohol, age gap implied, unhealthy relationship implied. | divider by @cafekitsune, wc 1.3k
JK (DO NOT REPLY!): Want to get a beer tonight?
As if it’s mocking your twiddling thumbs, blinking in a beat with the laughter you hear in the back of your head, the cursor sits anxiously in the chat bubble just inches away from your face.
It’s 9:17 pm. It’s the eighteenth evening in August and as if a cosmic flip switched reminding him that it’s once again time to squeeze the last joy he can out of this year, Jotaro texts you. Just as he did last year. And the year before that. And the one before that…
Sighing, you tap out a quick “wrong number” and hover over the send button for a second longer than you actually want to. That second pushes you to highlight the entire text and erase it, a bubble indicating he’s typing popping up.
It disappears as quickly as it shows itself. You know it’s a take it or leave it offer.
Leaning against the wall in your bathroom, staring at your own towel clad reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall, you groan the eagerness written all over your face. You know how this will go yet you can’t seem to learn better after all these years of the same rinse and repeat.
From August to October, Jotaro Kujo will be yours.
If you agree to go out with him tonight, he’ll come home with you. It’s a certainty, you can even feel warmth between your legs imagining welcoming him home for the first time in more than half a year. He’ll fall asleep next to you, wake up to make breakfast, kiss you on the temple and mumble an indistinct promise about seeing you later.
That later could be two days. One week. Two weeks. You don’t know exactly when it’ll happen but the second time he spends the night will be in the dog days of summer. Those fourteen sticky days that make you wish you existed anywhere but the sultry Gulf coast of Florida, the sun practically punishing you for attempting to distract from her shine when she catches wind of the way he gazes down at you even when she’s out.
He’ll come by your office at the Speedwagon Foundation, two buildings away from where his is located. You will be asked to join him for some evening research which is really just an excuse for him to take you out on a research vessel, a small bit comfortable speedboat, to catch one of those gorgeous sky painted sunsets. To review research. To talk, to silently enjoy one another’s company until the tension becomes too much and he kisses you while the stars wake from their daybed.
These stars will bring him home to you. You’ll spend your evening with your fingers tangled in sea-salt waved black hair streaked with gray. The dim lamp in your room will illuminate him for the faintest moment when you’re enjoying him afterward, still impeccably toned arms for his age wrapped around your waist. You’ll wonder, briefly, how you managed to catch Poseidon with nothing more than a worm on a hook.
The cold air of your apartment, technically a condo as you’ll correct him when he gives you shit about still not owning a home, will lull both of your heated bodies to sleep. A tangle of limbs, wishes and hopes that maybe August doesn’t have to leave so quickly though she’s days away from being a memory as the months before her.
September will have him in your bed every night.
“We’re headed to the same place in the morning,” he’ll deadpan through kisses though you’ll catch the tiniest note of amusement in his tone. “May as well.”
You won’t argue. Not when the proverbial clock is running out, the hot Florida summer fading into a less sticky fall. Maple trees across the Speedwagon Foundation campuses will rustle overhead while you walk in tandem through the courtyard, parting ways at the building that houses the corporate offices to your respective research labs.
The two of you will officially be put on winter standby at the end of September. This means the rest of the year will be spent stapled to desks, laptops writing grant requests for the first quarter of next year, and each other.
Your legs will be draped across his lap feeding him Halloween candy despite his protests. He’ll watch you stumble out of bed wearing nothing but his shirts that come down to your knees. You’ll cook dinner, he’ll come home to you or even more blissfully you’ll arrive together, at the same time, almost as if you’re a real couple.
November is when the cracks will begin to show. It isn’t restlessness that drives him from you, you realized several years ago, it’s fear.
“Do you want to spend Thanksgiving with my sister this year? She finally has room for us to stay.” You’ll ask, innocently, hoping for once you will get a resounding yes. A please. Anything that can help you believe this love is tangible, something he feels and wants, and not just an inevitability.
Instead you’ll get a non-committal hum.
“Have to check with my mom first. I’m sure she’ll find an excuse to come stateside.”
You’ll feel your heartbeat though instead of the usual warmth that fills you when you think of him it’ll be cold, the winter not yet making its way into the air but making its way into you. This is how it will always be.
By December he’ll be infrequently staying with you, if he is at all, flying between Tampa and Tokyo to visit his family. At least the members of it who are still living and want to see him. You’ll lay in bed, sniffling and recalling all of the times you’ve beamed with pride from the crowd while he’s spoken as Dr. Kujo.
How every time he’s made eye contact with you and smiled at you and you alone. How you’re the only one who even knows he’s smiling in the first place, the corner of his lip turned up just enough to expose a deep dimple.
You’ll be ready to call it off yourself by New Year. You even already know what you’ll send, a little bit tipsy from champagne and full of enough good cheer to keep the blues away.
You: i hope this one treats you better, jojo. happy new year ❤️
Jotaro will wake up, half a day ahead of you already in his homeland, and he’ll feel guilty. He’ll stare dumbly at his phone, that cursor blinking in the same cadence as your laughter. It’s a sound he can hear if it’s quiet for longer than a second, your inhale and exhale both.
He’ll stand and stare at himself in the mirror just as you are now, wondering what the right decision is. Can you forgive him if he doesn’t reach out to you again until next August? How many summers are left until what’s left of your patience runs out?
Rolling your shoulders, you pick up your phone and your thumbs work to type out a quick message.
You: been a while. reservoir in about 45? bet they’re dead tonight.
You don’t have the strength it takes to tell him no and he won’t either when he sees the name of your shared favorite spot. Not when your heart pounds as that same bubble pops up and disappears again, anxiety making every bit of you turn until a message appears on screen.
JK (DO NOT REPLY!): Sorry about that. We can talk about it more soon. Be careful.
The hourglass has already begun pouring its sand, the message the same as it always is. Sorry, see you later, let’s do it again. A stronger woman would take her own all caps, glaring advice but unfortunately you prefer to honor what the hands of fate hold for you, more enamored with a man whose love has a time limit more than you are yourself.
Kendall!! 💖 I hope you're having the best day~ Can I ask twix for Kakashi, and skittles for a meow meow mansion resident of your choice? 💕
~ @lovelucilfer
thank u for asking my chels bee <33333
twix - in what ways do you complement each other?
no joke, most of them. our temperaments are very similar. we both know when to lock in and take shit seriously but love to just Exist most of all. we are both witty and love very very hard and want a place to put it all. he lets me dream and reminds me he’s back on earth when I’m ready to join him and i let him be grounded but remind him it’s okay to let whimsy win on occasion.
skittles - what color reminds you of the other?
jotaro reminds me of seafoam green. it’s the same color of the waters he loves so much and his eyes. it’s impossible not to think of him every time my screensaver at work is somewhere in the tropics LMAO
The question feels terribly loaded and Jotaro runs his hand through the salt and pepper waves of his hair, fingers raking the strands away from his forehead. As always, the curliest of them all springs forward and rests over his forehead.
So boyish when you consider he’s all man. Not merely in his stature but his demeanor. He was grown when you met him and in your arms he broke down into something smaller, pieces of himself to be strewn apart and put back together the next day. You made him too vulnerable. Comfortable. Messy, easily fitting into the clutter of your desk and your mismatched socks you don’t bother to pair.
His big hand leaves his hair and he settles both palms on your hips, squeezing them reassuringly. Glancing down to hide his smile, he nods. The tip of his nose brushes the top of your head and he pulls you to his chest, arm wrapping around your waist.
“Yeah, I guess I did.”
That damn feeling of safety washes over him with the sound of your giggle, your own arm snaking around his waist in return. It doesn’t even wrap halfway. You lift yourself on your tiptoes, kissing his chin.
“Glad to know I wasn’t alone in that.”
The fear of being judged or seen as less of a man dissipates as soon as he’s with you and it’s terrifying.
babyberryyyyyy 💛 first! i love the sexy mew theme! 🌱 🩸
second, i’m curious now how each of your faves is rough around the edges and what they do when they realize they’ve hurt your feelings? (asking for as many faves as you feel up to talking about!)
thank u my adored and beloved belle!!!! i am pleased with how she looks for now, we'll see if it stays that way bc i'm already eye twitching aldjfal;sjdflajsdf but i love you and thank u for asking <333
so rough around the edges is basically my MO bc i too am rough around the edges in my own way. i can be extremely avoidant and hard to pin down. i gained the cat reputation for more than just these luscious ears and adorable tail, it's bc i will literally hide from affection if i'm feeling weird about it. this is hard for me with my more affectionate f/o's because it's like guahsdkfljaskdf stop doing that. don't pay attention to me, only do it when i demand it!!!!!! but those aren't equal or fair terms to be loved on so i have to work on that.
that being said, onto the boys:
yami's rough edges tend to be a bit of avoidant behavior but mostly dismissiveness. he's soooo dismissive and it drives me nuts because i know he cares. I KNOW he cares, i know that big big heart is saying something different than those flapping gums so when he hurts my feelings because he's dismissing how i feel, he takes a second to walk back what he said. in all likelihood, what i'm dealing with probably isn't that big of a deal, but part of loving a drama queen means indulging her drama at least a little. that's when i get the lap pat, the "c'mere, let's try that again" because he is able to swallow his pride enough to apologize when it's necessary.
satoru gojo's roughest edge is his foot in mouth syndrome. he literally says anything he wants without a care in the world and while i'm used to it to some degree, there are times where he says shit that is just so out of pocket it truly hurts my feelings. i won't outright say when something upset me sometimes but it's obvious when it does so he has worked hard to become very thoughtful about how he speaks to me. if i'm like "i look like shit today" i may still get a "pfff yeah you do" even if he's just kidding or being playful, he immediately knows and is like "no no no no no you've never looked bad a day in your life" and i know he means it bc his first thought is big mouth dickhead his second thought is my sweet perfect angel who just needed to take an extra second to think.
gen's rough edge, much like satoru's, is his inability to think before he speaks. he truly lets anything on his mind pop out of his mouth and while it's mostly good things when dealing with me there is one instance he called me a bitch. did i deserve it? yes. was i extremely upset about it? also yes. he learned that day that there is a way you speak to me and he adjusted himself immediately.
now for an off the wall - jotaro. jotaro's rough edge is his constant withdrawal. it's hard to know where you ever stand with someone who basically just disappears as he pleases without explanation and he learned that for us to work, i have to at least have some idea that he's gonna be okay and that we'll meet again. he's very comforting in that aspect and has become more open with me about what's going on with him.
so, dear kendy, what are you planning with jotaro for today? 🩷
well so far i've had a very busy day of typing up a literal thesis defending him against no one bc nobody is even questioning him i'm just questioning myself for being back here but ailjfasjdfasjdfasdfj
i think today i'll comfort myself through the horrors by imagining a workday with him. the steady comfort of his presence, wordlessly working next to me or standing at my desk reviewing my work. shutting the office door and enjoying lunch together. i love the coworkers aspect of my self ship with him bc we get thrown into all sorts of situations together bc we work so well together.
sigh. i'm doomed. i need to get this over with. thank you for asking <3333
