JJBA Oneshots

Jean Pierre Polnareff; My Hopeless Romantic.

A/N: TW; Lemon🍋. REQUESTED BY: @threeecheers! Thank you for requesting! You said you didn't have any specific ideas so I thought of this, I hope you like it! Soft and fluffy❤️ Top!Reader and Bottom!Polnareff.

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"I'll be home soon, my love!." You called to your boyfriend as you stepped out of the front door, closing it behind you. Your car keys jangled in your hand and your purse fit snug around your shoulder, resting against your waist. It was Sunday, and that meant it was time to go to the store and replenish groceries and other household necessities for the next week.

It was just you and your boyfriend Polnareff, and you didn't need a lot for just the two of you, so it wouldn't cost too much. You were glad you both weren't very high maintenance, because here lately rent was taking up a big portion of your bi-weekly checks. You worked a small office job at some up-and-coming corporation, and the work was easy enough. All you had to do was sit at a desk and file paperwork, and the hours were regular too, your casual nine to five.

Although on some months you found your checks were barely enough to support the both of you. Somehow you still managed to make it work.
Your boyfriend didn't have a job, and he never could; have one; he was physically handicapped, so the funds remained on your shoulders entirely.

But you wouldn't change it for the world.

You smiled a bit, thinking of the man. His silver hair, his ocean blue eyes, and that dorky smile he would pull onto his face whenever he made a dirty joke.

Inserting the key into your cars lock, you twisted it, clicking the car door open. You pulled on it, and the car door opened with ease. You sat in the drivers seat and rolled the engine.

Polnareff was the strongest man you had ever met, going through so many hardships yet still managing to let out a smile. It had been almost a year since the incident he refused to talk about, that had left him with amputated legs below the thigh and a missing eye that he constantly covered with a stylized eye patch. Polnareff was healing, slowly but surely, both mentally and physically. You had met him a few months after the accident after he completed physical therapy. He barely laughed or smiled, but he still stuck you with his charm that lied underneath. His upper thighs were now regaining their muscle mass, and he could take a few short steps with his prosthetic legs, but ultimately still relied on his wheelchair. He reminded you, you were the main reason of his growth, but you didn't believe it much.

Due to him still being wheelchair bound also, a majority of the household duties fell onto you as well. Obviously you did all of the shopping, but you also cooked and cleaned. Polnareff could sit in his wheelchair and wash dishes, which he did often, and you vocalized you were very appreciative.

But he felt very sorrowful for you, quite often. You could read it on his face after work, he would massage your feet and you would remind him; you loved him, and you didn't mind. You could see it on his face when you did things around the house too, like sweeping or mopping. Small things that people take for granted, small things that he couldn't do to help you.

You were ripped from your thoughts when you realized the entrance to the parking lot of the store was a bit closer than you originally thought. You applied your breaks a bit quicker than you normally would, and pulled into the lot.

You parked and made your way inside of the store.

You had a list with you, and you pulled it from your pocket and read over it diligently.

Milk,
Eggs,
Flour,
Sugar,
Lots of pasta,
Household cleaner,
Extra paper towels and toilet paper,
And some other smaller things.