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[upperranktwo]

☆Gifset Per Episode - Kimetsu No Yaiba☆

S01EP26 - New Mission

[ddejavvu]

Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 4/FINAL PART) / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so

WC: 4.1K / navigation / inbox

A/N: the real last part! i sincerely hope you enjoyed this series, it's very dear to my heart and so is all of the wonderful feedback you've given me on it. I love hearing what you think, it keeps me motivated to write more for you and I'm just so happy that I got to share this with you all. Thank you to anyone who's enjoyed this, I'm privileged to have shared your time and gotten your love in return. <333

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

You feel like he’s gutted you. Like he’s plunged the hand holding the ring right into your stomach, twisted it so that the gem inside slits your insides into ribbons, and wrenched it back out dripping and glistening in crimson.

He looks so hopeful, eyes earnest and shining as he stares at you, that damn ring held between you like a life preserve. Like if you let him toss it over your finger, reel you in with his tender heartstrings, you wouldn’t drown. You’d escape the dreadful ocean of grief that’s been slowly filling your lungs since you’d left, you’d give your tired legs a break from treading water if you could just say yes. The word is on the tip of your tongue, and your achy heart begs you to say it, but you can’t.

Not when he doesn’t know.

“Bradley,” You whimper, reaching out to lay a gentle touch over his hand. You wrap your hand around both his own and the ring, squeezing tightly, “I have to tell you something.”

Bradley’s enthusiasm wanes. He hadn’t waited long enough. You’re not in love with him yet; he rushed into things just like he had before and he’d ruined it. How did he manage to ruin it two times? The best thing in his life, and he’s fucked it up twice in a row now. 

You’re looking at him with eyes full of sadness, and he catches a flash of pity in them; just like he’d feared. His stomach sours and he balks, spooking like a startled horse.

“No, no. No, it’s okay, you’re- you’re not ready yet, sweetheart, that’s okay. We can wait,” He babbles, wrenching his hand out from your own and jamming the ring back into the drawer, like if he can just get it into a safe zone, it’ll hit undo on the entire fiasco.

“No, baby,” Your face screws up, a barely-withheld sob behind your frown, “Baby that’s not- we really need to talk. Okay? I promised we would today.”

“I- I know, but-” He stammers, trying to evade your gentle touch as you pry his hand back from his dresser drawer, the ring still clutched inside and lining his palm with a layer of sweat.

“Let me talk,” You plead, “Brad, I need to come clean. Please?”

He’s sure you can see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows what little saliva there is in his mouth, “Okay.”

“Two weeks ago,” You start, and the words feel leaden on your tongue; impossibly heavy. “-before your crash. You- you remember Javy’s crash, yeah?”

“Yeah,” His breath catches in his throat, visions of his teammate's poor girlfriend swimming in his mind. Visions of the woman he never wanted you to have to be.

“That really-” You choke on a sob, “That really freaked me out, Bradley. I realized that you could go down like that. I- I’ve always known, y’know, ‘cause of your dad. But I just- I was so young when that happened, and it wasn’t fresh, so when Javy went down… I had this revelation. That I could-” Your voice tampers down into a weak whimper, “I could lose you, Brad. I could say goodbye to you one morning and not get to say hello again in the evening. I just- lost it,” You admit, brushing away stray hair from over your red-rimmed eyes, “I’m sure you noticed I wasn’t the most pleasant to say goodbye to in the mornings. But- but baby, I was always so happy when you came home, because it meant I had more time. It felt like some awful time bomb,” You recall, “Like every time I said goodbye to you would be the last, and I couldn’t rest until you were back home. I’ve never felt like that before, I’ve always had confidence in your abilities. Even on deployment, I know you’re working with people who have your back,” You sniffle, “I’ve always known you could die, but it’s never felt that much like you would before. But then- Javy wasn’t the one who crashed,” You explain, voice thick with blubbering tears, “I mean- that was just his jet malfunctioning. And then all of a sudden I- it was like I remembered that I could lose you in some freak accident. Like it wouldn’t have to be your fault, it could just happen, and you could die. Like your dad, Bradley, I- I didn't wanna lose you like we almost lost your dad."

“That is,” You collect yourself, swallowing a heavy sob that leaves your throat achy and gutted, “My nightmare, baby.” You tangle your fingers with his where you’re still clutching his hand, squeezing tight enough to probably bruise the guy, “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. I would die if I lost you, Brad. Even if I was alive, I’d be dead inside. I need you, I need you in my life, Bradley.”

What you’re saying sounds good to him. Terrible, of course, if he didn’t come home one day. But he is home, and you’re telling him you need him, and he can’t figure out why in the world you’ve said no twice to putting on the ring. 

“You have me,” He vows, squeezing your hand right back, “Honey, you have me right here, right now. Why won’t you let me keep you?” He presses the ring into your palm, and you both feel the metal band burning your skin like it’s been superheated.

“You asked me to marry you before you crashed,” You blurt, and even though slamming a wrecking ball into your reverie of late feels like stabbing yourself in the chest, there’s something gratifying about telling the truth. About finally coming clean, about telling him exactly why you can’t say yes.

“You sat me down, and you gave me the sweetest speech in the world,” You recall with tears thick in your voice, “About how you loved me, and how you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me, and- and you proposed, and I said no.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek, analyzing the grief in your voice. You sound anguished, like you’re upset with yourself for saying no, but you didn’t say yes this time around, so he can’t believe what he hears.

He takes a deep breath, cutting off whatever you’re going to say next, “I know.”

It feels good for him to come clean, too. Even if he's dreading what'll happen, even if he thinks there's a good chance you'll march out the door, he's glad to be done with the lies. He'd loved them while they'd lasted, but they went down in flames just like his jet.

“-and-” You stop, blinking twice, “What?”

“I know,” He admits, “I- I remember, honey.”

“You- what?” Your eyes widen, and you lean forwards, gazing imploringly at Bradley, “Brad, you- you remember? You remember everything now?”

“Yeah,” He nods, watching as you process the information.

You feel sick. You’re not sure why, because you’ve already told him the truth. But memories are different than retellings, and you both know that. No explanation on your part would have conveyed the crushed, betrayed look in his eyes when you’d declined his proposal; there’s not words in the english language suitable to describe how desperately he’d pleaded for you to stay, even in just the simplest of touches to your waist, trying to pull you back to him that night.

Now he remembers that, now you’re on the same page, and when you turn it, you’re not sure what you’ll see. 

The end of a chapter? The beginning of a new one? Or the blank back cover of a book, perhaps, if your luck has run dry. 

“When did your memories come back?” You ask, your voice sounding faraway and dazed in the back of your mind. You’re not even sure you’ve really said it, you’re too wrapped up in worrying about what he’s thinking. If your confession had spurred on his memories, you’re not sure you’ll ever get a chance to put on that ring.

Bradley swallows what little saliva is in his mouth, “A while ago.”

“How long?” Your brows furrow impossibly deeper, your brain running circles trying to figure out what’s real and what isn’t, “Like- like since this morning?”

“Since I woke up,” He confesses with a heavy heart, because lying to you hurt even if he’d loved the outcome,  “In the hospital. I- I didn’t remember at first, but they came back, uh, in a few minutes.”

You feel like you’ve walked into a cloud of smoke. Everything around you is foggy, and your brain can’t process what he’s told you. It feels like he’s lying to you, like he’s tricking you and pretending that he’s known the entire time just so as not to feel foolish. But that’s not Bradley, he doesn’t need to be smarter than you, or faster than you, or better than you, so you know he’s telling the truth.

“But- why did you lie?” You stare at him with tears glimmering in your waterline, and he’s sure this is what he looked like when he’d asked you not to go that night. Betrayed, confused, heartbroken.

“Because you did,” Bradley whimpers, wanting nothing more than to swipe a thumb under your eye and gather the tears there on his skin, taking the burden away from you.

“You came in and you asked to kiss me, and- and I wanted you to. I didn’t want to talk about what had happened, because I didn’t want you to walk out again, so I just- I lied. And I let you lie to me, too.”

You think back, and you remember how you’d walked back into the hospital room, on the verge of tears with nerves rolling in your belly. And you’d asked to kiss him, you’d given him the perfect opportunity to lie, and he’d taken it. And you can’t be mad at him, because you’d lied, too. You’re slightly hurt. It doesn’t feel good knowing that your lover- or, ex-lover lied to you. It feels even worse to know that Bradley lied because he thought you’d leave him if he told the truth. Like you’d turn tail and run, whooping through the parking lot about being free at last. But you’re the one that put that thought in his head; you’re the one that ran away. So you can’t blame him for keeping you on a short leash.

You feel too many things at once. You feel like a monster, like a cruel heartbreaker that had shattered Bradley’s to pieces. You feel confused, because you’re still processing that the past few days were entirely fake on both ends. You feel slightly betrayed, like you wish Bradley would have just told you. But you didn’t tell him either, and that makes you feel like an asshole. Too many feelings are bottled up inside, and they gush forth in a messy round of tears, one worse than Bradley’s ever seen from you.

It sets him in a panic, and he’d already been misty-eyed before. Now his own tears roll in fat droplets down his cheeks as he muscles down his sobs for your sake, dropping your hand only to take up your waist. He drags you closer on the bed, but it’s uncoordinated and a struggle as your limbs don’t cooperate. You’re limp like a ragdoll, and once he finally has you positioned in his lap he buries his face in your shoulder to soak his tears into your shirt.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, his chest heaving and shaking with sobs, “I’m sorry I lied. I shouldn’t have, I- I know it was wrong. I just- I wanted you to stay, honey. And I thought it would be okay if we were both lying, because then I could make you fall in love with me again, and- and it was a stupid plan, I’m sorry. I should have told you, I’m sorry, I- I never wanted to make you cry. I’m sorry, honey, please don’t- please don’t cry. I love you, please, don’t cry.”

He thinks he’s allergic to your tears. His chest hurts, his face burns, and the front of his shirt is slowly sticking to his chest where you’re crying against it. He’s not sure he can handle much more of this, he can barely breathe and if you don’t stop crying soon, his lungs might collapse. He doesn’t like that you’re crying; even though he knows its a messy situation, even though he knows it’s complicated beyond belief, he’s worried that lying to you fractured your trust in him, and that won’t look good on his permanent record, especially not when he’s waiting on a yes or no from you regarding marriage.

“Honey, please,” He knows he’s not the only one at fault, he knows you’re just as guilty for lying as he is, but you’d done it out of pity, and he’d done it out of greed. You’d played pretend with him so that he didn’t lay alone in a hospital bed, but he’d lied to you so that you wouldn’t leave. He’s kept you trapped, and he’s worried you’ll break free from the cage and run.

“I’m sorry,” He cries, clutching tighter at you when you try pulling away, scared you’re on your way out, “No, honey, please, I’m so sorry-”

“Stop apologizing!’ You beg, a raw quality to your throat that bleeds into your voice. You can’t take it anymore, you can’t let him blubber out sorry after sorry for something he’s not at fault for. You wish he’d been honest, sure, but you couldn’t possibly blame him for continuing the game that you started playing.

“Just- stop, please,” You breathe, quieter now this time. “I- You’re not the one that has to be sorry.”

“But I am,” Bradley gushes, clinging tight to you, still nervous you’re trying to leave. But you’re stationed to stay in his lap, smearing away tears with the skin of your wrists.

“Well don’t be.” You huff, frustration swirling in your chest, all self-directed, “Don’t- don’t apologize for my mistakes! Bradley,” You whimper, rubbing at your eyes hard enough to see swirls beyond your vision, “I left you. I rejected your proposal, and I left you, and then when you almost died, and forgot I left you, I lied to your face. You had amnesia, Bradley, and I lied to you, in what world should you be apologizing? You should hate me,” You decide, stomach churning at just the thought, “I’m so sorry, Bradley, I- I’m so sorry! You should be throwing me out, you should kick me to the curb, and-”

“I don’t hate you.” He says, his voice gruff. He says it plain and simple, like it’s easy. Like there’s no hard feelings, like he’s not perturbed at all by your dishonesty, your betrayal.

“I love you,” He continues, and oh, does that drive the nail into the coffin you’re trapped in, “I love you so much, honey, I just don’t understand you. Why did you leave?”

“I was so scared,” You’re getting tired of saying it, but you know you have to, “Javy crashed, and I realized you could, too. Brad, I’m so sorry, I was so selfish, I didn’t wanna go through that. I left you because I didn’t wanna get hurt. I- I left to save myself from mourning your loss. But it didn’t work, and- and you still crashed, and I still almost had to mourn your loss, and it still hurt, so- so bad, Bradley. It hurt so bad,” You blubber, and he pulls you back into his chest.

“I know,” He murmurs, and you can’t fathom why he’s still comforting you, why his large, calloused hand is rubbing sweet, soft, soothing circles over your back like you’re not a traitor, “I know, honey, I can’t imagine. I’m sorry you had to get that call.”

“Come on,” You plead, your fists clenched in Bradley’s shirt, nails digging into the fabric, “Bradley, this- this isn’t fair. You should be mad at me. Even if you-” You can barely say it, the thought sounding like a fantasy; too good to be true, “Even if you love me, you should be upset. That I left, that I- that I lied, you can’t do this. You can’t comfort me, and you can’t apologize.”

“I can, too.” He argues, his brows furrowed and his mustache turned down with his frown, “Sweetheart, I know you’re sorry about all those things, you told me yourself. I know you’re sorry you left, I know you’re sorry you lied, it’s okay. It hurt when you left, but I never hated you. I wanted you back,” He admits with a shaky voice, “I wanted to fix things. And when you asked to kiss me in the hospital, I chose to let you lie to me even though I knew the truth. I liked it, baby, I loved it, because I had you back. You’re sorry, and- and I’m sorry, and we’re both sorry, so let’s do something about it. Let’s fix it, baby, please.”

“I want to fix it,” You sob, “I really do, Bradley. I- I wanted to pretend forever,” You confess, “Because it felt like it did before I left, and- you have no idea how much I wanted that back, Brad.”

“Me too,” He agrees with a rough sniffle, “I- I wanted you to pretend forever, honey. I really did, I- that’s why I proposed again,” He cringes at the memory, at the second time he’d asked to no avail, “Because I just wanted you to keep pretending, and say yes, and I thought- I thought I might be able to make you love me again, so I went for it, but I shouldn’t have. I should- I should’ve talked to you first, I should have told you the truth, but I just- I was scared, and-”

“Oh, Bradley,” You gush, grabbing the back of his neck and tugging him down into a hug. You might be smothering him, you’re not sure if he can breathe where he’s buried in your shoulder, but he doesn’t care. He’s clutching you like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t, and you’re horrified that he might really think that, but you understand why he does.

“Marry me,” He begs, “Please, honey, marry me. I’m not mad at you, I love you, please, just- just marry me, please. I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t lose me,” You promise, tears flowing steady down your cheeks, “Honey, I promise, I won’t walk out unless you want me to.”

“I don’t,” Bradley shakes his head, his arms encircling your waist even tighter now, “I don’t want that, honey, please- please don’t.”

“I won't,” You promise, “But Brad- do you want to marry me for love, or because you’re afraid I’ll leave if you don’t?”

“I love you,” He croaks into your shoulder, and you know he’s not lying to you now, “I mean- I mean of course I’m scared to lose you. But I’m scared because I love you, and I still wanted to marry you even before this happened, before I was scared. I’m not trying to tie you down so you can’t leave, I’m trying to love you forever. It’s love, honey, I love you.”

“I love you too,” You wail, unperturbed by your messy, tear-stained, snot-streaked faces as Bradley lifts his head out of your shoulder to kiss you. It’s desperate, sloppy, and uncoordinated, but it’s the first real kiss you’ve shared in a long time, and you wouldn’t change a thing about it if you could. It’s all desperate, grabby hands and quivering breaths as you familiarize yourselves with each other again, remember what it’s like to be honestly, truly in love with each other. You’ve thrown the lies away like a hardened cast, and the bones beneath it have mended, still tender but whole again. You can’t get enough of him, you can’t take your hands out of his hair and you can’t press your chest up against his enough. He feels the same, he can’t possibly tug your hips further against his own, and he can’t dig his nose any further into your cheek or he might poke a hole there. But he wants to, so he tries.

You’re ravenous, not with desire but with love, the purest and sweetest form of it. You’re so glad to have him back, to really have him back, that you can’t care about your leg falling asleep where it’s bent awkwardly against his lap, or the stickiness of his tears on your cheeks. All you care about is Bradley, all you know is Bradley, all you ever want to know is Bradley.

He reaches for your hand while still engaged in the kiss, and you swear you feel your heart crack when you pull yourself away to stop him in his tracks.

“Wait,” You pant, wondering why he’s doing the same when he’d practically stolen the air from your lungs, “You’re absolutely sure you want to marry me? Even though-”

“Jesus,” Bradley huffs, keeping the ring in one hand and reaching for your face in the other. He squishes your cheeks together, until your lips are puckered and he can brace his forehead against your own, eyes wide and grin exasperated, “Yes! Yes, I really want to marry you, even though you left, even though you lied. I lied, too, honey. You left because you were scared, and that’s why I lied. I get it, okay? I’m not gonna turn on you, I love you. I want to marry you.”

“But- but we should work through this,” You propose, pointedly not swatting him away when he poises the ring over your marriage finger.

“Okay. We can work through it in marriage counseling,” He promises with a breathless smile, the expression wholly genuine because for the first time in three weeks, he’s confident you’ll say yes, “Because I want to marry you. Do you want to marry me?”

You’re not fucking this up a third time.

“Yes!” You gush, and you squeal when he jams the ring onto your finger, moving in for a kiss far more eagerly than you’re prepared for. It’s like being greeted by an overexcited puppy, one that’s a bit too big to be ramming into you, but that you can’t tell no. He kisses you voraciously, joining your hands together so that the metal band on your ring finger rubs against his own skin.

“I love you,” You pant, in a rare moment of being able to drag oxygen into your lungs, “And- I’m sorry. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Bradley swears, kissing you again before you can murmur any more apologies, “It’s okay. We’ll be okay, baby. We’ll work through it. You were scared, so I’ll help you however I can so that you’re not so scared. And I was scared, so I’ll probably be a bit of a clinger for a while. That’s it, baby, we don’t have to break up.” He promises, “That’s all it is, honey. We can work through it. We love each other, we can do this.”

“We do love each other,” Saying it feels like a blessing you’re casting over yourselves, an affirmation that you want to say in the mirror ten times before starting your day, “I love you, Bradley.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” He hums, dissuaded very little when you turn your head to look for your phone. He presses the same frequency of kisses to your cheek as he had your lips, and you let him smooch away at your face while you hunt for the device.

“Here!” You find it tangled in the bedsheets, “Brad, let’s tell everyone.”

“Hm?” He glances sideways at your phone, “Oh. Yeah, my parents are probably worried.”

“My dad, too.” You hum, “I told him at the store earlier.”

“I told my parents then, too.” He confesses, “But- but they’re not mad at you, or anything honey, they understand.”

You marvel at the revelation, that that's the reason Carole had been so confident bidding you goodbye.

“I.. told your mom already,” You realize you still haven’t put all of his puzzle pieces together for him, “Uh, she knew before you woke up, actually. She was the one to suggest that I pretend nothing happened. She didn’t want you to be too stressed in the hospital.”

His brow furrows where he’s in the middle of kissing your jaw, and he pulls back to evaluate the new information. But he’s not angry, more exhausted. He chuckles weakly, “I told her today, she pretended she had no idea. Damn, that woman is a good actor.”

“Very good,” You agree, snatching Bradley’s hand out of his lap to curl your own over the back of it. Your hands are stacked palm-to-back, with Bradley’s resting on the blanket and yours overtop. Your ring glistens in the afternoon sunlight and snapping a picture of it is one of the most gratifying things in the world, second only to the feeling of it laying permanently on your finger. You’ll have to put this one in the photo album, the beginning of a new chapter.

Bradley doesn’t let go of your hand after you snap the picture, only flips his own beneath it so that he can hold it more securely. He puts his chin over your shoulder to kiss your cheek as you use your only free hand to type out a group text message to your family members. Bradley’s squadron will be next on the list, but for now, your family receives the shot of your hands intertwined, a ring glistening on yours.

I said yes this time.💗

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[divinesolas]

Flowers | The Series | Chapter Fourteen | The Calm Before The Storm

Summary | it is the aftermath of the tourney and the surprises that come with it

Pairing | Jacaerys Velaryon × Fem!Reader

Warnings | fluff, a lot of banter between you and the prince, relationship development, not proofread, eating food

Word Count | 3.4k

a/n | sorry for the wait on this one was a little stuck in the direction i wanted to take,, hope you enjoy !! <333

series masterlist

Peonies, though they have many meanings, luck, prosperity, good fortune, the most common meaning is romance. The heat hasn't been able to leave your face ever since the flower crown was tossed into your lap. 

You run your fingers along the petal of the crown. They look very bright meaning they had been picked recently. You hold them up closer to your face and smell them. They are fragrant but you can smell a hint of dirt and if you look at them closely you can see that they are quite crushed from being gripped by leather covered hands.

You are definitely not keeping your attention on the flower crown to distract yourself from the fact almost every single person that walked by or was ever standing near the two of you was staring at you as you briskly tried to walk away and find a place where no one else was so you could gather your thoughts. you ignore trisk rambling your ear off about the prince and how charming he was. Your parents had wandered off with trisk’s parents to catch up, but not before your mother gave you a warning look and your father dragged her away giving you a reassuring look. It had given you chills but you ignored it for now, making a mental note to come back to it later. 

You are so lost within the throbbing of your own heart that you barely register the call of your name until trisk rapidly shakes your shoulder, “joffrey, you fought well-” 

“There is no need for flattery, my lady. I need to speak with you.”

Trisk perks up and lets go of your arm eyeing around the different stands, “that is no problem i will go walk-”

“You may stay, I shall be quick.” 

His eyes have never left your face as he grabs your hands, “I have enjoyed our time together and you have become a dear friend to me but I don't see a future for us.”

Your eyes widen as trisk gasps beside you. “Joffrey, but what about-” 

He laughs and shakes his head, a look of sadness in his eyes as he lifts your hands and kisses the back of them. “I made a promise to a friend. I must go.”

Your mind can barely conjure a thought as he pulls away from you and laughs again, a sad smile on his face as he looks over your shoulder. You turn and see jacaerys who was seemingly making his way towards you three but had been stopped by a lord who was loudly talking about how brilliant the fight was. As if he felt eyes on him his gaze drifts over to you and he smiles before seemingly bidding farewell to the lord and continues to make his way over to you.

“You shall always have a friend in the eyrie. Please come visit me sometime.” 

You nod and smile at him. “Of course I shall, I would be more than happy to.”  

In a weird way a sense of relief flows over you. As he bows and turns his back to you but before he had left he spared you some final words, “I hope he shall make you happy.” then not sparing a single glance. Even after the conversation with your parents and how they reaffirmed the fact that they were happy despite the fact they were not in love the queens had plagued your thoughts, if even a queen who has everything how can you be? Your parents must just be a rare case, especially knowing most marriages are not happy ones anyways. 

Maybe you could have been happy, maybe the two of you could have ended up like your parents thought now that would never be a reality. You barely even grasp how long you've been staring at where Joffrey was standing until you feel a hand on your shoulder. You jump and whip your head. “I'm so sorry my lady i hadnt meant to startle you.” 

The prince. The sun hit him so perfectly it was as if he was glowing, light bouncing off his eyes as if they were mirrors. You had never even noticed how soft his hair looks, curls that run down to his shoulder. You wonder if he did anything with them, if the maids put oils in his hair like they do yours or maybe he does it himself. Oh how nice it would be to run your fingers through it.

You snap out of whatever trance he had put you on once you hear him chuckle and gasp as you dip into a low bow with one of your hands flying up to cover your mouth with the other gripping the flower crown tightly in its grasp. . “I am so sorry, my prince.” mortified is not even enough to describe how you were feeling. You had been eyeing the prince… right in front of him! You imagine him to look angry or even disgusted at you once you stand straight up but if anything he looks the happiest you've ever seen him. A wide grin on his face and a twinkle in his eyes you haven't seen before. “Feel free to gawk at me as you like.”

“I was not gawking.” you turn to look at trisk for comfort but she must have run off leaving you alone. you could not even bear the humiliation you felt right now as he takes another step towards you and you take a step back. One of his hands reaches to grab the hand that had still been covering your face and removes it, pulling it all the way down until it was at your side but his hand stayed firm around your wrist. “That's a shame, I rather liked you looking at me like that.” When did the prince become so forward? He seemed to have this new rush of confidence about him, maybe it has come from winning the tournament, maybe he got a little in his head and felt as though he could do and say anything. “You must feel rather bold after winning the tourney my prince.” 

His smile only grows as he reaches down to your other hand and takes the flower crown from you and places it on your head. “I have won a much bigger prize today my lady.” he must not be referring to you. Is he mad? A part of you wants to ask what it is and by the look on his face he wants you to as well but you do not dare as a part of you fears his answer. “A bigger prize than winning the tourney, i am doubtful that is possible.” His smile is so large his eyes begin to crinkle forming crescents on his face as he shakes his head, “I would rather have this prize than any others in the whole realm.” you stand in silence unable to give any answer to him not that he is even looking for one. His hand that is wrapped around your wrist begins to burn as if his skin is lighting up a fire inside of you. A part of you wants to push him away, knowing that despite all the attention he has shown you not only privately but publicly as well the two of you standing here together could cause quite a scene. 

As if he could read your mind he lets go of your disappointment and instead offers you his arm. “I must insist you join me in walking around the stands my lady.” if you were rational you would refuse him, run away and hide under your sheets like a child. But you are a fool who takes his arm and lets him guide you towards the busy market place area.

Stands line the street as if you were walking around outside of the keep. Merchants from all over selling different sorts of items and foods. Despite the wonder of the market place around you your mind cannot help but stray off into thought as you had been all day. You must have tensed up or had an odd look on your face causing jacaerys to question you, “are you alright my lady?”

“Is this not inappropriate, my prince?” you cannot stop yourself from asking as your mind trails back to trisks earlier comment. He was in a courtship. Sure this whole event had been set up for him to be able to choose a wife but it felt like you were overstepping walking around with him as you were right now. “What is inappropriate, my lady?”

“Well, are you not in a courtship with lady baratheon?” He stiffens up at the mere mention of cassandra and rolls his neck as if he were irradiated before sighing. “We are nothing more than mere acquaintances my lady.” 

You feel a twitch of irritation flood your head at his dismissal, “People in courtships can be mere acquaintances, my prince.” “Rest assured I can promise you that is all we are.” his words come out hushed and rushed and you can feel his growing annoyance at this topic you immediately stiffen up. Maybe he truly is just stringing you along and truly is in a courtship with Cassandra and doesnt like that you've called him. You are oddly reminded of the power imbalance between the two of you and let go of his arm causing him to stop in his steps. “I am sorry my prince, I have overstepped.” 

You fold your hands in front of you as he turns away from you for a moment clearly running his hands down his face in frustration before turning back to you. “I didn't mean it like that. I am sorry the situation with her is merely,, frustrating. She is a rather insistent woman and has been incessantly always around me to an overwhelming degree. My anger is not targeted towards you. I must ask for your forgiveness.” 

He looks at you as if he were a young boy that accidentally knocked off his mother's vase asking for her forgiveness, a kicked puppy even. You feel a sense of relief as you are doubtful the prince would like you about such matters and nod at him, unsure of what to say. He lets out what you believe to be a breath of relief and once again offers you his arm. “Allow me to try this again my lady.”

You smile and grab his arm once more, “promise you shall not get angry at me.” you had been teasing him but he seems to take you rather seriously as he nods at you, “of course my lady i shall never.” 

“I was teasing you, my prince.”

“Jacaerys.”

You hum in confusion as the two of you continue to walk side by side, “call me jacaerys, jace if you so wish.” 

“I certainly cannot do such a thing.” you are horrified he would even ask you. “Why not? You called Ser Joffrey by his name, why not me?” if you had been paying attention closer you would have heard a sense of venom in his voice that many would interpret as jealousy. “He is a lord and you are a prince. It is very different.” “I do not find it all that different.” “That is because you are a prince, you do not see the difference.” “then your prince demands you to.” 

You turn your head towards him and he is already looking at you with a teasing grin on his face, “whatever do you mean?” “If you shall not do it when i ask then i demand you must do it for i am the prince.” 

You huff at his childlike actions, unable to hide the smile on your face as you knock into him as you walk. “You are ridiculous.” he looks at you expectantly, eyebrows raised and his head tilted much like a dog waiting for his food. “Fine you win, jacaerys.” as much as you wish you could say you find the word stuck in your mouth his name rolls off your tongue so seamlessly it is as if you were always meant to say it. You check the look on his face and he has a soft smile on his face and what many would say is a lovesick look in his eyes as he finally hears you say it. “I like the way you say my face.” It is soft and quiet as if you were not even meant to hear him speak and you quickly turn away from him, your face growing more and more hot by the second. 

You do not turn back to look at him for a few more moments and once you do you see he has changed his gaze back in front of him but that smile is still on his face. 

A couple quiet moments pass between the two of you, simply enjoying each other's presence and for the first time that day you feel as though your mind is free of the thoughts that had been plaguing you for hours. Simply finding comfort in the time you spent with the prince. “Are you hungry my lady?” you almost tell him not but suddenly your stomach rumbles and you are hit with the realization it was now midday and you had barely even eaten your breakfast this morning. “I could eat, my-” his eyebrows raise at you and you sign, “jacaerys.” he smiles once more and looks around at the stands before spotting one and eagerly rushing you towards it. “Everytime there is a tourney this man sets up shop here,” it was a skewer stand, with a wide variety of meats and veggies you could barely believe a stand like this could run out of this tiny shack. A man, seemingly the owner, has a wide grin on his face as he greets jacaerys. “My prince, I was hoping to see you.” “do not act as if you didn't know i would come.” The man laughs alreadying moving to give him a skewer of what you must assume to be what jacaerys always gets, “ a pork stick for you.” “thank you ser.” “And what would this fine lady like today?” you eye down the many options in front of you before pointing to one and in seconds it's in your hands. “Thank you kind ser.” you didn't even notice jacaerys paying and the two of you move to stand off to the side. You notice he always already ate some of his and you eagerly take a bite of yours, humming you look at jacaerys in shock. “This is wonderful.” “he is the best i know, everything he makes is good though i've never gotten the one you have my lady.” 

You offer it to him, holding the stick towards him to grab out of your hand. “Then you must try this one it is so good.” he looks shocked and eyes the skewer in your hands before nodding. You had expected him to grab it from your hand but instead he leaned his head down and took a bit of it right from your hand. One of his hands wrapping around yours to hold it still enough to bite. 

It feels intimate as if he was truly eating out of the palm of your hand and you can do nothing else but watch him as he stands fully back up and uses his free hand to cover his mouth while nodding. “This one might be better than my usual.” you don't make a move, not even a comment as he licks his stick clean and looks at you confused. “Is something the matter my lady?” you certainly cannot tell him the true reason as to why you had been frozen and lick your lips before quickly coming up with a lie.”you call me my lady.” he tilts his head, licks one of his fingers which you are choosing to ignore for your sanity. “And what of it?” “if i am to call you jacaerys you should also call me by my name.” you stress eat what little is left of your skewer to which he takes it out of your hands and tosses them away before turning back to you. “I am more than happy to do so, y/n”

A part of you regrets your decision as you are far too happy to hear your name from his lips but attempt to hide this fact from him as the two of you link arms once more and continue to walk down the market area. “This market is rather large, my prince.” “Well this is truly the main event of these sorts of things, tourneys do not last that long and they must come up with something else to fill the time.” 

The two of you continue to make mundane conversation until you spot what had to be the most beautiful necklace you had ever seen. You were far too blinded to even notice you had stopped walking, catching the attention of the prince who turned to see what you were looking at. “Its gorgeous.” you walk closer and smile at the shopkeeper who greeted the two of you. “Eyes stuck on the necklace huh?” She takes it from the case and allows you to hold it, admiring it closer. “Are you interested?” you shake your head and place it back down. “I could never afford such a thing.” Despite how beautiful the necklace was you could tell by the huge gem in the middle of it the necklace had to cost a fortune. “How much is it?” jacaerys voice cuts in behind you stepping close to the stand with his sack of coins in his hands. “Jacaerys you cannot be serious.”  The shopkeeper is more than happy to take the gold off his hands and hand the necklace to him. The two of you step away though you do not tackle his arm when it is not offered to you. Finally stopping once you feel as though the two of you are not in the public eye “Turn around.” “Jacaerys I cannot accept this.” “turn around and allow me to put it on you y/n.’ 

In defeat you turn away from him and his hands glide easily around your neck, lingerie touches on your collarbone and exposed skins feels more intimate than anything you've ever felt as you can feel his breath on the side of your neck. “You should not have just bought it.” your words are quiet as you can finally find it in you to speak and he lays his head on your shoulder and takes a deep breath. “It is nothing. I will give you anything you wish.” you selfishly allow yourself to stand there with him for a moment with your eyes closed. His hands had fallen down to your forearms and held you and you could feel the cold metal of your new necklace against your burning skin. 

You frown as he steps away from you and you turn back towards him. His eyes were not staring directly into yours but instead were locked onto your lips. He takes a step closer to you and you let him. You let him lean down and even close your eyes eagerly awaiting him-

“My prince.!” he freezes and sharply pulls away from you and whips around to the guard who had come over. “What is it?” if you had thought he sounded irritated earlier that would be nothing compared to the venom that laced his voice now. What you don't see is the angry look on his face and his eye twitching from how quickly annoyed he had become. “The hunt my prince,,” the guard trails off and his eyes quickly land onto you which you promptly turn away from him and stare at the ground as you kick the dirt beneath you. “I am so sorry my prince but the hunt is about to start.” You can hear the prince tsk before he shoos the guard away saying he will be there shortly. He grabs your arm and spins you to look at him, “i wouldn't want to keep you jacaerys,,,” he smiles and shakes his head at you. “You should want to keep me y/n.” you turn your head away from him causing him to laugh. “I shall see you, I promise.” as you watch him leave you bring your hands up to your cheeks and feel them burning against your skin. The prince had certainly charmed you.

--

Taglist <3 (feel free to ask to be added !!)

@alexa554 @demedidnothingwrong @blurpleuni-squid

[jasmineoolongtea]

coffee jelly and parfait ― chapter 1: caramel pudding

pairing: bodyguard!toji x baker!reader (f), toji is 38, reader is 22

summary: after working towards and succeding in accomplishing your lifelong dream working for one of the most famous bakeries in tokyo, you decide to go out for a night of celebratory drinking. however, the next morning, you wake up and find out that you're now married to a total stranger and an older one at that! but, turns out, this accidental marriage of yours might be more useful than you think.

contents: a sesame salt and pudding!au, age gap relationship (16 years - everyone is completely legal here!!!), marriage of convenience/accidental marriage, fluff, angst, slice of life, nicknames (toji is referred to as ossan by reader which is an informal way of referring to a middle-aged man in Japanese and this is taken directly from the manga inspo behind this)

warnings: drinking/alcohol, smoking (from toji)

word count: 3.9k words (much beefer than i was expecting ngl)

extras:

⤷ mood board/pinterest board

a/n: ahhh i'm so excited to finally be able to work on this series since it's been workshopping in the back of my mind for a while shdhahwj hope you guys enjoy this and hope you have an amazing day/night !!! sorry that this chapter is so exposition-heavy rip djasd, i promise later chapters will get better. as always, any likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <333

It's normal for weird things to happen after a night of heavy drinking, right?

You've heard all sorts of stories from your friends and family about the strange antics drunk people get up to once they get a certain amount of liquor running through their veins. It can range from small silly things like trying out a new skill in public due to a sudden burst of newfound confidence to more extreme ones like running away from an angry mob of people that you've accidentally incited somehow. Despite the difference in their severity, the common thread here remains: all are mostly harmless things and nothing that is possibly life-changing.

Much to your dismay, however, you seem to be the outlier in all those cases. Actually, it appears to be that you've managed to outdo almost everyone this time as this one definitely has to take the cake right here or whatever award they give out for things like this.

This morning, as you wake up and open your bedroom door, you suddenly find yourself face to face with a complete stranger, who very much appears to be an older guy, standing right outside in your apartment.

And to top off this already weird trajectory of events, as if things could not possibly get even stranger, it also turns out that you've apparently married said stranger last night.

...What!?!

-

To say that your memory of last night is hazy would be a massive understatement in all senses of the word. But what you do remember clearly is the reason why you went drinking in the first place, which was to congratulate yourself for finally achieving your lifelong dream up to this point.

After years of blood, sweat and tears spent at the Tsuji Culinary School where you fought with tooth, fist and nails against hundreds of other culinary hopefuls to win the highly coveted and only place available for the exchange programme to Le Cordon Bleu institute in France, your suffering was not all for nought as on your glorious return back to Japan, you've managed to land your dream job of working at one of Tokyo's most famous bakeries, Pierre Hermé.

If that was not a perfect reason to celebrate and drink the night away completely carefree then you don't know what was.

However, there was one tiny little snag in your plans for a joyous night out. The moment that you returned home to give your roommate the good news, still trying to come down from the high of hearing the good news, it seemed that she apparently also had a similar genius idea of her own and decided to inform you that she was leaving you to search for somewhere else to live closer to her job.

For most people, that wouldn't be a problem as they could just be able to leisurely search for a new roommate at their own pace. But for you, this was not the case as you were facing a different set of circumstances. For you, your move to Tokyo was entirely conditional on the fact that would stay with someone and this was explicitly set and outlined by your dad. Now roommate-less, you suddenly had a ticking expiry date placed on all your ambitions that you had barely scratched the surface of by this point.

This was probably the worst case of whiplash you've ever had, going from an extreme high to an extreme low all in the span of less than 10 minutes. Unfortunately, it seemed that the odds were very much not in your favour. But how could you let that waver your resolve? If you had learned anything from your years of existing is that you weren't going to give up and relent that easily.

So, in actuality, it was somewhat a lie that you were only out drinking for one reason. In reality, it was for two reasons; one, to congratulate yourself on achieving your dreams and two, to try and forget your newfound problem through the power of alcohol. And this was how you found yourself complaining to a bunch of strangers at a local izakaya, surrounded by several empty pints of beer.

A loud drunken sob echoes through the small confines of the bar which is accompanied by the thud of an empty glass cup slamming against the wooden countertop of the bar.

"It isn't fair at all! Do you know how hard I've worked to get here? I've basically given up everything for this and now it's going to all disappear?" You bemoan out loud to whoever's around you, signalling to the barkeep to fill up another pint for you as you're clearly intent on accomplishing your plan of drinking away your problems.

There's a lady and her boyfriend, whose face you can't really remember or recall in any particular detail, sitting next to you on your right trying to comfort you with sympathetic coos and awkward back pats. While they're trying their best to comfort you, or as best as drunk people can, their efforts are seemingly in vain as you can only sigh in defeat at your current predicament.

Taking another swig of the freshly poured pint, you continue on your rant. "And you know, my dad is only letting me stay in Tokyo if I either have a roommate or if I'm married even if I'm happy here as is!"

The lady nods in an empathetic manner as if to say she's gone through the same thing as well, commenting, "My dad's the same way as well, he's kinda old-fashioned when it comes to stuff like this and it's awful."

"If only alcohol could cure problems like this," You muse. "My roommate and I used to come here all the time and everyone we met here is always so nice."

At your praise of the other bar patrons, there's a murmur of agreement and cheers from all around. The frothy foam of your drink has bubbled down by now but as you stare into the half-drunk glass, you're suddenly hit with an outrageous idea. "Hey, what if I get married to one of you guys tonight, right here right now?"

Boisterous laughter immediately erupts at your words. One dishevelled salary man from the other side of the bar jokingly remarks, "If you do that, you won't even be wanted back home!"

However, once the laughter dies down there's a genuine pause from everyone, including yourself, as if you all were genuinely considering carrying out this ridiculous and definitely impractical idea. Following the brief silence, the other patrons turn to their neighbours and begin to talk and discuss amongst themselves, their heads swivelling left and right in what seems to be an attempt to size up and judge the men at the bar as potential candidates.

"I'm already married to a wife I love dearly so I'm going to have to turn down that offer." Announces a middle-aged man from opposite you, with other similar comments and statements soon chiming in to eliminate themselves from the running based on a variety of different reasons.

Before the lady's boyfriend can even open his mouth to volunteer himself, she sends a withering look and an accusatory finger his way as she warns him, "Don't even think about it." At her stern warning, he quickly sinks back down into his seat.

An elderly man sighs wistfully to himself. "Ha, maybe if I was 20 years younger..." He then turns to his side, nudging the guy next to him with his elbow to get his attention before asking him. "Hey, what about you?"

You can't really see the other man's face since he's pretty much on the other side of the long table and your vision might have been slightly hazy on account of all the alcohol flowing through your system at this point, though you hear his gruff voice ring out as he shrugs his built shoulders and responds, "Me? 'M single I guess."

From all the other voices you've heard tonight, you don't recognise his, guessing that he might have been relatively silent throughout most of the conversation. Although you can't see much of him, you notice even sitting down, he's about two heads taller than those around him and his broad shoulders and well-built physique are accentuated by the tight-fitting black shirt he's wearing. God, it looks like he's basically vacuumed and sealed into that thing as the fabric shifts with every flex of his muscles.

Maybe it's the dim lighting of the izakaya but you're sure you catch a brilliant flash of green from across the table looking you up and down with vague curiosity and interest. You think to yourself, he doesn't look half bad.

Suddenly filled with a renewed sense of energy, or rather you're getting to the point on your drunkness scale where you feel comfortable enough to throw logic out of the window, you leap up from your seat and point at the man as you shout at the top of your lungs,

"Alright, you in the black shirt! Let's get married!"

After hearing your declaration, the lady starts to furiously flip the magazine in front of her until it lands on a certain page before picking it up and showing it to the others. "Hey, look! This magazine I bought has a marriage registration form at the back."

"What an amazing coincidence." Someone mutters from beside you with a few other voices soon relaying their own hums of agreement.

"We can all be witnesses! Come on and sign it!"

Chants of "Sign it." start to fill up the bar as the other patrons begin to cheer you two on like a crowd at a live stadium sports match from the sidelines of their seats. The moment your pen clatters against the floor, the crowd bursts out into celebratory shouts and cheers, with that being the extent of your memories of last night with whatever after it fading into black.

-

Now back in the present, you feel your face start to burn with a renewed sense of embarrassment as memories and small recollections of last night start to flood your mind. Any chance of even possibly denying the events of last night goes out the window as turns out, your drunk self decided that it was the perfect opportunity to apparently take a commemorative photo of the event with the marriage license at the dead of centre of it, your names unmistakably written on there in bold.

As you examine the form, still slightly gobsmacked, you spot his name next to yours. Fushiguro Toji, huh? You think quietly to yourself, his name sounds kind of nice. But before you can find yourself getting lost in thought, a husky voice snaps you back into reality.

"Now, do'ya remember?" The man, or Toji as that's what appears to be his name, quirks an inquisitive eyebrow at you.

"Yeah, but that doesn't explain how you ended up in my apartment." Eyeing him up and down, you pause for a second as you take in your equally dishevelled appearances, something suddenly clicking in your head as your overactive mind begins to draw its own conclusions about what happened after the events of the izakaya. "Oh no. Di-did we..?" You gesture frantically at the two of you, hoping that he understands what you're implying with your question.

Toji shakes his head, a slightly irritated or perhaps even amused sigh leaving his lips, you're not sure. "No. Yer insisted that you should take me home since I mentioned that I didn't really have a place to stay for the night."

A sigh of relief escapes you.

You take this time to now fully examine him since you didn't get much of a chance last night, or rather you had forgotten all about it. There's an unquestionably intimidating aura about him with his shaggy black hair, incredibly muscular physique and piercing emerald green eyes that look like they could kill a man where he stood with a single stare. His all-black clothing and what appears to be a vertical scar situated on the right corner of his lips do him no favours to make him look less like a gangster straight out of an action movie.

Although there aren't the typical tell-tale signs of ageing on him like obvious wrinkles or a head of grey hairs, there's a faint imprint of more permanent creases starting to form in the middle of his brows and if you look closely enough, you might even notice some small sprinkles of white starting to pop up amidst the rest of his raven locks. This all points to the fact that he's definitely older than you but you're unsure by how much from your initial assessment of him, probably at least ten years older than give or take.

Though, besides this outright menacing factor to him, you can't help but admit that he's also strikingly handsome in a rugged way. You realise that you might have been caught staring at him for too long when he clears his throat and gives you a pointed glance with those sharp green eyes. Just having his gaze on you is enough to send a tingling sensation down your spine.

Deciding to brush it off, he huffs to himself as he leans his weight against the white walls of your apartment. "It's probably too late to cancel it since we already signed and submitted it last night so the only option we have now is to divorce."

He fishes around in the pockets of his pants and produces an already half-empty and slightly crumpled cigarette box. Before taking one out, he turns towards you and silently asks for your permission with a tilt of his head. You nod at him, expecting him to crank open one of your windows to smoke but instead, he walks towards your kitchen and turns on your kitchen hood. Curiously, you follow behind him and see him use a dingy lighter to light up the cigarette, the pale glow of the flame illuminating the harsh lines of his features, as he takes a deep puff of it before blowing the smoke up the hood.

So he's a kitchen smoker, huh? Obviously, you want to know how he's developed this peculiar habit but you decide to bite your tongue for now as there are more pressing issues on hand such as the undeniable elephant in the room.

There's a brief moment of silence before Toji starts speaking again. "Y'know, I kinda feel bad for last night 'cause you're going to be a divorcee so young."

"Hey! I'm not that young you know, Ossan!" You protest in return, crossing your arms over your chest in a slightly childish display of annoyance. That earns you what sounds like a breathy laugh from him as one corner of his lips tilts upwards in a somewhat crooked manner.

"Oh yeah? Then how old are ya?" There's a teasing lilt to his voice, almost as if he's slightly amused by your antics.

You huff. "22. What about you?"

"You really can't remember much from last night huh? I'm 38." If he's 38 then that means there's a 16-year age difference between you two. Not the worst-case scenario that could happen when it comes to marrying a complete stranger by accident, you think to yourself.

It seems that your apparent lack of reaction, only giving out a half-hearted hmm, to finding out his age is surprising to him. If he was going to be honest, he wasn't ruling out that you might have started bolting out of your apartment at the mention of it and in that case, he wouldn't blame you.

You state, "Besides, you're not the only one to blame here. It's on me as well since we both signed it. So don't feel bad. We'll get it taken care of as soon as possible." You send a reassuring smile his way, waving off his concerns with an easy-going wave of your wrist. For some reason, he feels like he might even believe your assurance for a second.

Much to your public embarrassment your stomach starts to grumble loudly with what some might say is impeccable comedic timing. "Or well, as soon as I get some food." You comment bashfully, your previously carefree attitude fading away relatively quickly as a new priority has emerged.

As you make the move towards your fridge, you look over at him from your shoulder as you ask, "Oh right. Do you want something as well? I don't really cook meals that often so all I have in my kitchen is basically just baking ingredients."

Toji does a quick look around the kitchen, examining the clear state of mess and disarray that it's in and scoffs offhandedly to himself. "Didn't realise you could call this mess a kitchen."

"In my defence, my roommate used to do all the cooking and cleaning whilst I mainly covered the bills." You point back at him, a wooden spoon in hand as you wave at him warningly.

"What happened to them then?"

"Oh, you know, suddenly deciding to move closer to work even though your roommate has already paid the lease for the year for two people and stuff like that." There's an edge of annoyance to your tone, clearly, you're still annoyed at your roommate for putting you in this predicament, but Toji decides not to comment on it.

After watching you struggle to turn on your gas stove for what seems to be like the tenth time in the span of 2 minutes, a loud sigh of exasperation escapes him as he places his calloused hand on top of yours. stopping you in your tracks. "Come on, just let me do it." He states. As he moves closer to the kitchen counter, his body is positioned so close to your left side that you can feel the heat radiating off of him.

He starts to busy himself with various ingredients as it seems that he's now begrudgingly taken over cooking duties from you, no protests from your side by the way. Before you go to take your seat at the kitchen table, you hear him mumble under his breath. "Can't believe you have the time to go out and get drunk and not even to clean your place."

"Hey." You turn around to face him once again, your voice stern. "You don't know me, alright? I wanna stay in Tokyo because I just got my dream job and I'm not planning on leaving any time soon."

"...Yer job? What d'you do?"

"I'm a baker. Have you ever heard of the bakery, Pierre Hermé?"

He pauses, bringing a finger up to his chin as if deep in thought. "Think 've walked past it a few times. Why?"

There's a renewed sense of excitement to you, passion very much evident in both your words and expression as you launch into an animated spiel at his question. "It's one of the top bakeries in Tokyo and I've spent my whole life working towards being able to get a job there." You look out at the window, quietly contemplating and contrasting the crowded and bustling streets and skyline of Tokyo with the sleepy and relatively isolated atmosphere of your hometown.

"Back in my home town, there isn't really much opportunity to work somewhere like this, especially since it's a foreign bakery specialising in French pastries so this is basically my only chance to fulfil my dreams." You can't help but let a wistful sigh leave your lips, thinking about how hard you've fought to get to this point now. Unbeknownst to you, Toji suddenly sits up straighter, his back pressed against the cool ceramic countertops as he stares at you, seemingly studying you in a new light after your words. Before you can realise it though, he quickly adverts his gaze elsewhere, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"What about you?" You ask him, a sense of interest clearly present in your voice. For someone like him, you don't even know where to really begin when it comes to guessing what a guy like him could do for a living as it could range from semi-realistic to wildly fantastical like straight out of a TV show.

"...I'm a bodyguard for hire." Compared to you though, his tone is devoid of the same energy and passion present in yours with him even pausing slightly before answering, as if he was hesitant to reveal this aspect about himself.

"Wow, that's cool." There's a small sense of awe at his response. Being a bodyguard would definitely explain that muscular physique of his, you remark quietly to yourself.

A tsk sound escapes him at your comment, shrugging it off with his shoulders as he turns to the side. "All I care is that it pays well. Nothin' more."

You deflate a little at his words. To you, he sounds more begrudging than anything and you think that there's probably a story behind that as well, like many other things about him like that lip scar of his, but you choose to avoid prodding him even further as well in his defence, you've technically just met each other last night. All of a sudden, you're hit with an idea, a crazy idea just like last night, but this time now sober, and it might just be crazy enough to work or you two might just be desperate enough to make it work. You clear your throat before you call out to him.

"Hey, Ossan." Toji looks back at you, and clearly, you've managed to pique his curiosity by the amused expression present on his face. If you were a lesser person, you might have shrunk under the intensity of his gaze so intently trained on you but you don't, there's too much of your future dream riding on this now for you to back out before anything could have even begun. You look into his eyes, maintaining eye contact before you continue. "I have an idea, actually, it's more of a request. The next time I go back home to visit my parents, can you come with me as my husband? If I'm married to someone who lives in Tokyo, my dad can't tell me to move home anymore and he'll definitely believe that it's real once he sees your name on the official family register."

Before he can even say no or offer any protest of his own, you add, "Plus, this deal will be beneficial to you as well since you'll get a place to live until you get your own apartment. So, let's hold off on the divorce until then."

There's a hopeful look in your eyes with a look of determination painted on your features. Evidently, even without his input, it appears to be that you're dead set on this plan if it means you get the slightest chance of staying here. He contemplates a future where he says no, imagining another week of being forced to couch surf on his boss's stale office couch and living in a constant state of uncertainty for who knows how long. Sure, it's not like he's so sure about what going to happen now but at least if he agrees to this, he's not alone in dealing with whatever uncertainty is thrown his way.

He shakes his head, stubbing out the burnt end of his cigarette in the sink and takes your hand in his.

"Alright fine, yer got a deal."

taglist: @catobsessedlady , @aluvrina , @thulhu , @sn1perz , @meowmeew , @hprnx , @r0ckst4rjk , @dianakisses , @lashaemorow , @cinnabooonn

[awearywritersworld]

Hellooooo!

I love your series masq, it’s amazing!

After reading the previous ask about Valentines day gifts, I couldn’t get the thought of Sukuna ordering Yuuji to lend him money so that he can buy flowers for the reader.

Hope you’re having an amazing day!

hi dear!!<333 thank you so very much! i'm happy you've enjoyed the series :) hope your day is going well, too!!!

hehehe i love that! i think their dynamic definitely shifts over time to where they still bully each other, but there's just a little less malice behind their words. perhaps even a familiarity that wasn't there before sukuna's relationship w reader

"grab those flowers, too."

yuuji isn't even remotely startled by the mouth that appears on his cheek in the middle of the supermarket, or the commanding tone that it takes.

he complies, reaching for one of the bouquets.

"no, brat. the one to the left. aren't you supposed to know what she likes?"

yuuji tries and fails to not roll his eyes. "of course i know what she likes."

"then why would you—"

eager to cut him off, yuuji asks, "how do you plan on paying for these?"

"what, you don't have your wallet?"

"no, i do."

a moment of silence passes before sukuna understands the situation.

"what is it that you want me to do, idiot? beg?"

"hm. now that you mention it, this idiot thinks that sounds like a great idea."

"absolutely not."

"well that's alright," yuuji comments, putting the flowers back where he'd gotten them from. "i'm sure she'll be happy with that i picked out for her."

"..wait."

the corners of yuuji's mouth tug upward. "yeah?"

"just get the flowers... please." he spits the word as if it burns his tongue.

yuuji lets him suffer for another few seconds before acquiescing. "oh, i guess that'll work."

sukuna grumbles out some empty threat involving evisceration, but yuuji grabs the bouquet anyway.

despite the way they push one another's buttons, they know they're bound to each other. not because of the body they both inhabit, but because of you.

[bookshelf-dust]

the hurt is good

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 5,163

warnings: swearing, cops, talk of jail/billy's abuse, neil, fluff and love

a/n: well, here it is. this is the very last part of my very first series. i am very proud of the ending i've created for these two. i like to think i've given billy what he deserved. i'm so grateful for all of the feedback and support you've given me on the previous parts. also, a part of this relies heavily on hopper’s letter from season 3, so that’s that, and then some of his other dialogue. i’ve found that it fit billy effortlessly. i really hope you enjoy this and maybe find some solace in it. i love you all <333

before you read, listen to: time after time by cyndi lauper and/or the promise by when in rome

————

The first night without Neil, Hopper sits in his car outside the house. He promised no one would hurt them. He means it.

Nicky went to high school with both Hopper and Joyce. In fact, she was suspended for dealing them weed under the bleachers at one point. She regrets nothing to this day.

Because of that, it really wasn’t too difficult to have a heart-to-heart with the man, to get him to sit down with Billy. And Max and you. Susan.

Hopper had shown up at the house to speak with Neil. When he arrived, he told you to keep Billy in his room, though that hadn’t mattered. The second Billy realized he might actually get out of this, that he might live without fear of his own father, he buried his face in your chest, tears wetting your collarbones, your t-shirt.

You’d let him get it all out, stroking his loose and frizzy curls, occasionally laying your hands over his ears to muffle any shouting. Billy squeezed you each time you did so.

Even if he was a little hopeful this might work, Billy couldn’t help but think about that night when he was a kid. When his mama left him with Neil.

He’d sat on his bedroom floor, trying to be quiet while his dad showered, pleading with her.

“Please mom, don’t do this. Please come home.”

“How long? How long?”

“I miss you.”

She was the last person he felt safe with, before you. And she’d gone, leaving her boy with him. Trapped. Part of him wasn’t sure this would work out. He’d hoped for so long that his mother would return, and she hadn’t. Neil had dictated everything in Billy’s life so far, so how was it possible for anything to change?

Hopper had given Neil Hargrove one option.

“You’re gonna sign these papers,” he’d said, gesturing at the divorce packet lying on the table, “and I’m going to quietly take you down to the station and expose you for the piece of shit you are. Lock you up for abusing your child.”

Neil had started screaming about how Hopper had no right to do any of this, to barge into his home claiming all of this.

“Sure, yeah, pitch a fit. Like that’s gonna change anything,” Hopper said, entertained by the fact that Neil was acting like the victim.

During one of the intervals where your hands were pressed to Billy’s ears, the hoop in the left one biting into your palm, you’d caught something Hopper said.

“I suggest you shut your mouth before you give me something else to report.” By the tone in his voice, you could imagine that he was inches from Neil’s face.

“You’re a coward,” Hopper had said. “Beating on your kid because your life didn’t turn out right. Well let me tell you something, that’s not his fault. It’s yours.”

There’d been a knock on Billy’s bedroom door followed by Hop’s gruff voice. 

“Y/N, kiddo can I have a minute with you?”

Billy had looked up at you, eyes puffy. “I’ll be right back baby, I’m not leaving, I promise.”

You’d pressed a kiss to his forehead, and he’d held onto your hand until it was too far out of his reach.

Shutting the door carefully behind you, you’d looked at him. “We’re taking him away,” he said.

You blinked. “Really?”

“Really. He signed, so Susan is good to go.”

Hopper considered letting Neil run away, making him just disappear, but he didn’t want to chance him doing this to someone else. He’d already done that once though, hadn’t he?

“I’m really proud of you for helping him through this, kid. You remind me of your mom.”

His hand had been warm on your shoulder.

“If you want me to be honest, he’s lucky this prison isn’t very big. But that doesn’t mean nothing will happen if others figure out what he’s in for.”

You nodded, knowingly.

“Powell and Callahan just got here. We’re gonna be quiet. No lights, nothing. I don’t want to make this worse for Billy. But if he wants to see, we’re going soon.”

“Thank you, Hopper,” you’d said, hugging him. He’d let you. He’d had his fair share of a shitty father as a kid. Helping someone like Billy is something he’d always wanted to do.

Back in Billy’s room, you’d taken his face in your hands.

“Baby, they’re taking him now. Do you want to watch or stay inside?”

His back had straightened. He knew what he wanted, and he told you as much, so you led him through to the back steps, holding his hand the whole time, Max behind you, resting her chin on her brother's arm.

Billy got to watch them shove his father in the back of a police car, hands behind his back.

He was finally free.

————

Susan pawned most of Neil's more expensive things, that way she'd have money to cover bills for a while and have something to put towards the house payment. She hadn't really been trusted with the financials when Neil was around, aside from basic spending. Now that she had two children to look after, she really didn't want to be in a bad spot.

She had a feeling most newly divorced women would use the money to buy themselves something nice, but she didn't see any point in that. This wasn't about her. This was about making a life where Billy and Max could feel safe.

Even if Billy had whined about it to you at first, having dinner with Max and Susan at least three times a week to start was helping. And he would never admit this, but Susan was actually a pretty damn good cook. Whenever she'd prepared food pre-inmate Neil, they'd been kind of shitty. Billy supposed this had been her tiny form of protest.

It's pretty late now, but Billy is sprawled on the couch watching reruns of whatever. He's really not even entirely sure what's happening on tv. He thinks this might be Cheers. It's the fact that he can be on the couch that he's doing it. He doesn't have any particular reason to hide in his room unless he wants to.

He's missed this couch. It's the same one he's sat on since he was a kid. Since his mother was still around. It was one of the few items that made it to Hawkins when they moved.

Susan has the day off tomorrow. She said so at dinner. Hence why she's still up.

Billy hears her footsteps and looks up when she walks into the room. She gives him a gentle smile.

"I'm making Max some hot chocolate. You feel like some? I have marshmallows too, if you want those."

"Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks."

She smiles again and then disappears for a while before returning with a mug that has a six-year-old Max's hand print on it.

Billy sits up and takes a sip. He can't remember the last time someone made him someone other than you or Nicky made him something like this.

Susan sits down a little ways away from Billy in an oversized chair that Max usually claims as her own. The only time anyone else gets to sit in it are in times like these when she's being forced to do science homework with Dustin yapping in her ear. She'd asked for help, not an entirely new lesson. Dustin did not care.

Susan starts to read a book, and Billy almost forgets she's in the room when she speaks.

"Billy?"

His eyes rove across from the television to her over the top of his mug. She sets the book down.

"I just wanted to apologize. For not doing anything to protect you from your dad. I don't really have a reason other than selfish ones, like I was afraid he'd start on me, or Max. I guess I just thought if he got it out things would be okay." She buries her face in her hands.

"God, I'm so sorry, Billy. This is your home, and I came into your life and took you away from where you'd grown up, and I never stopped to think about what it was doing to you. I was only thinking about myself."

“I should’ve helped take care of you. You were just a kid. You’re still just a kid. And I’ve done nothing but let you down. I want to be better. I’m not saying I want to replace your mom or anything, but I don’t want you to feel unsafe or unwelcome here anymore.”

Billy keeps drinking his hot chocolate but he has to hold it with both hands because they’re shaking now.

“I feel like I don’t even know you. And maybe that’s because you didn’t want to know me, or maybe because I just avoided you.”

“I’m just so sorry, Billy. I want to try. I am trying. The both of you deserve so much better and you don’t have to accept this. I just wanted you to know that and that I care about you.”

Billy is quiet and for a moment it scares Susan, but she understands he might not have anything to say. He might not want to say anything. He might be waiting until he can afford to move out of this fucking house.

But Billy finally sets his mug down. It’s empty. He looks at Susan and he nods.

“It’s okay,” he tells her. “I understand. I don’t blame you and I appreciate that you want to try. I want to try, too.”

Susan nods back, a sweet smile on her face. It’s gentle, the look she’s giving him.

Billy does understand though. His being the target of Neil’s abuse prevented both Max and Susan from it. He understands that Susan was afraid of her husband and the man that she might not have known he’d unveil to be. She was scared. He understands.

He’s willing to try. To let her in.

She stands and picks up Billy’s empty cup. “Was it okay?” she asks, “It’s just the store bought kind.”

“Yeah. Yeah it was great.”

When she grins at him she looks young. She looks tired and upset, but maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it means change. Maybe it means she’s learning. She’s trying.

————

“Wear mine.”

Billy looks at you through the mirror in front of which he’s been primping. He claims he doesn’t like it when you say he’s “getting pretty.” His blush says otherwise.

“Yours?”

He rolls his eyes and puts down the hairspray he was holding. “Yeah. It’s fuckin’ cold tonight. Just put mine on. I don’t want you to walk all the way back to your house just to get something I have.”

You snort, making for his closet door. “All the way back?”

He bumps your hip with his, a common you-little-shit gesture.

“Because I live so far away.” You greet the pornstar taped to the thin wood before sliding it open.

“Should be on the right,” Billy says, ignoring your comment and shoving cologne down the front of his pants while you aren’t looking. It’s a habit at this point. Shit, he doesn’t even think about it, and he knows he doesn’t have to impress you.

You push around the clothing hanging in his closet, a couple button-ups, leather, a sweater you’ve never seen him in. It’s this cream color, thick and cable knit. You pull it out. 

“How come you don’t wear this?” you ask, holding it up to him. He unsnaps another button from his shirt and your eyes follow the movement even though you don’t mean to ogle. 

Billy looks the sweater up and down like it’s grossing him out. “I wore it once,” he tells you.

“Once,” you mock playfully, putting the shirt back into his closet.

Billy’s hands are on your hips in an instant, spinning you around. “I thought you were getting a jacket, not raiding my belongings.”

You stick your tongue out at him. It’s childish and you know it, but you do it anyway. He smacks your ass in retaliation, and you go to squeeze his but he grabs your wrist, pulling it to his mouth so that he can kiss your pulse point.

“Barf.” The voice makes you turn your head, and Max has pushed the door open fully where it had been cracked. 

“Hi, Max,” you say, pulling your hand from Billy’s grasp, even if he pouts, and moving to actually retrieve the denim jacket you’d been instructed to wear. 

You can feel Billy and Max staring at each other. “What do you need?” he asks her. 

“Just came to see if we were planning on leaving today or if I should maybe hitch a ride elsewhere.” She enters the room and sits down on the edge of her brother’s bed. 

Billy glances at his watch. “You said to have you at El’s by seven-thirty. We’ve got time.” 

She crosses her arms and Billy faces the mirror again. He thinks he’s finished. “Did you even finish packing your bag, shithead?”

You shove your arms through the jacket sleeves, looking at Max. She raises her eyebrows. No, she definitely did not. There’s a flash of red hair as she hops up, and then she’s gone, the sound of dresser drawers being yanked open and shut echoing down the hall. 

You start rolling up the cuffs, and Billy reaches for the collar, adjusting it for you. You’re focused on getting your hands free when you feel Billy’s finger lifting your chin up. He brings his lips to yours, kissing you once. He pulls away and you move back in, wanting one more. He obliges, albeit grinning at your eagerness. When you’ve gotten your fill, you kiss his cheek, and that’s the one that makes him blush. 

He moves away from you, pulling on his own jacket. “I’m gonna go start the car, okay?”

“M’kay.”

Max let it slip once that Billy always went out to warm up the car before taking them to school. She wouldn’t have assumed it was for her right off the bat, but when she realized he didn’t do that when it was just him in the car, she figured out it was him being nice. Now he just does it for the both of you. You won’t ever say anything about it. 

You look at yourself in Billy’s mirror, listening to his footsteps down the hall and out into the living room. You put your hands in the pockets of his jacket, and to your surprise you feel something. It’s not spare change, or a lighter–anything you would’ve expected to find. 

It’s a sheet of paper. You pull it out, thinking it might be homework he tucked away or a receipt or something. It’s not, though. It’s notebook paper, and it’s been neatly folded like it was done with purpose. 

You sit on the edge of Billy’s bed, and unfold it. To your surprise, it’s a page covered in his handwriting, that pretty, sometimes faintly cursive scrawl. There are some lines scratched out because he used a pen and couldn’t erase. But the thing that catches your eye is the very first line. It’s just your name. It’s a letter. A letter for you. 

Your heart starts to race and you find yourself beginning to read, sinking further into his mattress. 

There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about, it reads. 

Feelings. Jesus. The truth is, for so long I’d forgotten what those were. I’ve been stuck in one place. In a cave, you might say. A deep, dark cave. And then I sat with you at lunch, and bought you a book, and suddenly you were part of my life. For the first time in a long time, I started to feel things again. I started to feel happy. 

But, tonight I’ve been feeling distant from you. Like I’m pulling away from you or something. I’m sitting here and I’m thinking about the way you looked at me that first night at the record store. The way you held on to me when I slept over for the first time. I’m not even sure if you remember it, but every time I tried to move throughout the night you whined like you were afraid I was going to leave you. Like you needed me. 

But you didn’t know about my dad or that I was falling in love with you then. And I can’t stop thinking about how I raised my voice at you when I came over today.

You pause, realizing when it was that he wrote this. The day he fought back. 

And I’ve been afraid for so long that I might turn out like him. That I might be just the same. And I’ve been scared that you might realize that too and leave me behind. But I didn’t feel that way today when you spoke to me like a human being and you wanted to work things out. I’m changing. You’re changing me. We’re changing. And I guess, if I’m being really honest, that’s what scares me. I don’t want things to change. Because there’s a part of me that worries you might still change your mind. The rest of me knows you won’t. 

So I think maybe what I’m saying is that when you didn’t know about how I felt or who I really am on the inside that it didn’t feel like I’d lose you. But now I’ve let you in and you can see all of me. And now that you’ve said you love me I really don’t want things to change. I don’t want to lose you or want you to go. 

But I know that’s naive. To think you’ll leave. That’s not who you are. I know you’d look at me and say that’s not how this is going to work. 

My whole life everyone has picked someone else over me. Left me behind. Left me on my own. And I know that’s how life works. It’s moving. Always moving and people change whether you like it or not. But you’ve taught me that change can be good. That it doesn’t always mean people changing their mind about me. About caring about me or that I’m good enough to keep around. 

And sometimes change is painful. Sometimes it’s sad and sometimes it’s surprising. 

Happy. 

So you know what? I don’t think change is bad anymore. I think I’m supposed to learn from it. I think that when life hurts, because I know parts of it are going to hurt and there will be things that always hurt, I should remember it. Because the hurt is good. It means I’m out of that cave. 

I just want you to hold my hand while I figure it all out. 

You finish reading and fold the letter back up, putting it back where you found it. You hadn’t realized you were crying, but you were, and you spend the next few minutes fixing yourself in Billy’s mirror. 

When he returns he thinks you’re the one primping. 

“Ready, baby?” he asks. “Max is in the car.”

You turn to him, and he smiles at you. That pretty, pretty smile. You kiss him on both cheeks and then shut off his bedroom light. 

“I’m ready.”

————

Billy pulls away from Hop’s cabin after dropping Max off, but he’s quick to stop the car again. 

You were quiet the whole way there. Sweet as always, no doubt, but it was clear something was bothering you. He doesn’t like it when things upset his girl. 

“What are you doing, Hargrove? We’re gonna miss the movie if you keep this up.”

He raises his eyebrows at you. “Well excuse the hell outta me, hon’.”

You slap your hands against your face, peeking through your fingers at him in hopes that he’ll go ahead and scold you.

“I want you to tell me what’s wrong, baby.” Billy doesn’t have to elaborate. You never seem to have to explain your feelings to him much anymore. It’s like he’s figuring you out, like he understands and knows when something’s bugging you or if you’re hurting. 

“It’s nothing bad, I promise,” you say.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to know.”

You nod, and reach into the pocket of the jacket, pulling free the paper. It’s seconds before Billy sees the striped sheet that he remembers what it is, what he’d left in there. 

It all comes back to him, his wrist hurting from pouring his heart out, the relief he felt at putting his feelings somewhere. 

You hand it to him. He unfolds it and scans it over. “You read it?” He knows you did.

“Yeah.” You smile shyly at him, and it’s the same smile you gave him that very first night that you came to check on him. Billy wants to kiss you, so he leans over the center console and does; he presses his mouth to your forehead, warm and sweet. His presence is all-encompassing: heady cologne, minty gum. So very Billy. So much like home. 

He hands the paper back to you. “Feelings, huh?” he says, his mouth pulling up at the corners. 

“Feelings.”

You sandwich your hands between your thighs, taking a deep breath. Your eyes start to water and you can’t help it.

“Billy, I would never leave you, okay?” You were hoping the tears wouldn’t spill over, but it doesn’t matter because your voice fails you. It wavers and you sound fragile, young. And then he’s taking your face in his hands, wiping under your eyes even though there isn’t anything to wipe yet, just soothing motions over the apples of your cheeks, calloused thumbs and warm skin.

He stares at you, his eye contact unbreaking. When he looks at you like that, blue eyes boring into yours, you can’t help but feel a little full. Because he’s looking at you like that. You. 

“I know that. I know.”

You nod, and he nods with you, so much that it looks silly, the both of you nodding, and you start to laugh. 

“I made you feel that way? Really?”

“Of course you did,” Billy says. “My whole life I’ve felt like I’m like a black hole or somethin’. You don’t make me feel that way.”

Your heart aches for him. For this boy who’s had no one tell him how good he is. Who’s finally let you in. Who’s finally realized he can have better, and that he deserves to. 

“I love you, Billy.”

He kisses you on each cheek, your face warm against his lips. He grins and you can feel it on your face. 

“I love you too.”

When you get to the movie theater, you do pay for popcorn, and you do hand him the snacks you kept in your bag after you take your seats. Your mother said movie candy was getting much too expensive. 

You pop a handful of Sno Caps in your mouth, and Billy opens his mouth. You sprinkle some in his, and then reach for his hand. 

He looks down at your clasped fingers while a kid almost faceplants with a bucket of popcorn on the way up the stairs. Thankfully their father caught them first. 

“You did say you wanted me to hold your hand.”

“I did,” Billy says.

—————

“Sit still, I’ll be right back, I swear.”

Billy crosses his arms, but it’s hard for him to look entirely brooding when he’s got plum shadow on his eyelids. You stand. “Here, Max, supervise.” You hand her the brush between your fingers, and she snorts at her brother from where she lays across your bed. 

You make for the living room, suppressing a grin at the sounds of laughter emanating from the area. Susan and Nicky sit on opposite sides of the couch, watching The Golden Girls and talking about whatever it is that mothers-of-dating-children talk about. 

“Mom,” you say, coming to a stop in front of her. 

“Hi, honeybee. What’s the matter?” 

“Can I use some of your makeup? There’s some things you’ve got that I haven’t and–”

She smiles at you, adjusting the well-loved pillow squished behind her back. “You know you can. Whatever you need.”

Her grin is contagious, and you find yourself smiling back just the same. “Thank you.”

She nods. “Playing dress up?” Your mother gives you a knowing look, thinking about the idea you’d had in mind ever since you watched Rocky Horror with Billy that first time. 

“You could say so,” you tell her, and then you’re off to raid her bathroom cabinet, pulling free the large and full bag of goodies. 

You start to rifle through the corduroy pouch, but decide it’d be easier to take the whole thing with you to your room, so that’s what you do.

When you return, you settle on your knees in front of your boyfriend, still finding it odd that you get to call him that now, even if that is exactly what he is to you. Your pretty, pretty boyfriend. Your boyfriend who’s letting you do his makeup. 

Max hands you your brush back, raising herself up on her elbows so that she can watch the show better.

“Hi,” you say to him, pressing a kiss on the tip of his nose. 

“Hi,” he responds, his voice showing all signs that he’s both enjoying this, yet also grumping about the fact that he let you do it in the first place. He settles back on his hands, legs spread so that you can sit in between them and reach him. You pull free both the pencil of thick liner you’d been looking for, and a pot of blush you know to be much pinker than the one you’ve got. Yours has also been broken on multiple occasions so that now it’s just little bits of pink powder sliding around in the pan. 

You uncap the liner first, a warm brown shade, clearly freshly sharpened by your mother. “Close your eyes, pretty please,” you tell him. He obliges, lids fluttering shut. 

You reach out, and starting to drag the tip of the pencil across his skin, you realize your hand isn’t as steady as you’d like, considering the fact that you’re also half-focused on not kneeing Billy in a place you’re quite sure he’d prefer to not be kneed. 

You let out a frustrated sigh, and Billy blinks up at you. “What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t working. Just–” You shove the eyeliner pencil into his hands, and then move from between his legs. You grip his calves and move his legs together, then crawl forwards a little and straddle his lap.

He grins up at you, a cocky and mischievous look. “Comfy?”

“Shut up and close your eyes again.”

“Well you don’t want much.” 

You pinch the squish of his side and he swats blindly at your arm. You take Billy’s face in your hand, resting the pinky of your dominant one against his cheekbone. This go around you’re able to drag the liner effectively across his eyelid. A tap at his face signals he needs to look up, and when he does, you do the same to his lower hip. Afterwards, you take a super small brush that Max found and use it to smudge the eyeliner out some, that way the lines aren’t so harsh.

You finish and take Billy’s face in your hands again, turning it to face Max. “Thoughts?”

She taps her chin, though smiling all the same. “Very nice.”

With a little more manhandling, you get some mascara on those lashes of his, though not without a little pleased squeaking in the process. It’s at the blush that you get excited enough to make him laugh. You swipe your brush heavily across his cheeks, and then the tip of his nose, where you’re probably much too generous. You don’t care. He looks so, so pretty, all blushy like this. 

“Part your lips.” You say, thumb tugging at his bottom one. You put a gloss on Billy’s lips and almost lose it for good. He’s so gorgeous. 

When you finish, you wipe your hands clean on a towel and back up a little ways from him to survey your work. 

You clap your hands. “Max, help me. Would you look at this?”

She does, laughing gleefully. “Oh my god, this is so good.”

You look Billy in the eyes, and Max hops up off of your bed to get a better look. “You look so gorgeous, my love.”

He’s thankful for the blush in that moment, because without it you’d see the effect your using that name had on him. 

“Thank you,” he says.

“Wanna see?” God, you look so happy.

“Do I have to?”

You bite your lip and Billy pulls it free, taking the little handheld mirror from you. 

And, honestly, he thinks he looks kinda hot. You picked a good eyeshadow color, one that makes his blue eyes stand out even more, and he just looks pretty. Just as you’d said. 

“Do you like it?”

“Yes. You did a very good job.”

He goes to kiss you, but you stop him. “Nope. You’ll mess up my work!”

Billy rolls his eyes and flips Max a bird when he sees her giggling at your enthusiasm and his compliance. 

“Can I take a picture?” you ask. 

Billy holds up his hands. “Oh hell no.”

“Billy, she needs to document her masterpiece,” Max says, though really she knows it’d make great blackmail. That and she loves how happy the both of you seem. She’d like to remember this too. 

“Please?” You give him your very best puppy dog eyes, making sure they’re watery and everything. You know he’ll give in. 

“Fine. But you show this to anyone, and you’re both dead.”

You laugh, grabbing for your Polaroid camera. “Who the fuck do you think I’m gonna show? Everyone I know is in this room.”

Billy’s smiles then, and you’re just quick enough to catch it. You get another after you kiss his sparkly forehead. And when you’ve finished, you stick them in the frame of your mirror so they’ll always be there. 

That night, after Max and Susan have gone home, you sit in the bathroom to help Billy wash the makeup off, but only when you’d let Nicky see, and she thought he looked stunning. Showstopping, she’d said. 

And it’s then, as you wipe the rosy tinge from his cheeks, revealing his freckles once again, that you realize months before this you’d been so alone. You’d ached for a moment like this. 

And here you were. So even if the journey to get here had hurt, even if it’d been hard and pushed you to your limits, it’s okay. Because that’s how life works. It hurts sometimes. And that’s okay. 

Because the hurt? The hurt is good.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[dairyminki]

this heavily reminds me of my san series ngl

✨️ part of my 300 milestone event 🪄

title: make it up to you

pairing: choi san x gn!reader

genre: established relationship, fluff to suggestive real quick

warning/s: use of pet names (baby, babe, kitten)

wc: 879

a/n: hello hello to one of my fave persons here! this is just one of the many pics u sent me sooo sit back and enjoy ig?? helpsksks i'm really thankful for that san series of urs btw cos it was the reason we both started talking hehet,,,anyway! i hope u like this one luvv <333 and yes the pic do be rlly reminding me of ur san im screaming this was not so nice of u

*reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated!

—

San chuckles, hearing the frustrated huffs that manage to escape your mouth every now and then. He could practically see from the vanity mirror, currently in front of him, the little pout on your lips as well as your arms that are crossed against your chest.

You were already in bed, dressed in your bluish sanrio themed pajamas and—he bets—you're absolutely warm and comfortable under the comforter right now. Although, your furrowed brows say otherwise.

"What's my kitten pouting for, hmm?" San coos, a hint of teasing present in his tone. He has his head slightly angled to the right as he eyes his newly moisturized face in the mirror, two fingers pressing on his lips.

The thing is, he's currently intently admiring his no makeup face and he's not trying to deny that because—damn, he does look great.

You always tell him this, and there are still times that he can't quite put himself to believe it—not tonight though, obviously.

"If there's someone who resembles a cat more, between the two of us, it's gotta be you, Choi San."

San stills in his seat and his self-admiration comes to a halt.

You…

You just called him, San. Not sweetie, not darling, not bubba, and most of all, you didn't call him, Sannie.

Rather, you referred to him with his government name, and this was enough to relay to him just how deep your growing annoyance with him is now.

"Baby…" San softly says, he briefly lifts his butt off the stool as he turns to fully face you.

But when you make no effort to reply and simply cover your face with the comforter instead, he stands up and makes his way over to the bed.

San keeps sweetly uttering the endearment until the mattress dips due to his added weight and until the very moment that he's already laying beside you.

A whine comes out of San's mouth when he sees that you've managed to steer clear of his not so subtle attempt of caging you in his arms. You avoided him by rolling towards your left and viola!—you're now a human sized burrito.

"Baby!"

"Don't baby me!"

"But you're my baby!" San whines even louder.

"Yeah? And you kept this baby waiting for an hour when you promised you'd be done for only a few minutes," You argue, prying off the comforter from your face—San takes note of your slightly red face with a smile—your movements, sharp.

"Babe, I had to make sure that I've wiped every ounce of makeup from my face. Plus, I wanted to be presentable enough for you since we haven't seen each other for like a week," San squeaks, and he sees that you're trying your very best not to roll your eyes at him.

Instead, you scoff.

"You're pretty handsome already, Sannie. I always tell you that."

Ah, now there's that nickname he loves hearing.

Now lying on his side, San musters all the strength needed to pull you towards him—though, he didn't really need that much to do so. This action causes your body to be unwrapped from the comforter and ends with your face flat against his rock hard chest. San laughs when he hears you mutter an 'oof,' and then wastes no time to wrap you in his arms and entangle his legs with yours.

You were now his prey, trapped, and if he's merciful enough, he might just be contented in giving you a few kisses to make it up to you—despite your cute whines—for just a few seconds and then release you from his cage-like embrace, and call it a night, afterwards.

"Ou shmell good." San hears your muffled voice, and he giggles because of the light vibration your voice just made against his chest. And then you're pushing yourself away from him at arm's length, staring up at him.

"Have you been working out more, by the way? Your chest is…" You pause to clear your throat. "...rock solid." You continue, blushing.

San does his absolute best to stay calm despite your comment and your now flustered face. Instead, he makes it a mission to tuck every stray hair that fell and covered your face, behind your ear, and not meeting your eyes while he does so. And he was doing great, very great.

Well, that was until one of your hands gripped his muscly arm, and the other started playing at the neckline of his black tank top.

It's safe to say that the tables have turned and San was now the flustered one.

He is now the prey as he finally locks his eyes with yours. The dark gaze you were wearing was a clear indication that it won't just be cute kisses tonight—but rather, a hot long night filled with further lingering touches and kisses trailing down—

"Make it up to me?"

But, oh—San is very willing to make it up to you, alright. In fact, he might just not show mercy after all.

San hears you murmur, which enticingly pulls him out of his reverie. And then it happens so quickly, with San barely having any time to blink, that now you're already straddling his hips. San's chest heaves at the sight of you on top of him.

[xoeclipse]

water

❀ summary: reader is forced to face her fear

❀ CONTENT WARNING: violence, torture, murder, swearing, angst.

❀ word count: 1.7k

❀ a/n: I’m new to writing fanfics, so sorry if this is lackluster!! I <3 constructive criticism. it starts off dark but this is going to be a little series with a happy ending. I haven’t decided who to make the love interest yet. I might bring back tsu'tey idkkk.. anyway i hope you enjoy!! <333

2154

Calling yourself stupid was a stretch, but you've done stupid things. You're just now realizing which one was the topper.

You've always hated water, hated the thought of drowning. It had to be one of the worst ways to die. Filled with nothing but pain, and panic, and water. 

It wasn’t just the thought of drowning that made you hate water.  It was the dark emptiness the ocean portrayed. Even though something was always lurking underneath. 

That wasn’t the case anymore back on earth, very little marine life was left. The waters were too contaminated to swim in.

it was your love for old horror movies that instilled this fear in you. Movies like ‘Jaws’, introduced you to the deep dark uncertainty that is the ocean.

Your biggest mistake was expressing this fear to people you thought were your comrades. 

Never show weakness. It doesn’t matter how close you think you are to a person, don’t give anyone that type of power over you. 

People change. That’s the only thing you can truly count on them to do. People are like the ocean in that sense. There’s always something lurking underneath. 

Your head is forced into freezing cold water. Rough hands push you further into the dark bin, submerging you past your shoulders. 

You don't think about how those hands used to belong to a friend. 

How he never falters for a second. Not even as you jerk under the water, lungs incapable of going much longer without oxygen.

You think about drowning, how you can't hold your breath for that long, how your arms are uselessly cuffed behind your back, how time is running out, and how the water will consume you.

It wasn’t until the little air you’d been holding left you—your body forcing you to breathe the awful, unfamiliar, cold, liquid—that you were pulled from the water and thrown to the floor.

The relief wasn’t immediate.

Minutes later you're still struggling to breathe in between coughs. Your throat feels like it's on fire, and your lungs ache, but at least you're out of the dark.

Your whole body shakes. You know it's adrenaline. You hate that you can’t control it, that they can see how much this is affecting you. That they probably gain a sick pleasure out of it.

Their lack of remorse and hesitation makes you think that somewhere in the pits of their minds they'd fantasized about doing this. That's why they jumped on the opportunity to torture you. They probably hated you before and you just failed to see it.

Two large boots step into view, you look up to see the scowling face of the colonel staring down at you. Behind him, stands Lyle. Watching. Uniform still dripping from the struggle you put up. 

Their faces don’t show a hint of the warmth they once held. No. Their faces turned rotten, glaring down at you like you were alien. 

“Where’s Sully?” Quaritch asks the same question you refused to answer before they put you under. 

Your voice is hoarse as you answer, “I don’t know-” 

Before you could even finish, his black leather boot connects with your jaw, snapping your head to the side. The taste of iron fills your mouth.

“I never took you for a liar, Corporal.” 

You spit at his feet, painting them and the floor with your blood. “And I never took you for a murderer-“ 

His hand comes down to grab a fistful of your hair, cutting you off as he lifts you to your feet.

Then you’re underwater again. 

You kick, and thrash, and you know that doesn’t help. Panicking only gives you less time with breath you didn’t have the chance of catching in the first place.

Quaritch holds you under longer than Lyle did. He holds you there until you reach the edge of consciousness. Until your chest feels like it’ll explode from inhaling so much water. Until you believed he’d kill you right then and there, without even bothering to get the information he wanted. 

He pulled you out at that moment. The moment you realized they were going to kill you. 

You retch up the water, coughing and coughing. Barely getting in air as you struggle to clear your lungs. 

In a moment of weakness, or self-preservation, you debated just telling them. If you told them maybe they'd stop. Maybe they wouldn't put you under again. Maybe they would. Maybe they'd just kill you.

That moment was short, you quickly resigned to your fate. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you betrayed the only people that mattered to you anyway. You could barely live with yourself now knowing what you know.

If they killed you then at least you’d die a martyr. Fighting for what was right.  

Quaritch lifts your head to look at him. “You have two options.” 

Your eyes close as you cough out more water. He jerks your head in his direction again. Forcing you to look at him.

“You can give us the information. Or we can take it.” Something about the way he says it makes your stomach churn. Like he knows something you don't. Like he just beat you at the game you started. “I don’t got all day, dollface.”

You choose to call his bluff.

“Go… Fuck yourself.” You croak, voice almost completely gone.

He shoves you to the ground. This time when your kneecaps slam into the cement floor a crack echoes in the room.

Biting down on your tongue is the only way to keep yourself from screaming at the searing hot pain.

“Call in the doc.” He turns to me. “No going back, dollface. Shouldn’t’ve chosen the hard way.”

Trying to ignore the pain in your right leg you crawl to the nearest wall, leaning your back against it. 

You wish you could wrap your arms around you to hide the way your body trembled, but they were crushed between the wall and your back. You wish you could pull your knees to your chest to curl up against them, but bending your leg made unwanted tears fill your eyes.

You wish you could say goodbye to your friends before they killed you.

 The door slides open, and a man in a white lab coat walks in. In his hand is a device, shaped like a claw in a claw machine but with several more prongs. 

“We’ll have to perform the procedure without anesthesia, we have none to spare on traitors.” The man says. Contrasting so starkly to the other scientists you’ve come to know.  

The man moves a folding chair to the center of the room. 

When Lyle starts stalking toward you, you tense. You can't let them take anything from you. Using your good leg, you kick at him when he’s in reach. He quickly subdues you by stepping on your injured leg, and a strangled cry leaves your mouth.

He lifts you like you're nothing, even through your struggling. “LET ME GO!” 

He ignores your screams. Placing you in the chair and holding you down. The sound of a machine whirring to life makes you struggle against him more. 

“NO! STOP!” 

“Hold her still.” 

No. No. No.

You jerk forward, bashing your head right into Lyle’s chin. But with the tight grip he had on you, the impact wasn’t shocking enough to make him let go. 

A hand grabs your head, forcing it back into the chair. “Hold still,” Quaritch says, smiling at the panic on your face. At the tears that left your eyes. “Don’t worry, it’ll all be over soon.” 

The doctor steps into view from above, and that whirring noise grows louder. 

“GET OFF OF ME!”  Is the last thing you yell before your head gets split open.

Your body convulses against their hold, you can feel yourself screaming but you don’t hear it over the thundering noise of the machine. It vibrates in your skull. Ripping through the neurons in your brain. 

You couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, pain swallowed you whole until pain was all you knew.

It went on and on, for so long that you thought it would never end. 

But then it did, and you’ve never felt more defeated in your life.

You slump into the chair, no longer restrained but you can’t move anyway. Your body was just put through a meat grinder, and all that remained was a lump of meat. You could do nothing but stare at what’s ahead of you.

A lifeless living doll.

You faintly hear people talking around you, but they sound muffled as if you’re underwater again. It isn’t until Quaritch is directly in front of you, speaking to your face, that you can comprehend what’s being said.

“I’m gonna’ ask one more time. Where’s Sully?” You stare at him. “I don't need your answer, I got it all here.” Your eyes land on the odd glowing clear object he waves in your face and if you could cry you would. “This is your last chance dollface. ‘Cause I like you.”

You stare at him. Wishing he would just stop talking. Every time he spoke it felt like a hammer was beating in your skull.

“Tell me the truth, and I’ll think about bringing you back to fight for the right side.” 

You say nothing. 

He sighs, almost looking disappointed, but the scowl that was permanently marked on his face destroyed that image.

He steps back. Nodding at Lyle.

The corporal lifts you from the chair and drags you back to the bin for the final time. 

At least you were too paralyzed to panic.

The cold water on your skin was like an ice pack to your head. You welcomed it this time. Even when it began to consume you, you welcomed it because you knew after that came rest.

An eternal rest filled with nothing. No pain, no sadness, nothing at all. 

Sorry, Jake.

"What?" Miles Quaritch can hardly believe his ears. Hoping he heard wrong, he waits for the man to repeat himself.

“The procedure failed, her data is indecipherable. The only way of knowing what she knows is to put her through Project Phoenix." The scientist stares at the clear chip containing all of your memories. Admiring the unique show of data. "But even then, there's no telling how she'd come out, or if she'd even remember."

"So that's our only option?" The colonel asks, also inspecting the chip. It doesn't look like any of the others he's seen.

“Yes but, whatever information you want from her will be useless by the time she's done incubating." The scientist sets the chip aside, focusing on normal ones. "And she definitely won't be the same person you remember."

"I'm counting on it."

[jasper-tarot-reader]

Hi! My name is Rena! (irl name initials-HH)

My pronouns are she/her and I was wondering if u can ask the cards if/how i will become a magical girl!

I have been try ing to become a magical girl for 3 years now, but no luck. I almost succeed making a contract with a familiar, but i was too scared T-T (goofy ahh younger old me)

I want you to ask the cards this so that i can have a fruitful joinery!

I hope u can do et :333

Also um..do u know a website where i can practice tarots? It seems cool :0

Hello Rena, you have come to the right person! Not only do I do tarot readings, but I am also a practicing pop culture occultist over on @jasper-pagan-witch! While I am not, myself, a magical girl, I know of quite a few blogs who are! So we'll start with the reading and then I'll drop some blogs and links of interest for ya at the bottom, yeah?

So to start with, let's get into the reading part! I'm going to rephrase your question a little bit, into "How can I continue my goal of becoming a practicing magical girl?" just for ease of reading. I have selected The Guardian of the Night Tarot thanks to its strong animal theme, as I know that many magical girl series have a lot to do with animal companions. This is a beautiful collage-style deck (unfortunately, I do have to clarify that it's not AI-generated, because we live in a world where creative endeavors are being shilled to art theft machines) and it has given us the Nine of Wands upright.

Look at that beautiful fucking porcupine.

Anyway, the main theme of this card is boundaries according to the deck's author herself. Sometimes, you've gotta step back and take a break - you can't go at 100% all the time. You gotta let some things happen to you. The path you are looking to tread involves a lot of responsibility - any contract with a spirit typically does, but especially so when you're setting yourself up to be a magical protector. You've gotta pause and take a look at yourself and your motivations. What about being a magical girl appeals to you? What are your lines, and how likely is it that they will be crossed?

These are things that you should definitely keep in mind as you read on for my recommendations.

My first recommendation is to find your community. I know of a few blogs who are at varying points in their magical girl magic/witch/occult/pagan practices - @majokkid, @cl0udii, @noctuarie, and @kuhli-mahou are just a handful that I know the existence of! You can also check tags here on Tumblr like #irl mahou or #mahoublr.

As for book recommendations, while it's not an overtly witchy/occult book, The Magical Girl's Guide to Life: Find Your Inner Power, Fight Everyday Evil & Save the Day With Self-Care by Jacque Aye could be an interesting read for you! It's more self-health or self-care focused, but it's only a few degrees off of being a pop culture magic book in its own right! My review of it can be read on @jasper-pagan-witch at this link! I quite enjoyed it.

When it comes to learning tarot, my best advice is to get a deck you really like and to jump right in. You can find magical girl series-inspired decks all over Amazon and Etsy and Ebay, but you don't even need to limit yourself to that! There are tarot decks for nearly every theme you can think of, from animals (including specific animals) to mythology to queer decks to the run-of-the-mill Rider-Waite-Smith deck. Just getting a deck that you like and find easy to read will do much for you. Beyond that, I also have a bunch of posts saved in @jasper-grimoire under the tarot section that you might find interesting! There are nearly a million different ways to read a deck and to do divination, so you've just gotta jump in and learn.

Ultimately, this is your practice, and you've gotta put in the leg work. But hopefully this has given you a place to start! If you feel so inclined, please feel free to send feedback in my ask box and/or reblog my new reading guidelines!

~Jasper

[hwajin]

#!! - 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 ; ʙᴏʏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴏʀᴇ

— 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : soulmate au, non idol au, angst (in this chapter)

— 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : chan x fem!reader, hyunjin x fem!reader

— 𝐰𝐜 : 2.6k

— 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : a nameless stranger, an urgent force that seemed to pull you towards him. and as wrong as it was he left you curious and wondering.

— 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : I'M SO HYPED TO BE FINALLY POSTING THIS if it won't get any feedback i will cry so if you like this PLEASEEE please tell me!!! ENJOY READING <333

series masterlist | next chapter

You never much believed you'd be one to find real love, no matter how much you might be wishing, longing for it. Various of your playlists filled with songs about a certain someone, about this giddy and youthful feeling, your bookshelves stacked with writings and poems about the greatest feeling of them all. Your heart skipping a beat whenever a kiss appeared on the cinema screen before you, and lovers in public, whether holding hands or pecking, swelled up your chest, without you being the one loved. Because ironically, and much to your dismay, you alone felt like the odd one out. Spending Valentine’s Day alone year after year, barely knowing how it feels to have your lips on someone else's. Wondering if the books and songs talked about realness after all, or if everything you've thought to know about love was simply put, a delusion, not fit to be experienced outside of fiction and people's minds.

And still, your wish for that certain someone, your longing to feel the loving touch of a soulmate, of a passionate lover, never fully seemed to leave you, despite knowing it was naïve and childish thinking. And surely, it had to be too good to be true, altogether. The touch of a soulmate that was supposed to bound two people together – how did that work, anyway? It was an old myth you nothing but adored as a young teen, growing to despise it the older you got, and the more relationships happened to disappoint you. When you’ve thought you found your supposed twin flame – another person, whose soul was a part of your own and got separated from you at birth, only meant to reunite again by a simple touch – that same person ended up leaving a gash right to your heart, for you alone to heal and fix. So how could you possibly continue to believe, to hope? How were you supposed to not grow acceptance that maybe, just maybe, no one walking this planet had a designated someone, that each and every person simply had to love semi passionately, never as carelessly and freely as they did – pretended – in the arts? In books and movies and poems and songs?  

Strolling around the supermarket a couple streets down your block you didn’t look for anything in particular, only hunting for some snacks to accompany the movie night you had planned with Chan a little later in the day. From the get-go, you had to admit that you weren’t too hopeful in terms of your boyfriend’s availability, neither for tonight nor any other day you might have planned to spend together for the rest of the year. The last time you had an actual date, one where the two of you actually ate and talked together, actually ended up cuddling and making out back at home before fucking the whole night, seemingly unable to get enough of each other, of the closeness and intimacy, of the passion and love – that was ages ago, you could barely remember. Recalling, it must have been a birthday or anniversary, Valentine’s Day, maybe. Because under normal circumstances, on a usual and regular day, Chan barely ever had the time to go all in for a simple date. Which admittedly, you’ve been fine with at the very beginning of your relationship. You knew what you were going into, knew that he was a hardworking man, always busy, his future and career prioritised. And you admired him for it, for as long as you could remember – until you didn’t, almost out of the blue. Until suddenly the loneliness you felt due to his absence at nights became unbearable, leaving a cold hole next to you on the bed and right at your chest, and until his texts and phone calls got shorter and shorter, always promising for a later but never keeping word. You never blamed him, never painted him as the bad guy – you were two people with two packages filled to the brim with duties and jobs and problems that you carried around while trying to simply get by, and that alone was hard enough, you knew and understood. Yet, you couldn’t help but wonder if any of it was worth it, truly. You knew you loved Chan, maybe not the same you did when you first met but the adoration towards him was something you were sure of. There has been a time you'd called him your twin flame, even – he was the one partner you never doubted from the very first start, the one partner that seemingly fit to you like a puzzle piece, neat and even and perfect. You’ve surely never felt any initial spark, any indicator that he might have been your twin flame after all – no indicator that the myth held truth. But then again, you never much believed in that part of the saying after all – you weren’t supposed to feel sparks, sensations when touching another human’s body; that’s not how it worked biologically and that’s surely not the way to make out your ideal significant other. A myth remained nothing but a myth after all, and certain things were simply not bound to happen to people in everyday life.  

That time, the blooming and warm days when you had set your mind on Chan and the pure staunchness that he alone must be the right one, that you would spend your remaining days with him and only him were long gone though, and it got you thinking. It got you thinking because you’ve been oh so sure of Chan, so determined that he must be the one, until those feelings changed, which you’d never think possible. So, what if twin flames, you thought while grabbing a pack of Chan’s favourite chips and throwing them into your bag, ended up falling out of love as well, just like any other couple could? What if the old tale overlooked a crucial detail in its storytelling and simply forgot that people were still people nevertheless, and that the lives they lived and the way they loved only called for accidents to happen, for feelings and emotions to change and for relationships to deepen, or drift apart? And what if Chan has truly been your twin flame at some point years ago, but it simply never worked the way it should have, the way the both of you would have wanted it to? Twin flames; didn’t the name alone call for the end of all? Wasn’t the name the one and greatest indicator that said flames, the fire, the burning and passion – the love – could run out, be gutted and leave a cold space right where your heart sat? Was that the truth and end of the myth that everyone who knew was simply too cowardly to speak of?

You grabbed a bag of your own favourite snack and slowly made your way to the cash register. Then what was love all about, anyways? If people fall in love as quickly as they fall out of it, if the flame dims down with time and leaves you with memories of a past life, the only question is whether or not people are brave enough to leave those memories, or if they stay buried in them, buried with the one whom they once called their everything. If they’d stay simply for the sake of convenience and habituation, out of fear. Because surely, a person wasn’t bound to have multiple twin flames, after all. If there is only one person, one soul that knows you all, inside and out, this one twin flame you burn with until there is nothing left to burn, until the embers simply start gnawing at you without love and passion left; if there is only this person for you that is able to deify as strongly as this, even if temporary and not forever – you wouldn’t leave that person, would you? Because what was it worth, after all; even if the love ran out, and even if nothing was left to give – you’d only find the same lacking feelings in another lover, because that’s what the myth called. Because there’d be no one else to give you devotion so grand a second time.

You put your groceries on the checkout belt, fishing for your wallet at the very bottom of your bag. You cursed under your breath, finally feeling the soft material of fake leather right before the cashier told the price you had to pay. It was ironic – because surely, which price would you pay? You couldn’t possibly imagine ever leaving and wandering around, searching for something that would never be, so the only other option, whether you wanted it or not, was to endure loneliness in a relationship that once bloomed fields of flowers. The option that meant a never-ending empty space next to you on the bed, forever cancelled plans and nothing of the once known tenderness that you oh so adored and believed to be something permanent, something you’d never have to fear of losing.

You shuddered at the thought of it, at the thought of that being your future, of it being the destiny that’d wait for you, and with a quick shake to the head, as though that would clear your worries, you started packing the food and drinks into your bag, messily, without much system. You couldn’t care less if your other stuff laid atop of the chips, or if the cookies you decided to get for the date night would crush down under the weight of the rest of your groceries. Though Chan would sulk at you for it – there was seemingly nothing he hated more than crushed down chips in a plastic bag. You scoffed at the thought alone, earning an unreadable look from the cashier before he smiled and bowed a polite goodbye, wishing you a good week. He looked almost nervous, blush accentuating his cheeks and ears as though caught red handed when you noticed him staring at you. He must be in school still, probably a part timer. You quickly wished back a nice day, wondering if he ever worried about the things that seemed so all destructive to you. If he ever, as young as he was and only a student after all, spent sleepless nights questioning himself if he’d ever have the chance to die happily with another person by his side, or if life simply wouldn’t grant him that wish. Though, you didn’t know if that was his wish after all. It was yours, but that didn’t mean anything. Maybe, you thought, only the fewest people had the wish to die with a partner by their side anyways and therefore couldn’t care less about soulmates, let alone twin flames – maybe that was a wish only for the foolish, simply for people stupidly blinded by the delusory picture of love. To your dismay you were one of them, led astray by something that was cruel and gruesome behind closed curtains, and led to heartbreak and shed tears more often than not. And yet, you were hopeful. You depicted yourself with someone that would be with you, not only physically but in every form possible, that would love you without running out of patience to show you every single day anew. Yet perhaps, that same hope was the stupidest thing of all, the thing that would destroy you from inside out.

Your phone vibrated in your back pocket, and a quick look at the display showed your boyfriend’s name. It was saved with a heart right to it, and it made you chuckle, reminisce almost about when you first got his number, and then when you added the heart later on. You felt so dumb back then yet so stupidly in love that you couldn’t possibly not change his name in your contacts after your very first kiss, and you haven’t had the mind to go back to a plain old “Chan” ever since. Though it’d seem more fitting now, his name without a heart. You faintly wondered if Chan still had a heart next to your name in his phone before picking up the call.

“Hey, where are you?”

His voice was almost monotone, giving you no clue of the reason he called you while you were out for groceries. You expected bad news, and you felt guilty for it, almost.

“At the store, I bought snacks and drinks for later-… why? Did something happen?”

A sigh on the other end was all that you needed to know your expectations were to be true. And it scared you how cold it left you, unbothered and untouched by the words Chan was about to say, while the weight of the bag around your shoulder dragged you down further by the minute.

“Listen, I- I’ll sound like the shittiest boyfriend, but I have some work left I have to finish. It was super last minute, just got a call from Changbin to come and help him in the studio. I’ll try to not be too late, alright? Maybe- we can like… I don’t know when you’re free next time…”

Chan's voice suddenly got quiet, faintly distanced from you as you felt a cold breeze, a sensation, you might say, wash past you, almost pulling you back into the store again, fully disorienting you and shaking up the ground beneath your feet. You looked back, checking if someone had walked past you and into the shop and accidently pushed you, though it wasn't a touch you had felt – yet even then, the seeming force that drove you back, that completely took you out of your body even for short felt so unnatural, too strong to be caused by a person crossing your way. It was beyond physical, the feeling of it – somehow it felt deeper, an urge you’ve never come across prior, and before you knew it you met eyes with a stranger. He looked just as shaken up as you, pupils wide and brows slightly scrunched, creasing in the middle. He was stopped in his tracks, body as though moving forward yet held back by something he seemed unable to control, something that was pulling him your direction, just like you got pulled towards his. And then you simply smiled, after eye contact that felt like it lasted for ages on end, and he smiled back, a pretty smile that made you wish for that eye contact to hold on for just a little longer. But Chan's voice suddenly sounded in your ears again, and the boy in the store disappeared behind shelves, continuing his business.

“Babe, you there? I asked if you’re free next week sometime to make up for tonight?”

Your boyfriend's voice, though having all your attention now, was still far away to you, as though you muted it out to focus on your surroundings better, to have his words play only in the back of your head, behind glass.

“Yeah sure- we'll see... take care.”

Your own voice sounded almost abnormally clear to you, and your head felt the same. The worries that occupied you just moments prior – the disappointment yet general indifference to Chan cancelling on you, the fear of your future with him – or without him, therefore – the feeling of monotony creeping its way into your everyday life – it all felt so strange now, almost absurd that you ever even wasted a thought on it at all. Chan brabbeled a chain of excuses into the phone that you accepted with only hummed yeses, not actually listening, simply waiting to hang up on him. And while you couldn’t possibly imagine the stranger in the store to be the cause for all of it, for his eyes to be the reason you forgot about Chan and his smile to be the trigger for your calmness, you didn’t understand why your body turned around yet again, though not expecting to catch a look at him, still hoping you would maybe find his dark eyes one more time, nonetheless.

@doll4hyun @iwannabangchan @hwangful @whatudowhennooneseesyou @inkybird @yejis-biggest-simp @seungminluv3 @skzddicted @marslovescats @berryblog @beautifullywrecked-aeris @moonlightcandy00 @hyynes @nightrayseishina @199719932000 @shrub31201 @yoamimi @wednesdayswife @hyuneisbae @lovhyunj @ladytrbl @danyxthirstae01 @someoneinlovve @lili-kims-blog @rachagen @koorminii @good-soup3023 @shiru-chan @karaquestionable @blahbluhblahbluh @laryisthinking @knisterlicht @studyingthemind @ppiri-bahng @septicrebel @gimmemoredoritos

[mickmundy]

i am now hooked on bushmedicine bc of your fics, would u happen to have fic/blog recs? 👀

OH MY GOSH EEE THANK YOU SO MUCH MY FRIEND ;__; I'M SO HAPPY YOU'RE ENJOYING MY SERIES!!!! ;u; as for recs.. ohoho... yes... i do.., fortunately i have amazing talented friends whose work i admire and adore!!! just going to say that this list is by no means exhaustive or complete and is being done completely off of the top of my head, so PLEASE don't feel bad if i leave anyone out!! ;__; <333

also i'm really not super active on here so i mostly know twt accounts but i'll do my best! i'll firstly advise you to just look through my bushmed tag on my blog. lots of great folks in there!! ^v^ so much talent!! aoguaougaaa!!! and to my friends who have supported me with my own fics thank you so much ;;; i owe u all everythign!! <333 going to stick this under a cut since it's kind of lengthy!!

for fic recs, i actually don't have a lot of time to read many, sadly!! ;_; BUT i'll gladly point you in the direction of some of my besties' fics that i have read and absolutely adore!!:

see that my grave is kept clean by @fairyouth.... my favorite. john is a freaking MASTER of writing them and i love his big huge creative mind!!

heatstroke by @eurovamp... kat is so talented!! i LOVE her interpretation and they have so many fun au's!! i haven't gotten a chance to read it but she also wrote a bushmed naga fic that they've been talking to me about and AAHHH IM SO EXCITED TO READ!!

as for fanart, i'll also use this as a chance to promote my lovely talented friends!! i don't speak for them of course but i believe some of them (myself included) might be more active on twitter, i'm not sure! :( but i'll rec them here regardless hehehe!! some accts are ns/fw too so just a heads up!

@lovey2dovey2 YESSS FELLOW MEDSNIP LESBIAN!!! HEHEHE!! she's SO talented and kind, and all of her interpretations are SO fun and creative!! absolutely adore her art style!!

@5piecechickendinner / @5piececockdinner DEEEEEE absolutely stunning pieces, great moody art and a joy to talk to!! a blast to talk headcanons with too!!

@rabidratbaby -> twitter acct! amazing pieces, conveys such tenderness and sweetness in their art, both nsfw and sfw!! super chill and immaculate vibes in general!!

@radioactive-gremlin -> support her on patreon! char's got it all... lighthearted silliness and super sexy comics!! a total delight to follow and befriend!

@lubby-beez LUB!! so sweet to know, and the queen of saucy medic art!! amazing coloring and body type representation and super fun ocs!!

@poisonedflame if you follow me on here you've probably seen me reblog ren's amazing sfms quite a few times hehe... so kind and talented, huge-brained and a wonderful friend!!

@skymacaroon fantastic art and super fun to talk to, absolutely love how he draws medic and sniper!!

@oldkamelle one of the accounts that warmly welcomed me to tumblr.. ;u; very kind and so great to talk to, totally wonderful artistic talent!!!

as for folks who i am not very close to but whose works i still adore and cherish and scream so normally and lovingly any time i see them on my tl and who i want to still give some spotlight to! i hope it's okay that i'm tagging you in this! ;-;

@goo-p absolutely no notes... ellís's style yields so much range for whimsy And more somber/serious pieces... absolutely stunning!! a joy to work with creatively and to speak with!!

@hootsimedes such cute style and so many amazing creative ideas!! and so kind!! ^u^

@halfhihat SUUCH a cute style!! absolutely love the cute little comics he draws!!

[ascend-tothestars]

I must have met you for a reason - Chapter 1

Tlou tv series Joel Miller x reader fanfic

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Reference pics for this chapter:

Desc: You are a newcomer at Jackson community, feeling extremely out of place and unable to fully settle in even after almost a month of being there. But soon Joel and Ellie arrive, and you find yourself interested in the pair, especially Joel Miller.

This is the first chapter and it will be slow burn so don’t expect any major interactions yet lol

(fem reader, reader is referred to as ‘you’ and occasionally ‘y/n’, slow burn, legal age gap, sorta love at first sight???)

I’ve literally never written a fanfic in my life lol so please excuse any minor flaws, I tried my best. Also I’m horrible at coming up with titles so hopefully I can change it later if I regret it…….

I refer to reader as ‘you’ in this fic but if that’s something that bothers people I’d be happy to change it :) If you see any issues please let me know!! Not completely canonically accurate and I don’t plan on having Ellie and Joel leave like they do in the show if I write another chapter but anyways I hope you enjoy <333

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Getting settled here in Jackson was tough for you. Yes the comfort of a community and walls and your own place was great, but you didn't really feel a sense of belonging. No one was rude to you, in fact they were quite the opposite, but still, insecurity and distrust crept in and kept you from truly opening up to the people here and building relationships with them.

Being only 4 when the apocalypse started, this life was basically all you ever knew. You were raised to defend yourself, quickly learning that by trusting others you open yourself up to danger and pain. When you were 13 your parents were murdered, a trade gone wrong you were told. You were never the same after that. They were the only people you felt you could truly trust with your entire being, and having that taken away so suddenly was, to put it lightly, a huge blow.

11 years later, it's funny how your untrusting nature still remained. It hurt to think about who you could've been if the world was different. You didn't want to be this way, seeing it as a sort of character flaw. Yes it had saved your ass quite a few times, but there was no balance and sometimes the loneliness became almost too much to bear.

It's only your 4th week here in the community, and so far you've rejected every invite to the little get togethers people hosted here. Tommy, the husband of the leader here, told you that they do it to have a sense of normalcy, and the idea sounded quite nice to you, but you couldn't ever bring yourself to attend. At night you'd lay in bed, tears gathering in your eyes hearing the people outside laughing and conversing amongst each other.

It’s winter right now in Jackson. Snow is covering the ground, the air is crisp and the wind chilling at times, but despite that you decided to go on a walk, feeling too bored to just sit around all day. The sun beamed down on you as you basked in the tiny bit of warmth it provided.

“Open the gates, they’ve returned” you hear a wall guard shout. You jump slightly, suddenly alert. Your hand instinctively shoots to your hip as if a weapon was there, but soon your brain catches up to your body and you relax, remembering where you are. The gates open and a group on horseback comes strolling through, it’s the group that Tommy’s wife leads you note in your head

One day Tommy had come over to converse with you, probably because you were new and always alone, and he started talking about the community, how they had grown this place to what it is now.

You listened attentively, smiling when he started talking passionately about his wife Maria, about how she was the leader of the community and of the group that often went out on horseback

You’d seen them return quite a few times, but this time something felt…..off, as the group on horseback made their way down the street. Your eyes scanned the group and landed on 2 people you had never seen before, and who looked very out of place; a man and a young girl. They had the same look on their faces you probably had when you arrived; on guard yet slightly amazed. It was understandable, as in the apocalypse a place like this is truly rare, and when you step through those gates it’s like stepping into another world.

You felt ashamed as you couldn't keep your eyes off of the man, who looked to be in his late 40s early 50s. He was handsome, rugged, a had a protective look in his eyes whenever he looked at the young girl in front of him.

Suddenly he came to a stop on his horse and his eyes shot up to the side of one of the buildings, staring as if he couldn't believe his eyes. “TOMMY” he shouted, his voice cracked slightly, full of emotion, immediately jumping off the horse he was riding. Tommy appeared from behind the building. They both were seemingly in shock as they ran towards each other, tears in their eyes as they look at each other in disbelief before embracing. You diverted your eyes, suddenly feeling like you were intruding on what was clearly a very personal moment.

You walked around for a bit longer before deciding to go back to the warmth of your house, the winter temperatures getting to you. When you arrived back home and hung up your coat, you picked up a book from the growing collection on your shelf, sitting on a lounge chair in the corner and covering up with a blanket to get comfy, thoughts of the man you saw earlier lingering quietly in the back of your mind as began to read.

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So engrossed in your book, you nearly forget about dinner until you feel the familiar hunger pangs, something that had only recently started bothering you. Due to years of surviving off of very little food, you had gotten used to the hunger, but with the food that the community provided, it had only taken about a week for your body to get used to having guaranteed meals and you must admit that scared you a little.

Closing your book and tugging your coat on, you made your way outside, sad to leave the warmth of your home especially since the sun had already started to set. Eventually you reached your destination, shivering slightly as you stepped inside the dining hall. Unintentionally your eyes yet again fell upon the man and young girl you had seen arriving this morning.

They were sitting across from Tommy. The girl looked more relaxed now, shoveling food into her mouth and swearing about how good it was, while Joel blushed, seemingly embarrassed by her behavior. He nudged her shoulder as he said something to her, probably scolding her. You couldn't help but smile at the father daughter duo.

You realized you were staring for far too long when the man turned his head in your direction like he could sense you were staring at him. He made eye contact with you, his brows furrowed. Immediately you turned away from him and looked down, embarrassment creeping up on you as your cheeks suddenly felt like they were on fire.

You kept your head down as you swiftly walked over to the counter to get a tray of food, deciding to sit down as far away as possible from the newcomers, figuring it would probably be best to avoid them for the rest of the night.

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“Who was that girl?” the man, Joel, asked his brother, Tommy. “um I only ask cause’ she seemed to be starin’ at our table” he added quickly, trying to act casual. Tommy looked amused, “you're gonna have to be more specific there, brother” he laughed as Joel huffed, thinking of how to describe her. “Uh…she was a younger thing, maybe in her 20s, sorta had long hair, short. She looked kinda shy and skittish….”

Tommy connected the dots and had a strong feeling he knew who Joel was referring to. “Oh I think you're talkin’ about, that’s y/n. She's new too actually, arrived a few short weeks ago. She doesn’t seem to be havin’ the easiest time fitting in” he noticed Joel seemed..intrigued..so he continued “you and Ellie are actually the first people to arrive since her. She's probably thankful that she's not the only new person here.” Tommy said it almost reassuringly, perhaps assuming Joel was feeling insecure about someone staring at them.

Yeah maybe Joel was feeling a bit insecure about you staring, but more than anything he was uncharacteristically curious about you. ‘What did Tommy mean by not fitting in? Why was she staring at me? Is she rude? But she looked sweet…’ His mind reeled but alas he opted for a quiet nod as opposed to asking him more questions, so as to not raise suspicion.

His brother knew him too well, Joel was aware of this, and he knew that Tommy would start questioning his sudden interest in the young woman who just so happened to be pretty.

Tommy stared at him for a moment like he was waiting for Joel to say something, and Joel did the same, but neither said a word. The weird stare off ended when Ellie started attempting to steal food from Joel's plate, only for him to jokingly slap her hand away. She looked at him frowning, feigning hurt, that look being replaced with one of happiness when Joel pushed his plate in front of her as a silent offer, laughing at her antics. To Joel's relief, Tommy switched the topic, going on about where he and Ellie could stay.

When it was time to leave, Joel couldn’t help but take a quick look around the room as he followed behind Ellie and his brother, trying to catch even just a glimpse of you, but much to his disappointment you were nowhere to be seen.

Later that night, Tommy got him and Ellie settled into their new place, hugging Joel on his way out once he showed them around. Tired, Joel said his good nights to Ellie and made his way into what was now his bedroom, and immediately laid down. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually slept on a mattress, the feeling was foreign bordering on uncomfortable but he was grateful nonetheless.

Closing his eyes, Joel began to replay the day in his head. It almost didn’t feel real that he found his brother, especially in this place, a place that looked like it belonged in a Christmas movie. Now, joel would never admit this out loud, but much to his embarrassment and frustration, his thoughts drifted back to you as he started to nod off.

It made him uncomfortable, feeling like this about someone. He craved to learn more about you and he hated himself for that.

Eventually he drifted off the sleep, having given up trying to get you off of his mind……if only he knew you couldn’t get him off yours either….

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Thank you for reading! Feel free to like and reblog this, though it’s certainly not expected :)

[tigertofu]

Hey, could you write a little love-hate angst about aftergame (ending B) Trevor x fem!reader who strongly reminds him of Michael? They work together and have kind of frenemies dynamics. She's a skilled thief and born liar and T doesn't trust her obviously, she courteously despises him in return, but they're useful for each other and T's suddenly got sentimental.

Not pushing, no rushing <3

TY for this prompt anon,, i absolutely love this idea <333 the angst 🥴 !!! and apologies for this taking so long... i hope u like it <33

pairing: fem reader/Trevor

summary: He's made it clear that he hates you. You've made it clearer that the feeling's mutual. But for some reason, the two of you have continued to take scores together. And after one heist, you find out that maybe his hate is something far more complicated than just plain old hate.

cw's: gun violence

wordcount: 2,664

AO3 Link

It’s supposed to be an easy job.

The mark is the Diamond Casino & Resort, a new construction gaudy and grand in that particular way that only establishments built for the entertainment of Los Santos’ wealthiest are. 

As you slip up the highway in your getaway vehicle towards it, the nighttime lights of the city’s skyscrapers dazzle across it’s massive glass façade. Your palms begin to sweat inside your black gloves. You remind yourself, again, that this is supposed to be an easy job. Nothing you can’t handle.

And what if he can’t handle it?

The intrusive thought makes you turn your gaze to the man in the driver’s seat of the vehicle. You see the concentrated scowl pinching down his features in the light of a lamppost he speeds past. Trevor always has this look just before a job. Calculating. Cold. Thoughtful. 

This is only your fourth job together, but you’ve already learned to not trust that look. At some pivotal moment, it always disappears. The second gunfire erupts, or something (or someone) threatens the success of the heist, a flip inside him gets switched. He starts to act without thought. Manic. Uncontrollable. Messy. Any previously agreed upon directive gets shoved aside for a new one: killing as many opposition and onlookers as possible. What should’ve been three easy–enough thefts have all ended as bloodbaths, all triggered by him. 

You don’t know why you’ve continuously chosen to work with him. The two of you make an odd pair, though working together has made your checking account swell to numbers you’d once only dreamed about. Lester—a well–networked recluse of a man who plays matchmaker for the criminals of Southern San Andreas—had even warned you about working with Trevor. “A meth–fueled series of bad decisions that has only grown more unstable in light of recent events,” Lester had said about him. You’d only scoffed and said you think you could handle it. But with each completed job, Lester was only proven more correct. 

You keep your eyes on Trevor as he pulls the getaway car off the highway. He still has that scowl plastered over his rugged face. He’d been ominously silent the entire drive, something that has mildly shocked, and, for some reason, disappointed you. Any attempts at conversation with him tend to spiral into arguments. You almost enjoyed these shouting matches, though. They gave you a chance to launch all your normally–restrained criticisms at him. 

Your last job had ended in one of these spats. The two of you had stuck up a designerwear shop in Vinewood. The spoils were supposed to get split evenly between the two of you, with ten percent set aside for Lester, who’d set the whole thing up. But when Trevor had asked how much jewelry you’d been able to stuff into your duffle bag, you’d lied to him. Not just because you needed the extra income, but also to get back at him for turning the head of the shop’s security guard into a red paste after you’d begged him to make this job a clean one. 

Trevor, of course, hadn’t believed you. After a struggle, he’d managed to wrench your dufflebag away from you and the heap of jewels that tumbled out of it as he did made him start screaming that you were a lying snake. As you collected your haul from the concrete and stuffed it back away, you’d snapped back that you may be, but at least you knew how to use a shower. 

You now notice, as he parks the car in the casino’s crowded parking lot, that he seems to have taken this insult very personally because he isn’t radiating his usual reek tonight. Just the smells of smoked meth and tobacco. You briefly wonder, against your better judgement, if this means anything.

“In. Out. Easy and quiet,” you tell him evenly as he puts his hand on the car door. He flashes you a glare. “I am so fucking serious about it this time, T. I don’t wanna be shooting my way through a swarm of cops by the end of this. Got it?”

“Whatever you fucking say, princess.”

And with that, you both step out into the night.

Your heartrate ticks up a notch with each step you take towards the glow of the casino. Your body tenses, muscles thrumming with growing adrenaline, your strides wide and confident as you keep up with Trevor. 

The casino’s entrance is buzzing with flocks of folks dressed to the nines. It’s so busy that nobody immediately notices the two conspicuous figures with black ski masks pulled over their faces and AR–shaped bulges under their suit jackets that have slipped into the crowd. Until, in the middle of the lobby, Trevor shouts for everyone to get on the ground because this is a fucking robbery.

The crowd erupts into screams, but obliges. You deftly pick your way over tuxedoed men and women in cocktail dresses shakily lowering themselves to the tiles, pulling out your gun as you make your way towards your target: the cashier’s cage. The beat of your heart has turned to the muffled rapport of a war drum, ricocheted back into you by the ski mask over your ears.

The woman behind the counter screams the second you point your rifle at her. You shout at her to fill your bag as you toss it towards her, and though she’s frozen in fear for a few seconds, she eventually rattles open her register and begins to fumble wads of bills out. 

You mutter under your breath for her to hurry up. As she works, you cast nervous glances back to make sure Trevor has the crowd controlled. He’s still doing what he does best: scaring people. Everybody is still on the floor. He towers over them, jabbing his rifle in the directions of any particularly squirmy patrons. The screaming has stopped, simmered down to frightened whimpering and whispering. You imagine the poor janitor’s going to be mopping up a dozen puddles of piss off the quartz tiles later. You turn back to the cashier and tell her, louder now, to hurry the fuck up.

Your adrenaline reaches a buzzing peak as you watch her cram your backpack with cash. A couple dozen grands’ worth, easy. You begin to shift on your feet. Fidget with your rifle. 

“Th–There!” she finally cries, pushing the stuffed backpack across the counter towards you. “That–That’s all of it, I swear!”

You grab your loot without a word and whirl around on your heels. 

And in that moment, it all goes to hell in a handbasket. 

While you were babysitting the cashier, somebody did something to piss Trevor off.

“I told you to stay fucking down!” he screams at a man by his feet, pressing his rifle’s muzzle to the top of the man’s head hard enough to force him to lay flat. You trip over somebody’s leg as you hurry over, and as you catch your balance, a security guard seemingly materializes out of thin air behind Trevor.

Gunfire. Muzzleflash glinting against the lobby’s chandelier. A chorus of shrieking explodes through the room. Your instinct kicks in; screams at you to get out, now. But with the security guard already dead, Trevor has turned his attention to randomly shooting into the crowd, and now people are getting up and running, tripping over each other, turning into a stampede that smells of expensive colognes and perfumes and jostles you as you try to pull yourself to the front doors. 

You reach the glass; see the valet outside running for cover. Your hand presses against the door, but before you can push it open, you stop. Turn around. Trevor is still engrossed in his massacre.

Muttering curses to yourself, you sprint back to him and tug at the back of his jacket. He doesn’t budge an inch; keeps unloading his rifle into the crowd that has now turned into a pulsating wall trying to squeeze itself into the hall leading to the table games room.

“T! Let’s go!” you scream. 

What comes next, comes in a blur of red. A siren begins to whoop above the screaming. Someone's triggered the casino's alarm. You pull as hard as you can, the soles of your shoes squeaking over tile, and Trevor finally relents.

As you both sprint out of the casino, you glance at him. The splatters of red covering the white dress shirt under his jacket disgust you.

“What the fuck was that?!” you cry the second you're both seated in the getaway car.

“That was me ensuring we got outta there," Trevor growls as he throws it out of park and hits the gas. 

As he drives across the highway and veers onto a side road running through a neighborhood that edges Northeast Los Santos, you try to quell the growing anger in your chest. But then you see flashes of red and blue in the rearview mirror, shooting down the road towards the casino, and you can't hold it back any longer.

“No, no, that was you turning what was supposed to be a fucking robbery into a mass shooting!” Your hand shoots up to grab the panic bar above the passenger window as Trevor swerves the car onto a dirt road. Rocky hills loom up in front of the car's headlights. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

“What was I supposed to do?! Let that guard taze me?!”

You hang on tighter as he takes a turn too fast and nearly drifts right into a boulder. He rights the car, and the hulking concrete mass of the Land Act Dam appears ahead. 

“You–You didn’t have to fucking kill him!" you shoot back as Trevor speeds across the dam's service road. "You didn’t have to then kill—what—a dozen more fucking bystanders! Is killing people your answer to every fucking issue in life? If they give you the wrong order at Burger Shot do you storm the kitchen and slaughter the fry cooks?!” 

“Listen, sweetcheeks,” he starts, and you try to yell at him to not fucking call you that but he just continues on, growing louder and talking faster. The car jolts as he leads it down onto a dirt service road leading to the river that feeds the dam. “I’ve been in this game longer than you have. I know how to do this shit; I know how this shit works. If we did everything your way, we’d both be sipping toilet hooch and selling our bodies for cigarettes in Bolingbroke by now!”

“You’re fucking insane!” 

With an incoherent roar, he suddenly pulls off the dirt road. The second the car comes to a skidding stop, he gets out. You throw the car door open and follow him as he stomps his way towards the shore of the river he’s parked by.

“Where are you going?” you shout. “Get back here! I’m not done talking to you!”

He spins on his heels and jabs a finger in your direction, pushing up into your personal space. You flinch back, mirroring his glare. 

"Stop fucking looking at me like that!" he roars.

"Like what?! Like you're a goddamn maniac who's incapable of making a single rational decision?”

"Like–Like him! You keep giving me that same fucking look that he used to give me!” he screams. “You are so goddamned lucky I haven’t wiped it off your smug little face yet!”

“Go ahead! I’d like to see you try!” you shout back.

And for a moment, it looks he’s going to.

But he manages, somehow, to restrain himself and he backs away from you, dropping his chin to his chest so he can glower at you from under his heavy brow. 

He’s waiting. He’s looking at you like you’re supposed to say something more; like he’s just waiting for one more insult or question to goad him into turning things physical. But you’re caught up on something he’s said, and your next words come out far calmer.

“Who…” You shake your head, trying to clear that nagging voice inside it telling you not to ask your next question. It stubbornly remains. You huff. “Who’s ‘him’?”

“Michael. His name was Michael,” he says, and you can tell by the way his scarred lips pull back into a snarl when he says it that getting the name out pains him. 

“Was?” You feel your face soften along with your voice. “Did he… Pass?”

“He was murdered!” Trevor snaps, his hands curling into fists. “He–He was a two–faced liar. A backstabber! But he–he didn’t deserve to get fucking done in by an even bigger backstabber!” He’s pacing now, hands shaking, teeth bared. “His head—caved in. Brains just, splattered all over the concrete! He was—He was my best friend! And he’s fucking haunting me!”

Something inside your chest shifts at this diatribe. For a moment, there’s no sound but water lapping at the shore and Trevor’s boots crunching across the gravel. In the silence you find a realization that makes pity knot through your stomach. 

“Listen, T,” you eventually murmur. He makes no sign that he’s heard you, continuing to walk tight circles, inconsolable. “Maybe we shouldn’t work together anymore.”

He stops, his back to you, his whole frame suddenly straight as if a line attached to the top of his spine has been pulled taut. Moonlight accents the twitch of muscle inside his forearms as he tries to restrain himself. 

“Why?” he asks the river in front of him.

“Because it—” You grimace and cross your arms over your chest. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but it just sounds like I just remind you of your dead friend. And that… Doesn’t seem to be doing you any favors.” 

He hangs his head. 

“I fucking hate you,” he mumbles. “You lie. You act like you’re fucking better than me. But I don’t want this to end.”

The knot of pity in your guts grows. It urges you to take a step closer to him. 

“You sure?” you ask quietly. 

He turns around, and the tears welled up in his eyes and the angry pout pulling his mouth simultaneously up and down shock you more than any of his random, violent outbursts ever have. He looks ready to either reach out and throttle you or squeeze you in a back–breaking hug. He looks almost childlike. He looks broken, and unable to hide it anymore.

“Don’t—” He sniffles; rubs a sleeve over his face. “Don’t fucking leave me.”

Something tells you to turn the other way and run. To leave this mess of a man; to turn to bigger and better things. But another something inside of you screams louder, with such clarity that you have no choice but to listen to it. 

“Okay. Fine,” you sigh. You limply shrug. “I mean, yeah, I kinda hate you too. Every fucking job we do together has been a total shitshow. But we have made good money together. So… I don’t know. Maybe—”

Your voice cuts off as Trevor suddenly closes the space between the two of you and wraps his arms around you. 

You tense up. He clutches at your back and buries his face in the crook of his neck, suddenly sobbing hard enough to make himself hiccup, shakily rocking you back and forth. Against your better judgement, you raise your hands and awkwardly hug him back. His tears are hot on your skin. He begins to repeat something in a high, whimpery voice; it takes you a moment to realize he’s repeating “Don’t leave me,” over and over, each repetition more desperate. Your pity swells into something all–encompassing. 

As you hold onto each other in the moonlight, you softly tell him you won’t.

And when he moves his grip to your face and presses his mouth to yours, you kiss him back. 

[itsjaywalkers]

16, 17 & 31 <333

hi shan love <3 giving u a little kissie and hoping ur enjoying ur day <3

16. where is your favourite place to write?

my bed <3 maybe it's not the most productive, especially when i'm sleepy or feeling lazy, but it's so comfy and warm and where most of my writing gets done so !!

(also the couch in the living room of my home in spain. whenever i visit i stay there after everyone has gone to sleep and write until . 3am at least and it's probably the most at peace i've ever felt)

17. what is your favourite line you've ever written?

THIS IS SO CRUEL . AND ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE

maybe "So they can be ugly and horrible and absolutely ruined together, a shapeless mass of flesh and guts and skin that carries violence in its mouth and touches everything with its teeth" from all the violence

or "It infuriates Sirius. Pains him until he can’t keep watching. Because Regulus was always capable of loving, like a family, like a brother. Just not Sirius" from making ghosts

oh !!! also "he’s clumsy with others’ feelings, sometimes, because he tends to get greedy, and possessive, and takes and takes and takes until there’s nothing left" from one of the intallments in the overprotective james series (mostly bc that james is very special to me)

I DON'T KNOW I CHANGE MY MIND ALL THE TIME

31. tell us about one of your characters who's an absolute joy to write.

all the violence pandora <3 she's so sick and twisted, completely unhinged.. i'm in love with her. and i get to wax poetic about her thanks to lily's pov <3

special mention to making ghosts james and iwtywmm regulus!! they come very easy to me and i'm vvvv comfortable writing them (also they're both silly and hilarious in their own way, never a dull moment when i'm writing them)

[mistydeyes]

hiya!! i know you’re probably SWAMPED with pairing requests right now, so if you can’t get to this please do not sweat it ^^. i just binged all of pharmacist!reader and i’m obsessed lmao.

personality !!

get ready for this to read like a crappy tinder bio ahshdgd. i’m definitely an extrovert, with my personality type thing being enfp! although, i used to be /painfully/ shy so i feel for people who hate social situations. apparently i come off as flirty? i think i’ve just got an offbeat sense of humour— courtesy of growing up in scotland— and i tend to just show a lot of affection to anyone, even if it’s simply platonic. 

interests ?!

i love to make things, like writing and illustration (which is what i’m working on a degree for)! i’m currently working part time at a florist store though haha, i got my certification in high school instead of studying for math. i try to embrace the small things and leave crappy little post-it poems and silly doodles at my friends’ places. my main attitude towards what i do is very punk? if that makes sense? apart from the fact that i love punk and heavier music (xray spex, death, pinkshift, big joanie, etc.), i’m a big believer in being relentlessly loving of yourself and others- self love and supporting your friends is the ultimate rebellion!! :D. 

appearance ?? (if it matters)

i’m on the taller side, about 5’11. damn my genes for perpetuating scottish stereotypes, but i’ve got green eyes, freckles, and a propensity to sunburn. i’ve got black hair with sections of it dyed really light blonde (this has reminded me to go fix my roots later whoops), and it’s a sort of veronica sawyer type bob? my hair is really thick so i’m struggling in the summer heat lmao.

thank you again <333

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish (a/n anon you're living out my dream like I WOULD love to drop out of pharmacy school and work at a florist shop! so happy you enjoyed my pharmacist series though!)

How you met: Civilian Working in a florist shop in a busy part of the UK meant you had a good flow of customers. From old grandmas to boyfriends making up for forgotten anniversaries, you've seen it all. You were finishing up on a large bridal order when a young man walked in. He made sure to shake off his umbrella before entering. "It's pitchin it douwn 'ard out 'ere" he said as he approached the counter and you could see it was monsooning outside. Before he could translate, you replied to his exclamation. "A fellow Scot!" you said enthusiastically and his face beamed. "I'd recognize that accent anywhere," he responded and you soon fell into a conversation about growing up in the Scottish countryside and missing home in the rainy London climate. "So what are you here for?" you laughed as you set your elbows on the counter. "A houseplant, bonnie," he responded, "thought this was the right place." "Well Johnny, I have a fair share of options, but I think," you began to say as you walked around the counter and towards your collection of houseplants. You finally found the perfect one, a medium sized fiddle-leaf fig plant. "I think this wee lad is your new best friend," you smiled and handed him the potted plant. "How much do I owe ye?" he asked before you shook your head. "It's on the house, pleasure to make you a new plant owner," you replied. He smiled widely before exiting into the pouring rain. "Hope to see you again!" he waved and you hoped he kept his promise.

A peek into your relationship: "I don't think I'm doing this correctly," Johnny said as you felt the cold hair dye coat your scalp. "You're doing a better job than I could, babe," you joked underneath the pile of your hair. Having a boyfriend meant you didn't have to struggle bleaching and dying pieces of your hair when it needed a touchup. You couldn't even imagine how you used to do this. "You should just cut if off," he joked and you pretended to be shocked. "And have an ugly mohawk? I would never," you responded and you could hear him chuckle behind you. "Careful now, I might just dye your neck," he countered and you knew his threat was an empty one. "I'll kill your darling houseplant if you do, Mactavish, don't push me," you replied and that shut him up. After a few more minutes, he finally finished applying the dye to your bleached roots. You lifted your head to see his smiling face, hands coated with the bleach and his ratty shirt adorned with plenty of stains. "Thank you," you smiled happily and kissed his stubbled cheek. His ears tinged pink at your actions. "Now just have to wash this off in the shower," you said as you walked over to the bathroom. "Can I join?" he enthusiastically asked as your laughter filled your flat and he followed you like a puppy.

[singsweetmelodies]

just stopping by to say: you've had SEVEN accounts over ELEVEN years in fandom?? you actually are a legend, wtf. any chance you can reveal some of the other fandoms you've written for? 👀 no need to answer if it's too personal or if you're not comfortable revealing it btw!!

ahhhh, anon, you'll make me blush 🙈🙈😍🙈 YOU are the actual legend for sending this ask!! ❤️❤️ also, omg, noooo worries, i don't mind answering at all - i am also an incredibly nosy person, lmaooo, so i completely get wanting to be curious about everything you can, hehe.

and as for fandoms: i'm not going to reveal absolutely all of them (mostly because i'm too lazy to go open up all 7 accounts AGAIN and check, so i'll most likely forget some, lmao 😆🥲) but also bcs there are one or two i'm redacting for shame, kslldjdhdhdgdhdgdhdggdd 🙈

ANYWAYS. let's get to it - here's a list of many of the fandoms i've written for over the past 11 years, in the order of how quickly my brain remembers them lmao. also! pls note that these are only the fandoms i've written for. the ones i've READ for are absolutely impossible to count, i fear 😅😅

and now with the disclaimers and whatnot done - the list:

Harry Potter (specifically, Marauders Era)

Avengers 2012 (specifically, Clintasha)

Once Upon A Time (Captain Swan beloved)

Marvel's Agents of SHIELD (definitely the fandom I've written the most for to date)

Star Wars (Reylo. sorrynotsorry)

Supergirl (Supercorp, of course)

Star Trek: Discovery (one fic in total but it counts)

Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (again, one fic, but I loved this quirky little series very dearly)

The Queen's Gambit (this is the one I completely forgot I ever wrote fic for, and was pleasantly surprised to remember lmao)

Six of Crows (Kanej forever!!)

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (Sambucky, of course)

Black Widow 2021 (specifically, the fascinating and excellent Natasha & Yelena & Melina & Alexei dynamic)

Miraculous Ladybug (shut UP, the content in this fandom is genuinely god-tier)

Spider-Man Homecoming & No Way Home (Spideychelle <333)

Arrow (I never finished this show but by god I had my Olicity obsession. also. Sara Lance!!)

Arcane (one fic but God I wish I'd had spoons to write more because this show is awesome. Caitvi 😍😍)

Avatar The Last Airbender (OH MY GOD almost forgot this one but how could i. this show is so good!!)

there you have it, anon! 🥰 insanity that has spanned 11 years, lmao. but this is only a fraction of the true insanity, really - there are SO many fandoms where i just lurked, and obsessively read fic, but never posted anything of my own 🥲🙈 anyways!! looking at this all again has definitely been A Ride for me. i do hope you enjoyed(?) the answer - pls do tell me if anything here is a massive surprise, or not surprising at all, lmao. i of course believe my taste is impeccable, but please do tell me what you think too <333