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briefinquiries · 2 days ago

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Under the Blood Moon | Peaky Blinders | Chapter 10

Tommy Shelby x Reader: Chapter 10

Fic Summary: You came to Birmingham for a fresh start, to bury the past and keep your head down. As a former nurse in the war, you’ve seen enough blood and death to last a lifetime. But fate (and the Shelby’s) have other plans. After stitching Tommy Shelby back together, you find yourself drawn further into their world, a world of violence, loyalty, and power. When Tommy offers you a job, it comes with more than just good pay, it comes with expectations and lines you never planned to cross.

Chapter summary: After days of stress and uncertainty, you go to dinner at Polly’s, hoping for a distraction. But when Tommy arrives, the tension between you is impossible to ignore. By the end of the night, you realize something between you has shifted, and there’s no ignoring it anymore.

Word count: 5.9k

Warnings: Violence, injury, mentions of blood, gore, and open wounds, PTSD and war flashbacks, alcohol use, and mild language.

The next few days blurred together, each one pulling you deeper into a game that was becoming harder and harder to play.

Moving between Tommy and Campbell wasn’t just dangerous, it was exhausting. Every meeting with Campbell felt like walking a tightrope, feeding him just enough to keep him from questioning you, while making sure not to give him anything that could actually hurt Tommy.

And Tommy… Tommy had been busy. Not like that was completely unusual, but lately, it was different. It wasn’t just work– meetings, plans, whatever business he was handling behind closed doors– it was the way he moved through it all. Always in and out, always a step ahead, always too occupied with the next thing to stop, to linger, to look at you the way he had before.

You told yourself it was fine. That this was normal. That nothing had changed.

But you noticed it.

The way he barely glanced your way when he walked into a room, the way his voice never lingered on your name like it used to. The way those fleeting moments– the ones where his eyes softened for just a second before he caught himself, had started to disappear.

He wasn’t being cold or cruel. But he offered you little more than brief glances and clipped words. Not necessarily distant, but detached.

And maybe that was good. Maybe that was what you needed.

Still, there were nights when you caught yourself thinking about him, about the weight of his hand on your waist, the way he had looked at you in the quiet, like he wasn’t sure whether to push you away or pull you closer. You hated yourself for it, for noticing, for missing something you had never really had to begin with.

On the rare nights when Tommy wasn’t occupying your thoughts, your mind still refused to rest. Instead, you replayed every conversation with Campbell, sifting through the details, making sure you remembered what you had told him, and what you hadn’t. Trying, and failing, not to dwell on the inevitable question: What would happen if he ever found out where your loyalties truly lay?

Somewhere along the way, the exhaustion had settled into your bones.

Polly was the first to notice.

It started small, comments here and there. A look she gave you when you lingered too long at the Garrison, staring at the same spot on the counter. A knowing hum when you waved off a drink, saying you had to get home after your shift.

Then, one evening, she set down her glass and spoke.

"You’re coming to dinner. My house, seven o’clock."

The words were simple, firm– not a question. You blinked, pulled abruptly from your thoughts.

Polly stood across from you, one hand resting against the bar, the other wrapped around a half-empty glass. She watched you over the rim, eyes sharp, knowing. Like she’d already decided for you.

You hesitated. "I’ve got things to do."

Polly scoffed, shaking her head as she took a slow sip of whiskey. "What you’ve got is too much time spent caught in the middle of a war you never started. It’s not good for you. You look like hell."

Your grip on the bar tightened. "I’m fine."

Polly tilted her head, unconvinced. "Are you?"

You opened your mouth, ready to argue, to insist that yes, you were fine, you had to be fine. But nothing came out.

She exhaled, setting her drink down with a quiet clink. "Come to dinner at my place tonight. Eat a good meal, think about something other than whatever it is Tommy has you roped into."

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to go, but because you weren’t sure you could sit across from Tommy, feel the weight of his gaze, and pretend it didn’t affect you. Pretend that something between you hadn’t shifted in the last week, that you weren’t hoping for him to see you the way he had before.

Polly watched you, waiting.

But just like that, you were out of excuses.

…

Polly’s house was full when you arrived. Laughter and the sound of clinking glasses carried from the dining room, the warmth of conversation spilling into the hallway.

You let out a slow breath as you stepped inside, shrugging off your coat.

Everyone was here. Everyone except Tommy.

Your shoulders loosened slightly at the realization. You hated that it mattered, hated the way your stomach twisted at the thought of seeing him, the way your mind braced itself, wondering which version of Tommy you’d get tonight. The man who looked at you like you meant something, or the one who made you feel like you were just another game piece on the board.

One moment, he was brushing his thumb along your cheek, grounding you when the panic took hold, murmuring things that made your knees go weak. And the next? He was distant. Treating you like you were strictly around for business and information.

But you had to stop blaming him. You were the one who had let yourself feel something for a man like Tommy Shelby. You weren’t naive. You knew what he was, what kind of life he lived. What else did you expect?

Before you could dwell on it any further, a blur of movement barreled into your side.

"You’re here!"

You barely had time to steady yourself before Finn had his arms wrapped around you, squeezing tight like he hadn’t seen you in years.

"Hello, Finn," you laughed, ruffling his hair as he pulled back.

He grinned up at you, eyes bright with excitement. "Aunt Pol said you might not come, but I told her you would. You wouldn’t miss a Shelby dinner."

You smirked. "Oh yeah? And how’d you know that?"

Finn shrugged, still grinning. "‘Cause you like us too much. Well, me at least."

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. "You’re too cocky for your own good."

"Nah," Finn shot back, nudging you toward the dining room. "Just smart."

You followed, the tension in your chest easing slightly. Finn had always been easy company, he didn’t ask about the business, didn’t read too much into things.

John was the next to notice you. He was seated near the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in hand, looking more like himself than he had in days.

"Well, look who it is." He grinned, lifting his glass in greeting. "My very own guardian angel."

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. "How’re you feeling?”

"Pretty good, all things considered. And I don’t take it for granted," he said, patting his side. "Stitched me up nice, you did."

Relief settled in your chest. You hadn’t seen much of John since that night. He’d actually followed your instructions to take it easy, meaning he wasn’t frequenting the Garrison like he usually did.

"Just don’t go getting shot again," you muttered.

John chuckled. "No promises, love."

You rolled your eyes. “At least wait until this one’s healed.”

John smirked, tilting his head. "What, and miss out on all the fun?"

You shot him a pointed look, crossing your arms. "Yeah, I’m sure bleeding out on a dirty table at the Garrison was a real fun time."

Finn, who had been listening from the corner, let out a loud snicker. “Arthur said you squealed like a pig.”

John’s smirk faltered just slightly, eyes narrowing as he shot Finn a glare. “Yeah? Well, Arthur’s full of shit.” He muttered something under his breath, shaking his head as he took a swig of his drink. “Next time he gets shot, I’ll make sure I’m the one patchin’ him up, see how much he squeals then.”

Finn just laughed, and you bit back a smirk, shaking your head.

Just then, across the room, Ada caught your eye, gesturing toward the dining table. "Come on, then, since Polly’s gone on about making you stay, you might as well make yourself useful."

You didn’t argue, following her toward the kitchen while the boys continued to bicker. It was easier to keep your hands busy, easier to focus on setting out plates and pouring drinks than to think too hard about why you were here at all. As you moved around the table, setting out plates and pouring drinks, the noise of the room wrapped around you, familiar, and warm.

Arthur joined in on the conversation. He began telling a story, his voice animated, hands moving wildly as he spoke. Finn was practically in tears laughing, barely able to breathe between gasps. Polly, always the sharp observer, poured herself another drink, her eyes flicking between everyone, as if keeping count of who had too much and who wasn’t drinking enough.

You handed Ada a stack of silverware, barely registering her quiet thank you before setting a pitcher of water near the center of the table.

Then, the door opened. "Sorry I’m late." Tommy’s voice carried over the conversation, low and steady.

Your hand stilled over a glass. You glanced up just as he stepped inside, shrugging off his coat, his movements slow, measured, like he was arriving at a meeting, not dinner.

And then his eyes landed on you. It was subtle, just a flicker of recognition at first. But then he paused.

A rare, fleeting moment where he hesitated, where something passed through his expression, surprise, maybe. Or confusion. Like he hadn’t expected to see you here. Like the sight of you, standing at the table among his family, didn’t quite make sense.

Tommy dragged his gaze away from you, exhaling as he tossed his coat over a chair. "What’d I miss? What happened?"

Polly scoffed, swirling the whiskey in her glass. "Nothing happened. I invited her for dinner. Because that’s what polite people do when someone’s helped them out as much as she has."

Instead of turning towards Polly, Tommy’s gaze lingered on you. "You make sure no one followed you?"

Your stomach tightened, but you kept your expression even. "Of course," you said.

Tommy didn’t look convinced. His gaze flickered over you, searching, as if trying to see past your answer, to find something you weren’t saying. "Are you sure?" he pressed.

“Oh, for goodness' sake, Tommy,” Polly said, exasperation dripping from every syllable as she set her glass down with a sharp clink. She leveled him with a pointed look, one brow arching in that way that made even him think twice before pushing back. “The girl’s got more sense than every man in this room combined. You think she’d waltz in here with a bloody tail on her?”

Tommy’s jaw ticked, but before he could say anything, Polly continued.

"She saved John’s life. Stitched him up when he was bleeding out on the streets." Her voice was stern, there was a weight behind it, something unspoken pressing into the space between them. "And while we’re keeping count, she saved yours too. Twice, I heard."

You tensed slightly, pulse skipping at the mention of France.

His gaze flickered, but his expression remained unreadable.

Polly scoffed, shaking her head. “Honestly, you’ve got bigger things to worry about than chasing shadows that aren’t there. Maybe start with a proper ‘thank you’ before you start interrogating the poor girl.” She lifted her glass, swirling the amber liquid lazily before taking another sip. "Or is gratitude beneath the great Thomas Shelby these days?"

Silence stretched across the table. Arthur shifting slightly in his seat, Ada giving a small nod of agreement, Finn glancing between you and Tommy like he was waiting for something to happen.

Tommy exhaled sharply through his nose, rolling his shoulders slightly before reaching for a drink. “Never said she didn’t deserve to be thanked.” His voice was even, but something about it made your chest tighten. He didn’t look at you as he poured himself a drink.

Polly huffed, shaking her head as she lifted her own glass. "Then act like it, Thomas."

Without another word, Tommy raised his drink slightly in your direction, a slow, measured movement.

"Thank you. For all you’ve done for us."

Simple. Certain.

Arthur raised his glass, “To our miracle worker!” He grinned as he knocked back his drink, and the rest of the table followed suit, conversation picking up again like nothing had happened.

Dinner passed in a blur of laughter, arguments over whose turn it was to pour the next drink, Finn trying to sneak extra food onto his plate when Polly wasn’t looking.

By the time everyone drifted into the living room, drinks still in hand, you found yourself relaxing just a little, letting the tension in your shoulders ease.

Finn plopped onto the floor, tossing a deck of cards onto the table in front of him. "Alright, who’s up?"

John leaned forward with an exaggerated groan. "Jesus, Finn, you always pick the worst games."

"You’re just sour ‘cause you always lose."

You smirked as Finn grinned at you, nudging the empty space beside him. "Come on, you’re playing."

"Am I?"

"Yeah. I think you’re good luck."

"That so?"

Finn nodded, as if this was obvious, already dealing the cards. "You’re on my team."

John groaned dramatically, but he was already reaching for his own cards. "If I catch you cheating, Finn, I swear to God–"

You rolled your eyes but sat down anyway, shaking your head as the game started.

It was easy like this. The stakes were low, the room warm with whiskey and laughter, Finn kicking John under the table when he thought no one was looking.

You could pretend, for just a little while, that there wasn’t a war being waged in the space between your ribs. Or that the pressure of all these meetings with Campbell weren’t eating you alive.

And then, Tommy walked in. His presence shifted the air immediately, subtle but unmistakable. He leaned against the doorway, cigarette between his fingers, watching the game with a quiet sort of curiosity. And despite yourself, you felt the weight of his gaze settle on you.

It was unfair, really, how effortlessly handsome he was. The sharp cut of his cheekbones, the way the dim light caught the angles of his face, the steady, unreadable expression that only made you want to know what he was thinking. Even now, standing there with that casual, unbothered confidence, he commanded the room without even trying.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to focus on the game. But it was hard to ignore the way your pulse picked up when his eyes lingered just a little too long. His glance was quiet and knowing. Not a demand, not an order. Just a look that said he expected you to understand.

Then, a slow nod toward the hall. A request, an invitation. And you knew that he wanted you to follow.

Your breath caught slightly, pulse stuttering against your ribs.

You didn’t want to play this game anymore– didn’t want to keep getting drawn in, only for him to push you back a moment later.

But Tommy Shelby had a way of making gravity work in his favor. And despite everything in you telling you to stay seated, to ignore him, to just let it be, you stood.

You felt Finn’s eyes flicker toward you, but he didn’t say anything. Neither did John. Maybe they understood. Or maybe, this was just the way things worked with Tommy.

So without a word, without letting yourself think too hard about it, you followed him.

The hallway was dimly lit, quieter than the rest of the house. The muffled sounds of laughter and conversation drifted from the other room, grounding you in the fact that you weren’t truly alone with him.

But it felt like you were.

Tommy stopped near the staircase, exhaling smoke as he leaned against the wooden railing. "John letting you and Finn win, or are you actually any good at cards?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. "What?"

Tommy smirked slightly, flicking his cigarette. "The game. You holding your own, or is John too soft to let you lose?"

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest. "Did you really pull me out here to talk about cards?”

Tommy shrugged. "Just making conversation."

His tone was easy and unbothered.

"What’s wrong?" Tommy’s voice was quieter now, the ease in his expression slipping away. He was watching you closely, carefully.

You clenched your jaw, resisting the urge to look away.

Of course he could read you like a book. It was infuriating, the way Tommy Shelby could cut through every layer of carefully built composure, peeling you back to the parts of yourself you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

Meanwhile, he was a locked door. A man built of walls and carefully chosen silences. You could never tell what he was thinking, never quite pin down what was real and what was calculated. One moment, his touch was gentle, grounding, like he was anchoring you to something solid. The next, he was distant, cold, acting as if you were just another piece of the game he was playing.

And yet, here he was, staring at you like he already knew every thought running through your head. Like he could see every flicker of frustration, every ounce of hesitation.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "I’m just–" You sighed, shaking your head again. "I don’t know, Tommy. I think I’m just confused."

A flicker of something passed through his eyes, but he didn’t interrupt. He just waited. So you forced yourself to continue.

"Maybe I’m reading things wrong, and if I am, I’m sorry." Your voice was quieter now, but still steady. "But one minute, you’re brushing my cheek, making sure I’m alright, looking at me like I’m–" You stopped yourself, jaw clenching slightly before you forced the words out. "Like I’m important. And the next, I’m just another person who works for you. Another pawn in your plan."

Tommy didn’t move, but you could feel the shift in him.

"If that’s all I am, fine," you continued, exhaling sharply. "That’s okay. But I think I just need you to flat out tell me that when you reach for my hand, or cup my cheek, or even fucking look at me, that it means absolutely nothing to you… Because, Tommy, I think it means something to me.”

Silence. It stretched between you like a loaded gun, heavy, waiting to go off.

Tommy’s face remained unreadable, but his cigarette burned low between his fingers, the ash dangerously close to falling. He barely blinked, barely moved, just let your words settle between you, sinking in deeper with every breath.

Your heart pounded, your throat tight. You hadn’t meant to say it like that– hadn’t meant to lay it all out so plainly. But now it was there, and there was no taking it back.

He exhaled slowly, flicking the ash onto the floor before finally meeting your gaze again.

"You think I do things without meaning them?"

His voice was quiet, measured, but there was something sharp beneath it.

You swallowed hard. "I think you do a lot of things, Tommy. And I think sometimes you decide later what they mean."

His jaw ticked, his fingers tapping once against the railing before stilling. "And what is it you think I’ve decided?"

You shook your head, frustrated. "I don’t know. That’s the problem, Tommy. You read me and everyone else in the world like a fucking book. Meanwhile, I have no idea what you’re thinking, and it’s infuriating."

Tommy took a slow step forward. Not closing the space entirely, but shortening it just enough to make your breath catch.

"I don’t do things for no reason." His voice was lower now, rougher, but controlled. "Not with business. Not with my family. Not with you."

Something tightened in your chest. "Then why?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze flickered over your face, lingering for half a second too long before he shook his head. "Because you are important. You matter. And that’s…" Tommy’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t look away. “That’s becoming a problem.”

You let out a slow breath, dropping your gaze for a moment, grounding yourself before lifting your eyes back to his. "A problem,” you murmured, trying to ignore the disappointment pooling in your chest.

He didn’t correct it, didn’t take it back. You just let it sit there between you, like he’d already decided it was the truth.

The weight of it settled heavy in your chest. You swallowed around it, hands curling into fists at your sides. "Right. Because God forbid something matter, right?"

His gaze flickered, but he didn’t react, not at first. Then, he took another step forward. Closer now. Close enough that you could feel the heat of him, close enough that your breath hitched despite every part of you screaming not to let him do this again.

"I don’t have the luxury of letting things matter." His voice was quieter now, but somehow heavier, rougher. "Not in this world."

Something in you deflated, you sighed before nodding. "Okay.” You didn’t know what else to say. What else was there?

You had spent too much time trying to figure him out, trying to make sense of the moments where he let you in, only to shut you out just as quickly. And now, here he was, saying it plainly. That this, whatever this was, couldn’t exist. That you couldn’t matter.

The weight of it settled in your chest, pressing down, pressing in.

A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he didn’t move, didn’t drop your gaze. “Okay?” he hummed.

"Okay," you repeated, voice steady despite the way your pulse was hammering against your ribs.

Tommy’s gaze was searching. Like he was waiting for you to push back, to challenge it. But you wouldn’t. Because you had always suspected that this was how it would end.

Slowly, carefully, Tommy reached out. Fingers brushing against your temple, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch so gentle it nearly broke you right then and there, like he hadn’t just told you that you couldn’t matter. Like he hadn’t just chosen the distance.

The breath you took was shaky, and before he could let his hand linger, before you could let yourself lean into it, you reached up and pushed it away.

His brows furrowed slightly, but he let his hand drop.

"Stop," you murmured, shaking your head. "Please– stop. You can’t have both, Tommy."

He stayed still, watching you, but you weren’t done.

"If I can’t matter, that’s fine," you continued, your voice soft but unwavering. "I get it, Tommy. Really, I do. But you don’t get to–" You swallowed thickly, frustration and something deeper curling in your chest. "You don’t get to look at me like that."

You let out a slow breath, willing yourself to stay steady.

"Either you care or you don’t. But you don’t get to stand here and tell me I’m a problem, then turn around and touch me like I matter," You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "I can’t do that, Tommy."

A beat of silence. Then another.

It was suffocating, stretching thick and heavy in the dimly lit hallway. Tommy’s face was unreadable, but something in his posture had shifted, tighter, tenser.

"Understood," he murmured, his voice low and even.

You nodded, blinking hard against the sting behind your eyes. This was the right thing. You needed to put space between you before he pulled you in again, before you let him.

So you turned.

And Tommy let you take one step. Then another. But before you could take a third, his hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist.

Before you could react, before you could even breathe, he spun you back to him.

Your balance faltered, your body colliding into his, and then, his mouth was on yours.

And suddenly, the world was tilting.

His hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him, his grip firm, desperate, demanding. The other cupped your jaw, fingers threading into your hair, tilting your head just so as his lips crashed against yours, hungry, insistent, like he was starving for this.

A quiet gasp left you, but it only spurred him on. He kissed you like a man trying to undo something. Like he’d spent too long telling himself he shouldn’t, only to lose the battle entirely.

Heat surged through you, burning through the frustration, through the confusion, through the ache you’d been trying so hard to bury.

And you kissed him back.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, gripping him as tightly as he held you. There was no hesitation now, no restraint. His mouth moved against yours with a slow, aching intensity, like he wanted to commit every second to memory, like he already knew he was going to regret this but couldn’t stop himself anyway.

His fingers tightened at your waist, possessive, firm, as if he needed to feel you solid beneath him, to make sure you weren’t slipping away. His thumb brushed the edge of your jaw, coaxing you closer even though there was no space left between you.

God, you hated him for this– for making you feel like you were coming undone and put back together all at once. For making it impossible to breathe without breathing him in.

The kiss deepened, his lips parting slightly against yours, and the moment your body softened, the moment you gave in just a little more, he pulled away.

Barely.

His forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard, his fingers still gripping your waist like he wasn’t sure if he was going to let go.

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his, blue, wild, and searching.

"Tell me to stop," Tommy murmured, his voice rough, his breath hot against your lips. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

His fingers tightened at your waist, firm, steady, like he was holding himself back as much as he was holding onto you. His breath was warm against your skin, his presence overwhelming, all-consuming.

Maybe you should have pushed him away. Maybe you should have reminded yourself of every reason why this was a mistake.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Instead, you swallowed, your voice quieter now, steadier than you felt.

"You know where I stand, Tommy." Your eyes met his, unflinching. "I don’t want to stop."

Tommy sighed. "If Campbell finds out I care about you," he said, voice rough, “He’ll use it. He’ll use you. And I can’t–" He stopped himself, jaw flexing. "I can’t afford to lose anyone else."

You swallowed, feeling the tension in your chest shift into something softer, something more painful. "Tommy–"

Your voice barely carried between you, hushed and unsure. The weight of his words lingered in the small space that separated you, pressing into your ribs like something you weren’t meant to hear, like something he hadn’t meant to say.

But you had heard it.

And despite everything, despite the risks, despite Campbell, despite this entire dangerous, tangled mess, you didn’t want to walk away. Because when you were with Tommy, the world felt quieter. Even with the weight he carried, even with the danger that lurked in every shadow, there was something steady about him, something solid. He had a way of making you feel like nothing could touch you, like no one else in the room mattered.

And maybe that was the problem.

Because when he looked at you like that, when his voice dropped low, when he let those rare moments of softness slip through the cracks, it was easy to forget the warnings. Easy to forget the risks. Easy to forget that men like Tommy Shelby didn’t get to have things like this.

But more than anything, it was the way he understood. He didn’t just tolerate the weight you carried, he recognized it. He knew the ghosts that lingered at the edge of your mind, because they lived in his too. He didn’t ask you to explain why your breath hitched at the crack of distant gunfire or why you woke up with the trenches still clinging to your skin. He already knew.

And that was the part that scared you the most. Because for all the reasons you should walk away, there was one reason you couldn’t: Tommy Shelby felt like the only person in the world who understood you.

You knew what this meant. You knew what Campbell was capable of, knew how men like him operated. But you also knew Tommy.

And you knew that this, whatever it was, whatever it could be, was already happening.

It had been for a while.

"I know the risk," you murmured, searching his face.

Tommy’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t look away.

"We can be discreet," you said, voice steady despite the way your pulse pounded in your throat. “Campbell doesn’t have to know.”

His brows knit together, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly. "It’s not just Campbell. It’s this life. Even if we get rid of him, even if the plan works and he’s out of Birmingham for good, there will always be someone else. There will always be another threat." His voice was lower now, rougher. "I don’t want that for you. I don’t want you looking over your shoulder, waiting for the next fight, the next danger. I don’t want you living in fear."

Tommy’s words hung between you, thick with warning, with the quiet weight of something unspoken.

You searched his face, the way his jaw stayed tight, the way his grip on your waist remained firm, like he was already bracing himself for you to pull away.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you exhaled slowly, your fingers curling gently against his chest, grounding yourself in the solid warmth of him. "I’m not afraid, Tommy."

His eyes flickered, something unreadable passing through them.

"You should be," he murmured.

You swallowed, shaking your head. "I know what this life is. I know the risks. But I also know that when I’m with you, I don’t feel afraid. I feel safe." The words left you before you could second-guess them, before you could soften them into something less vulnerable.

Tommy's jaw tightened, his fingers flexing against your waist. He dropped his gaze for a brief moment, exhaling slowly through his nose, before looking back at you. There was something different in his expression now, something raw and uncertain, like he wasn’t used to hearing words like that, like he didn’t know what to do with them.

"You trust me?" His voice was quieter now, almost careful, as if testing the weight of the question.

You didn’t hesitate. "I do."

Tommy's eyes searched yours, scanning for doubt, for hesitation, for any sign that you were saying it just to soothe him. But he found none.

His throat bobbed slightly as he swallowed, closing his eyes for the briefest second, like he needed to steady himself before doing something reckless. Then, without another word, he let out a slow breath and leaned in, closing the space between you.

And then, before you could say anything else, he kissed you again.

It was different this time– not desperate, not frantic. But deep. Intense. Certain.

His lips moved against yours in a way that felt like an answer. Like something he had been trying to hold back, but couldn’t anymore.

And you didn’t stop him.

His hand slid to your jaw, thumb brushing against your cheek, tilting your head just enough to let him kiss you the way he wanted.

Slow, unhurried, like he was memorizing you.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, grounding yourself in the solid weight of him, the heat of his body pressing against yours.

He made a quiet sound low in his throat, deepening the kiss, fingers threading into your hair, holding you there, like he wasn’t ready to let you go.

Like he never would be.

Tommy pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead pressing gently against yours. His hand stayed firm against your jaw, his thumb tracing absentminded circles along your cheek.

“Stay with me tonight,” he murmured, his voice rough, quiet, but unwavering. “At my house.”

Your breath hitched, fingers still curled in the fabric of his shirt. The temptation was immediate, curling warm and reckless in your chest.

But reality settled in just as fast. You exhaled slowly, shaking your head slightly. “Tommy… Campbell’s men… What if they’re watching?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but the weight of it hung between you. “Would that be smart?”

His jaw tightened, his eyes searching yours like he was already trying to find a way around it. But you knew he had already thought about it. Already weighed the risks.

Still, his fingers stayed where they were, warm against your skin, his forehead lingering against yours. “Probably not,” he admitted, voice low, reluctant.

You swallowed, your grip on his shirt loosening just slightly. “Then we can’t.” The words felt heavier than you wanted them to, like saying them out loud made them more real, more final.

Tommy let out a slow breath through his nose, his fingers threading further into your hair before sliding back down to your jaw. His eyes stayed locked onto yours, like he was trying to commit something to memory. His fingers flex slightly against your jaw before sliding down to your waist. His forehead remained pressed to yours, like he was holding onto the moment, weighing something in his mind.

Then, quietly, “We could stay here. Pol’s got a spare room.”

Your stomach flipped. “Really? Would that be safe?”

Tommy exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly. “If Campbell’s men are watching, they already know you’re here.”

His hands flexed against your waist. Then, his lips barely ghosted over yours again, his voice lower now, rough with something unreadable. “I could take the floor,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You huffed a quiet breath, your fingers tightening against his shirt. “That’s what you’re worried about? Sleeping arrangements?”

Tommy’s lips twitched, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m a gentleman.”

You let out a quiet scoff. “I don’t think I want you to be tonight.”

Tommy made a low sound in his throat, something close to a curse. Then, suddenly, he moved, his grip tightening as he walked you back a step, then another, until your spine met the wall.

His hands slid beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers pressing against the bare skin of your back, pulling you closer, as if he needed you closer. As if he couldn’t stand the space between you any longer.

You barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth was on yours again, slower this time, deliberate, like he was savoring every second, every stolen moment.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to meet your gaze, his breathing uneven, his fingers still gripping your waist, you murmured, “Just for tonight.”

Tommy’s lips barely parted, his breath warm against yours. “Just for tonight,” he replied.

Despite everything– despite the danger, despite the risks, despite the quiet warning in the back of your mind, you didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Not when he was looking at you like that. Not when his touch made the rest of the world fade away. Not when, for the first time in too long, you felt safe.

#tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders x y/n #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x y/n #tommy shelby

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heartsforjh · 3 days ago

Text

here’s the second part to this ask! i apologize for the wait! things have been kind of hectic lately!

main masterlist | tik tok series masterlist

You set up your phone camera on the kitchen counter, hiding it behind some junk that you should probably tidy up later. You know your boyfriend, Will, is about to take a shower while you cook dinner, so you’ve decided to pull a harmless little prank on him.

You saw a girl on TikTok respond with just a “thank you” when her husband told her he loved her, and his reaction was hilarious. Will is like an affectionate, innocent puppy of a boyfriend, and you have to get his reaction to you trying it.

When you hear his footsteps approaching, you quickly grab some pots, pretending to look busy. He comes around the corner and stands beside you, resting a hand on your waist.

“Hey. What are you doing?” he asks, looking down at you.

You flash him a simple smile. “Hi, babe. I’m about to make dinner.”

“Alright. While you do that, I’m just gonna shower real quick,” he says, gently rubbing your back.

You nod. “Sounds good.”

“I’ll be right back. I love you,” his hand gently guides your face towards his, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

You return your attention back to the dinner you’re making. “Okay, great. Thank you!”

Silence.

He doesn’t move a muscle. He just stands there, waiting. You put on your most innocent face and glance up at him, acting clueless.

“Okay, yeah. I love you,” he repeats, as naturally as possible.

You nod and give him yet another smile. “Thank you!”

That’s when his brows knit together, a deep frown forming on his face. He must have realized he looks too harsh, because he tries to soften his expression. However, he just ends up looking concerned—and concerning—at the same time.

“Yeah… are you- are you gonna respond to me though?” he asks in the sweetest voice, which almost makes you feel bad.

You look down for a moment, as you struggle to hold back a grin. “What do you mean? I said thank you.”

“I know. But, that’s thank you. I said I love you. You didn’t say I love you,” he explains, trying his best to be patient. There’s worry—and maybe slight panic—written all over his face.

You shrug your shoulders, trying to seem unbothered. “Yeah.”

“What? What do you mean?” His voice cracks.

It’s really getting to him now. It’s past the point of odd, and he’s definitely noticed something’s up.

You sigh, dramatically. “By ‘yeah’? I mean, it’s a word that’s typically used for confirmation. I can’t believe you don’t know what that—”

“Baby, no,” his tone becomes desperate as he places his hands on either side of your hips, turning you to face him. “Can you please do it right?”

“Do what right?” you ask, giving your best oblivious act.

Will looks at you, his eyes soft and pleasing. “I love you. I love you, okay? Are you mad at me? We can talk about whatever it is.”

“Uhhh… okay, fine. I’m joking! It’s a little prank,” you admit with a laugh, giving into his pouting.

His head falls back, and he lets out a deep groan. “Baaaabe!”

“I’m sorry! I wanted to see what you’d do!” you say, smiling as you move closer to him.

He looks back at you, and immediately pulls you into a tight hug. “You scared me! I thought you were upset.”

“No, no, nothing’s wrong. Just wanted to mess with you,” you wrap your arms around his neck.

He shakes his head, playfully acting exhausted. “You’re crazy, but I love you.”

“Thanks,” you joke, not wanting to pass up the opportunity.

His face immediately drops. “Babe… too soon.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. You can go take your shower now,” you say, but he doesn’t budge. “I love you.”

He sighs in relief, then kisses the crown of your head. “That’s better, baby.”

You look up and give him a proper kiss, making sure he really knows how you feel about him. He peppers your face with kisses in return—a good sign. He lingers for a while after that, watching you make dinner and talking to you, until you finally convince him that all will be okay if he leaves for a few minutes to take his shower.

tags: @lukey-pookie-hughes43 @azure-dawn81 @joesnumerouno @macklin-celebrini-71 @randomcuboidshape

join the taglist here! :)

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rekino2114 · 1 day ago

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Stella Hoshinari and Emma Magorobi fighting over who you love more, but you love both equally

Emma magorobi and stella hoshinari fighting over you

Pairing:Emma magorobi x gn reader x stella hoshinari

A/n:This was requested way before the prompts, but it gave me the idea for the 17th prompt on my list, so thanks. This is also my first dangan/fangan crossover post, and I'd like to do more (maybe something with chiaki and Cassidy or kirumi and akane) so let me know if you want to see more. Also, please request more of this I genuinely loved writing this so much

You'd never thought you'd attract the attention of a girl, much less two, much less two incredibly rich and famous Hollywood actresses that just so happened to go to the same school as you but life has its surprises

It all started simple enough. Both Emma and stella started to hang out with you. Sometimes, one of them would eat lunch in the cafeteria with you, and the other walked with you after school, you became good friends with the both of them.

Little did you know that they both were actually crushing on you super hard and were testing the water before starting to actually flirt with you, those compliments that you interpreted as them just being nice were actually the first signs of those crushes.

Eventually, they were ready to finally ask you out and had the same idea. They were going to invite you on the set of one of their movies

Stella was about to approach you to ask but saw you were already talking with Emma, so she raised her sunglasses and got closer

"It's gonna be great so what do you-"

"Oh pardon I wanted to talk with y/n"

"......well I already am so......"

"Wait a second I know you, aren't you that other actress from the other class?"

"The ULTIMATE actress, Emma magorobi pleasure to meet you"

"Oh well that's a coincidence, I'm the ultimate actress too, stella hoshinari, it's nice to meet you too"

"Really? I wasn't aware of another actress attending Hope's peak, you must have been in some pretty niche movies if I haven't heard of you"

[Even if she didn't show it, still keeping her smile on her face, stella was really pissed off by Emma's passive-aggressive remarks]

"Oh I wouldn't say so, but anyway I'm here to ask y/n something, so if you wouldn't mind moving"

"I wanted to ask them something too, if they wanted to come to the new set of a movie I'm in"

"Wow really? Me too"

"......I.....see, well I'm sure y/n would much rather come with me than see whatever second rate movie you're in"

"I disagree. In fact, I think they'd like mine way more"

"Then let's do a little bet, we both bring them on a date and whichever girl they like best gets to keep them"

"I like that, after all, a bit of competition in this industry never hurts"

[They shook each other's hands while you stood there confused]

"..........wait that was a date?"

During the movie date, both actresses tried their best to show you how great and attractive they were. both wearing very revealing clothes and showing off their assets at every occasion

They also made sure to show you how much better they were than the other, making comments about how "emma/stella could never, she's just way too confident in herself if she thinks she can bag a cutie like you~"

After the dates, you told them you needed more time to think about which one you liked more. They actually took that pretty well and gave you time to think

The actual reason that they took it so well was because they understood it just gave them more time to court you, a thing which became apparent when the following day you opened your doorstep to see a pile of roses with a note signed "Emma magorobi" with a stain of lipstick

And also when the next day you received a box of very expensive chocolates with a note this time signed "stella hoshinari" with a similar lipstick mark

And it was with this that the second phase of their fight for you started, absolutely spoiling you rotten with gifts

Both of them were rich and had absolutely no problem spending all of their money if it meant to get with you and beat her competitor

They brought you everything you could think and more, flowers, sweets, videogames, clothes, and way way more, they subtly asked your friends for what you wanted and the next day it suddenly appeared on your front door

One time you brought them to a store in hopes of getting them to hang out and maybe become friends.....it didn't help

"Hey y/n, do you like this shirt? I've seen it and I think it will look adorable on you"

"Not as adorable as these pants I picked out"

"Oh, I suppose they do look cute. You don't mind if I buy them too, right? After all, I doubt you can afford them"

"I can indeed, in fact I think I'll buy these pants and that shirt too for y/n"

"Well then I'll just have to buy this entire section, y/n does need spare after all"

"W-well than I'll buy the entire store!"

"........And I'll buy th-"

"...girls please stop"

While all of this was happening, you were thinking about them too, and which one you liked more. They were both incredibly beautiful and equally rich it seemed but not only that

You noticed how.....nice they both were, not only to you but also to the staff or just random people they met, they never declined autographs or selfies when they were recognized and thanked their fans with such sincerity in their voices, they were so sweet and kind, like the opposite of those stereotypical celebrities, and you couldn't deny that that was probably what made you love them equally

And one day you finally told them just that

"I'm sorry but I can’t choose between you two, you're both so beautiful and nice, I love both of you equally, I know it's dumb and so feel free to just leave me alone, I'd much rather stay alone than break the heart of one of you"

[They both started thinking for a while before Emma spoke]

"I understand so you like both of us equally?"

"Yeah"

"Well then the solution is simple, just date both of us"

"W-what!?"

"Oh I......never thought of that, that's actually a good idea"

"R-really? Like.....you'd be sharing me?"

"Yeah, since you love both of us the same, it shouldn't be a problem"

"B-but are you OK with that?"

"I suggested it so why wouldn't I?"

"As long as I get to stay with my darling I don't mind, plus getting to know Emma more will be nice, you can tell me all those tricks for the make-up"

"Oh I'd love to as long as you tell me where you found that super cute top"

".......I tried to make you friends this whole time and now you're doing that?"

"Well I guess competition gets the best of a girl sometimes"

"Yeah, but don't worry now that I know you love me just as much as stella i'm totally fine with her........just don't think I'm going to let you hog y/n all to yourself"

"Of course, the same goes for me"

"........wait a second so now I'm dating two girls......no wait....two incredibly hot and rich and famous and nice actresses.....AT THE SAME TIME"

"Oh is that what you think of us?"

"Darling, we're flattered, and you are absolutely right. You are dating both of us, so you'll get double the love"

"And the gifts and the kisses"

"Oh yeah speaking of"

[They both got closer and kissed both of your cheeks]

"I was planning on going to a cute Cafe tomorrow, wanna come too Emma?"

"As long as y/n is there absolutely"

"Then it's settled, see you tomorrow cutie~"

[They walked away as you stood there still in complete disbelief of what happened]

When they confirmed their relationship during an interview the news went absolutely wild that a random person was dating both of the ultimate actresses

#super danganronpa another 2 x reader #super danganronpa another 2 #x reader #sdra2 #sdra2 x reader #brave danganronpa x reader #brave danganronpa cowards paradise #brave danganronpa #emma magorobi x reader #emma magorobi #emma sdra2 x reader #emma sdra2 #stella hoshinari x reader #stella hoshinari #stella brave danganronpa #stella brave danganronpa x reader #fanganronpa x reader #fanganronpa #gn reader

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satinprose · 2 days ago

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potter!ellie headcanons.

this came to me in a dream and gave me severe heart palpitations. these are headcanons in a story format, lots of yapping. enjoy this. i love ellie my baby ♡ mdni as usual. cw ; this is mostly fluff but with some suggestive descriptions and a little smut (fingering) (my hand kink got in the way of my better judgement)

𝜗𝜚 ellie, who works at an art studio. she specialises in pottery and painting, sells her own work and assists during her boss' public lessons.

𝜗𝜚 ellie, who you met at your friend's bachelorette party. one of those cliché 'paint n' sip' sessions, rich wine on your tongue and pre-made pots and plates to be glazed or painted. the throws of early autumn had the sun streaming through the studio's windows and warming the greenery, of which there was a lot—it was the most beautiful room you'd ever been in. shelves upon shelves of half-finished pieces, some glazed pieces waiting to be fired. paintings lining the wall, plants hanging from the ceiling and sitting atop each table.

you wish you could say differently, but she stole your attention from the moment you saw her. as the token single girl in your circle, you couldn't even tell if this was a genuine interest, pathetic loneliness, or the wine messing with your eyes.

her hair seemed to glow brighter in the sun, a reddish tinge to it. that day, red seemed to stand out. the wine, her hair, the exhaustion that flushed her cheeks. it was warm, after all, and ellie was on her feet giving whatever painting advice she could offer to your group.

it's definitely interest. that much, you could gather. you weren't just following her ever move with your eyes, you were seeking approval like a teacher's pet. your friends hadn't seen you so whipped in their lives—you looked lost if ellie wasn't speaking to you.

𝜗𝜚 ellie, who knew you were into her from the start. though, she was far from unimpressed with the designs you chose to paint on your ceramic. the energy within the group was nothing she hadn't seen from a bachelorette's party, a group of women chuckling over their shaky lines and poor artwork all born from tipsiness.

"well, look at that. one of you chicks is actually talented." "what, me?" you couldn't help laughing at yourself, yet the look on her face was so serious that your giggles trailed off into awkwardness. "yeah, duh. do you paint often?" simple questions felt like an interrogation, the fact worsened by your friends' laughter. ellie was so casual, but you felt anything but. her leaning against an empty chair, muscular arms flexing, and her gaze cutting into you... "not really, no... just random sketching every now and then." she nodded, and you, somehow, roped your way into meeting with her again. in fact, she was more eager than she initially seemed. "actually, i've been thinking about starting some kinda classes. a new hobby or something. pottery has been interesting to me—" "you let me know when you're free next."

𝜗𝜚 ellie, who gave you a one-on-one lesson in wheel throwing. it was an intimate lesson. she begged her boss to let her have the studio to herself late one night, which honestly isn't a rare occasion as she often stays late to work on pieces alone. but it was harder considering she was bringing you in this time around.

ellie was perfect. a little awkward, but she was teaching you what she does best, and every little thing had your heart pumping out of your chest. lots of time was wasted on failed creations—wheel throwing is hard for beginners. she was sat behind you, wide hands guiding yours. your forearms were muddy and all you could really focus on was the warmth of her breathing against the side of your neck.

when it came time to pay for your lesson and wrap things up, she pushed back your card. "no payment, darlin'. it was a date."

was it? she never said so before. but she was smug at the look on your face, lamely shrugging her shoulders and asking if a second date—a far less messy one—was on the cards.

𝜗𝜚 ellie, who was thoughtfulness-personified. each date she gifted you something handcrafted or painted. even a small sketch on a napkin on weeks that she couldn't catch a proper break. she was a passionate person, and couldn't help mixing her greatest passion with her newest—art, and you.

your very quickly started to run out of space to store everything. but as a girl who valued being of service to her lover, ellie happily volunteered to build you new shelving units just to keep her art in.

she'd make you things like this...

𝜗𝜚 ellie, who lets you chill at the studio even without permission from her boss. she treats you like her very own little assistant, helping her clean up and giving her your own artistic input on projects. you could sit and watch her for hours. hair in her face or thrown back into a little bun, an old wife-beater on and legs spread around the spinner. the look of concentration—brows furrowed, lips pursed, as she carefully shapes the clay. her hands one of your favourite parts; veiny, skilled. bony fingers working the clay effortlessly.

she had made it extremely clear that she doesn't mind a little mess, whether it be clay on her hands or your sticky essence dripping down her fingers like honey.

no, you aren't subtle. she knows how you get, watching her work. on the days she stays late, she'll get you to help her clean up before pushing you onto a table. ellie knows you're already wet from dreamy kisses you shared as she was working and sweet talking you.

"mhm, good girl, just like that, yeah? my patient girl." she'll coo to you as she works her fingers into your pussy, commending you for waiting so prettily and even at times being the perfect muse for a painting. but she won't stop until her fingers are glazed, and like a good girl indeed, you'll let her slip her digits into your mouth so you can suck 'em clean.

𝜗𝜚 ellie, who asked you to marry her two years later with a custom-made ring dish.

#.ellie #ellie willams x reader #ellie x fem reader #tlou2 x reader #ellie x reader #tlou x reader #ellie williams x fem reader #potter!ellie #artist!ellie

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starchbean · 11 hours ago

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Shizun’s Smallest Disciple

Shen Qingqiu, on the edge of the abyss at the IAC, BEGGS the system for another way

System asks… “You’d do anything?” SQQ: “ANYTHING!”

System puts a quest marker on a blossom that has gone to seed - a Scorching Demonic Parasite Dandelion. SY knows through his reading that if a demon blows on this blossom and someone swallows even just one seed, the demon will start growing from the seed in a tiny pocket in their abdomen until they are reborn chestburster style having taken on some of the traits and strength of the host.

SQQ instructs Binghe to blow, Binghe not knowing what is happening but trusting his master

SQQ becomes visibly pregnant with Luo Bingseed at the IAC, bearing Binghe’s demon mark on his own forehead as a sign that he can’t exactly hide before everyone knows about it

Huan Hua accuses him of being a demon, but Mu Qingfang cuts in and explains that this is likely the effect of the plant, and that it is a simple matter of medicine to “cure” Shen Shixiong of whatever demonic parasite has latched onto him. (Due to the huadian and having met Binghe, LPM KNOWS who the demonic parasite inside SQQ is!) and YQY, not having the knowledge of Binghe, thinks the demonic parasite is Tianlang-Jun who is doing this for revenge–demands to see him, but Huan Hua is resistant

Huan Hua insists on locking up Shen Qingqiu in the water prison until the medicine is administered and takes its course, putting him in the Su Xiyan position where he said he would NEVER abort Luo Binghe XD

He refuses to take the medicine at first, but then it’s forced on him. He fights it just like Su Xiyan did, and his body and weakened cultivation from Without a Cure can’t handle it, and he’s falling apart. He still does his best to eat/drink/maintain his body ONLY because it’s a vessel for Binghe’s rebirth, and since demons who use the Parasite Dandelion kill their hosts anyway, he’s resigned to his own death either way (Completely not at all considering ever getting rid of Binghe as even an option)

Meanwhile Yue Qingyuan clandestinely pays a visit to Tianlang-Jun’s prison against the wishes of the OPM. His intent is to prove to the cultivation world that TLJ has escaped and that OPM is covering for it by keeping SQQ (Who TLJ is inside as a parasite) locked up. Instead, he finds TLJ right where he’s supposed to be, in bad shape, with Zhuzhi attending to him.

YQY is incredulous and says as much in an out loud freak out. If the heavenly demon inside his Shidi isn’t Tianlang-Jun or Zhuzhi-Lang, who the hell is it?! He and TLJ put the pieces together that Su Xiyan had Tianlang-Jun’s child. YQY immediately (impulsively, without going over any terms) releases TLJ and the two of them storm Huan Hua together to get back SQQ and Binghe (And in TLJ’s case, to kill the Palace Master, which really if YQY looks away at this point, it’s only because he’s so concerned for his Shidi he can’t think of anything else!)

The two of them find SQQ being barely kept alive by GYX, who is transferring qi to him. The Binghe growing inside him is perfectly healthy and unharmed.

Even with a qi transfer from YQY as well, TLJ tells them it’s not enough, and that SQQ would still die. His only chance is to remove Binghe early, which TLJ and his blood parasites are capable of doing without either of the two dying (Probably. He thinks. He’s not exactly at full power, but it’s fine.)

The Binghe that comes out is a premature baby and needs a constant supply of both demonic and spiritual energy to sustain his life and maintain his growth

when YQY sees SQQ HOLDING A BABY he goes absolutely bonkers and pledges that he will help raise the child and presto, Binghe gets 3 dads

**Possible bingseed feeds on the System so as to harm SQQ as little as possible

Meanwhile TLJ is constantly teasing YQY "You know I feel like leveling a city this afternoon. Maybe you could do the righteous thing and distract me?" XD

#svsss #scum villain #the scum villain's self saving system #starchbean #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #yue qingyuan #tianlang jun #mxtx fic ideas #Airplane's wacky PIDW plants for 500

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mixolya · 11 hours ago

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ᓚᘏᗢ — golden hours, golden hearts : chapter 034 !

the warm scent of something savory filled your apartment, mingling with the soft hum of the stovetop. you leaned against the counter, watching as sae moved effortlessly in your kitchen, sleeves rolled up, focused on whatever he was making.

"a special meal, just for the special lady," he had said when you asked what he was doing. you hadn't pressed further, just enjoying the rare sight of him doing something so domestic.

"i didn't know you could cook," you mused, propping your chin on your hand.

sae glanced at you, unimpressed. "i'm not useless."

you laughed. "yeah? never said you were, though."

he didn't respond, just plated the dish. it was something simple, but it smelled incredible. setting it in front of you, he nudged the chopsticks toward you.

"eat."

you picked up the chopsticks, taking a bite, without much expectation, but the moment the flavors hit your tongue, your brows lifted in surprise. "this is actually good."

"obviously," he scoffed, but there was the tiniest twitch at the corner of his lips. was he pleased?

you rolled your eyes, but the warmth spreading through your chest had nothing to do with the food. there was something oddly endearing about seeing him like this. relaxed, in your space, cooking for you.

"alright, chef itoshi," you teased, taking another bite. "you've officially impressed me."

his eyes flickered to you, acting uninterested, but you caught the way his fingers drummed idly against the counter, like he was holding back a reaction. “took you long enough,” he muttered.

you smiled. “so, what’s the occasion? feeling generous today?”

he tilted his head. “you snuck out of the lv fashion show just to hang out with me. i figured i should at least feed you.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips. “in my own apartment? wasn't this your idea? is this your way of saying thank you?”

“sure,” he said, though his tone was too casual, like he didn’t want to confirm or deny it outright. typical sae.

you shook your head, amused, and nudged the plate toward him. “well, since you cooked, you should eat too.”

he raised an eyebrow, hesitating for just a moment before finally sitting down next to you. without a word, he picked up his own chopsticks and took a bite, chewing slowly.

but you caught it, that slight nod of approval, the way he barely hummed under his breath.

you smiled. “good?”

he shot you a flat look. “obviously.”

the two of you ate in a quiet rhythm, the occasional clink of chopsticks against plates the only sound breaking the stillness of your apartment.

it was… nice. surprisingly so.

you hadn’t expected to feel this comfortable with him, but something about tonight felt different.

and then, without realizing it, you found yourself just watching him.

the way his lashes cast faint shadows against his skin, the way he moved with that same effortless precision he had on the field. even something as simple as eating. he made it look composed. but here, in the glow of your kitchen, with the faint scent of food lingering in the air, he seemed more human. less of the unreachable prodigy the world saw him as, and more of just sae.

and that thought lingered a little too long.

because if you let yourself think about it, really think about it, you’d have to admit that maybe, just maybe, you had a crush on him.

after dinner, the two of you ended up on the couch, the weight of the night settling into something easy, something almost peaceful. the only sounds were the faint hum of the city outside and the quiet rhythm of your breathing. sae sat beside you, legs stretched out, his arm lazily draped along the back of the couch. his presence was familiar, but for some reason, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.

you tried to ignore it.

you tried to focus on the random movie playing on your tv, even though neither of you were really watching.

you tried to pretend that your heart didn’t pick up its pace every time he shifted just the slightest bit closer.

“you’re quiet,” he noted, breaking the silence.

you blinked, turning your head to look at him. “huh?”

“you’ve been staring at the screen for the past twenty minutes, but i don’t think you’ve actually processed a single thing.”

you scoffed. “that’s rich, coming from you.”

he exhaled a small laugh, barely there, but you caught it. when you glanced at him again, you noticed the way his eyes lingered on you.

something inside you tensed.

“do you ever overthink things?” you found yourself asking.

sae raised an eyebrow. “no.”

you sighed. “figures.”

a smirk tugged at his lips, but before you could roll your eyes at him, he shifted suddenly, his hand moving too fast and too smooth and flicked your forehead.

you jerked back, startled. “ow, what the hell?”

“you’re thinking too much,” he said simply, as if that justified the unprovoked attack.

“you-” you were about to throw a pillow at him, but then he laughed again, barely a breath of amusement, and suddenly, all your frustration disappeared.

because hell, that laugh did something to you.

maybe it was the exhaustion. or the fact that the walls you had carefully built between you and him had slowly been wearing down all night. or maybe it was because, for once, it didn’t feel like you had to overanalyze everything. it was just the two of you, here, now. and that realization made something snap inside you.

so when you turned to him fully, you didn’t think twice before shoving at his shoulder, only for him to grab your wrist, pulling you toward him with little effort.

you barely had time to react before his lips were on yours.

your breath hitched as he kissed you, his fingers tightening around your wrist for half a second before releasing it, letting you make the choice to stay, to kiss him back. and God, you did. you leaned in, your hands finding his shirt, gripping it like you needed to hold onto something.

chapter 033 > here > chapter 035

taglist is open ! <3

back to golden hours, golden hearts

a/n: i, in fact, did not cook smth tmrw like i said a few days ago so here's an apology kiss i guess ...

taglist: @darling-dearesttt @ffleurist @yuukiririix @sof888a @beepbopzlorp @luvrrin @narcjsistx @catukin @megumismyhusband @morgyyyyyyy @levihanmyotp @kaz-0e @nensi @vaelils @loverryxx @kunascutie @swagkittybear @alexiaray @kaidostwin @pookiei-bookie @syarc0re @vayahatesu @yangx2isawhore @pinkfqiry @treeguzzler @shumeow-h @modxbea @90s-belladonna @rory-cakes @sapph1r3x @yuiearyi @pctterheadd @thecallofmedusa @whisperofae @belovedfedya @anqelkoz @yukari1k @dontmindtheevie @pookalicious-hq @pan-kojiwa @spookysoowpprince @mivqko @chuuyalvover @viviinpt @h1sllvr @luvvmae @renchai @yourlocaleffy @x3nafix @saeglazer

#mixolya!#itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi sae smau #itoshi sae imagines #sae smau #bllk smau #bllk x reader #blue lock smau #itoshi sae fic #itoshi sae x you #WERE MAKING PROGRESS YALL

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heliosunny · 4 hours ago

Text

Yandere!Mash Burnedead x Reader

You weren’t sure what you expected when Mash called you out after class. Maybe he wanted to ask about homework. Maybe he needed help sneaking more cream puffs into his dorm. But marriage? That was new.

"Marry me" Mash said, holding out something small in his palm.

For a second, you thought you misheard. "…What?"

"I made this for you."

You looked down and nearly laughed. It was a ring—if you could even call it that. A crude band of silver, slightly bent, looking as if it had been crushed into shape rather than crafted properly. Which, knowing Mash, was exactly what happened.

"Mash," you said, still trying to process, "you… made this?"

He nodded. "I found some metal and squished it. Thought it’d be nice."

A snort escaped you. Of course he did. Of course Mash Burnedead, a man who crushed boulders with his bare hands, thought the best way to make a ring was to just squeeze it into existence.

You waved a hand, trying to push the conversation in a different direction. "Look, I don’t know if someone told you that you need to get married for extra school credits or something, but—"

"I want to be with you forever."

The words were simple. Direct. Said with such certainty that it almost made you pause. Mash was always like this—straightforward, dense in a way that somehow made him both endearing and terrifying. But this? This had to be a joke.

"Riiight," you said, humoring him. "And what, we’ll live in a house made of cream puffs? Spend our honeymoon lifting weights?"

Mash tilted his head. "If that’s what you want."

You sighed, shaking your head with a smile. "Alright, alright, very funny. But seriously, why me? I thought you only loved cream puffs."

He looked at you then—really looked at you. And for once, his usual blank expression shifted.

"I like cream puffs," he agreed. "But I’d choose you over them."

…Okay. That was new.

"You’ll marry me, right?" he asked again, stepping closer.

Suddenly, it didn’t feel like a joke anymore.

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. "Fine, whatever," you muttered, snatching the ring from his palm. "I’ll take it."

Mash’s expression didn’t change. He just watched you, silent for a moment, before giving a single nod.

"Okay."

You almost expected him to say something else, to press further, but instead, he just turned on his heel and walked away. No fanfare. No weird follow-up. Just left.

You glanced down at the ring, rolling it between your fingers. It was heavier than expected, slightly uneven, a little warm from his touch. A weird part of you almost felt bad for taking it without meaning anything by it. But whatever—he’d probably forget about it by tomorrow. This was Mash. The guy who thought about cream puffs more than anything else.

There was no way he was serious.

The next morning, you stretched and yawned, shaking off the strange conversation from yesterday. It was just Mash being Mash. He was probably already distracted by something else.

And sure enough, when you got to school, there he was—hanging out with the usual group, eating cream puffs like nothing had happened.

You let out a relieved breath. See? Back to normal.

You slid into your usual spot, chatting with some classmates, when Lance walked past, paused, then suddenly stared at your hand.

"…Where did you get that?"

"Huh?"

"The ring," he said, "Mash’s?."

Oh. Right. You’d totally forgotten you were still wearing it.

You waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, that? It’s nothing. He gave it to me as a joke, and I just took it so he’d leave me alone."

Lance’s face remained unreadable. "A joke...?"

"Yeah?" You frowned. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Before he could answer, an arm suddenly draped over your shoulder, pulling you back against a solid chest.

"You’re wearing it."

You stiffened. He was close.

"You really kept it," he murmured, his breath ghosting against your ear. "That makes me happy."

Lance took a slow step back, exhaling sharply as if he suddenly wanted no part in this.

You tried to laugh it off. "Yeah, well, figured you’d forget about it if I just played along."

"I won’t forget."

"After all," Mash continued, his grip on your shoulder tightening ever so slightly, "you said yes."

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. "Fine, whatever"

You went to class, took notes, and avoided getting called on whenever possible. Dot tried (and failed) to impress some students, Finn got roped into cleaning duty, and Lance silently judged everyone from his seat. Everything was just as it always was.

Mash, for all his strangeness earlier, didn’t really interfere. He sat in his usual spot, munching on cream puffs like nothing had happened, answering questions with his usual blank honesty. Even when you passed by him between classes, he didn’t try to talk to you again.

See? You told yourself. Everything’s fine.

By the time lunch rolled around, you were feeling a lot better. You grabbed a tray of food and sat down, relaxing as you joined the usual conversation.

"You’re looking way too happy for someone with extra assignments" Dot pointed out, stabbing at his food.

"Right?" Finn sighed. "Must be nice not getting in trouble all the time."

You just smirked. "Hey, I’m just enjoying my peaceful day."

And for the rest of lunch, nothing weird happened. No sudden comments from Mash, no eerie stares, no overbearing presence at your side.

By the time the final bell rang, you were sure he must have forgotten all about that ridiculous proposal.

But as you walked back to your dorm, a shadow loomed behind you, and a familiar voice broke the silence.

"You’re happy today."

You turned slightly, offering a hesitant smile. "Uh, yeah. It was a good day. Why?"

"That’s good. I want you to be happy."

"Right," you said slowly. "Well, see you tomorrow then."

----

The duel was going smoothly—blasts of magic filled the air as students clashed, dodging and countering spells in rapid succession. You were locked in a friendly spar with a classmate, exchanging light attacks to practice your reflexes.

But then—something went wrong.

Your sparring partner’s spell veered off course, heading straight for you.

You barely had time to react before a blur of movement intercepted the attack. A loud crack echoed through the arena as Mash stepped in front of you, taking the hit without even flinching.

The problem?

He didn’t just take the hit.

He retaliated.

Before your classmate could even process what had happened, Mash was already on them. His grip closed around their wrist, crushing their wand in an instant.

"You almost hurt Y/N"

Your classmate paled, struggling to pull away. "I-It was an accident!"

Mash’s grip tightened. You had seen Mash’s strength before, but this… this was different. He wasn’t just reacting—he was angry.

"Mash!" you called, stepping forward, ignoring the tension in the air. "Let go."

For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, finally, his fingers uncurled, releasing the terrified student, who stumbled back, clutching their bruised wrist.

You didn’t waste any time. You grabbed your injured classmate, helping them towards the infirmary, ignoring the lingering weight of Mash’s stare on your back.

The next class was flying. A much-needed break.

You sighed in relief as you hovered lazily in the air, chatting with a friend while drifting across the training field. It was peaceful. Relaxing. Nothing like the tension from earlier.

thud

Your friend jerked forward, their broom wobbling violently beneath them. Then, before they could react, they were falling. They hit the ground with a painful thump. The class went silent, then erupted into panicked shouts.

You immediately descended, landing beside them. They were conscious, groaning as they clutched their side. Not too badly hurt, but clearly shaken.

"What was that?" someone asked.

You turned, scanning the sky. Your friend’s broom was still spinning midair, knocked off course. But by what?

Then, you spotted it. A rock. A small, solid stone, lying a few feet away, like it had been thrown.

Slowly, you turned your head—

And met Mash’s gaze.

He stood at a distance, his usual blank expression in place. But his hands—his hands were dusting off something.

After making sure your friend was safely taken to the infirmary, you wandered the halls, lost in thought.

It was too much of a coincidence. The timing. The placement. And the way Mash had just stood there, dusting off his hands like nothing had happened.

You needed a second opinion. Someone who wasn’t Mash.

Which is why you found yourself looking for Lance.

You spotted him near the library, quietly flipping through a book. He didn’t even look up as you sat down beside him.

"You look stressed" he commented, turning a page.

"Because I am."

You hesitated for a moment before recounting what had happened. The duel. Mash’s reaction. And then the fall.

Lance finally set his book down "You think Mash caused it?"

"I don’t know," you admitted, running a hand through your hair. "But it makes too much sense, doesn’t it? And if he did do it, then—"

"Then you already know why." Lance finished.

Mash wasn’t complicated. He liked things simple, straightforward. And when something—or someone—got in the way of what he wanted, he removed the problem.

"If it was him, then there’s not much you can do. You can’t exactly stop Mash when he sets his mind on something."

You frowned. "There has to be a way. I need to—"

"You need to what?"

You turned your head slowly, heart hammering in your chest.

Mash stood there, hands in his pockets, his golden eyes locked directly on you.

Lance, to his credit, didn’t react. He simply picked his book back up, deciding that whatever this was, it wasn’t his problem.

You pushed back your initial unease, forcing yourself to stand. "Enough, Mash," you said, keeping your voice even. "If it was you, it needs to stop."

"Stop what?"

"You know what."

"I don’t understand"

"What do you actually want?"

Mash blinked. Like the thought had never even occurred to him.

"You."

"Mash—"

"You took the ring," he said. "That means you’re mine now."

You exhaled sharply, keeping your ground. "Then act like you deserve me," you said, meeting his gaze. "Not by pulling stunts like this."

"You can’t just decide I’m yours and expect me to be okay with it," you continued. Then, without hesitation, you pulled the ring from your finger and held it out. "Take it back."

For the first time, Mash’s expression flickered. But before he could do anything, you turned on your heel and walked away.

Or at least—you tried to.

The second you stepped forward, you heard movement behind you.

He was following.

You picked up the pace. So did he.

You groaned. "Oh, come on, Mash—"

The second you reached outside, you bolted for your broom. Without a second thought, you kicked off the ground, soaring into the sky.

Mash didn’t hesitate. He ran after you.

And somehow, despite the fact that you were literally flying, he was keeping up.

"That’s not fair!" you shouted, swerving to avoid him.

Mash just kept sprinting below, effortlessly dodging students, fences, small buildings. It was ridiculous. His legs were carrying him at inhuman speeds, his blank expression never changing.

At one point, you tried diving low to fake him out. He just jumped.

You barely dodged, yelping as he nearly grabbed the tail of your broom. "Oh, COME ON!"

Students were starting to notice.

"Is that—?"

"What is going on?"

"HELP!" you wailed, trying to put more distance between you. But flying took energy, and Mash… Mash was Mash.

Your stamina was running low.

Before you could react, something huge landed in front of you.

Mash.

He had leapt into the sky, arms crossed, waiting for you like it was nothing.

You barely stopped yourself before crashing into him. Panting, out of breath, you glared at him as you hovered in place.

"Apologize!" you demanded.

Mash tilted his head. "For what?"

"Mash."

Finally, he said, "…Sorry."

You squinted at him. There was no remorse in his voice. Not really. It was just a word. A placeholder.

You groaned, shoving a hand into his pocket. "Whatever. Just—here."

You pulled out a cream puff and stuffed it into his mouth before he could argue.

That, at least, seemed to work. His shoulders relaxed as he chewed, golden eyes softening slightly.

Mash, successfully pacified.

Satisfied, you huffed and turned away. But before you could react—

You felt something soft press against your lips.

Mash had pulled another cream puff from his pocket and shoved it directly into your mouth.

Your muffled yell of protest did nothing. He just held it there, watching as you instinctively bit into it.

You glared at him.

He blinked. "Good, right?"

You swallowed and groaned. "I hate you."

"No, you don’t."

----

The next day, you walked into school hoping that maybe—just maybe—Mash had finally calmed down.

That hope lasted five minutes.

The moment you stepped into the hallway, someone called your name. You barely had time to turn before—

BAM

A student was sent flying.

"What the—"

Then you saw Mash, standing right where the student used to be, flexing his fingers like he had just swatted away a bug. His blank expression didn’t change.

"Too close" he muttered.

"Mash, what the hell—"

Another student walked past, glanced in your direction—

BAM

You watched in horror as they collapsed like a sack of potatoes.

Mash nodded to himself.

"Much better."

"MASH."

But he wasn’t listening.

It kept happening. Every time someone so much as looked at you, they were either gently knocked unconscious or yeeted into the distance.

Someone tried saying good morning? Gone.

Someone smiled in your general direction? Launched.

The only people spared were your shared friends—Dot, Finn, and Lance (who was very pointedly ignoring the situation).

It was insane.

"Mash, STOP" you hissed, grabbing his arm after he shoulder-checked a random student into the wall. "You can’t just assault people because they exist near me!"

"Why not?"

"BECAUSE IT'S INSANE?!"

Mash tilted his head, like you had just said something completely ridiculous.

Then—it got worse.

You saw it happen in slow motion.

A teacher—completely oblivious—walked down the hall, calling out for students to get to class. Their eyes briefly flickered to you as they spoke—

Mash’s fist moved.

"MASH, NO—"

You lunged, grabbing his wrist just in time.

For a second, there was silence.

Mash blinked, looking at you, then at the teacher—who was completely unaware they had just narrowly escaped death.

Slowly, you dragged him away before he could do something unforgivable.

The moment you were out of earshot, you whirled on him. "ARE YOU SERIOUSLY TRYING TO FIGHT A TEACHER?"

Mash considered this for a moment. Then—completely deadpan—

"If they look at you, yes."

You ran a hand down your face. "Mash."

He didn’t even seem remotely guilty.

You exhaled sharply, trying to stay calm. "Mash. You can’t just destroy everyone around me. That’s not how this works."

"But they’re looking at you."

"That’s how people communicate!"

Mash paused. Then, as if considering a solution, he said, "You could wear a mask."

You almost strangled him.

"NO."

Mash blinked. Then, finally, he sighed, reluctantly nodding.

"Okay."

You stared. "Wait… really?"

Mash nodded. "If you don’t like it, I’ll stop."

You immediately felt suspicious. "Just like that?"

"Just like that."

You didn’t believe him. Not for a second.

But for now, you had to get to class. So you slowly backed away, watching him very carefully, before hurrying off.

Mash stood there, unmoving, watching you leave.

The school day was finally over. You sighed, stretching as you stepped out of the classroom, ready to go home. But the moment your foot hit the hallway floor—

Something felt off.

You looked down.

A circle was drawn beneath you.

Intricate symbols. Chalk lines. Completely useless magical runes.

And standing a few feet away—Mash, brows furrowed in deep concentration, both hands raised like he was trying to summon the power of the universe itself.

He grunted, fists clenching as he willed something to happen. Sweat dripped down his forehead from sheer effort. His lips moved, muttering something completely incomprehensible, as if the words alone could make magic bend to his will.

The students around you had stopped walking. A crowd was forming. People stared, some already whispering, some barely holding in their laughter.

You folded your arms, raising a brow. This should be good.

Finally, Mash dropped his hands, exhaling deeply. His expression was serious.

"What was that supposed to do?"

Mash straightened up, expression blank as usual. Then, as if it were completely normal, he said:

"A love spell."

The hallway fell silent.

Then—

Laughter erupted.

Students howled. People leaned against walls, clutching their stomachs. Even a passing teacher snorted, quickly covering their mouth as they walked away.

"Mash Burnedead trying to use magic?" someone wheezed.

"What was he gonna do, flex the spell into existence?"

"He thought he could just punch love into them—"

You dragged a hand down your face before grabbing him by the collar and yanking him away from the chaos.

"We’re leaving."

Mash, completely unaffected by the public humiliation, just let himself be pulled along.

Of course, it didn’t end there.

The teachers heard about it.

Which is how you ended up sitting in the office, arms crossed as a teacher scolded you both for causing a disruption and pretending to use magic (because honestly, no one believed Mash was capable of it).

"I don’t even know why I’m here" you muttered. "I didn’t do anything."

"You stood there" Mash said simply.

You shot him a look. "YOU were the one casting a nonexistent love spell."

Mash blinked, tilting his head. "You didn’t move, though."

You groaned, slumping against the chair.

Eventually, after a long-winded lecture, you were finally released.

As you stepped outside, the sky already darkening, you exhaled. "What a day…"

Mash walked beside you, hands in his pockets, unfazed as usual. Then, as if today’s events had been completely normal, he said:

"I’ll get you a proper ring."

Your head snapped toward him. "What?"

Mash kept walking. "A real one. A proper one. So you’ll stay with me forever."

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "You’re not giving up any time soon, huh?"

Mash turned to look at you with the most calm, absolute certainty in the world, he said:

"I’ll never give up on you."

----

The next morning, you couldn’t go to school.

Your whole body felt weak. Feverish. Even lifting your head felt like a chore.

You groaned, curling deeper under your blankets. Great. Just great.

You figured you'd just sleep through the worst of it, recover on your own like you always did.

But by midday—

There was a knock at your door.

…You already had a bad feeling.

You barely had time to process before the door opened anyway.

A familiar figure stepped inside.

You squinted at him, delirious from the fever. "Mash?"

You could barely register what was happening, but through hazy vision, you saw him moving around your room.

Cleaning up. Fixing things. Tending to you.

A cool cloth pressed against your forehead. Strong hands adjusting your blanket.

You shivered.

Through the fever, you could hear his voice—low and thoughtful.

"If you don’t like me back," he murmured, "should I just lock you up?"

You weren’t sure if you imagined it—if it was just the fever making you hallucinate.

The moment you stirred, Mash immediately shift from his position.

Then—like nothing had happened—he pulled out a container of food.

Not cream puffs.

Something actually nutritious.

…Which meant someone else clearly prepared it.

You blinked blearily as he grabbed a spoon, scooping up a bite of food. Then, he held it up to your lips.

"Eat."

You just stared.

Mash. Feeding you. Taking care of you.

You had never seen him do this for anyone.

Slowly, hesitantly, you opened your mouth. He placed the spoon between your lips, letting you take a bite.

You swallowed, staring at him. "…You didn’t make this."

Mash blinked. "No."

"Then why—"

"You weren’t at school."

You exhaled shakily, watching as he scooped up another bite, waiting patiently for you to accept it.

You had no energy to argue.

You sighed, leaning against the pillow.

"You’re not gonna stop, huh?"

Mash shook his head.

"You’re always going to be like this?"

A slow nod.

You closed your eyes.

…Whatever.

"Then I’ll accept it."

For just a moment, his fingers tensed around the spoon. He lifted another bite to your lips. And this time, his smile was unmistakable.

The next morning, you finally dragged yourself back to school, feeling exhausted but at least somewhat functional.

You had barely stepped onto campus when you started hearing it—whispers, hushed voices, people gossiping.

"Did you hear?"

"He actually managed to curse someone!"

"Yeah! That’s why they were sick yesterday—"

"And now they’re in love with him! The spell worked!"

You stopped in your tracks.

What?

You turned to the nearest group of students. "Excuse me?"

One of them gasped. "Ah—! They’re already defending him! The curse must be strong."

You grabbed them by the shoulders. "WHAT CURSE?!"

More whispers. More shocked expressions.

"See?! They don’t even deny loving him now!"

"Scary…!"

You stood there, absolutely baffled.

You glanced around. Everywhere, people were whispering.

Some looked terrified.

Others looked impressed.

Some were writing notes like this was an important research discovery.

And then—just to make things worse—someone actually said, "This is why you should never mess with Mash Burnedead…"

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face.

This is getting ridiculous.

You needed to clear this up.

But before you could even open your mouth—

You felt a shadow looming over you.

And there he was.

Looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

The students shuddered.

"Oh no."

"It's already too late."

"They’re completely under his control now."

You turned back to Mash, glaring. "Mash."

"Hm?"

"They think you CURSED ME."

"…Oh."

"SAY SOMETHING TO CLEAR IT UP."

Mash stared at you for a second.

Then, with zero hesitation, he turned to the crowd and said:

"I didn’t curse them."

Silence. Then, a girl whispered—

"That’s exactly what someone who successfully cursed them would say…"

Mash nodded. "Yes."

THE WHISPERS GOT WORSE.

You felt a migraine forming.

Before you actually lost your mind, you grabbed Mash’s wrist, dragging him away from the crowd.

The moment you were alone, you exhaled. "Mash.."

"You’re mad?"

"OF COURSE, I’M MAD—"

Mash gently grabbed your hand, cutting you off.

His thumb brushed over your fingers. Then, as if it were completely natural, he murmured:

"Doesn’t matter what they think."

His golden eyes locked onto yours.

"You’re already mine."

Your heart skipped a beat—for entirely different reasons this time. And for a second you had to remind yourself to breathe.

Then, with a sigh, you pulled your hand away. "Whatever. I don’t have the energy for this."

Mash followed beside you, "You should eat more if you don’t have energy."

You rolled your eyes. "That’s not what I meant—"

But Mash was already pulling out a cream puff.

You stared at it.

He stared at you.

You groaned. "Mash, I am not eating a cream puff first thing in the morning—"

Too late. He shoved it into your hands.

"Fine." You took a bite.

Mash looked pleased.

And just like that—life went on.

The rumors stayed, of course.

People still whispered every time you walked by.

Some avoided you entirely, convinced Mash had cursed you beyond saving.

Others just watched you with interest, like they were witnessing a legendary event.

But honestly? You didn’t care anymore.

You went to class. You did your assignments.

You ignored the fact that Mash literally knocked out a guy yesterday for asking to borrow your notes.

You pretended not to notice when he sat just a bit too close during lunch.

And when he not-so-subtly started waiting outside your classroom after every lesson—

Well.

…You just sighed and let it happen.

#mashle #mashle magic and muscles #mash burnedead #mash x reader #yandere x reader #yandere

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yingdu-lover · 15 hours ago

Text

I am a fucking idiot- ahem. But first,

People, we need to talk more about The Tides. I am so serious. Apart from The Eye and Lull this season, The Tides (I want to yap more about its cinematic brilliance) explicitly supports shiguang canon. While other OP and ED of the first two seasons have a variety of themes entangled together, the whole point of The Tides is drawing a clear parallel between the old man with the time machine trying to go back in time to save his beloved wife (and his wife's photo is shattered by gunshots) and whatever the heck is going on with Lu Guang (Now, after Yingdu, add parallels of Shao Yuanyuan's attempt of saving her husband and Xia Fei's resolution of finding the culprit who caused Vein's death. You are welcome.)

I want to talk specifically about this scene

first,

We see Lu Guang is the one holding a sketchbook (safe to say it belonged to that man) and he is gazing into the sketches. He assumes that man's position (also the fact that Lu Guang has a personal diary where he might not draw but keeps a lot of information about timelines).

And...

This brilliant rack shot.

Idk why I didn't notice it before (I have seen it multiple times but today I just 'got' it).

So, in the first shot, let's see what constitutes the mise-en-scene : Cheng Xiaoshi, a portrait of the lady (whose hands are only shown) and the statue of the lady. It's not white light all over, rather there is a little play of light and shadow. The background wall as well as the statue is green. Overall, there is a green tint. Film nerds and enthusiasts, please explain the lighting and colour palate further if you can find some significance.

Now,

in the first shot, Cheng Xiaoshi is in the focus. He has a strange (pensive) look and he is looking at the statue. Then, the focus shifts to the statue and everything else fades into the background. In this simple editing, you realise that- Cheng Xiaoshi and the statue of the lady are somehow connected, connected by the same fate. I can't really explain how but the cinematography establishes the relation beautifully.

#uff #link click cinematography #lan studio #link click #lu guang #shiguang daili ren #shiguang #时光代理人 #cheng xiaoshi #donghua #guangshi #The Tides

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djarins-cyare · 1 day ago

Note

Here from your WIP post - please tell me about Refugees From TV Land?!

Yay, I’m so glad someone asked about this one! 🩵 It’s one of my favourites and the first fic idea I wrote down after finishing Be-All And Endor.

As those of you who’ve read my WIP folder titles may have guessed, I’m pretty obsessed with the whole ‘Earthling in the SWU’ concept. One of my most beloved Mandalorian fics ever (Short Debts Make Long Friends by @wrathkitty) features a Reader from Earth, and I’ve already described one of my Earthling!Reader fic ideas here.

Another of my favourite Mandalorian fics is Not My Stars by @keldabe-kriff, which is kind of the opposite – it features Din becoming stuck on Earth. It’s such an intriguing inversion of the ‘Earthling in the SWU’ concept that I found myself dreaming up my own spin on how such a situation could come about and what the dynamics would be like. I love the idea of Din being totally flummoxed by things we find normal and the reader having to help him adapt!

Refugees From TV Land is a placeholder title until I can think of something better, but I’ve got the whole thing plotted out and have written a few scenes here and there. I think the best way to illustrate the setup is simply to give you the entire scene where Din arrives, although I don’t really want to give away much more than that for now. So here you go – I hope you enjoy it! 🩵

Refugees From TV Land

BOOM!

You bolt upright as a deafening bang wrenches you from your couch-based slumber, shattering the enjoyable Mandalorian-themed dream you were having. The projector still hums quietly behind you, its vintage lens casting an achromatic glow over the room, though the show has long since ended.

Through the foggy confusion of your abrupt awakening, you scan the room, convinced that something has either fallen or exploded, and a mounting panic hits as you realise Yoda is nowhere to be seen.

“Yoda! Where are you, buddy?” That dog is a menace.

After a few seconds, the patter of claws on the hardwood floor signals your little hound has heard your summons. All you see at first are his huge ears approaching the couch before he leaps up to join you.

“What have you destroyed this time, huh?” you ask, already dreading the mess you’ll have to face.

Yoda huffs at your accusation before bounding forward to lick your face – either in apology or simple affection – and you collapse back onto the sofa, laughing as you fend him off with a few ear scratches. A quick once-over confirms he isn’t wet, smeared in food, or singed. It’s unlikely he’s caused too much damage, then.

“Alright, little guy, whatever it is, we’ll tackle it tomorrow. Bedtime now.” But as you try to kick off the blanket and sit back up, you swear you hear something else – a man’s shout, distant yet discernible.

Is someone outside? You’re about to get up and check when Yoda growls, and a cold shiver of alarm races through you at the possibility of an intruder. This place is so isolated that you’re not sure how to handle such a prospect. You freeze for several anxious moments, watching your dog for any clues about the threat’s origin.

Then, you notice something odd: Yoda isn’t growling at the door or the windows. He’s fixated on the blank wall opposite you, upon which the projector still casts a large square of light.

And that’s when you see it.

Shifting patterns ripple within the light’s confines – undulating shimmers that make the solid wall appear almost liquid, the shapes slowly gaining colour and definition.

Suddenly, Yoda howls, and your focus snaps back to him, only to see him doing his best wolf impression at the ceiling. “What the fuck…?” you murmur.

But before you can reach out to soothe him, a shrill, high-pitched tone slices through the air, forcing you to clamp your hands over your ears. Yoda abandons his howling in favour of barking instead, his gaze fixed once again on the wall. You look up and see… images! They’re faint but unmistakable – as if the projector’s lens is out of focus.

Wondering what on earth it’s projecting (since the DVD has undoubtedly ended), you reach up behind the sofa and fiddle with the lens assembly, twisting the focusing gear to adjust the aperture. The piercing tone has vanished, so you drop your other hand from your ear, noting that Yoda has now fully burrowed himself beneath your blanket.

So much for your guard dog, the little wimp.

As the image sharpens, you hear a man shouting again – but this time, you can make out the words: “There he is! Stop him!” Desperately, you twist the focus gear once more, trying to tune in whatever your projector is inexplicably displaying.

Suddenly, the image becomes vividly clear – a perfectly projected grey hallway with angular walls and glowing strip lighting. Your drowsy mind struggles to make sense of the familiar architecture and fathom why it’s being projected onto your living room wall when, all at once, there’s another boom. You jolt in shock, and Yoda whines from beneath the blanket.

Then chaos erupts in the corridor: flashes of red ricochet off the walls, and your eyes widen as a figure dashes around the corner. A figure you recognise immediately.

It’s none other than the Mandalorian – his silver beskar reflecting the red plasma as if it were mere rain in a summer storm.

What the fuck are you seeing? Is this an easter egg at the end of the DVD or something?!

You watch as Din tucks himself against the wall near the corner he just raced around. He peeks back out and fires a couple of blaster shots back the way he came while Grogu’s little pod zips around the corner, its top closed tight to protect him.

Suddenly, a door slides open closer to you along the corridor, and a stormtrooper steps into the foreground, taking aim at Din’s back.

“Oh, shit!” you gasp, fully immersed in the stakes of this bizarre bonus scene. But Din pivots just in time, firing his blaster straight at his would-be attacker. The trooper falls instantly, their own shot going wide and bouncing off the metal wall until it hurtles directly toward the camera…

…and into your fucking living room!

You scream as it impacts the wall above you, desperately wondering if you’re still asleep on your couch and merely dreaming this madness… until Din rushes toward you, shouting, “Is it safe there?”

This is a dream. It can’t be real.

Nonetheless, you nod.

And then he’s running toward you again, stormtroopers rounding the corner behind him, blaster bolts shrieking in your direction.

You cringe as elements from the show you love transform your cosy living room into a battlefield. Red plasma shatters an antique vase on your shelf… it singes your new oak coffee table and custom-made couch cushions… and the Mandalorian you’ve adored for the past four years dives through the wall, rolling to a surprisingly graceful stop on your rug.

Holy shit. This is a dream. This is just a totally realistic, scarily vivid dream.

But the shots keep coming, and the stormtroopers clamour ever closer….

“Close the doorway!” Din yells, rolling to his knees and returning fire through your wall.

Reacting mindlessly to his command, you twist on the couch, stretching up behind you to slam the on/off switch as fast as you can. But as the projector’s light flickers and fades, a few more blaster shots make it through the rapidly vanishing ‘doorway’ – and one catches your outstretched forearm.

The pain is more excruciating than any injury you’ve ever endured. You can’t even tell if you scream; you think you do, but nothing else exists beyond the searing agony of white-hot plasma eating into your skin.

It’s fucking glowing.

With the projector now off, the room is shrouded in darkness save for the moonlight streaming through the windows… and your fucking glowing wound.

You slide back down on the couch, clutching your injured arm and trying your goddamn best not to hyperventilate.

“Hey… let me see,” you hear, and suddenly, your fictional crush is gently cradling your forearm in his soft leather gloves. Din fucking Djarin is kneeling beside you, holding your arm as you hysterically gulp down oxygen and repress the urge to scream. Then, a gurgling sound comes from behind him, and you glance up…

…and wide brown eyes stare at you from between enormous batwing ears that illustrate exactly why you named your dog Yoda. Except… he looks real. A real-life Grogu with fluid movements – so unlike that jerky puppet in the show.

It’s too much. It’s too fucking much. Even your desperate, gasping attempts to take in oxygen aren’t enough to stave off your shocked mind’s overwhelming desire: to just switch the fuck off for a while.

And as darkness encroaches from the edges of your vision, you remain conscious just long enough to feel something tingly being sprayed on your arm. The last thing you hear before you pass out is a modulated voice that sounds remarkably like Pedro Pascal assuring you, “You’re gonna be fine.”

Sure. You will be when you wake up. Because this was all a dream.

Right?

52 notes · View notes

tkomptgoedluv · 6 hours ago

Text

tear you apart.

grumpycafeworkervampire! joost x f! reader

tags: dead dove do not eat, f! reader, internetcafe & vampire au, very much the ‘he hates everyone but her’ trope, even more so the ‘who did this to you?’ trope, reader’s boyfriend is an asshole and deserves everything he gets, joostie has a crush and it’s bad, light stalking, hurt angst and comfort all in one, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 5,040.

warnings: descriptions of an un-specific mental illness, cheating, descriptions of self harm, mentions of & scenes of DV, violence, gore, rpf.

notes: hello!! thank you guys so much for waiting on this even though it’s been over a month since we all lost our minds a little over vampire joost. i’m very proud of this one, even if the ending is kind of rushed, and i may or may not have already planned out parts 2 & 3 as well so please lemme know if you want a series out of this! (if you don’t say yes then juno might kill you btw). this fic also comes with a MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING so please read at your own risk and stay safe!

love you all lots — enjoy!! 💋

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

the whole point of joost setting up his little internet cafe was that he needed something simple, for a while. something quiet, something normal. he needed to get away from his life with the band, and away from all of the blood and guts that came right along with it. for once, he wanted to be invisible.

that’s what the cafe was supposed to do for him; become an escape, of sorts. he wanted to spend all day, everyday, sat behind that desk of his, with earphones in his ears and a magazine in his hands. if someone needed help with one of the computers or something, then he’d do so, but only with a roll of his eyes and a scowl on his face. anything more than that and he’d flip them off, flash his fangs at them maybe, and laugh as they’d run out the door, screaming.

he didn’t want to talk to these people, his customers — a lot of them he actually couldn’t stand. they were messy and far too loud for his liking, always leaving their rubbish on the floor and shouting at each other. but at the very least they were simple, so he could handle teaching them how to find youtube and cleaning up after them if it meant that they’d all leave him alone. besides, he still had his ways of disposing of the ones that just wouldn’t behave themselves.

but then you had to come along, didn’t you?

you, with your big sad eyes and your soft, soft smile that was such a rarity to see. this plan of his, you were ruining it and you didn’t even know it.

joost could never admit it to himself, but he was a little infatuated with you. all you ever did was just sit in the corner, as far away from everyone else as you could possibly get, and stare at the computer screen until your eyes would grow too heavy. it made you such a stark contrast to the rest of them that joost couldn’t help but feel something towards you, even if he wouldn’t show it.

he found himself quickly learning your routine, making a note of how you only ever came in at night, no earlier than nine o’clock, and always left before the early hours of the morning. he had no choice but to notice how you always had the same heartbroken look on your face, with red-rimmed eyes and a frown pulling down at your lips. and he could never ignore how you only ever seemed to wear clothes that were at least a few sizes too big for you, always drowning in the fabric of old hoodies and sweatpants.

all of these little things that he couldn’t stop himself from knowing about you…well it was all a little bit weird, wasn’t it? because joost, he was yet to speak to you, to even acknowledge you, really. only when your back was turned would he ever dare to glance in your direction, and even then it was quick, only ever from the corner of his eye.

whatever this was, this thing joost had for you, it was starting to blur the lines between a normal, human crush and borderline stalking. that was why no matter what, it could never be anything more than just a few glances here and there. no matter what, he had to stay away.

joost wanted simple, and you just weren’t that.

but like all of his other plans, you had to go and ruin that one too, because then you started to smell.

not of anything bad, of course, just of blood. and to joost, everyone smelt like blood to some extent; it was one of the many consequences of his particular…lifestyle. he should’ve been used to it by then. the sweet, sweet smell of you shouldn’t have almost knocked him off of his chair when you walked in that day.

at first he just assumed it was nature taking its course; you were a girl after all, and it explained the constant grimace on your face. but after a week, the smell hadn’t gone away — now four months later, it was still there. if anything, it was only getting stronger.

like tonight, there you were, sat in your usual spot right by the window, and joost could smell it. he could barely concentrate on reading his magazine the way it was making his head spin and his heart race. for a human,

a scent like that wasn’t normal; despite his better judgment, joost found himself worrying about you.

even more so when you started to cry at your desk.

your head was down and your hands were hiding your face, muffling the sound. no one else around you could hear it, they were too engrossed in playing their silly little video games to really notice. but joost wasn’t like them, was he? he could hear it. he could hear it over the sound of a ‘SUM 41’ song playing on full blast in his ears, in fact.

it made him freeze in his seat, his hands grip the pages of his ‘SPICE’ magazine a little too tightly. then he looked over at you only because he knew that you wouldn’t see it, and caught a glimpse of your shoulders shaking slightly. the sight alone made his eyebrows crease and his knuckles turn white, but it was your small gasp of breath that made him growl.

everyone’s head turned at the sound as the click-clacking of the keyboards ceased, and suddenly joost had sixteen pairs of eyes all staring at him. the only one that hadn’t looked up was you, who merely flinched at the sudden noise as you finally lowered your hands, only to wipe your nose and go back to staring at your computer screen.

in slow movements, joost slammed his magazine down and kicked his feet up off of his desk, muttering a low ‘we’re closing, everyone get out.’ with a cigarette still hanging from his lips. when nobody moved he rose from his chair and stubbed out his cig into his garfield-shaped ashtray, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.

that was all it took to get everyone up, shoving their shit into their pockets, and heading out the door. you went to stand as well, having already pulled your hood well up over your head in preparation for the hard-falling rain outside. but you stopped when you heard the guy at the reception desk clear his throat not just once but twice, his attention only on you as everybody else made their exits.

“not you, grey hoodie. you stay.”

joost could hear a ringing in his ears from how silent the room became once the last person had left, the cafe door swinging shut behind them, it’s sign now reading ‘closed: come again soon!”

there was a certain…hesitation behind the way that he moved closer to you. behind the way that he grabbed a new cigarette from his pack, letting it dangle between his lips as he pulled up a chair next to you. the absolute last thing that he wanted was to wind up scaring you, somehow, even if the look on your face told him that you already were.

joost could see you shaking, could see all of the tears welling up in your eyes no matter how many times you tried to blink them away. he could hear your heart hammering away inside your chest, the rush of warm blood inside your veins. for once, maybe for even the first time, joost was starting to regret having the reputation that he did.

“i know i’m not exactly known for my ‘outstanding customer service’, but i just want to make sure that you’re okay.” he paused only to take a drag of his cigarette, the ash falling down and dirtying the denim of his jeans. “are you okay?”

no, you really weren’t.

without a word you turned away to press the ‘on’ button of your computer screen, its cold, blue light casting a dark shadow across your face. it showed him exactly what you had been looking at before you’d tried to leave, having forgotten to properly log out first. whilst the receptionist leaned forward and squinted at the screen, you let your head hang low to hide the fresh tears that burned along your waterline.

you’d been scrolling through facebook rather aimlessly when you came across the picture. at first, you thought that it was just an old one someone had reshared simply for nostalgia sake; one of those ‘on this day five years ago’ type things. then you had seen that it had only been posted an hour ago, so you tried convincing yourself that it wasn’t actually him in the photo — even though he’d been tagged in the fucking thing.

whether you could accept it or not, it was very much him. it was him sucking on the neck of your best friend, at a party he insisted that you couldn’t go to.

“what exactly am i looking at here?”

but to joost, it was just a picture of what he guessed was a house party. the girls were half dressed, the guys were clutching onto their beer cans, and nobody in sight looked sober. not exactly something worth crying over, he thought.

“that’s uh, that’s my boyfriend right there…and that’s my best friend next to him.”

he didn’t say anything for a minute; he didn’t really know what to say. joost just kept glancing back and forth between you and the computer screen, with his lips ever so slightly parted and the cigarette between his fingertips long forgotten about. he understood it now, and couldn’t blame you for any of the tears running down your cheeks anymore.

“for what it’s worth, i’m sorry. dude’s a fucking scumbag for doing that to you.”

you merely chuckled, the laugh coming out all dry and hoarse. “you have no idea.”

it was a small comment, maybe just your own way of saying ‘yeah, i know’, but something about your choice of words made joost frown. he didn’t like the gut feeling it gave him, nor did he like the way he saw you flinch again, this time at the way he raised his hand, though only to toss his now burnt-out cigarette into the bin.

it was making him think, making him realise that, that definitely wasn’t the first time you’d reacted to something so minuscule like that. how even the slightest of movements normally had you ducking your head and cowering, with your shoulders all bunched up by your ears. and it was making him wonder if there was maybe another reason behind the clothes that you wore, besides how you just ran a little colder than the average person.

the crease in joost’s eyebrows deepened as he swivelled his seat more to face you rather than the computer, and rested a careful hand on your knee. as you looked up, he swapped his frown for a smile that you just about managed to mirror.

“i’m here if you wanna talk about anything, okay? i’m joost.”

when you told him your name back, he acted as though he hadn’t know what it was already.

the sudden ringing of your phone cut through the soft silence like a jagged knife, the sound of your shitty, pirated ‘AFI’ ringtone bringing a genuine smile to joost’s face as he got up to walk away. it was merely a formality at this point, stepping away to give someone a bit of ‘privacy’ whilst they took a phone call. joost could be all the way across the street and he’d still hear it, whether he was trying to or not.

although admittedly, this was one he was purposefully trying to eavesdrop on. he caught a glimpse of the caller ID — saw the bright red love heart next to the name ‘levi’. since it matched the name tagged in the photos, it was a safe assumption to presume it was the boyfriend calling.

he hoped to hear the guy grovel, begging on his knees for your forgiveness or at the very least offering you some kind of explanation. anything to prove this gut feeling of his wrong. but even the shouting from the other end of the line made joost wince, his palms starting to sweat as he began tidying up the other desks.

it started out as just pure name calling, accusing you of facebook-stalking his friends and not trusting him, that you were ‘fucking crazy’ and a ‘stupid little bitch’. then it became about how he’d already made it clear that you weren’t to go to the cafe tonight, not under any circumstances, and he could see online that you were.

joost really did try to busy himself, tried to grit his teeth and bear with what he was hearing this asshole scream at you. he wasn’t supposed to have been listening, anyway. he was supposed to have been staying away, like he was always meant to.

but he just couldn’t take it though, could he? he couldn’t handle hearing this boyfriend of yours threaten to beat you black and blue, and not for the first time this week. he had to storm across the room and snatch the phone right out of your hands, flipping it shut to disconnect the call. honestly, he probably would’ve smashed the fucking thing had you not taken it back from him and slipped it into your trouser pocket.

“tell me he didn’t mean that.”

you weren’t given a chance to scold him for his eavesdropping, even though you weren’t entirely sure how he was able to hear your conversation in the first place. joost was already staring you down, his arms crossed and chest heaving as he towered over you. you could almost feel the anger he radiated; see the darkening of his eyes and flare of his nostrils.

it was no wonder that you couldn’t look at him; you didn’t have the guts to.

“tell me he doesn’t fucking hit you.”

you couldn’t.

you couldn’t lie to him like that. you weren’t quite sure why, you were lying to everybody else in your life about it. he wasn’t the first to ask you that kind of question, and he wouldn’t be the last, either. but you just didn’t have it in you to try and feed him the same old bullshit that you always fed anyone else that asks you about it. chances were, he wouldn’t have believed it anyway.

so instead, you showed him. still with your eyes focused on the wall behind him, you peeled off that god-awful hoodie and let it fall to the floor, leaving you to shiver in a thin, white t-shirt. it exposed each and every single one of the bruises that levi had given you, both old and new, as well as those half-a-dozen little cuts that you’d given yourself.

you felt joost’s fingertips trail along every single one of the marks, gently brushing along the skin of your arms and only stopping once he reached your wrists. he hesitated then, though only because he didn’t want to hurt you anymore than you already had yourself. it was with such a delicate hold that he took your arms in his hands, turning them over in the light just so that he could see it all a little easier.

“this wasn’t him, was it?”

you already knew what he was referring to and so you shook your head, still too scared to meet his eyes. if you had, you would’ve seen his own tears welling up in his.

this was what he had been smelling. all those spots of blood pooling underneath your skin, slowly turning into bruises. the thin, red lines that ran up and down each one of your arms; some old and scabbed over, some not. all of it, every single mark, was why he could always smell so much blood on you.

joost didn’t even know he still knew how to cry, it had been so long. he hadn’t shed a tear in years; not since way before the…change. and you were the reason that streak was broken now, because he soon found himself dropping your arms to wipe the wet from his face, further smudging the dark eyeliner around his eyes.

“fuck, okay, we’re gonna…there’s a pull-out bed in the back, we’re gonna make you a bed for the night — for as long as you need. you’re not going back there.”

he was pacing around as he rambled, wiping the snot from his nose as he did so. by the time you’d pulled your hoodie back on he had a whole plan laid out for you, the kind that had you moving into the cafe, sleeping in the staff room, never to see your boyfriend again.

it was getting harder and harder to believe that this was the same guy that you’d heard so many horror stories about. all the gossip, the whispers, the rumours, they all painted joost out to be some kind of monster. yet here he was in tears over you, doing laps of the room with his hands pulling at his hair in a panic, all because he knew your secret now. knew that you’d been dealing with enough monsters of your own to know that he wasn’t one.

“why do you care, joost?” your voice betrayed you as you spoke because with each word it waivered, coming out all cracked and broken until you could barely say anything at all. “you don’t know me.”

“i do! i mean, i know enough to know that a guy like that is gonna fucking kill you one day and that can’t happen, okay? it can’t. do you understand that?”

in a moment of weakness he made his way back over to you and placed his hands on either side of your face, gently tilting your head up so you had no choice but to look at him. under the warm, yellow lights of the cafe you could see every ounce of fear in his eyes, feel the shake in his hands as he tucked loose strands of hair behind your ears.

“i’m sorry. i know that this is a lot and you don’t really know me like that but i need you to trust me, liefde. i’m gonna keep you safe, i promise.”

just like that, every single one of those little promises that he’d made himself about staying away from you, gone.

you found yourself nodding before you’d really even given a thought to what it was you were actually agreeing to. just as long as joost kept looking at you like that, you’d probably agree to anything.

“okay, okay, that’s good. just…stay here, alright? i’ll be right back.”

you blinked, and you were alone.

the staff room door was open ajar now, with a dimmer, yellow light spilling out. there was a lot of faint rustling around; a few little bangs and crashes followed by some muffled swearing. besides that and the rain hitting against the cafe windows, it was silent — almost eerily so.

it gave you the space to actually try to understand what it was that was happening. joost was back there setting up that bed for you, turning the cafe's staff room into a makeshift bedroom, just as he promised. you wouldn’t be going home tonight, not tomorrow, maybe not ever. as for levi? it was hard to wrap your head around the fact that you weren’t ever going to see him again.

you took a seat back at your desk, closing each one of your tabs and logging out of whatever websites that you needed to. myspace, youtube, facebook; you had to stop and stare when that fucking picture popped up again.

calling her your best friend was a stretch, she was always more his friend than she ever was yours, but still, it stung. besides joost now, she was the only one who knew your secret, who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and seen him hit you so hard it knocked you clean off your feet. she still convinced you to stay, giving you the exact same excuses for it that levi did.

he was always stressed and going through something that you just wouldn’t understand, and you were always the one making him feel worse, so it really couldn’t be his fault then, could it?

you were just about to close that very last tab, the cursor hovering over the big red ‘x’ in the top right-hand corner, when the front door swung back open. the sudden ding of the electronic doorbell made you jump, as did the bang of the door frame slamming against the wall. you heard his voice before you saw him standing there on the worn-out welcome mat, soaking wet and seething.

“i fucking knew you were here.”

levi.

even from where you were sitting you could smell the alcohol on him, see the glazed-over look in his bloodshot eyes. peaking out from the collar of his jacket were small, dark hickies dotted all across his neck and there was a faint smudge of pink smeared across his bottom lip. he hadn’t even had the decency to clean himself up, to wipe the last speck of her literal fucking lipstick from off of his face.

“you little fucking bitch, what did i say to you, huh? i told you to stay home. why is it that you can’t ever fucking listen?”

“i’m not doing this with you, levi.”

he laughed at what you said, more so chuckled, darkly underneath his breath. he always found it funny when you tried to talk back to him, refusing to do whatever it was he demanded or throwing back any of his endless insults right back at him. it didn’t happen often because when it did, you’d pay for it.

“oh yeah? you’re not gonna ‘do’ this with me? who the fuck do you think you are to say that to me?” when you didn’t say anything else and turned away from him, deciding to instead face the now black screen of your computer, he continued. “cmon, get the fuck up, we’re going home.”

you didn’t move. you focused on your breathing, focused on the feeling of the grey cotton between your fingers as you played with the fraying threads of your hoodie’s sleeves.

“i’m not talking to myself here. i said get up!”

levi’s voice bellowed from all the way across the room and you could’ve sworn that it made the keyboards shake. still, you stayed exactly where you were, making it clear to him that you weren’t going to be going anywhere tonight — especially not home, especially not with him.

being ignored like this was almost worse than anything you could’ve possibly said back to him. you've never done that before, never tried to disobey him quite so outrightly. you had always been one to break as soon as he’d raise his voice, a shadow of a smirk curling the corners of his lips as he’d dare you to say whatever it was again.

only this time, you weren’t saying anything at all, and he really didn’t like that.

his strides over to you were so quick that you didn’t have any time at all to react before you were being yanked out of your seat and dragged back over to the door. you were tripping over all of the other chairs as you tried to pull your arm free, begging for him to stop and to let you go whilst he dug his nails deeper into the flesh of your forearm.

it hadn’t even occurred to you that the background noise of joost moving furniture around couldn’t be heard anymore, that the staff room door was no longer closed ajar and instead now wide open. it hadn’t even occurred to you, not until levi was being teared away from you, leaving behind a small rip in your hoodie and faint claw marks in your skin.

from where you were standing now, you couldn’t see much anymore. tall, broad shoulders became the barrier that separated you from levi, keeping you hidden away from him. you weren’t sure how long joost had been back there listening, how he was able to intervene so quickly or how he had the strength to toss your boyfriend almost to the other side of the room. you were just grateful for it, for him, and tightly clutched onto one of his arms so that he couldn’t disappear on you again.

“woah, what the fuck is this? who the fuck are you?”

levi had knocked into a couple of desks as he stumbled but eventually found his footing, his leather jacket hanging off of his shoulders from where joost had yanked at it. he shrugged it back on, eyes glued onto and glaring at the man you were cowering behind. neither of you expected him to start laughing like how he did, a deep, bitter chuckle that somehow made the air around you feel colder.

“so this is what she’s been doing here all this time, huh? been fucking around with some freak behind my back?”

“get out.”

there was no laughter in joost’s voice, no humour peaking through the cracks of his expression. there was only a silent begging behind his anger, a slight pleading in his words because joost already knew how this would end if levi didn’t turn on his heel and run.

but levi just wasn’t one to listen, was he?

instead he made a beeline for what was now your bedroom, supposedly, with no regard for the ‘staff only’ sign that was stuck to the door. without even taking a full step inside he could see the sofa bed that had been pulled out for you, decorated with scattered cushions and a messed up, old white duvet. it didn’t matter that it actually wasn’t what it looked like, because he’d already made his mind up and seeing that was all the ‘proof’ that he needed.

so levi wasn’t laughing anymore as he slowly turned around, now in a position where you were in his full view. he could see how you had yourself wrapped around joost’s arm, almost hugging it, and was starting to shrink under his gaze. he stared you both down for a moment before he locked eyes with you, his teeth gritted and jaw twitching.

“you fucking whore, you’re so fucking dead -”

he’d charged at you with one hand balled up into a fist and the other stretched out, a single finger pointing right at you. you jumped back and away from joost, your arms up and shielding your head as you turned away and readied yourself to feel it. a hard knee to the stomach, a sharp pull at your hair, something.

you only moved again when you heard a small whimper; an impossibly pathetic sound that you’d never heard before, but one that only levi could have made. you lowered your arms and raised your head, and immediately crashed into the desk behind you, choking on a cry that became lodged in your throat.

joost; sweet, misunderstood joost had his hand plunged inside levi’s chest, his fingers wrapped around and squeezing at his heart. those once soft blue eyes of his were now a deep, glowing shade of red, and as he grinned, you caught a glimpse of two long, sharp fangs. blood stained his lips and dribbled down his chin as he took a chunk out of levi’s neck, swallowing down every last piece of flesh and spitting out the odd little bone.

and he started to moan into it with each large gulp that he took, becoming so lost in the pleasure of it all that for just a moment, he seemed to forget that you were there. it had just been so long since he’d last indulged like this — feeling that warm rush of blood slide down the back of his throat, the heavy pulse of his prey slowly growing weaker and weaker.

joost didn’t stop until whatever was left of levi’s head was in one hand and his still heart was in the other, his body already turning cold at his feet. he easily could have stayed there for a little while longer, gone in for seconds and thirds perhaps, when he finally hears you. he hears you choking on your tears, on the single breath that you were holding.

you hadn’t been able to look away even though you had so desperately wanted to; you could feel the image of levi standing there all helpless, his mouth bobbing up and down as he tried so hard to scream out, burning into your eyes.

“liefde?…”

his voice was so gentle, sounding almost frightened, and yet you still jumped when joost finally spoke. he was just standing there staring at you, eyes all wide, with blood smeared across his face and splattered across his button-up shirt. even as he stood above the body parts of your boyfriend, joost somehow looked small now, like a dog that had been found chained to a fence for a few too many days.

for every step that he tried to take towards you, you took another five back, carefully inching your way closer and closer towards the front door as you did so. you could see it start to click in his head, the welling up of tears in his eyes as he glanced back and forth between you and the door.

“no no no, please, please don’t do that. i’m sorry, i’m so so sorry. please, i’m not gonna hurt you, please don’t go.”

joost took another step forward and you shrieked, bumping hard into the wall behind you, scraping your elbow against the brick. you hadn’t needed to say anything after that, hadn’t needed to beg for him to let you go because you watched him recoil, his hands held up in surrender.

you took one last look at levi, at what was left of him.

“fuck, i didn’t…i’m so sorry, liefde.”

and you ran, without ever looking back.

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost klein x f!reader #luvvergirlwrites

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yohajitou · 2 days ago

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DIABOLIK LOVERS Born To Die Animate Tokuten Drama CD "Celebrating Her Birthday" [Shin]

Original title: DIABOLIK LOVERS ドS吸血CD 月浪＆キノ Born To Die アニメイト各巻購入特典ドラマCD ｢彼が貴女の誕生日をお祝いするCD｣

Audio: Here

Note: I wonder why this CD series is so unpopular. The Tsukinami and Kino both have birthday CDs for Yui (MC) and I can't find anyone posting or translating them. How sad.

Shin is really a great boyfriend in this CD though. I wish he got more attention 'cause he's also a good guy (⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠)

____________Translation is here____________

[0:06] "What are you reading? Huh? That magazine… Isn't that the one I bought last time we went to the human world?"

[0:18] "But that's for men, it's not something you should be reading. Give it back. What’s the point of you reading this?"

[0:29] "Did any outfit catch your eye? Then let's go buy it now. I'll pick something out for you."

[0:36] "I said it's fine. Come on, get up. I have something I want to do as well, so we're going to the human world now."

*Time skip*

[0:54] "This outfit looks a bit plain… Or maybe this design is better…?"

/Yui asks what Shin is doing/

[1:03] "You're asking what I'm doing? Can't you tell just by looking? I'm picking clothes that suit you. I guess this is the last one.

[01:14] "Alright, try this one on first. This design is quite bold, isn't it? The chest and shoulders are both exposed. Wearing something like this once in a while isn't bad. Come on, hurry up and get into the fitting room. Try it on and show me. Let's see how it looks on you."

*Time skip*

[1:46] "You're done? Oh, not bad. Much more mature."

[1:57] "Why are you getting embarrassed?"

[1:59] "Ah, it's because it’s more revealing than what you usually wear? But really, what’s there to be shy about? You’ve done much bolder things before. Haha, are you seriously blushing over this?"

[2:16] "Hey, this dress has a zipper on the back, doesn't it? You probably can't zip it up by yourself."

[2:26] "I knew it, it's still open. No choice, huh? If you can't dress properly, then let me help you."

[2:40] "Move a little closer. The fitting room is too small, it's a bit cramped with both of us inside."

[2:50] "Stop making a fuss. It's tight in here, so of course, we’re close. If you keep making noise, people will notice."

[3:02] "Turn around. I'll zip it up for you. Next time you wear something like this, just ask me. I'll zip it up for you anytime."

[3:18] "There, all done. You look even more alluring now. Seeing your bare back like this makes me want to bite you. This outfit suits you, but I still want you to try this one too."

[3:43] "This pink dress is a bit more formal, but the design is nice, isn't it? It looks like the one from the magazine you were reading earlier."

[3:51] "It has simple white floral decorations, not too flashy. I think you'll like this style. So? Want to try it on?"

[4:04] "Alright, I'll wait outside. Call me when you're done."

*Time skip*

[4:17] "Done yet?"

[4:26] "Just as I thought, it suits you perfectly. You look stunning. So, this is the one we'll go with."

[4:38] "Don't worry about the cost. I've already paid."

[4:42] "I've also booked a table at a restaurant, so let's go. Just follow me. I'll take you to the best place."

*Time skip*

[5:03] "Man, I’m stuffed. What do you think? This restaurant was as good as they say, right? Glad I picked it."

[5:17] "By the way, it’s still early to head back, right? Since we’re full, let’s walk around a bit."

[5:36] "Hey, you know, today…"

[5:44] "Rain?"

[5:49] "Damn it, why does it have to rain now?"

[5:58] "Well, whatever. Leave that later. It'll be a hassle if you catch a cold. That house over there should still be usable. Let's get there quickly."

[6:16] "Good, the bathroom is still working. Now, go take a bath."

[6:25] "Hmm? What's wrong?"

[6:28] "Ah, right, You don’t have any clothes to change into here. Guess there's no other way. I have a shirt, so just wear that for now."

[6:41] "I'll leave it outside while you're bathing. Make sure to warm up properly."

*Time skip*

[6:59] "Hmm… I told you to warm up, but…"

[7:03] "You're taking too long. How long are you planning to soak in there?"

[7:10] "Ah, finally, you're out. You're are way to slow—"

[7:19] "Wait… You're only wearing my shirt?! I didn't know you had this kind of preference. Or… are you trying to seduce me by showing off your 'kare shatsu' (1) look?"

[7:33] "Well, yeah, I did only leave a shirt for you. There was no other choice. I don’t have anything that would fit you."

[7:42] "But now that you’re dressed like this, come here. That elegant dress from earlier was beautiful, but I think I like you in my shirt even more. Because just looking at you, I can tell you belong to me."

[8:05] "Yes, you’re mine. I can’t imagine a life without you anymore. So let’s live together like this. Thank you for coming into this world."

[8:25] "Don’t say I’m being sudden. I was planning to celebrate your birthday earlier, but the rain ruined my plans."

[8:37] "What’s with that expression? Don’t tell me you forgot your own birthday? When it was mine, you were so excited to prepare everything."

[8:51] "That’s right, you celebrated my birthday. So I wanted to do the same for you."

[9:10] "From the start, I had it all planned. I wanted you to dress beautifully, take you somewhere you'd like, and give you a grand birthday celebration. So when I saw you reading that magazine, I was surprised. It even had a section about birthday gifts for girlfriends."

[9:29] "Haah… I was supposed to celebrate after dinner and end it all in a cool way. But in the end, it turned out like this. How embarrassing."

/Yui said that Shin is always cool/

[9:53] "Hey, why are you so adamantly denying it? I don’t get it."

[9:58] "Fine, fine. Okay, I'll go along with you. I’m always cool, okay?"

[10:03] "Seeing you so happy, I guess I did well."

[10:10] "It’s nothing, but… Happy birthday, my love."

[10:26] "From now on, I’ll celebrate your birthday every year. You should feel honored because I’ll only do this for you."

________________________________________

(1) 枯れシャツ (Kare shatsu): means "boyfriend shirt." In Japanese culture, a girl wearing her boyfriend’s oversized shirt is considered naturally alluring (or cute).

At first, I wasn’t sure how to translate this. After researching, I found that English has the term "boyfriend shirt", which refers to a loose-fitting shirt styled like men’s clothing but worn as a fashion statement by women. However, I chose to keep the original term because "boyfriend shirt" usually refers to a fashion style rather than specifically describing a girl wearing her boyfriend’s shirt.

#cdrama #born to die #diabolik lovers #tsukinami shin #shin tsukinami #yohajitou

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redcamellia13 · 2 days ago

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Mitsukou Analysis: Omen Arc

Okay! My last bit of sunshine before plunging into the depths of misery. *annoyingly cracks knuckles* Let’s get to it <3

Why does Mitsuba bully Kou? Like many things in life, the answer is never simple. Which also means it isn’t gonna be simple to explain. (Haaahhhh, my fingers are gonna hurt so. Bad. After. This.)

I believe it’s a combination between two factors: a want to be close to Kou, which is a task he accomplished through pranking him, making it necessary for Kou to track him down, and it simply being a part of his personality.

Kou brings out a teasing, cutely annoying facet of Mitsuba, so Mitsuba stealing the sign letter might just be his playfulness manifesting itself.

This reminds me a bit of when Kou commented during the PP arc about how supernaturals were “weirdly practical about this sort of thing.” Kind of like they don’t want to get their hopes up.

However! Mitsuba… kinda has a point. I’m not quite sure whether Kou understands this, that he can’t stay with Mitsuba for as long as he would like.

Kou has, not exactly a child like innocence, but a sincere belief that anything can be achievable if you just work hard enough.

This analysis of Kou’s behavior has little basis in reality, but if you add it into the larger context of the series, it’ll make small inconsistencies in his personality make sense, and for whatever reason, it just… feels right within his character.

For example, in the Sacrifice of the Grim Reaper Arc, either Yokoo or Satou (sorry, I can’t remember which) noted that Kou never complained, which wasn’t due to bottling his feelings up, but not understanding the concept of whining.

At first glance, this has nothing to do with my point, but hear me out here.

Perhaps Kou believes, on a subconscious level, that because no matter how hard he works nothing gets better, something is wrong with him and he doesn’t have the right to complain.

I’m 99% sure I’m self-projecting, but if I find any more evidence supporting this, it’ll become quite interesting to think about.

Ughhhhhhh. You’re telling me the answer to why Mitsuba pranks Kou was here the whole time? I reallllllyyyy should’ve reread all these panels before typing that whole lame-ass essay.

Pushing that aside.. “No matter what I do… I just can’t bring myself to dislike him.”

Okay, I’m kind of stupid, and still don’t completely understand why Nene wondered if that was why he spent time pulling pranks on Kou. Is it because he’s trying to combat his enjoyment of Kou’s personality?

Maybe my original thoughts were correct, and Mitsuba pranks Kou as an excuse to interact with him?

And- let’s just pause for a moment. Is it just me, or is that quote a tad bit romantic? If you cannot dislike a person, that implies you like them unconditionally, which sounds a whole lot like you have a crush on them.

I don’t have much to say here, except for the fact that immediately after mentioning how it is impossible for Mitsuba to not enjoy being around Kou, we transition to Mitsuba asking Nene if she’s scared of falling too deeply in love with Hanako.

Almost like when you bring up Kou, Mitsuba’s mind automatically thinks of falling in love…

Well, how nice. He went from a perverted stalker enchanted by Mitsuba’s good looks to a “closet psychopath”. What an improvement.

And yeah, Kou’s actions during the Nightlife arc really weren’t logical, or something a sane person would do.

I believe I touched on this during my Nightlife analysis, but in summary, Kou’s decision to have a competition to see if he would basically assist Mitsuba in suicide based around a skill that not even Kou himself thinks he’s good at.

Actually, I might make a longer analysis on this, so let me know if you would like to read it :)

Right in the panel below, Mitsuba does get the answer to Kou’s question.

He’s mad because he ran off to eat ice cream after he caused a huge inconvenience to Kou…

And this does logically make sense.

But the way Aidairo chose to present Kou’s reaction to Mitsuba telling him this has a sense of intent to it, as Kou and Hanako’s faces parallel each other.

Why is this important? Since Hanako has a reaction that implies jealousy, something the reader can clearly infer, Aidairo paralleling his reaction is very telling.

If we are supposed to draw the conclusion Hanako is jealous, what conclusion are we supposed to draw about Kou?

And then, on Mitsuba’s side of the interaction, he’s either trying to make Kou jealous or Hanako jealous by framing he and Nene’s shopping trip together as a date.

Because he was talking to Hanako when he said this, the intent of this sentence was most likely the latter.

Tsk, tsk, tsk. Kou, isn’t it a bit hypocritical to get angry at Mitsuba for trying to get you alone with Nene when you just tried to go out on a date with Hanako? (Rejoice, Hanakou shippers).

Although we don’t actually know when he wanted to do this, so I guess it can be forgiven.

Okay, what have we got he-

………..

I’ve got my work cut out for me, don’t I?

Starting off with Kou’s expression in the 6th panel: it’s a mix between shocked, perhaps fear, but certainly not happy.

Which is odd, no? We have been lead to believe Kou has something of a small, innocent crush on Nene, so a negative reaction to his friend wanting to set him up with her is anomalous.

In the very next panel, which I didn’t include for some reason, he tells Mitsuba, “Didn’t you get the memo? All four of us are going,” with what I can only describe as a salty expression.

Now, for Mitsuba. I gotta break the news Mitsukou shippers, it is not looking good for his side of the relationship (in a does he like him sense).

If he was some form of displeased of how Kou’s friends were shipping him with Nene, he certainly isn’t showing it, even asking if he would like to go on a date with her.

And this, toxic people on the internet who believe Mitsukou’s unhealthy because they “don’t care about each other’s wellbeing”, is why you are flat. Out. Wrong.

Mitsuba is actively attempting to make Kou happy by giving him an opportunity to date a girl he thinks Kou has a crush on. (Of course, Kou rejects the proposition two seconds later, but I already talked about that).

Not much to talk about here, besides the way Mitsuba and Kou are looking at Sousuke’s mother.

What is with that? Kou doesn’t dislike her, so why would he have an expression that’s honestly closer to disgust than anything else.

And then for Mitsuba, who has never shown any sort of discomfort or dislike for things related to Sousuke, it doesn’t make sense for him to have the same disgusted/nervous/uncomfortable look that Kou has, so what the hell is going on?

Why not? Why aren’t you sure about this? Is he worried being with Sousuke’s mom is going to bring up painful memories, or is he more concerned about Mitsuba pulling a prank on her?

So many questions, and yet so little answers…! (Although I’m sure if I just properly thought about it for 0.048 seconds the answer would be ridiculously simple, but my body is functioning on solely highly caffeinated tea and copious amounts of sugar.)

#jshk #toilet bound hanako kun #tbhk #mitsukou #tbhk manga #kou minamoto #jibaku shounen hanako kun #mitsuba souske #mitsuba tbhk #kou tbhk #kou minamoto x mitsuba sousuke #alteration arc #spoiler warning #tbhk spoilers #caffeine is the first ingredient in my blood stream #sugar is the second #I hate tagging lol

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