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roosterforme · 2 years

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Airplane Mode Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley manages to secure a seat on your flight once again, he has to fight against the clock to make sure you understand he's sincere.

Warnings: Fluff, adult banter, swearing

Length: 2900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This is part 2 of 2! Here is Part 1! Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun!

Bradley was just about to dock in Japan. He was so anxious to turn his phone on after nine days at sea. Not because of all of the junk mail and app update alerts, but because there was a small chance he had a text message from you waiting for him.

"Come on," he whispered, hoisting his backpack and small duffle higher onto his shoulders. But as his phone booted up, it was becoming obvious that there was nothing from you.

Bradley sighed. He had been hopeful where he shouldn't have been, and now he just felt disappointment.

He took a taxi to his hotel, got settled in his room with a huge platter of sushi, and then looked up tickets for a flight back to San Diego. His mission had been successful, but he was happy to have it completed.

His finger hovered over two flight options for the following day. He could leave in the morning and get back to his own bed faster. Or, he could get the flight that left Tokyo tomorrow evening and hope like hell that you were working. He knew the Navy would reimburse his economy ticket, but he wasn't taking any chances. He paid for the first class upgrade with his credit card; it would be worth every penny of the additional six hundred dollars just for the chance to look at you again. He selected the same spot next to the window, right across from the fold down seat.

Then he turned on the TV, found a Japanese soap opera, and pretended it was the same one you liked. And then he slept like a log, his body still not used to this time zone and the horrible beds he had been sleeping in. When he woke up, he got to the airport way earlier than was strictly necessary, so he drank some Japanese beers and bought himself a bunch of snacks to pass the time.

He was so antsy. And for what? Just to be disappointed? You had tucked his phone number in your pocket. Unless you had accidentally washed the napkin with your clothing, you had intentionally decided not to contact him. So even if he saw you again, it was going to be a strictly 'Bradley can look, but he may not touch' scenario. Because the last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable by becoming one of the creepy guys who probably ruined whole itineraries for you.

When it was time to scan his ticket and make his way aboard the waiting aircraft, he tried his best to relax. He was greeted by a male flight attendant, but he could see ugly loafers just below the curtain, and his heart skipped around. He quickly stowed his bags and took his seat, keeping his eyes on the curtain the entire time.

It seemed to happen in slow motion, the way you pushed the curtain aside. You were smiling and talking to the other flight attendant as your eyes drifted across the interior of the aircraft until your gaze settled on Bradley. He was frozen to the spot, watching your eyes flutter closed, your eyelashes brushing your cheeks. You bit your lip and grinned at him.

"Welcome aboard, sir. Can I get you anything before we take off?" you asked him, repeating the exact words you had spoken to him last time.

You just laughed as you took a step closer to him. "Do you really want me to answer that?" he whispered as he looked up at you. "I haven't stopped thinking about you in the last ten days."

Your lips parted in surprise. "Oh?"

Bradley nodded and really took a good look at you. You had styled your hair differently today, but everything else was just the same. His memory hadn't done justice to the soft curve of your cheeks or the shape of your lips. In person, you were a work of art.

You stepped further out of the aisle as more passengers shuffled along, coming to stand so close to Bradley, that he had to look way up to see your face. "I may have looked up the passenger manifest for this flight last night," you told him with a teasing tone to your voice. "And I may have picked up this flight instead of flying back tomorrow. I was hoping you were Bradshaw comma Bradley."

"That's me. Bradshaw comma Bradley. And I claimed the best seat in the house." His heart was skipping along to an unknown song, a new one that he would love to play on his piano for you. "But you didn't text me."

"Ah, no. I did not," you replied, taking a small step away from him. You looked embarrassed now. "I wasn't sure you really expected me to. Thought maybe you charm a different flight attendant on all of your trips."

Bradley's eyes went wide. He had come on too strong last time. Made it seem like he did this shit on a regular basis. His heart was still pounding, but the song was far less pleasant now.

"You think any other flight attendant is half as lovely as you are?"

You just shrugged and smirked at him. "I don't know. You tell me." You turned to greet some more passengers, leaving Bradley staring at your backside.

"Don't be a creep," he muttered to himself as his eyes drifted down your legs and settled on your loafers again. And to his dismay, someone took the aisle seat next to him; the flight was completely sold out. How was he supposed to flirt with you this time, while seated next to a stern looking man who was reading the Wall Street Journal. And this time you had to divide your attention between the two men while you did your safety briefing about the exit row.

Bradley had to wait until everyone was settled and you were getting into your fold down seat for take off, before you even looked at him again. As soon as Wall Street Journal dude put some earbuds in, Bradley sighed in relief. "I can guarantee they are not."

You gave him a puzzled look.

"The other flight attendants. None of them are even half as lovely. I've never once flirted with any of them. None except you. I haven't given my phone number to a woman in months. You even got me thinking about your loafers. And I was kind of crushed when I turned my phone on at the docks and only had emails from my great-aunt Sandy to read."

It looked like you were trying not to laugh, and Bradley could physically feel himself striking out with you. But then you softly said, "You were so smooth. Got a little scared."

As the plane lifted off, Bradley smiled. "But you checked the flight manifests."

"I did," you agreed, tucking your face to the side in embarrassment.

"Do you still have my number?"

Your eyes popped up to meet his. "Saved in my phone. As Bradshaw comma Bradley."

His smile grew in size. "I watched a Japanese soap opera last night. Not sure if it was the one you like, and I was very confused about how the characters knew each other, but I'm a little bit obsessed with it already."

You took a deep breath as the plane reached cruising altitude. "So you don't just flirt with everybody?"

"Of course not," he answered immediately.

"And if I texted you to see if you wanted to hang out next week when I have time off?"

His eyes went a little wide. "I would drop everything."

"Okay," you said with a smile as you stood to help someone who called for you, and your knees brushed against his leg.

Bradley's eyes followed you before settling on Wall Street Journal dude who was already looking at him.

"Nice one, son," he told Bradley with a nod of his head.

A laugh escaped Bradley. "Literally unbelievable, right?"

"Quite," he replied before turning his gaze back to his newspaper.

Bradley settled himself against his seat, listening for your voice as he occasionally heard you over the sounds of the plane and passengers. He knew of a decent sushi place near his house with a takeout menu. He'd figure out how to get Japanese shows on his TV at home. He could already picture how you would look on his couch. He wondered if you wore your loafers with jeans.

You didn't take Bradley's drink order, rather you delivered him an unprompted cosmopolitan with his dinner. And when you brought him a second one as it was getting later and darker, your fingers met his.

"I'm sorry I didn't text you. I wanted to."

He grinned as you collected his dinner tray along with Wall Street Journal dude's tray; he had dozed off with his meal half eaten.

"You can make it up to me by texting me when we land so I can have your number."

You nodded and rolled your eyes. "I'll make it up to you. Now stop flirting and let me work. The guys in 3C and 3D are a handful."

Bradley's brow scrunched up. "Is there a guy giving you a hard time?" He was already about to stand up, but you planted your palm on his chest and eased him back against his seat.

"No. Nothing like that," you promised. "God, you're sweet."

Bradley just gaped up at you, so close he could feel your breath on his cheek as you let your fingers trail up to the collar of his Top Gun sweatshirt. When you grazed the scar on his neck with your fingertip, he was practically panting.

"You'll tell me if they get out of hand?" he asked, voice deep and raspy.

"You gonna rush in and protect me?" you asked as you released him to continue gathering up the trays.

"I told you I would flex for you, Baby."

You actually giggled as you collected the rest of the dishes and shot Bradley a wide eyed look. "You sure did." Then you were gone, behind that curtain and out of his sight.

It was getting late, but Bradley wasn't tired in the least. He was currently dedicated to watching you shuttle dinner trays and glasses back to the galley as each first class passenger seemed to be dozing off. Every time you passed his row, you smiled at him.

When you didn't emerge for quite some time, Bradley stood and stepped gingerly over his sleeping seatmate and made his way toward the lavatory. He paused at the curtain, which had been left open several inches. You were standing in the small galley, stacking the catering trays and depositing them into the slotted metal cart. He watched you work for a few beats, your movements methodical, your expression a little dreamy. He was hoping he was the cause of that.

Bradley pulled the curtain aside a few more inches, and you turned to face him, an expression of professional caution fell into place that immediately melted away again. "Bradshaw comma Bradley. Welcome to my office."

He laughed and ducked his large form inside the galley with you, letting the curtain fall mostly closed behind him. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I was just on my way to the restroom."

Bradley was silenced as you set down the last tray and then reached for the front of his sweatshirt, bunched the fabric up in your fist, and used it to pull him closer to you. When your lips brushed against his in the sweetest kiss, it sent him reeling. As you started to pull away, he dipped his head closer to yours, and you kissed him a little harder.

"Lavatory is that way," you whispered, your nose brushing his mustache as you pointed to Bradley's left.

"Oh. Right." He wanted to keep kissing you, but when you released your hold on his sweatshirt, Bradley backed out of the curtained off area and let himself into the tiny bathroom. He looked in the mirror to see that his cheeks were flushed and he was grinning.

He washed his hands and did his best to fix his hair and straighten out his clothing, and when Bradley walked past the galley again, you were waiting for him.

He drank you in from head to toe, loving the way your hip was leaning against the counter as you traced your lower lip softly with your fingertips. With wide eyes and parted lips, you reached for him at the same time he tucked himself inside the small space and pulled the curtain closed.

Your lips mashed against his, and Bradley groaned as you threaded your fingers through his hair. It took him a second to get his hands on you, but when he did, you melted into him. He ran his hands softly from your hips to your waist, wrapping them around you and pulling you closer.

Bradley had goosebumps as you raked your fingers down the back of his neck, and you were nibbling on his lower lip, teasing him with your tongue.

You pulled away from his lips with a soft gasp, but you continued to stroke your fingers along his neck and through his hair. "I've never done anything like this before."

But you didn't even give him a chance to respond before you were kissing him again, softer this time, your nose bumping his as you nipped at his lips.

"Shit," Bradley gasped, squeezing your waist as your lips drifted over his cheek and across his jaw. "I'm about to go bankrupt following you from San Diego to Japan every week."

You laughed and started to back out of his grasp. "I'm sorry I didn't text you. It's the first thing I'm going to do when we land."

Bradley licked his lips, already missing the feel of you as he released your waist.

"You should go sit down before I get in trouble," you whispered, running your fingertips across your lips again. "You're definitely trouble, Bradshaw comma Bradley."

But Bradley stroked your cheek with his thumb until you dropped your hand from your lips, and he kissed you one more time.

"Nah, I'll be good for you."

He laughed as you shoved him out of the galley, and he made his way back to his seat. Patiently he sat and waited, and soon you were silently folding down your seat and tucking your knees between his long legs, like they belonged there.

Bradley leaned forward and held out his palm. When you let first your fingers and then your entire hand press against his, he whispered, "I'm taking you out for lunch when we land."

"Are you?" you asked, laughing softly.

"Yeah. I'm dying for a first date."

You were silent for a beat before you said, "I'm free."

Bradley held your hand until the sun started to brighten the cabin. You bustled around, taking care of everyone until it was time to land. And when the plane was firmly on the ground, Bradley watched you pull your phone out of your pocket.

"I'm turning off airplane mode, and then I'm going to text you," you promised.

Bradley scrambled to turn his phone on as well, and when a text arrived with your last name and first name separated by a comma, he saved you to his contacts and smiled as you stood to help passengers with their bags.

Once again, Bradley waited until everyone else deboarded ahead of him, preferring to stay and watch you next to the rest of the crew. He wanted to kiss you, but he forced himself to leave after you told him, "Thanks for flying with us."

---------------------------

You took your time cleaning up and organizing the first class galley and disinfecting the space. As soon as Bradley had deboarded he texted you back, asking if you would like to get sushi for lunch with him. Of course you would. You'd been thinking about him since you first laid eyes on him ten days ago.

And the kisses! What had come over you! It was so unprofessional! But you couldn't seem to help yourself. He was so big and handsome. He smelled good, and he kept looking at you like you were perfect. A girl can only handle so much chemistry before something boils over.

You would kiss him again as soon as you saw him. That was already settled.

After grabbing your bag and your badge, you deboarded, telling the captain you'd see him again in a few days, and you glided up the jetway with a smile on your lips. When you exited out into the terminal and saw Bradley waiting for you next to a kiosk that sold sunglasses, your smile erupted into a giggle.

"Are you waiting for me?" you asked when you were close to him.

"Of course," he replied with a bright smile, and you dropped the handle of your bag and wrapped your arms around his neck. He held you close as you kissed him, and when the kiosk owner yelled at the two of you for bumping his display, Bradley took you by the hand.

"Let's go get some sushi and get to know each other better."

You walked with him out into the San Diego heat, hand in hand.

-----------------------

Thanks for reading! Hope you loved it! Thanks again to @bradshawsbitch for the insider scoop and for being lovely!

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster x female reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction

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mrshigurumasshop · 2 years

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Middle Seat | H. Iwaizumi ~ your boyfriend turns out to be even a bigger gentleman than he already was

➤ ft: timeskip!iwaizumi hajime x f!reader

➤ content warning: fluff, airplanes(?), not proofread bc i’m tired

enjoy!

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Oh, Iwaizumi is the biggest gentleman you’ve ever known when it came to dating.

When you guys first started seeing each other, he was already top-tier compared to the other people that came along your way in the dating world. He did the bare minimum of course but he’d top each and every gesture every time you guys are together.

He offered to meet up first in separate cars once you were comfortable enough with him. And once you were he always went to you wherever you were at. He’d wait for you outside his car or he’ll walk up to get you and walk to the car right beside you. Then he’d always open the car door or any door for that matter and let you in/out first.

He’d guide you through crowds with either him intertwining his fingers with yours as you lead the both of you away from everyone else or he’d keep his hand resting on your lower back or waist and gently lead you through the crowd.

And holding your bags was something that was your favorite thing about him. Iwaizumi had no shame in wearing your purses, backpacks, and even clutches.

“The hell you looking at?” Iwaizumi sighed in annoyance as he hears his best friend snicker like a little witch.

“Why-,” Oikawa snorted, “Why you wearing a pink purse?”

“Tch,” Iwa scoffs before side-kicking Tory’s ass making him yelp, “It’s Y/n’s, dipshit. And it’s just a damn purse I’ve seen your sister dress you up like a doll and you were happy about it.”

After that, Toru wouldn’t stop his quiet whining/mumbling after gasping like an overdramatized soap opera actor. Like hell Iwa was gonna let someone like Toru make fun of him for wear a necessity - your words not his.

But today, even after all of those gestures that get better each day, the beginning of your guy’s vacation was ultimately your favorite gesture he’s done.

You guys were headed out to Spain for your four year anniversary. It was your first vacation together on a plane so were extra excited. Iwa had you carry the smaller bags while he rolled the suitcases along with a bigger backpack. He checked you guys in, went through TSA efficiently, and got breakfast. About two hours later it was time to board the plane.

Your seats were a window and middle seat so you were kind of uncomfortable being in the middle with a stranger for a long plane ride. But you sucked it up and brushed it off because you weren’t going to let it get to you.

After you and Iwa put away your carry-ons in the baggage hanger you looked at Iwa and waited for him to go in first. He looked at you like you were slow for a second with slightly furrowed eyebrows, “What’s up, babe?” he asked.

You tilted your head in confusion. “Oh, I’m waiting for you to get in first. I figured you’d want the window seat,” you said.

Then he looked at you like you were stupid. Wide eyes with raised eyebrows. You were practically ready to get scolded by him because he looked so baffled by your answer. “Why would I sit in the window seat and have you sit next to a stranger?” he asked.

You stood there in silence because you genuinely didn’t have an answer. Like you just assumed that’s what was going to happen. Counting by the more obvious look on your face, he assumed that you thought you were sitting in the middle.

He scoffed with a chuckle, “You’re lucky I love you. Go sit down,” he said before placing a kiss in your forehead.

Your cheeks burned red out of a small bit of embarrassment because he made it seem like it was obvious you weren’t going to sit in the middle. Before you could overthink the embarrassment even more, Iwa laughed making you snap out of that bubble.

“Quit thinking about it so much, sweets,” he kissed your cheek as he sat down next to you, “You’re gonna be more comfortable there. I’m not havin’ you be uncomfortable next to a stranger.”

You smiled softly as you kissed his shoulder, then his cheek, and then his lips. “You treat me like a princess way too much,” you mumbled against his shoulder with more tiny kisses.

Iwa chuckled again as he kissed your forehead, “As I should, you mean everything to me, my love,” he smiled.

Two days later, he proposed during a private dinner off the coast in Palma, Spain.

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pfhwrittes · 9 months

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i’m trying to dredge through my various B&Q memories (and talking to friends who used to work with me in B&Q) for inspo and i just remembered something that happened and dear god. i’m imagining simon and price’s reaction to being in that situation.

so the store manager decides to reorganise the warehouse. he doesn’t check with price or more importantly simon about this. he just hops on the forklift, puts up the signage to say the forklift is in use and bans everyone from entering the warehouse (not an unreasonable request, pedestrians vs forklifts has never ended well historically, but the balls of that man to ban simon from his warehouse jeeeesus).

you don’t actually know that’s what he’s decided to do until the store manager is barking out over the tannoy “all available staff to the warehouse, that’s all available staff to the warehouse. NOW.” and because you’re a) available and b) nosey as fuck as you’ve never been allowed in simon’s warehouse, off you go.

when you arrive, it’s carnage. there is paint everywhere. for a horrible moment your brain provides you with the elevator scene from the shining but substitutes the river of blood with 625 litres of brilliant white matte emulsion instead.

“what the actual fuck”

aaaaaand that’s soap. he’s materialised out of thin air next to you and is surveying the damage with a visible aura of pure horror. your stomach lurches in sympathy because that’s his stock that’s slowly dripping from the abandoned pallet. and the racking. and the walls. jesus fucking christ. it’s everywhere. everything in a 2 metre radius is covered in paint. including the stock, the store manager, and simon.

simon, who has the store manager pinned by his neck to the wall next to the safety notice board.

you can’t see simon’s face, his shoulders look like they’re carved from granite with tension, but you can certainly hear what he’s shouting in the slowly reddening face of the store manager.

“you useless, dangerous cunt!”

you flinch backwards. you’ve never heard simon so angry.

“you could’ve fucking killed someone! you’re fucking lucky that you didn’t kill yourself!”

you turn wide eyed to stare at soap, who’s mouth is hanging open in shock. you turn back to the scene playing out in front of you as simon roars in rage again.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?! answer me!”

simon shakes the man in his grip but doesn’t actually let go. you watch as the store manager’s face turns puce in a combination of rage and trapped blood flow. oh christ, are you about to witness a murder? you think you’re about to witness a murder. what the fuck.

“simon. that’s enough.” price’s voice is a whip-crack of fury that breaks through the tension of the scene. you release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding as he wades into the fray. price stops behind simon just an arms length away.

you don’t hear what price says to simon, but he drops (actually drops, fucking hell) the store manager who splutters and coughs trying to catch his breath desperately.

“y-you’re - fired! what the fuck -!”

price grabs simon as the enraged man lunges towards the store manager.

“take a walk simon.”

you and soap hastily move out of the way of simon who storms out of the warehouse and onto the shop floor barking a stern “move!” to a mixed crowd of customers and colleagues desperate to get a glimpse at the soap opera levels of drama happening beyond the warehouse doors.

“you, don’t move” price points a threatening finger at the store manager before turning to face you and soap. “johnny, get over here. get the spill kit.”

soap snaps to attention and moves further into the warehouse, skirting the pooling paint as carefully as he can manage. you flex your hands nervously as the full force of price’s attention is aimed at you. god, you want to melt into your black safety boots to avoid his commanding tone and the banked fury that is present on every line on his face.

“love,” price’s tone softens slightly as he addresses you and you’re grateful for it, “go after simon. he needs a clean uniform.”

you nod and spin on your heel, before you leave the warehouse you chance a glance back over your shoulder and see price looming over the store manager.

as you make your way across the shop floor, you have the horrible realisation that someone is definitely getting fired today. you shoot up a prayer to the retail gods that it won’t be simon.

#retail hell au #cod fic #captain john price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #this is based off a completely true event #including the stock flow manager pinning the store manager by the neck to the wall #unedited so please forgive the typos/grammatical errors #also tenses? i don’t know her

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filmbyjy · 2 years

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BUSINESS PROPOSAL > twenty-four! meeting the grandmother😵‍💫

synopsis > being the amazing friend you were, you had helped your friend who desperately did not want to go on the blind date so you went as her. however, you were dumbfounded to find out that the CEO was your friend’s blind date! hopefully, he doesn’t recognise you.

masterlist | previous | next

word count: 2.1K words (what the- okay i got carried away)

a/n: okay so here is the outfit I described for when you meet sunghoon's grandmother for the first time. also AHHHHHHHH YOU AND SUNGHOON ACCIDENTAL KISS!!

you never thought you'd be doing this. you had dignity but you also knew you had loans to pay up for university. you needed the money, just simply working at 'Beauty World' wasn't enough.

but why were you digging yourself in a hole? the CEO was the guy asking you for help! what if he finds out?

"he won't find out. he is dumb." your dear cousin, sunoo, says. he was laying down on your bed after he decided to come unnoticed.

you gave the boy a sarcastic smile.

"oh really now? i mean, he did become a CEO at 19. only smart people can take over a company at such young age."

"he is business smart, not lady smart. trust me. i've been working with him directly for 3 years now."

"well this is a contractual relationship so it's business related! you think he isn't just going to brush past the fact that i'm not actually named Mo Chaewon??"

"why did you blurt out chaewon? is it cause of that stupid soap opera drama playing on TV? honestly, she's kinda living the same situation like you. except...the guy is even more sappier than sunghoon hyung." sunoo throws your plushie. you catch it.

"how was i supposed to know that character and me have the same first name! it's completely a coincidence."

your phone rings. sunoo eyes it, he goes to reach for it when you snatched it away from him and answered it. sunoo stands close to you to listen in to what sunghoon wanted to say.

"uh hey, what is it? it's kinda late you know."

"practice." sunghoon says.

"practice? practice what?" you asked confused.

"flirting with me. being all girlfriend with me."

"can't i just come up on the spot. i mean, we kinda already established from yesterday our backstory? you know...us meeting at harvard?"

"well, i need to see if you can flirt with me tomorrow."

"i'm not going to flirt with you on the phone. also it's late, i have work tomorrow."

"too bad, do it." sunghoon demanded. you sighed.

"it's better to do it face to face you know." you say.

"great idea! i'm in front of your house right now." your eyes widened and so does sunoo's.

he mumbles the words 'my car is downstairs' which causes you to panic.

"why are you here?"

"like i said, practice."

"oh my god. hold on. i'm coming down and we are not going to stay near my house. my parents are overprotective and if they see you, all hell will break loose."

"okay-" you end the call. "kim sunoo, you need to sneak out. now!"

"how about i stay at your house?" sunoo says.

"fine but leave after i drag sunghoon out."

"alright, i'll leave." sunoo huffs.

and so you went to drag sunghoon away from your home so your parents wouldn't see him.

"what the fuck are you doing here? it's not right for you to just randomly appear at my house! especially a girl's house!" you mutter through your gritted teeth.

"is it wrong for me to appear at my fake girlfriend's house?"

"yes. look, my parents are-" you spot hunter and danielle walking up the hill and so you panic. you grabbed sunghoon and hid with him near the garden.

"oh come on, just one bite danielle?" hunter whines.

"no." danielle says as she happily chews on the snack. the both of them walked past the door and went up to the house. you sighed in relief.

"look sunghoon, i think we should meet up earlier to practice for your meeting with your grandmother tomorrow. my family is coming home and they are just chaotic." you try to push sunghoon away.

"what? no? i'm busy tomorrow. you don't know how hard it is to be a CEO of a company. there are tons of meetings with clients, approving of products to sell-"

"look, please just leave." just as you pushed sunghoon away, you spot your parents and so you panicked and tripped over something.

when you tripped, you fell first and sunghoon falls on top of you. your lips touched. the both of you too shocked to move.

"did those two rascals reach home yet?" mrs.mo asks.

"yes honey, danielle just texted me. do you really think the twins would come home late and go to the arcade?"

"not danielle but i don't trust hunter."

"honey, your son is an angel. i don't think he would do such things." mr.mo says.

mrs.mo grumbles. the both of them entered the shop to put down some supplies. the door shuts. sunghoon pulls away and touches his lips.

"w-we should meet tomorrow instead." he stands up and clears his throat, "2pm, meet me at the location that i will send you."

before you could even mutter a word out, sunghoon leaves quickly. you could've sworn you saw a blush playing on his cheeks.

the next morning, you woke up. you were glancing at the clock and that's when you realise you only had an hour to get ready. you quickly went to shower and put on the best dress to look presentable. you quickly went over to the place that sunghoon messaged you for.

"sorry for being a little late."

for a split second, you swore you saw sunghoon's eyes widened. like he was caught of guard by your appearance. maybe it was the way you dressed? was it too short? did you look over the top? were the ruffles too much? wait, would his grandmother even allow shoulders to be seen.

sunghoon clears his throat, "it's fine, just we have 30 minutes to drive over to where my grandmother wants to meet you."

"of course, umm what do you want to practice?"

"get our love story straight."

"uhh can't we just say we met at harvard since i'm apparently one too?"

"you know we can't have my grandmother knowing your family owns a fried chicken business."

"okay, fine. then how about we say...hmm that i was your classmate?"

"she knows the list of classmates i had in harvard."

"what? what kind of grandmother-"

"she was protective and only wanted me to focus on studies which meant no lady distractions."

"kinda ironic that now she wants you to get your dick-" you stopped yourself.

"from getting my dick wet? yeah, i know. the irony. i'm only 23, i'm still young." sunghoon swishes back his hair in annoyance. "so get our fake love story straight. what is your idea. other than being classmates?"

you tried to put together a cute love story from any dramas or stories you've read but you weren't sure if sunghoon would really fit any of them. until an idea pops in your head.

"how about i say we were academic rivals? i don't have to be your classmate? we can say that i also studied the same thing but i was in a different class. universities have different classes."

"academic rivals? then what?"

"we were academic rivals but were actually in love with each other. let's say...hmm, we got together during the graduation celebration! like a confession to say 'oh i never really hated you, i actually liked you.'."

"that's not a bad idea i guess."

"then, we can say we dated for a few months and then you moved to new york for work which caused our breakup. you can say that you used your work in New York to distract you hence you became a workaholic but inside you were hurting."

sunghoon sighs, "let's go with that. you can tell her everything you planned. i'll just sit there."

you clapped your hands in excitement, "really? she'll be convinced right?"

"yeah sure, come on let's go." sunghoon leads you to his car.

sunghoon drives you to the restaurant.

"don't mess anything up." sunghoon whispers in your ears. you stepped away while laughing awkwardly.

"heh, of course. i won't let you down."

the both of you entered the restaurant. his grandmother was waiting and when she spots sunghoon enter the place.

"ah, you must be her." she shakes a waitress's hand who coincidentally stood near sunghoon. she awkwardly smiles.

"grandma, that's not her." sunghoon says. you appeared next to sunghoon while smiling and shyly waving at her.

it was clear his grandmother was in shock. maybe you shouldn't have went overboard with the dress but honestly you dressed way worse during the first meeting with her grandson. if he somehow took a liking to you previously...hopefully she would be open to accepting you. let's hope you played your cards right and convinced her.

once you settled down and ordered.

"i'll get straight to the point. you look very rough for my grandson. like a party girl. the dress is way above your knee and your shoulders are seen. moreover, you got streaks in your hair." she brutally says.

"ah." great, of course she's brutally honest.

sunghoon rolls his eyes.

"that's over the top grandma."

"i only want what's best for you. you can't just let someone like her sway you. there is a possibility she might just be after your wealth you know?"

"grandma-"

"hoon, it's okay." you squeezed sunghoon's hands, making sure his grandmother was able to see it.

you looked straight at his grandmother. "ma'am, i completely understand that you do not trust me since i am wearing something inappropriate and i look like a player. i completely won't lie, me and sunghoon had a very rocky relationship especially before we dated, we never got along. i've always doubted myself and also knew that we were never compatible. sunghoon was also the one who chased after me after we broke up. i was surprised he even wanted to remain together. i do love him with my whole heart, it took very long to even realise i loved him so while i'm not expecting you to accept us straight away. i hope you'd at least eventually warm up to it?"

it gets silent. his grandmother sighs.

"alright then, how about we go out after this for something so i get to know you a little more."

sunghoon's face lit up, he was shocked to even hear his grandmother say those words. however, he knew that this extra 'get to know you' wasn't supposed to even happen. considering this was only supposed to be a one time thing. sunghoon turns to look at you, expecting you to say no.

"uh." you looked at sunghoon and then back at his grandmother. "sure." that's when sunghoon's jaw clenches.

"great."

fast forward to after the little lunch you had with his grandmother. you and sunghoon left a little earlier since his grandmother wanted to settle the bill. sunghoon pinches the bridge of his nose.

"you were supposed to say no."

"well, i can't just say no to your grandmother. she wanted to get to know her grandson's girlfriend more."

"we agreed to not say yes if she asks."

"when the fuck did we agree?"

"it's common knowledge with contractual relationships?"

"look-"

"we'll take my car. i think buying some steamed buns would be great desserts." his grandmother mentions. you smiled and nodded. she enters the car.

"let's just go and you can go back to your little CEO job, okay?" you pulled sunghoon.

you arrived at this little steamed bun shop near the ocean. the view was amazing, the cool air blowing onto your face. you enjoyed eating with his grandmother until sunghoon had to answer a call from his work.

"look, chaewon. i won't lie, you are really a great girl. i'm sorry i doubted you." his grandmother says. you shook your head.

"it's okay. my appearance can be overwhelming at times."

"no no, i should have never judged a book by its cover. you are beautiful and have such a funny personality. i hope you and sunghoon will remain together."

"thank you."

"you should call sunghoon. he has been pretty busy with that call over there. he hasn't eaten a single one of these buns. he should eat it while it's still warm." you nod and went over to sunghoon.

when you came back with sunghoon, his grandmother looks at him in disappointment.

"yah, park sunghoon. you rascal!"

"huh?"

"you should have pity on your girlfriend! she must've had no time to tell you about this!" his grandmother hands him the concert tickets that romin gave to you. "the concert is today and there are two tickets!"

"i have work grandmother, i can't go-"

"well it's your girlfriend. you should go. come on, i'll send you two there."

"grandmother-"

"no, let's go. it's will be starting soon so let's go!"

sunghoon looks over at you, irritated. you only slightly bowed at him to apologise.

why did she have to see the ticket? now you were forced to go to a concert your apparent crush gave you.

let's just hope nothing bad happens

taglist[open]: @nyfwyeonjun @nicelicious @duolingofanaccount @viagumi @precioussoulofmine @loves0ft @jungwo-nnie @alpha-mommy69 @jnks6r @ilvsoup @abdiitcryy @deobitifull @yenqa @pshchives @jiawji @ckline35 @chaemmie @kwnshi @sunshine-skz @j4yluvr @nearly-brainless-rae @sd211 @captain-satan @love-4-keum @ce1ight @iwonlvr @jajjajas @shinsou-rii @greenmetalroof @byunappetit @yunji-n @oranshi @mynameisnotlaura @invusblog @msxflower @luvkait @uwudaizy @leeis @sstarrysshit @thathybesimp @outrochimy @adajoemaya @artstaeh @seeuuns @watermelon-sugars-things @ktttwwn @moasworld @sseastar-main @liliansun @stepout-09-15 @aishaishaisha @bwljules @indelicate-macalino @sparklingsjy

(bolded can’t be tagged!)

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1mpulsee · 4 months

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DC GC (get it) Assorted Sentence Starters .

oh yeah, that definitely makes it look like I’m having a stroke .

see, this is why I don’t want you guys in my universe .

what the fuck is wrong with you ?

I don’t have money .

____, I love you, but you are acting so punchable right now .

do better and don’t go comatose . pretty easy solution .

come on, when have I ever gone behind your back ? don’t answer that .

of course you have that much unused lube .

I'm quickly running out of overdramatic threats . clearly we haven't been watching enough soap operas .

Hell isn't as interesting as I thought it'd be .

you will do anything to justify your fucking horrendous behavior .

I was only dead for like, a day or two .

JESUS CHRIST WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT

this is surprisingly not helping my mental state .

thanks for fucking up my room .

jeez, I’m doing you a lot of favors here, when are you gonna do some for me ?

I wish they invented sleep that didn’t end . wait —

this only kinda makes up for what happened .

these are sounding suspiciously close to compliments .

am I being ignored ? hello ?

anything for you .

that’s crazy . I am in so much pain .

I will not have a heart attack, I promise .

I truly have the saddest life .

#⁽ ⠀ ⚡️ ⠀ ⁾ ⠀ ⠀ / ⠀ * ⠀ ooc.#// you can send me these and its also ok to rb #// stole the idea from veroxins forever ago

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jackobbit · 6 months

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What are some hobbies the gangs have???

Got this question a good amount so here we go!

E.V.I.L.:

KC: She very rarely has any spare time bc her presence is demanded everywhere by everyone for business stuff, but they like going camping! He also goes on. A lot of Tinder dates. Like. A lot. Idk if dating counts as a hobby but for him it probably is. It’s gonna stay that way too until she stops scaring dates off. Aside from that, he loves going for walks, going to restaurants and talking to friends!! (If only he had any.) Very much a person who likes to Go Places and Do Things

Eclipse: Spare time? What spare time?? With that man’s schedule?? I think the hell not! What little time Eclipse gets to himself he spends sleeping and mentally prepping for his next shift, but, if by some divine intervention he got to do more then that on any given evening, then his ass is watching soap operas and movies on his couch and watching cat videos on tiktok during the ad breaks.

BM: Their hobbies include: robbery, listening to music, committing tax fraud, visiting aquariums with their yearly pass, terrorizing fast food restaurants, making unholy food abominations that somehow include blood in them, shoplifting, terrorizing their local hot topic WHILE shoplifting, adding to their knife collection, whatever random hobby they picked up for a singular weekend that their ADHD ass then dropped as soon as the fixation ended….. oh and they draw sometimes!

SF: Can’t answer this one bc spoilers, it’s not like huge spoilers but it is gonna be a really cute and fun thing that I want yall to see for yourself!

G.O.O.D.:

Earth: She likes to play the violin! Will sometimes write new songs but she doesn’t perform them or anything. She loves clothes shopping and putting together outfits in her spare time, she’ll also happily dress up anyone who asks her to. She also likes doing her own hair and other folks hair, makeup too! She’s a girly girl! She also loves playing video games and board games with her co-workers! She’s…. Fiercely competitive….

Sun: She loves listening to audiobooks in his spare time, he also likes to play the piano! Though he doesn’t make any new music of his own unless she’s collaborating with Earth on a song. Like Earth, xe also LOVES to play board games and card games, the group has special versions of the games they use that include braille! Going for walks, knitting, and making crafts are also a thing she finds really fun, he just really loves doing more calm activities, with the exception of game nights!

Moon: This fucking nerd is modding video games in his spare time and putting in another 20 hours into Stardew Valley or Minecraft. You’d think with how many threats he makes that Moon would be into more violent video games like battle royals or team based shooters but he takes after his brother a lot in the whole ‘I prefer relaxing hobbies’ department. He also finds great joy in building things and coding, making neat little gadgets that don’t do anything particularly special but do something neat! Oh, and weapons, of course. If he’s not building a silly little device then he’s reenacting Myth Busters or some shit or trying to make a weapon that does something outrageous. “A rocket powered hammer does not exist but *could* it?” Also loves driving around the city rather than walking, clears his head.

Lunar: Lunar shares a lot of hobbies that the other members of the group also happen to have, he loves playing video games and making crafts! They also like watching dog videos! Funnily enough, he’s picked up scrapbooking, and I’ve already mentioned how he’s picked up learning braille. He also wants to learn how to play piano or the violin from Earth or Sun but he’s too nervous to ask.

#working for e.v.i.l. au #asks #working for e.v.i.l. eclipse #working for e.v.i.l. solar flare #working for e.v.i.l. bloodmoon #working for e.v.i.l. KillCode #the g.o.o.d. company

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iamvegorott · 10 months

Text

Meeting A Magical Man Pt. 53

Part 1: Link Prev: Link Next: [TBA]

Mad sat on the couch, wearing some comfortable clothing Marvin had bought since most of his other clothes were old, worn out, and, as Marvin had put it, too boring. He wasn’t sure how sleep shorts and a blue shirt with the face of a brown bear from some franchise was less boring, but he went with it. Apparently, he was also supposed to look into the franchise the bear was a part of. Marvin said he’d likely really get into it, and neither of them knew Mare was a fan until he commented on it when he saw Mad’s loungewear.

Mare sat sideways on the couch, playing his game and noticing Mad shifting, not looking away from the screen but seeming to want to sit differently. He paused the game and adjusted himself.

“Are you done?” Mad asked, sounding a little disappointed.

“Nope. Come here, starlight.” Mare gently pulled Mad’s arm and guided him to lie on him, resting his head on his chest. Mad moved a little to see the TV more easily and saw Mare’s arms go around him, hugging him loosely as he held the controller and continued playing the game. After adapting to what was happening, Mad relaxed completely and hummed happily as he watched the game and curled against Mare.

“Alright, I’ll admit it, they’re pretty adorable.” Chase chuckled, he and Marvin watching from the living room entrance. “And we’ve got to stop spying on them.”

“I’m just making sure my apprentice is okay,” Marvin said.

“Isn’t Mare supposed to report back to you about this?”

“He is, but I like seeing the results for myself, too.”

“You’re treating them like a soap opera.”

“I do love my shows~”

x~x~x

Chase grunted as he landed back-first on the grass. He rolled over and grunted some more.

“Holy shit, Mad, how did you do that?” He asked, going to his knees and rubbing his back.

“Physics,” Mad said with a shrug. “I used the force of your movement and your body weight against you to get you to flip over.”

“Oh, oh! Me next, me next!” Jackie bounced a bit and lined himself up to where Mad stood.

“He’s volunteering to be flipped?” Henrik asked with a sigh.

“He wants to know what it feels like.” Marvin and Phantom both answered, looking at each other and laughing.

“Just run at me, full force, don’t slow down,” Mad instructed.

“Time to move,” Chase said as he got out of the way, jogging over to where Marvin and the others were standing.

“Got it,” Jackie said with a smile before he took off. Mad stayed still and calm, and when Jackie was close enough, he bent over and used his shoulder and hands to guide Jackie up and over. Jackie then landed on his back just like Chase had.

“God, that’s hot.” Mare blurted out.

“Keep it in your pants, mister.” Marvin teased.

“My turn!” Robbie took off while Mad was helping Jackie to his feet.

“Robbie, wait!” Henrik was too late, and, in the next second, Robbie was sending himself and Mad flying, and they landed on the ground together.

“That’s going to sting.” Edward grimaced.

x~x~x

“Again,” Marvin instructed, throwing another frisbee in the air. Mad took a quick breath and held a hand out, a shard of ice flying out of his palm and striking the frisbee.

“I did it!” Mad let out a victorious shout. “I got it that time!”

“Hell yeah!” Marvin cheered with him.

“Do it again. I gotta see if that was a fluke or not.” Mad was practically buzzing. They’d been working on his aim for almost a month, and he felt he was finally getting it.

“I can-” Marvin stopped when a loud yowl came from down the street. “That sounded like a cat? I didn’t think there were strays at the park this time of-Mad?” He blinked when Mad just sprinted off to where the sound came from. “I thought I was the cat person,” Marvin said to himself, getting his mask to appear on his face as he ran after Mad.

“Damn thing scratched my leg!” A young man shouted while another shook a bush, loud meows and hisses of protest coming from the plant.

“I’m going to snap off the furball's tail, I swear!” The other started tugging on the bush like he wanted to yank it out of the ground. “Get-ow!” He screamed when a shard of ice flew by and scratched his arm. “The fuck was that!?”

“Away from the bush. Now.” Mad said as he went up to the two men.

“Really? What’s a pipsqueak like you going to do?” The first man scoffed while the one at the bush looked around, still trying to figure out what caused his cut. Mad just glared and pulled out a rod from the back of his jeans, flicking it, and his mallet unfolded.

“Try me.” He aimed the head of the mallet toward the man, and with a press of a button, a blade popped out of the top and got too close to touching the man’s neck.

“Oh, fuck this, a stupid cat is not worth putting up with comic-book bullshit.” The man grabbed the other, and they walked away.

“Where did that come from, darling?” Marvin asked as Mad put his mallet away and went to the bush.

“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.” Mad ignored the question and couched down. “It’s okay, little guy, they’re gone.” He waited, and after a pause, there was a soft mew, and a kitten slowly stepped out from the bush. The kitten was gray with white paws and a white spot on their chest. They slowly went up to Mad, sniffed his hand, and started purring, rubbing their face against him. “I bet you’re hungry, little-” Mad peeked down the kitten’s body. “-fella. I think there’s some fish in the freezer I can cook up for you.” The kitten purred louder and leaned against Mad.

“I guess you have a cat now? Hopefully, no one has allergies.” Marvin said.

“They can get over it.”

x~x~x

“Al! You’re going to get your ass hair in the food!” Mare scolded the cat as he shooed him off the table.

“He’s just saying hi.” Mad protested and scooped Al, short for Albert Einstein, up, unaware of the look he was giving Mare.

“I was here first,” Mare said to Al.

“We’re hoping they accept our offer soon,” Phantom said to Marvin as they worked on prepping drinks for everyone. “No offense, but now that we’re moving Chase’s stuff in, we’re running out of space.”

“I still can’t believe you didn’t want to buy Chase’s place.” Marvin chuckled.

“That house is way too big for just me and Jackie. I want something smaller with a nice little yard. I want to have a patio to lounge on while Jackie grills. Did he tell you he’s been getting into that lately? I swear he and Mare could talk about meat for hours.”

“We could too, but our meat’s a little different.” Marvin’s innuendo got both of them giggling.

“Weird question, but do you know a good place to get a ring?” Jackie asked. He and Chase were in the living room, Jackie having pulled him aside for a private chat.

“What kind of ring?”

“An engagement one?”

“The one at the mall’s got a good variety. They have a lot of different gems they’ll use as well. I know diamonds are the traditional ones, but-wait a minute.” Chase stopped himself when he realized what Jackie was asking. “Are you-” He made a gesture of opening a ring box. “-with Phantom?”

“I don’t know, maybe? I’ve just…maybe.” Jackie chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Too soon?”

“Only if I don’t get to come.” Chase teased. “I think-” This time, Chase was stopped by his phone going off.

But it wasn’t an average ringtone.

It sounded like an alarm.

“Chase!” Marvin rushed into the room.

“What’s going on?” Mare asked as he came in with Mad and Phantom.

“Henrik set off the emergency app we have,” Chase said.

“He’s in trouble.” Marvin took hold of Chase’s arm. “We need to go. Now.” He said before he sent himself and Chase away.

----------

Tags: @brokentimewatch @bookwormscififan @d-structive @rainymae523 @ashtonisvibing

#meeting a magical man #trickshot #veggie writes

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oddishblossom · 2 years

Note

Don't know if you've shared or not, but (if you don't mind me asking), can I ask your top 5 fav banana fish fanfics? Thanks a lot for your blog, love reading them....

Aaaah only 5!? I could name like 50 of them that are near and dear to my heart, but I’ll try to limit myself. Here are my absolute favorites ❤️

Hangin' Tough by TurnUps (48K)

A series of oneshots set in the 80s during that one Summer where Eiji is telling Ash he's going to go home soon and yet not leaving. (Episode 11-12) Also mostly set at 3 a.m, so late nights and early mornings. (Slow dancing in the kitchen in socks at 3 a.m)

All I Ever Learned of Love by A Dreaming Songbird (20K)

The leopard comes back down the mountain. The bluebird finds its way back to its nest. Ash Lynx goes home.

Skipping Stones by TurnUps (54K)

A collection of oneshots filling in some scenes that probably didn't happen in between episodes/scenes, but that I like to think did because these boys need to talk to each other.

Water on Water’s the Way by A Dreaming Songbird (3K)

The waves rush in and flow back out, water endlessly stirring the sand, as Ash takes Eiji's hand by the seaside and wonders if they can truly have a happily-ever-after.

(Spoilers: yes, they can.) (psst. this one’s my #1 favorite btw)

Where the Daylight Begins by A Dreaming Songbird (4K)

It's a blustery winter day when Okumura Nahoko answers the door to find a handsome American asking for her brother.

Fishbowl by luftballons99 (4K)

In which Mrs. Coleman means well, Alex sees God, Sing loses, and the age-old question “What’s with Ash and Eiji?” is answered.

"It’s like watching a goddamn soap opera."

Higher Off the Ground by kybelles (2K)

Ash discovers Eiji can lift him easily and develops a slight obsession.

This Dream, Realized by luftballons99 (4K)

“It’s just dancing,” Ash whispers, knowing that nothing he does with Eiji could ever be ‘just’ anything. “You’ll be a pro in no time.”

Ash teaches Eiji how to dance. Eiji teaches Ash how to hope.

Like a Light I’m Luring You by kybelles (33K)

One night, world famous musician Ash Lynx drunk tweets about a cute boy he saw in a magazine and all hell breaks loose.

Dull Swords, Sluggish Arrows by A Dreaming Songbird (10K)

An unexpected visitor shows up on Eiji's doorstep, seeking answers about Ash's death.

Except that Ash isn't dead, and there is very little Eiji wouldn't do to keep him safe. Even if that does mean yelling at a very tall Russian man in public.

#asheiji #banana fish #anonymous #fic recs #lucy answers #asks #thank you for the ask!#somehow my top 5 became a top 10 #i’m SO sorry for responding this late #i may have started to reply and then completely forgot about this in my drafts 🥲#if you check any of these fics out pls be nice and leave them a lovely comment!

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excessive-vampires · 8 months

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Here is me giving you permission to go ham and infodump about you dwd characters:

What is the one thing about that series that you've wanted to go feral over, but didn't for whatever reason? What is that Thing that you were hoping readers would go feral over with you?

Also, if the post is not long enough, or if you can't answer the above questions for whatever reason, then what is one random little fact about each character, that has no significance in the story, but it exists for them anyway?

- @writinggremlin

OH HELL YES I AM IN YOUR DEBT

I'm really really hoping people are interested in the lore I came up with for demons, bc it's basically my ideal portrayal of creatures that make deals for souls.

Okay so I don't get a chance in the book to actually go into as much detail about how demons actually work as I'd like, and part of that is because I want Riley to be in the dark about certain things until the sequel, but most of it was just to not get too infodumpy.

To start with, the most relevant thing to the story is that any spirit (demon or angel) can only possess someone if their body is offered up as part of a deal. This means possession is usually the result of a deal with a selfless motivation and the way deals work means those deals are usually handled by angels. Possession deals are extremely uncommon, especially permanent possession deals, but even among that small number the least of them go to demons of avarice. Avi may very well be the first demon of avarice to get a body to possess.

The advantages of possession for a spirit are that it allows them to experience all five senses without expending the mana it would usually take to manifest them in their true form. Because spirits are not native to this plane of existence it takes effort for them to perceive it. It also takes mana for a spirit to change certain aspects of their appearance. For example, demons of wrath look like fire and ash, so if they want a color scheme other than reds and grays they have to put effort and energy into it. No matter what though, a spirit's eyes will always softly glow a certain color, even while possessing a human body.

Spirits get mana from the souls they acquire in deals. When a deal is complete, usually upon the death of the human involved, the spirit will take the soul and assimilate it into their essence, basically plugging it in like a battery. This is the only circumstance in which a soul will remain on the physical plane of existence after death. No true ghosts and no resurrections. Once you're gone you're gone.

Another thing I'm hoping readers will be excited about is the fact that every chapter title is a quote from the chapter and the context for chapter 16's title will take two weeks to be revealed but when it is... I want people to cry over it, it's the proudest I've ever been about something in my work.

Fun fact about each character!

Riley is tall and still kind of looks like a gangly teenager even though they're 28.

Sil comes from a long line of Bureau employees and fells a lot of pressure to live up to their legacy even though as the youngest team leader in the Bureau she's already surpassed it.

Mike first joined the Bureau to make sure they were chill and not the "kill all monsters" type of organization, then he got caught up in helping people no one else could and never quit.

Avi learned most of what they knew about humanity before meeting Cee by watching sitcoms and soap operas.

Cee's parents heavily restricted her diet when she was growing up, but her younger sister got to eat whatever she wanted.

#dwd #riley #sil #mike #avi #cee

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josefavomjaaga · 2 years

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Hello! What was Eugene and Hortense’s relationship with Napoleon like? Sometimes Naps seems to give off a bit of “evil stepparent” vibes yet sometimes he seems to be decent so I can only imagine that it’s complicated (I would know, I have stepparents).

And full of dysfunctional family drama, naturally!

(Someone should make a Napoleonic soap opera.)

Anyway, thanks in advance!

P. S.

Thank you so very much, both for the question and the love - and right back at you 💖. I know I've really taken my time with this one but I wanted to find the correct quote which took longer than I thought. (I had no clue Roederer wrote so much.)

First of all: No, Napoleon is not the prodigal evil stepfather, far from it. On first glance, he even seems like the ideal stepfather, immediately taking to the two children, for the sole reason that they were related to Josephine, and despite the children’s initial animosity against this new addition to the family. Hortense in particular makes it very clear in her memoirs that she feared her mother would love them less once she had a new husband, whereas Eugène saw his mother’s second marriage as »a desecration of my father’s memory«. Both are probably very normal and common reactions; I particularly understand the kids’ fear of having to share their mother’s butterfly attention with yet another person. (Josephine often barely remembered them anyway.)

It is also unclear to me how well they actually knew this general Bonaparte before he and Josephine married. The story of Eugène and the sword/sabre of general Beauharnais is well-known, and Hortense in her memoirs tells the story of how she, at a dinner in Barras’ house, was sitting between Josephine and Napoleon, who totally ignored her, talking only with her mother. Other than that, Napoleon must have visited often, but most of the time the kids would have been at school at those occasions. And they apparently only learned about their mothers’ second marriage after the fact, through Madame Campan, who informed them of it. At the time of their mother’s marriage, this general may have been mostly a stranger to them, and in a way, he may have always remained just that.

But Napoleon made every effort to overcome the children’s reserve, and he mostly succeeded. Both children were docile and well-behaved as a rule und would, if not enthusiastically, then at least politely adapt to these new circumstances. Which for Napoleon may have been a nice change compared to dealing with his unruly family, who was giving him hell for having dared to marry without anyone’s consent. During the first Italian campaign, in his letters to Josephine, Napoleon mentions several times that her children had written to him or that he was going to send them presents. (He could not know that at least Hortense, according to her memoirs, had been coerced by Madame Campan into writing. I believe we even have Napoleon’s answer, which is held in a very amused, teasing tone.)

Things would continue in the same vein. We have Napoleon’s letters to Eugène in Egypt (»Stay in the tent, march with the artillery … don’t you dare get yourself killed, kid!«), we have Napoleon discussing Josephine’s supposed infidelities with her teenage son (Eugène probably: »Uhm, general … you do remember that I’m only seventeen? And your wife’s son? You do? Good. Just making sure.«), we have the famous scene of Josephine and her kids, begging on their knees in front of Napoleon’s bedroom door after the return from Egypt and, in one version, Napoleon explaining that he took Josephine back because he had grown so attached to Eugène that he could not bear to see the boy leave. (Though it is doubtful how much of this scene was even meant in earnest, or how Napoleon could have expected Eugène to stay with him rather than with his mother.) We have delightfully normal and funny family correspondence during the Consulate and the early Empire (»Your fat son has arrived yesterday«, »I don’t hear more of Hortense as if she were in Congo, I have to write and scold her«, »your brother is courting all the ladies of Boulogne and still not getting lucky«), and after Eugène’s marriage Napoleon resolutely demands updates on eventual first marital squabbles and even tries to set up Eugène’s daily schedule in a way for him to get enough repose and quality time with the vice-queen.

As to the material and financial side, Napoleon could not have treated his stepchildren any better. Both received wealth, honours and positions they never could have dreamt of (and probably never would have dreamt of) without Napoleon’s influence. But that already takes us to the other side of the coin. At this point I always have to think of the sentence that Lannes once wrote in a letter, in essence: »The emperor loves on a whim, which means: when he has need of you.« - Napoleon’s stepchildren had a function in his political plans, and he loved them as long as they fulfilled their tasks. And once these plans changed and they became bothersome, he did not hesitate to demand back what he had given to them (Italy from Eugène, Holland from Hortense’s son).

But there is a caveat even to the emotional part. As I’ve often mentioned already, while Napoleon called his stepchildren »tu« in private conversation, he treated them as »vous« in court and in all his correspondence. As to the other side, even in their letters to each other or to their mother, Hortense and Eugène always call him »Bonaparte« or »the emperor«. I have not come across any of them calling him, or referring to him as, their father (which is why I hate such references in novels or movies). Eugène in his memoirs keeps mentioning the enormous respect he always had, and as late as the Russian campaign a witness like Dedem van de Geldern had the impression that Eugène »was afraid of the emperor like a child«. There seems to always have been a notable emotional distance between Napoleon and everybody else.

But I feel like the most obvious indication of how unhealthy this family relationship was can be found in Napoleon’s conversation with Roederer in 1804 (?, at least I think it happened during that time, while his family was trying to convince him to divorce Josephine before the coronation and to not make her empress – for which, admittedly, there were excellent reasons). Napoleon says, speaking of his brothers:

They are jealous of my wife, of Eugène, of Hortense, of everyone about me. Well, my wife has diamonds and debts, that is it. Eugène does not have 20,000 livres of income. I love these children, because they are always eager to please me. If there's a cannon shot, Eugene will be the one to find out what it is. If I have a ditch to cross, it's he who gives me his hand. […] [And again about his siblings] They say that my wife is dishonest, and that the eagerness of her children is calculated. Well, I do want this; they treat me like an old uncle; this always makes my life sweet; I am getting old: I am thirty-six, I want some rest.

[Taken from: Pierre-Louis Roederer, »Mémoires sur la Révolution, le Consulat et l’Empire, 5th edition, page 207f. Emphasis by me]

In other words, Napoleon agrees that the sentiments his wife and stepchildren show him are fake and most likely rooted solely in self-interest. He just doesn’t care. He does not claim »You are wrong, my stepchildren do love me.« His answer rather comes down to: »At least they make the effort to pretend they care for me. You guys can’t even be bothered to do that much!«

Which does not strike me as a particularly healthy basis for a family.

But as I’ve already said, I’m still very much learning, and I’m pretty sure there’s still much to find out about the details in this patchwork family.

I hope this does answer your question at least somewhat. Thank you once more for the Ask, and sorry the answer took so long! 💖

#napoleon's family #hortense de beauharnais #eugene de beauharnais #asks

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lilac-5ky · 1 year

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Roommates from Hell, pt.5 (Toji x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 5: Off to the Races/A can of worms

Chapter 4 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist | Requests

A/N: reposting cause tumblr is being a bitch with the tags Worm's debut, aye! Also, let us all who thought it was horse races and not boat races lament in silence.

Warning: Curse attack counts as a warning I suppose. Mentions of blood, strangling, etc.

The furniture carrier service arrived with your stuff two days later, on a rainy Monday morning. The two middle-aged men congratulated you in broken Japanese for your wedding, whose ceremony apparently took place at Okazaki Jinja (also known as Rabbit’s Shrine) on Christmas Eve, and according to Toji, you looked most stunning in your shiromuku kimono.

His descriptions were so vivid that whenever he called you honey and wrapped an arm around your waist, you questioned whether your own wedding invitation was lost in the mail.

The charades continued even after the men departed, reaching their climax when Toji tossed you a slotted screwdriver and willed you into work, because what is a wife if not a slave?

That’s not to say Toji was a lousy fake husband. Not only did he offer to christen his new bed together, but to also perform “the shit” out of his marital duties. Neither happened, and every mention of you as his pretty little wife faded with the melting of the ice and the blooming of the plum trees.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and before you knew it, the two of you had fully adjusted to each other’s presence. For the most part. You still found it excruciatingly hard to get over the recurrent mess he left in the bathroom as if he were digging for Atlantis, his habit of discarding bloodied clothes in the corridor rather than the hamper, the Easter egg hunt you regularly embarked on in search of his stashed dirty plates, and of course, his turning the living room into a gym, not minding that his roommate just so happened to be a single female with urges of her own.

And for the record, his offers to join him in the shower only multiplied after he got his hands on the first water bill and insisted bathing together would help cut down on unnecessary expenses.

Toji was a handful, and living with him felt as if you were a contestant at Takeshi’s Castle, minus the guards whooping you with sticks and the exorbitant cash prize to justify your endurance. But even with the constant temptation that he was, you’d grown appreciative of your shared routine.

A typical weekday involved you getting up at the crack of dawn to prepare breakfast and side dishes ahead of lunch. The sounds of tinkering pots reached his ears before the whiff of freshly brewed coffee got to his nostrils—a bedhead Toji sheepishly stumbling his way into the kitchen with sweatpants low around his hips and a fist jabbing the sand off his eyes as he greeted you with the groggiest of Mornin’s.

You shared breakfast until duty called, and on days he found sitting at home as a trophy wife too tedious for his tastes, he popped by the diner for a “free” meal paid straight out of your pocket.

By the time you got home late in the afternoon, Toji had already half-assed his assigned chores and would either be zapping through the channels or going through another one of your belongings. Last week featured your junior high diary, whose existence and table of contents remained blurry until he cracked a joke about your short-lived crush on the hot substitute history teacher and you snorted a noodle out of your nose.

The nights were spent evaluating teenagers in idol shows, betting pizza slices on MMA fighters, dissing soap opera protagonists for their terrible life choices, and attempting to solve the cases in crime dramas ahead of the detectives. Cheap thrills for cheap entertainment, with the one to get the most correct answers during “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?” entitled to minor rewards ranging from red bean soup in the cold months and shaved ice in the Summer, as well as foot rubs for you and shoulder rubs for him.

Time in your apartment moved at the languid pace of snow globe snowflakes and at the hurried tempo of hourglass sand. Five months later—in June, specifically—you barely remembered how to replace light bulbs or the bus routes from and to your job because you couldn’t recall a day-to-day life without Toji. Your hand naturally set a second plate on the table; your voice naturally placed an extra wonton order at the Chinese joint; your eyes naturally crinkled at each of his antics; and your lips naturally arched upon his welcoming you home; you naturally weren’t alone anymore.

And in a way, this was everything you’d ever wanted, but in plenty of others, you were terrified of losing it all to his former lifestyle when Toji came to his senses and realized this kind of life wasn’t for him—that you weren’t for him.

To reward him for being somewhat frugal and to exercise impulse control, you gathered some of your savings and surprised him with a trip to one of his favorite places. However, what ended up stealing the limelight was the big floppy hat on your head, which had last been in fashion before the Titanic sank.

In your defense, whatever impression you had of horse racing came from Hollywood movies where the rich and mighty spectated from their VIP seats with their fancy binoculars and fancier parasols. A near-empty venue with takoyaki stalls and an audience of men spread as sparsely as the hairs on their scalps was not what you expected.

“She’s a foreigner,” Toji explained to the bookie, whose eyes narrowed at the odd combination of your yellow umbrella-shaped hat paired with a white formal sundress and matching barrette heels.

“You should’ve told me,” you huffed as Toji led you to a corner next to the booths.

“Tell ya what?”

“That I’d stick like a sore thumb! Feels like everyone’s staring at me.”

He licked his fingers and hastily flipped through the racing cards. “That’s because you are the prettiest in ‘ere.”

You tugged your hat lower over your reddened face, mumbling, “They’re all pensioners anyway.”

He didn’t pay you any more attention until he was done sorting the papers. He went over the general rules of betting, recommending you put your cash on the odds-on Narita Brian, a Thoroughbred stallion that already counted seventeen victories in his seven-month career. And you would have trusted his intuition if you hadn’t suddenly remembered about his one-sided affair with Lady Luck.

While Toji was off to grab seats, you wagered half of the money on his choice and the other half on the newest entry at the very bottom of the list—an Arabian horse named Doraemon. You collected the slips and spotted him in the middle rows of your section, his feet arched against the empty front seat and his arms spread over the ones beside him. You sat down on his left and handed him his slip, glancing down at the tracks.

Men in identical caps that merely differed in color were tending to their mounts, fixing their halters in place. The race wouldn’t start for another thirty minutes, during which Toji ran on about jockeys, breeds, and records, letting you in on how the majority of the contesting horses were between the ages of two and three and how they collectively shared their birthdays on January 1. It was unlike him to gush about his interests, but there was no mistaking it; he loved it there.

You did your best to keep track of the complex terminology and Doraemon’s blue flair as the herd of horses made it to the starting gates. The bell rang without any further delay, and Toji’s voice fell into an abrupt hush as he watched Narita Brian fall second to Golden Wind and third to the newcomer Doraemon. He tore his slip into bits while you struggled to come up with the right words to say—though the cash spoke plenty of its own.

“Beginner’s luck,” Toji scoffed, maintaining a five-step distance as the two of you walked toward his rental of the month, a German silver sedan with ivory leather coating.

You triumphantly fanned your face with the envelope. “Is that what losers call it?”

“Beginner’s luck,” he repeated.

“This has nothing to do with luck. Simply me trusting in my childhood hero to save the day.”

He slurred something under his breath and hopped in the driver’s seat, banging the door with a thud that bounced across the parking lot, filled with the cars of people from the family restaurant next door.

“I’ve saved your ass a lot more than that stupid robo-cat, but I don’t see ya trustin’ me.”

You rolled your eyes and fastened your seat belt. You shuffled the banknotes and split them into twos, gesturing for Toji to open his palm.

“I trust you. Just not your luck.”

For once, he was hesitant to accept. “Save your pity cash. You earned it.”

“No, we earned it.” You grabbed his hand and slotted the bills right in. “I bet our savings. Even if your prediction fell out, you are still entitled to half of the prize.”

His fingers closed around yours, his thin obsidian brows relaxing as you held the weight of his persistent stare. “Wouldn’t do the same if our roles reversed.”

“I know.”

“And you’re wrong to gimme half. I pay less rent and snatch the spare change when you’re not lookin’.”

“That’s why I trust you,” you smiled. “If anything, you are consistent.”

His bottom lip twitched as if there was something else to say. There wasn’t. He let your palm fall empty onto your lap and put the key in the ignition, slinging his arm over your headrest to back into the road. You didn’t budge. Not in the slightest.

Not even when his mouth was inches away from yours, hooded jade eyes teasing his intentions.

“You are hopeless,” he said.

“Already know that,” you answered.

Not long after you hit the road, you found yourselves parked outside a grocery store in Minato City, the horizon melting into saturated ripples of copper gold and dusty pink. Toji motioned for you to hurry and reclined against his pushed-back seat in an attempt to escape the invasive sun glare.

You stepped out of the vehicle, momentarily popping in to drop your hat over his face. He groaned before acknowledging your gesture with a soft Thanks and an even softer smile, both hidden under the hat’s wide brim.

“I’ll cook you something real tasty for dinner. Your favorite!” The words scattered behind you as you broke into a jog, hair flowing freely against the wind and heart thumping lightly to the monotone chirp of the cicadas.

A beep declared your entrance to the three conversing part-timers who rushed back to their registers—two of them experienced enough to greet you with a bow of their heads, and the other too preoccupied with her phone. Teenagers. Around the same age you were when you got your first gig at that convenience store in Sendagaya.

You grabbed a basket and surveyed the aisles for ingredients. It was too hot for motsunabe but just right for yakitori. You could get some liver (since he was particular about offal) and toss it in the pan, or broil it in the oven. Or, you could go all out and opt for the priciest cut on the shelf: ribeye steak. Granted, Toji wouldn’t tell the difference between Kobe and Sirloin even if it was pointed out to him, but you wanted to savor such a delicacy at least once.

The closer you got to filling the basket, the emptier your wallet got. At checkout, the employee rang up your groceries and stuffed them all in one bag. She thanked you for your purchase, and you trudged outside.

A tinge of violet contoured the pale moonlight, the starry curtain yet to drop. It was the kind of night that made you wish you had a rooftop to yourself. Just you, the stars, and the man whose arm dangled lazily from the driver’s window.

“Hey, what time is it?”

It was safe to assume Toji didn’t share your sentimentalism.

You fished your phone out of your handbag, balancing the groceries against the trunk. “Like, uh… 7:32. Why?”

His fingers drummed at the door, while his lips kept his contemplation private. “Mind goin’ home on your own?”

“On my own?” you blinked. “Why, what happened?”

“Something came up,” Toji said, revving up the engine. “Won’t take long.”

Without getting to ask about the gender of that so-called something, you were deserted in the empty parking lot, witnessing all color in the skies be swallowed by absolute black tar.

You made it home an hour and three buses later, your first initiative being to check on the thawed ice cream pint. Chunks of Belgian chocolate floated on the surface like skerries amidst a vanilla-bourbon ocean. You slammed the lid shut and tossed it in the trash. No dessert for him—assuming he made it in time for dinner, that is.

You threw yourself into work, marinating your suspicions in soy sauce, glazing your apprehension with sherry vinegar, chopping your anger into fine bits, and lastly, searing your frustrations over the stove’s fire.

Whether he was clinking virgin margaritas with some non-virgin Mary at a rooftop garden party in Hibiya was none of your business. You had no right to ask. No right to phone him. No right to worry. No right to blow a fuse either. He had his life and you had yours, and for every point they intersected, a million others existed to divide them.

Still, you had every right to feel like a world-class idiot for thinking these past months ought to take the wild out of the wolf.

The first text came at a quarter past ten. Be there soon. You set the table and messed with the cutlery, arranging and rearranging it over and over again. Steak’s best eaten warm, but it’d be fine. He’d be there soon.

Around eleven, you got a second message. Start without me. You’d already eaten half the salad and gotten a head start on the main course. The meat was worth every penny. It was simply delicious.

By midnight, only his side of the table remained untouched. The ice in his water had melted, the glazed carrots had turned soggy, and the main course was as stale as damp dog hair. What a waste.

You processed the vacancy in his spot, sticking Toji’s image on the chair like a cut-out from a magazine. Inanimate, but there. So close that you could almost tell him off about the overgrown fringes he’d consistently refused to let you snip, when your thoughts were cut short by another buzz—this time, a single word.

Sorry.

Your fingers rehearsed different replies. It’s fine, paired with a smiley face that’d surely cost you a few hundred yen. What are you sorry for? Another fine, albeit more aggressive, alternative. A direct approach with a Who is she, and the most pathetic choice of all: Why can’t it be me?

You dropped the phone and piled up your dishes, emptying the rest of the salad into his. You’d barely reached the sink when the device began to vibrate again, each ring driving the phone closer to the edge of the furniture. The caller hung up before you had the chance to press Decline. Or so you thought until an agitated Toji yelled at the other end of the line. You disposed of the plates and rushed to the table, bringing the speaker to your ear.

“What are you on ab— Hello?” A series of acute beeps terminated the dial.

Please don’t tell me it’s broken, you pleaded while you examined the screen, tapping it on the back as if it were one of those stubborn old TVs— your eyes widening at the final text in your SMS window. You swore you’d deleted everything, but faced with such compelling evidence, your conviction seemed worthless.

You tried to punch in an excuse when a second round of buzzes launched the phone to the floor, where it typed away on its own, twisting your words into incoherent slurs that exceeded the character limit, the last of which repeated the same three-letter word in uppercase letters.

DIE

Startled, you tripped against your chair and knocked it down, the flickering lights drawing your attention to the ceiling. You stole a glance at the intact switch and dashed to the far-end table corner, piecing a steak knife between trembling fists. You’d watched enough horror movies to know those who acted last died first.

“Hey, asshole! That scared to show your ugly mug, you’ve gone into hiding?” You swung the knife forth. “Come out; promise I won’t judge.”

The electricity in the room settled only for the air to turn abnormally cold, your puny strikes facing resistance against the invisible body of your opponent. You gulped, wrapping your fingers tighter around the handle.

“Okay, maybe you aren’t a wuss, but you’re still rude! Attacking me in the middle of the night, implying, what, that I’m single? Since when is that a crime? Breaking and entering, on the other hand, now that’s a felony!

The lack of reaction prompted you to further your display of wits. “Wake up. This is the 21st century, and women can do just fine without man-whores in their lives. Gotta be a real stuck-up to think otherwise.”

Your spiteful insults tackled you to the ground, as your attacker seized the opportunity to entangle themselves around your ankles and decisively shimmied up your throat. A snake? No, this thing definitely had claws. A centipede maybe?

“Who the fuck you think you are deciding if I live or die? Y-you think,” you coughed, blindly stabbing anywhere you felt its presence, “dating is that easy? Why not do it yourself, then? W-what are you here f-for?”

Flight wasn’t in the cards anymore. The spirit’s clutches sank deeper into your flesh as it feasted on your emotions, steadily growing stronger. You combed through Toji’s stories for something to help you get rid of this thing before it got rid of you—a weak spot, a way of striking, a non-sorcerer technique—anything. But staying focused when the oxygen tank that fueled your brain begged to be depleted was plain impossible.

Choosing fight over fright, you ripped through the air with your knife once more. The limitations between your body and the curse’s were unclear. Warm blood trickled from where the sharp edge nicked your unpracticed knuckles, the grip loosening until all there was left for you to do was flap the air, falling victim to the overwhelming pressure in your head.

You were really going to die. Alone and helpless on the unmopped kitchen floor to a foe imperceptible to the naked eye.

What would Toji do?

He’d probably be the one to find your body shaping one of those funny chalk outlines from Law and Order. You didn’t want to admit it, but he was the better detective. Even if the cops wrote you off as another serial case victim, he’d know a curse did it.

You pictured his reaction, hoping he’d at least shed a tear at your loss, that your absence would at least strike a chord in his heart, that you’d at least be included as a highlight in his collection of scars; that you at least wouldn’t be forgotten.

It was fine to be selfish this once, right? After all, you didn’t ask to be missed or honored like a lover or a wife would. Just to be remembered with a smile, as fondly as you recalled him during these final breaths of your pitiful life—a life he alone made worth living.

There were so many things you wished you’d told him, though what you regretted the most was not thanking him for that day at the bridge, knowing fully well you’d never get the chance to.

In the throes of death, two brown antennae sprouting from a gruesome creature you lacked the courage to describe overtook your vision. Thank God you weren’t able to see this earlier. You would have shat your pants and died in a pool of shit.

“There you are… ugly bastard as expected.”

Just when you thought you’d set sail for the other side of the river, a sound akin to that of a bug being stomped pulled you back into what you prayed was reality.

“Been called a bastard before, but ugly?” A viler crunch followed, the centipede crumbling into a pile of dust to reveal the smug grin on your savior’s scarred lips. “Now that’s a first.”

Relief washed over your self-inflicted wounds and abused trachea as you somehow found it in you to stumble rather than leap to the heaven of your choice, an ugly sob muffling all which you tried to say. The sword—judging by the volume of the collision—dropped to the floor as Toji welcomed you in his arms, a large palm rushing to rub the small of your back while his other hand combed through your hair reassuringly.

“It’s okay,” Toji cooed. “I got you now.”

You wept even harder, the gentle tone as he repeated those four words bringing about the opposite of the desired effect. How could you’ve given up so easily when it meant not hearing his voice or seeing his face ever again? How could you doubt your death would shake him when he was frantically kissing apologies on the crown of your head, cradling you as if he was the one who needed to be saved? How could you feel so idiotically ecstatic when you’d nearly turned into curse food?

Still sniffling in his shirt, you wiped your eyes against the fabric and peered at him, taking in his knitted eyebrows and downturned mouth—the worry in his features—and eventually the extra body between you.

“Hey, Toji. What’s that around your waist?”

The potent smell of antiseptics took your kitchen by storm as Toji laid out the first aid kit’s contents over the congested dining table, fitting sterile gauze dressings and iodine bottles in the gaps created by the plates. His chair was dragged closer to yours while he constantly hunched forward, holding both your hands in his own and operating with a little less care than you were willing to tolerate.

“Ouch!” You flinched when his knuckles grazed another of the myriad open wounds that spanned from the apex of your elbow to the chipped tips of your fingernails—none too deep to demand serious medical expertise.

Ignoring your whiny tone, he looped the bandage around your thumb again, this time pressing even harder against your bone. “What a crybaby.”

“Anyone would cry if they were being mummified!”

“Not mummies, they wouldn’t.”

Your next protest lost its turn to the shrill squeak emitted by the elephant, or rather, the worm in the room, whose presence you’d temporarily forsaken. Despite it being of the tubular crawling kind, it didn’t look half as appalling as the monstrosity you witnessed. If anything, its plump lips and rounded cheekbones resembled a human baby more than they did an actual worm.

The creature continued bobbing its head up and down on Toji’s shoulder, its eyes perfectly shut, while it shuddered at its master’s quip. Not only was it sentient, but it was also openly laughing in your face. You hated it.

“What is that thing anyway?” you asked.

“How many times you gonn’ ask? Worm.”

“I can see it’s a worm, Toji, I’m not blind,” you sighed. “I’m asking what’s this worm doing wrapped around your neck like a travel pillow.”

He kept silent while binding the remainder of your fingers—four of them together and the fifth left apart—though “encasing” seemed more appropriate given his dedication to providing you with a proper pair of mittens. He taped the loose end and grabbed the second roll, letting go of your treated hand.

“A’right, quiz time.” Twin shimmers sparkled playfully in his jade eyes. “How do chefs carry their equipment around?”

“You mean their knives?” He nodded. “They stuff them in a roll so they don’t knock each other.”

Toji snapped a quick thumbs-up. “Next question, what’s the name of that movie we watched last week?”

You processed his question while kissing your teeth. “Can I get a hint?”

“A hint, huh?” He scratched his jaw, eventually grinning. “The one with the pervy lawyer and the hot chick who pissed herself.”

“You mean ‘The Secretary’?”

“Rephrase it.”

“The assistant?”

He crooned in approval. “And now for the million-dollar question,” he leaned closer. “Why do people keep mutts?”

“For company? For uh… protection?” He shook his head at both.“Really? Can I phone a friend?”

“Nope. Go simpler and you’ll find it, ain’t that hard. Well, not as if you have anyone to call either.”

You kicked at his chair’s front leg and faked a slap on his giddy face. “You are lucky I have these on, or else!”

“Or else what?” Toji caught your wrist. “You’d hit me?”

You dabbed his cheek lightly enough for him to return to his seat with a complacent smile as he resumed dressing your hand.

“You are the lucky one. A real centipede would have bitten its venom into you. Must have annoyed the livin’ shit out of that curse to have it choke the words outta your potty mouth.”

“You call that luck?”

He hummed, flipping your palm on his knee to pour iodine over a scratch. You hissed as he brought it to his mouth and blew on the wound. “Don’t wanna know about Worm anymore?”

“I… do.”

“Then answer,” Toji said.

“Fine, fine.” You groaned. “You said simpler, so… pet?”

“Bingo. Put ‘em together, and you get your answer.”

“So you are telling me that this worm is your knife carrier, slash hot assistant, slash pet? Is that it?”

He carefully folded the bandage on the inside of your palm and crossed it between your fingers. Again, he didn’t speak until the work was done and you’d retracted your hand.

“In other words, the inventory curse, yes. Reason why you couldn’t off that curse is because ya hit it with a regular knife. You need something imbued with cursed energy; everything else just tickles.”

“That explains a lot,” you mumbled bitterly.

“Can’t cut bread with a cheese knife, can ya?” Toji continued. “Worm over here carries my cursed tools for me. He doesn’t cap, doesn’t bark, and doesn’t drop his pencils either.” He sneered as he cued the worm to open its mouth. “Watch.”

Without receiving a single order, the curse parted its lips to reveal the fur-embedded hilt of a broadsword twice the size of your table, which Toji easily unsheathed and set on the ground.

“That’s 500 million for ya. Cuts through pretty much everything.”

Your eyes widened while he proceeded to showcase his collection, bringing out daggers and claymores that ranged from hundreds of thousands to even a billion yen. He went into some detail when it came to the fancier ones, but the majority were dismissed as either “sword” or “gun”.

Finally, he pulled out the hat you’d lent him and placed it on your head—not a single blotch of saliva, despite it coming straight from the worm’s intestines.

“Don’t you dare tell me you can’t afford rent next time!” You scoffed, watching as the worm crawled down his torso and gobbled up the weapons one by one. It was amazing. Kind of disgusting, but amazing all the same.

“So, Mister Zen’in.” You curled your fingers however best you could and shoved them in his face like a makeshift microphone. “What’s it like being a single dad at the tender age of 28?”

Toji smacked your hand away. “Keep callin’ me that, and I’ll give ya a taste.”

You would have given yourself another injury if it weren’t for his quick reflexes stabilizing your chair in time. You were blushing mad, and it wasn’t from the shock. He was smirking, and it certainly was from the way your thighs instinctively buckled around his hand—something you became aware of only after your feet had landed on the floor.

“Done with the interrogation?”

He plopped down on his chair and motioned for the worm to come over. It obeyed, wrapping itself first around his leg and then around his torso before nuzzling his neck. They both seemed so content in each other’s presence that your joke felt more like an expression of reality. Toji with a pet—now that’s new.

Putting his question on hold, you stabbed a carrot with a fork and offered it to the creature. “Here, wormie, wormie! Have a treat.”

“Wormie?” Toji quirked a brow.

“Cuter than you calling him Worm,” you imitated his raspy tone.

Wormie glanced at its master for confirmation before opening its mouth and swallowing the carrot along with the fork. You wondered if you’d ever get that back, but were stunned to see Wormie slide from Toji’s shoulder and devour two of the plates like that masked spirit in Spirited Away.

He—taking Toji’s word that Wormie was a male—slithered across the table and stood in front of you with an amicable expression, his lips rounding to emit three little toots that you gladly interpreted as Thank you for the food; it was delicious. My owner is an idiot for missing out.

Begrudgingly, you lifted your hand to pet him, managing a small head pat before Wormie returned to Toji. At least his pet had superior tastes to his—both in women and in food.

“Done now?” You nodded with a faint smile. “Good, ‘cause I’m beat.”

“Wait!” You blurted as soon as he stood up. “I mean, what if that thing has friends?”

“Friends?” Toji echoed with a chuckle. “Scared a curse more popular than you?”

Really lucky, you growled.

“What if… What if they team up against me to exact revenge while I’m asleep?”

“Oh? That’s what scares ya?” He laughed again, and you should’ve known he was up to no good when he answered, “I can fix that.”

“Is this really necessary?”

Your question felt out of place when the two of you were crammed in the sleeper sofa like canned sardines—Toji’s left arm comfortably stretched beneath your head as a pillow, while his other willed your body into a snug, albeit humid, embrace. Summer was hot enough without being subjected to his breath fanning steam onto your neck or having the press of his bare chest against your clothed back, and you were already sold on this being your new sleeping norm.

“You’re the one who didn’t wanna sleep alone,” he gruffed in a tired voice.

In a way, he was right. You were the one who dug her heels in the couch and refused to budge even after he checked every house corner for signs of a demonic presence. Incidentally, you’d also been the one who acted as if you wanted to watch a late-night rerun on TV, promising not to disturb him.

One thing led to another. He put Wormie to sleep by quite literally ingesting him, cracked a soda open, and joined you. Your show ended; a movie began. He stole the remote; you threw a fit. He tossed you his shirt and made room; you slid off your dress and put it on. It smelled of gardenia; it smelled of you.

You stayed.

Any other day of the year, you would have raced to your room and hidden your head under your covers like an ostrich in the sand, yet no place in the world felt safer than his arms, knowing they hadn’t hosted another.

Of course, you weren’t keen to admit that. “I never said that!”

“You didn’t?’ Toji yawned. “Sure sounded like you did. Now zip it and sleep tight.”

Can’t get any tighter than this, you meant to argue, but your will to protest had died out. The first harbingers of dawn started gathering outside as chirping birds at your window ledge, drowning the mournful song of the cicadas. Bless Sakurai and that new part-timer for taking on your early Monday shifts.

You closed your eyes and let yourself be lulled into sleep when a realization shook you to the core. How could he possibly protect you while asleep?

“Would you suit up for my funeral?”

“Woman, one more word, and I’ll feed your ass to Wormie myself.”

You gasped, craning your neck to catch a glimpse of his chiseled yet visibly frustrated profile. “Wormie eats humans?”

“If he doesn’t, I will.” He fastened his arm around your stomach as if to get his threat across.“Shut up while I’m asking nicely, won’t ya?”

Some time passed since you’d last disturbed him, and his breathing evened out into a light snore, a hint of raspiness tingling the shell of your ear. He wasn’t lying about being exhausted, and although you’d spent countless nights sleeping in the same house, not once did you sleep close enough to hear all those little sounds he let out when he was at his most vulnerable.

You wished you had something to record him with, but mostly, you wished your view was that of his face as opposed to the ghost nightlight on the table.

A different version of today’s events replayed in your head, excluding all the harrowing details that haunted you in the night’s darkest hours. The races were fun; you should save money from now on to do that more often. The compliment wouldn’t hurt to accept. The food was amazing, the episode was alright, and his coming to your rescue was something straight out of a movie.

“Toji?” Making sure he was still asleep, you rolled to his side.

You had to brace yourself not to sigh in splendor as your eyes trailed over the unmapped expanse of his body, skimming over every valley and every peak leading down to the defined V-line that seemingly finished miles below the elastic of his sweatpants. You wondered how many kisses it would take to traverse that distance if the starting point was that of his agape lips, the outline of his scar dim between the greenish shadows in the room.

He had no right to look this beautiful. You returned to your old habit of counting rights and wrongs—and at the time, you couldn’t find a single fault to him, but a dozen in you, as you tilted your head and printed a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Thank you.”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you were locked in a kiss independent of your own wretched volition, as Toji’s lips branded yours with one of equal gratitude.

“You’re welcome.”

That should’ve been the end of it, but before you had the chance to pass judgment, you followed his lead in closing your eyes and were recaptured by his indelible warmth, lips moving together in sync as if there was something to be gained from each other’s mouth, bit by bit chipping in more than you’d bargained for, so desperate in your game of chance that your hands greedily seized the smallest of earnings.

His long fingers sank deep within your hair while he hiked up your (his) shirt, palm fondling the swell of your breasts without an inch of reservation, and it felt good—it felt bliss; so much better than it did at that hotel and all the other times your mind invented since. He was certain about where and how he wanted to touch you; every other woman he’d ever been with just practice for this moment, and even though he’d never said it out loud, you must’ve known that to be true.

It was always you.

Your hips bucked against his own as Toji squeezed your bodies together, his teeth joining in the action of his tongue as he bit down on your lip, feeling your leg coil tight around his torso and the tap of your heel on his toned back. That was the only way for you to feel him, considering the bandages greatly restricted the movements of your hands, which were awkwardly thrown over his back.

“You’re such a stubborn brat, know that?” He panted, pressing your ass firmly enough for the tent in his pants to poke at your clothed entrance. You nodded, brushing your nose against his. “Tell ya one thing, you do the other. Ask to kiss you, and you gimme your cheek. And now this?” He couldn’t resist slotting his tongue between your lips, pouring all his resentment into one sloppy and heady exchange of spit. “Gonna give ya a reason to thank me all week long.��

You shuddered at his words, attempting to steal his next sentence from his mouth before you were forcibly unlatched and turned the other way, your waist caged by both his arms so that you couldn’t budge.

“Week doesn’t start until tomorrow.” Toji seared a kiss on your nape, prodding the hair out of the way with his nose. “Now let me fucking sleep.”

A/N: so apparently tumblr fucks up posts when the tag list is featured inside the fic, which sucks and that might be the reason why I had to make three posts for this fic to be seen in its respective tags. I’ve tagged those who had to be tagged in the first one of these three posts, but since this chapter is hard ruined, I’ll do the tags on a reblogged version from now on.

this website seriously sucks. here are the two other versions of the exact same thing ._. first and second

you can still comment here if you wanna be tagged on future updates, and sorry for this entire mess ._.

#toji x reader #fushiguro toji #Toji Fushiguro #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #toji x y/n #toji x you

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