how about 10 from the general prompts? any ship you want ✨
After 15 billion years, I finally write! Here's some socialite AU jasco, right before the article comes out. This prompt is also inspired by the ask about Bosco with tattoos, as it's stayed on my mind all day. Enjoy!
10. “At least I kept my promises.”
“I saw something very interesting today.”
The way Jasmine’s voice plumed from her lips, the words curling like smoke off a fresh cigarette, froze Bosco’s blood in its place.
But there was no way it had gotten out yet, hadn’t it? Sure, their boss could be vindictive and cruel—there was no other way to make it in the world of tabloid reporting, as they had quickly found out. They’d only just refused to finish the original article; not an hour ago were they in his office, standing like a crumbling brick wall against hurling insults about journalistic integrity and dedication to the cause, as though anyone in the office had ever practiced such a thing.
Bosco could do nothing more than hang their totebag on the hook by the door, next to the leather jacket Jasmine had co-opted. They could do nothing more than stare blankly, their motions done as though for the first time rather than the thousanth, their mind still in the office rather than in Jasmine’s penthouse. Home.
“There’s nothing more I can do,” Bosco tried again after a firm swollow, fiddling with their keys. They stood, feet planted in the dense carpet. The bare walls of the office sanatorium sterile, contracting. “I can’t finish it.”
“What, did your fingers break?” They’d always considered themself quick, but their boss was quicker.
“Your girlfriend stop giving it up?” He stood now, hands pressed flat against his desk, sending a pen rolling over the edge with the force of the movement. He continued with an honest-to-god sneer before baring his teeth. “Not letting you in on the family secrets? Can’t fuck her political ties out of her anymore? Or her family’s off-shore accounts?”
Bosco’s shoulders tightened with each accusation, knowing damn well he’d have none of that information, have no leverage, if Bosco hasn’t already written it. And with the article nearly finished, the document already shared with him and their editor, there was little they could do to combat it.
“I can’t start a smear campaign against my own girlfriend.” They were quiet now. It would be better to be firm, clear in their conviction, but the realization that they were about to grind Jasmine’s life to ash had rendered them meek and small.
He shrugged and settled back into his chair. To him, it was a shrugging matter, as though stating bland facts.
“You promised this article to your editor. And your editor promised this article to me. And I promised this article to the publisher. And I can’t imagine a world in which this article doesn’t fly off of every end-cap in America; it doesn't draw in hundreds of thousands in advertisement revenue on the site.”
The thought of millions of readers finding this story thrown at their doorstep, millions of readers grabbing a copy at CVS and throwing it in with their prescriptions and brow pencils—it was as though it had just fallen on Bosco, causing them to stagger in their place.
“I just won’t do it.” In standing their ground, they fumbled, their voice coming across choppy, staggered. The intention of sternness was there, clouded by shame, marred by regret. There was no way they could come across strong when their strength had been won by throwing Jasmine in harm’s way.
And while Bosco had felt as though their heart had been torn out, arteries pulled along with it, the whole mess lying, beating on the floor, their boss only looked bored.
“Whether you’d like it or not, you’re going to keep your promise.”
Bosco dragged themself over to the couch, falling beside Jasmine. Jasmine unfurled herself from her blanket, pulling Bosco in with her now freed arms.
“What was it, princess?” Bosco said, a hopeless prayer caught in their throat. Not the article.
“I can’t believe you didn’t let me in on this. I mean, I should have suspected. You’ve been acting odd, but…” Jasmine sucked at the back of her teeth, letting out a few little tsks. Bosco felt their stomach pull itself back, feeling hollow despite Jasmine fingering their waist.
“I’m sorry, Jas, baby.” Each word soaked through with future tears, the thought of the article coming out wringing out their stomach like a rag. “You’ve got to know that I love—”
“So, I’m scrolling through my feed, and I see an interesting post from the same artist who did my butterfly tattoo.” Jasmine cut them off, trailing a finger down Bosco’s waist, hooking it in a belt loop.
Bosco recoiled, but this time out of confusion. “What does—”
And again Jasmine cut them off. “And I see a very familiar drawing tattooed on a very familiar hip…”
And with that admission, with Jasmine tugging their jeans down to reveal a splay of freshly bloomed lilies, shaded as though caught in the light of dawn, Bosco filled with air again.
Bosco watched as Jasmine’s hand graphed their hip, gentle enough on their still healing skin, eyes wide with fascination, as though she’s learning Bosco’s body for the first time over again.
“I know we were going to go together in a couple months, but then a slot opened up a couple days ago and…” Bosco trails off, taken by Jasmine stroking her thumb over the plush petals. “I had to do it. I couldn’t keep my promise.”
Jasmine pulls her hand from their hip and grasps their chin instead, forcing their gaze to settle on hers.
“I forgive you” Jasmine began, her lips grazing Bosco’s before planting a kiss on the corner of their mouth. “Getting my flowers tattooed on you? Too sexy not to forgive.”
