#but yeah it's such an instinct response. I have friends who say they only go to carnaval on the streets if it's with me

[envolvenuances]

I would love if it was my charming personality but I remember my girlfriend saying her 'obsession' with me started a night we went out as friends at a bar and some asshole groped her after already having his harassment "flirting" be rejected and while she was still trying to think of what to say to de escalate the situation the guy was already grunting because I hit him in the face

[rafecameronssl4t]

Misunderstandings pt. 2 || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Sofia knew what she was doing when mentioning Rafe to you, and she also knew what she was doing when she told you that he never mentioned you, his girlfriend.

Warnings: smoking, swearing, reader is sorta petty buts it’s whtvr

Word count: 1,486

A/n: I’m so glad everyone liked misunderstandings!!!!! PART 1 IS HERE

MASTERLIST

Divider by @yoonitos

“Don’t have to act like you didn’t see us, bitch,” you mumble under your breath, the rim of your champagne glass grazing your lips before you take a sip.

“Play nice, babe,” you hear Rafe mumble against the side of your head, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. You shoot him a sideways glance, a silent “really?” written all over your expression.

Rafe chuckles softly, his hand tightening slightly around your waist as he leans in closer. “Just don’t want you all worked up over some girl that I couldn’t care less about” he whispers, his voice low and intimate, a stark contrast to the tension brewing in the air.

As you turn your attention back to Sofia, you can’t help but feel a surge of annoyance at her blatant disregard. You’ve been discreetly observing Sofia working behind the bar, and you’re certain she caught sight of you and Rafe lounging on one of the many couches around the island club.

“Has she spoken to you at all after what happened?” Jada raises an eyebrow at you, her gaze flickering towards Sofia behind the bar.

You glance at Sofia, noting her deliberate avoidance of your gaze, her eyes fixed on her task with a determined focus. “No,” you reply, frustration seeping into your voice. “She’s been avoiding me, but not Rafe.”

Rafe’s thumb rubs comforting circles on your clothed hip, a silent reassurance amidst the tension. You let out a scoff, feeling a surge of indignation at Sofia’s audacity.

“The nerve,” Jada says, shaking her head in disbelief before swiftly changing the topic, a subtle cue to steer the conversation away from the brewing conflict.

After about 20 minutes, Rafe pulls you in close, his arm snug around your waist, his breath warm against your ear. “Just gonna have a smoke with the guys, yeah? We’ll be out on the porch,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, lingering just a moment longer than usual.

You nod, feeling a mix of contentment and a slight reluctance to let him go. “Okay, don’t be too long,” you say, giving him a soft smile.

As Rafe stands and makes his way towards the porch, your eyes inadvertently drift to Sofia. She’s watching him, her gaze following his every move with an intensity that makes your stomach churn. Her expression is a mix of longing and bitterness.

But you push the unease aside, knowing that you trust Rafe completely. After the lies Sofia spread, he made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her. You turn back to Jada, who’s still chatting about the new shop downtown, and try to focus on the conversation.

Outside, you catch a glimpse of Rafe through the window, laughing with his friends, the smoke from his cigarette curling into the night air. He glances back at you, his eyes locking with yours for a brief moment. He gives you a reassuring smile as you return it.

“Come to the bathroom with me?” Jada gets up, as you turn back to her and hum in response, nodding. “Sure, let’s go.” You and Jada take a few minutes to touch up your makeup, sharing a laugh over the ridiculousness of some of the party guests.

As you finish applying your lipgloss, you give yourself one last glance in the mirror. “Ready?” you ask, turning to Jada. “Yeah,” she replies with a grin.

You both exit the bathroom, the noise and energy of the party hitting you once again. As you step back into the main room, your eyes instinctively drift towards the porch where you last saw Rafe, only to find it empty. A flicker of unease tugs at your gut, but you quickly push it aside. Rafe is probably just inside, chatting with someone or grabbing another drink.

“Where’s Rafe?” Jada asks, following your gaze to the now-empty porch. “I’m not sure,” you reply, scanning the room. “He was out there with the guys a few minutes ago. Jada shrugs, not too concerned. “He’s probably just inside somewhere. This place is huge.”

You nod, trying to shake off the slight worry that’s creeping in. You make your way through the crowd, Jada by your side, searching for any sign of Rafe. As you navigate the sea of faces, you catch snippets of conversations, the music thumping in the background.

Finally, you spot him near the bar, engaged in a conversation with Topper and a few other friends. Relief washes over you as you see him laughing and looking relaxed. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you notice Sofia lingering nearby, her eyes fixed on Rafe.

“You’re joking,” you say, lightly gripping Jada’s forearm to get her attention. She glances at you, then follows your gaze. “Does she not get the hint?” Jada’s jaw drops as the two of you watch from afar.

Sofia is leaning in closer than necessary, her laugh overly animated as she attempts to draw Rafe’s attention. Your grip tightens slightly on Jada’s arm, irritation bubbling up inside you. Jada shakes her head in disbelief. “Some people just don’t know when to give up.”

Okay, well she doesn’t seem to be walking to him—” Jada starts, but as if on cue, Sofia begins making her way toward Rafe. “—I spoke too soon—”

Without letting Jada finish, you push through the crowd to get to the bar. “Y/N—wait!” you hear Jada call out, but her voice fades into the background as you focus on reaching Rafe before Sofia does.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you weave through the throng of partygoers, the pulsating music and laughter blurring into a distant hum. Your eyes remain fixed on Rafe, who’s seated at the bar, oblivious to Sofia’s determined approach.

Just as Sofia reaches him, you slip in between them, placing yourself firmly on Rafe’s lap. “Hey, babe,” you say, wrapping an arm around his neck and leaning in close. “Missed you.” You lock lips with him, making sure to make direct eye contact with Sofia.

Rafe responds immediately, his arms encircling you and pulling you closer. The kiss is more than just a greeting; it’s a clear message. When you finally pull back, you keep your eyes locked on Sofia, her face contorted in embarrassment and disbelief.

��Oh, hi y/n. Didn’t see you there,” Sofia says, her voice dripping with insincere sweetness. “Clearly,” you reply, a steely edge in your voice. You glance at Rafe, who is looking at you with a mixture of amusement and affection.

Rafe litters a trail of kisses along your jaw, each one sending a warm shiver down your spine. His touch is reassuring and possessive, grounding you in the moment. As you continue to stare at Sofia with a smile, you feel a surge of confidence.

“How’s work, Sof?” you ask, your tone sweet but laced with unmistakable sarcasm. “Are you familiarising yourself around here? Y’know, getting in between relationships, that sort of thing.” You rest your chin on your knuckle, maintaining your smile as you watch her shift uncomfortably under your gaze

Sofia’s eyes dart nervously between you and Rafe, her forced smile faltering. “I… I’ve been busy,” she stammers, clearly caught off guard by your directness. “Just trying to get to know everyone.”

Rafe’s kisses travel from your jaw to your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “Sounds like she’s been getting to know people a little too well,” he murmurs against your ear, his voice low and protective. The sensation sends a thrill through you, and you can’t help but smile wider at Sofia’s discomfort

“Well, maybe focus on making friends with people who aren’t clearly happy in their relationship,” you suggest, your smile never wavering. Rafe’s hand tightens around your waist, and he looks at Sofia with a mixture of amusement and warning. “Yeah, we’re good here,” he says, his voice firm.

You slide off Rafe’s lap, feeling his hands gently readjusting the top of your dress as you smile at him gratefully. “Well, it was nice seeing you again, Sofia. See you around the country club, yeah?” You wave at her, your tone polite but tinged with a hint of superiority.

Sofia watches you leave, her expression unreadable, before offering a strained smile in return. “Yeah, see you around,” she replies, her voice tight.

With Rafe’s hand resting on the small of your back, you lead him away from Sofia, feeling a surge of satisfaction at the way you handled the situation. As you walk back to the others, Rafe’s arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“Everything okay?” he murmurs, his voice filled with concern. You nod, leaning into his touch. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Let’s just enjoy the rest of the night.”

[ataraxiaspainting]

Blue Crow.

Yan Nobunaga x F Reader x Yan Uvogin. (College AU.)

Synopsis: Uvogin hates taking buses, but he enjoys seeing you one seat ahead of him.

Warnings: Yandere themes, non-con, the reader is described as AFAB and she/her pronouns are used, unhealthy relationships, brief mentions of drug/alcohol usage, victim blaming, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), sexual blackmail, and implied stalking.

Word Count: 5k.

somewhat inspired by the game classmates! check it out here if you'd like. <3

also inspired by @uvobreakmylegs's digging deeper! it's amazing! <3

*~*~*~*

The 5A station was the closest one to your dorm. It had no seats or shelter of any kind in case of bad weather, only a large blue sign that said Yorknew University, Nursing Program in white bold letters – because it didn’t say anything else about the buses that stopped by and because this stop is surrounded by old rotting trees, the drivers sometimes fail to notice you.

It’s raining now, and everything here is so dark – your clothes, your umbrella, the night sky, and your bag.

Your phone says the bus will be here any minute now, but will it even see you?

If not, you’ll have to find a different way to make it to Nobunaga’s place.

He seemed friendly enough. If you were a few minutes late, surely he’d understand. You were not close enough to invite him over, go inside his home, or let him drive you anywhere, though that is just how you are with all males you casually know. It’s nothing personal.

There are two bright lights a small distance away, and at the sight you raise your hand and wave.

By some miracle, the bus stops and opens its automatic doors.

You take a few steps as you close your umbrella and make your way up the stairs, being careful not to slip. You slip a few quarters into the little slot beside the driver and sit down on a seat near the window.

Taking off your hood, you ruffle your wet bangs out of your face, using your reflection to attempt to get them back to looking presentable. It doesn’t really work, but what does it matter? You’re just there to give Nobunaga some notes his friends wanted to give to him and leave. 

*~*~*~*

“You’re [First], correct?” Chrollo asks, putting his right hand out towards you.

You take out your earbuds, fixing your posture as you nod. A blonde man sits next to you on the bench before Chrollo could, smiling and giggling like he is some gossiping schoolgirl.

“Dang, you’re cute!” Shalnark exclaims. 

“Shal, what the hell are you doing?” Uvogin had started to stomp over. His mere size was enough to keep your eyes on him and not the others. Even the one girl who was with them didn’t draw your attention, despite her hair being unnaturally bright pink.

“Saying hi!” Shalnark put an arm around you. On instinct, you squirm a little bit, not noticing how Uvogin rolled his eyes in response to how Shalnark smirked at him. Once you were out of his loose grip, Chrollo politely cleared his throat.

“I was wondering if you could do something for us, Miss [First]. For the gang, I mean.” 

The gang? From what you knew, Chrollo’s group was always causing some sort of rule-breaking but Chrollo himself stayed at the top of the class with superb grades and plenty of attention from girls. It is like no one knew they were connected. They seemed like bad news, but all of your interactions with them had been positive thus far. Did Nobunaga put in the good word for you?

“Um… sure?” As long as it was something that didn’t land you in prison or the hospital, you decide to go along with what Nobunaga’s leader asks of you. It is probably a bad idea to reject, and maybe you’ll get something good out of it in exchange.

“I’d like you to give Nobunaga some notes he missed. He’s been out. Sick, most likely.” You didn’t notice the small piles of books he was carrying until he made them closer to you, wanting you to take them. “Surely you have noticed? He talks to you a lot, I hear.”

“Yeah.” You decide to put them on your lap for the time being. The notes weren’t as heavy as they would have been if you were carrying them. “Is… he doing better?”

“Not sure,” Uvogin says, attempting to pry Shalnark off the bench. “He hasn’t been answering his phone, you see.”

“I don’t wanna!” Shalnark whines.

“Shut up, Shal. You’re gonna make us look bad in front of Nobu’s girlfriend.”

Girlfriend?

“I’m… not his girlfriend…”

They don’t seem to hear you. You’re not exactly the loudest person, after all. You have been teased for having a soft voice and having to speak up. These people wouldn’t ignore you, you think. Shalnark and Uvogin are play fighting, and Chrollo is talking to that magenta-haired woman. They wouldn’t ignore you, you’re just being too shy. They wouldn’t ignore you, they are Nobunaga’s friends. Nobunaga wouldn’t ignore you, why would they?

“I’m… not his girlfriend.”

Uvogin is the only one to give you a response after hearing it. He shoots you a confused look before continuing to tickle Shalnark. No one else seems to notice your words.

After a few more tries, you decide to give up for now. Looking at the notebooks in front of you, you decide to open the top one up. There are just standard mathematical problems as well as some doodles and words of encouragement in the vacant spaces of the looseleaf. 

‘Go get them, tiger!’

‘Don’t die on me now!’

‘Remember one plus one?’

‘♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡’

At first, you think that it is Nobunaga’s girlfriend, but you shake your head to erase it. No. The gang thinks you are his girlfriend. 

Perhaps Shalnark then? From the times you sat near him in your chemistry classes, his handwriting was a mess. It took some effort to realize that he was simply drawing and not paying attention to the professor in the slightest. However, his favorite things to draw were bats and computers. Would he really draw hearts and not those things so Nobunaga could know it was him? 

Maybe it was an inside joke. You’re not going to ask because you don’t want your question to come off as disrespectful, though you were slightly curious.

You’ll just do what you were told and go right back home.

*~*~*~*

Shalnark texted you the address of Nobunaga’s place a few hours ago, but if you were being honest it took a while to decipher what he was saying. In between every five or so memes or videos he sent you there was a number or letter, maybe three at most if you were lucky.

You sat there with your phone in your hands for what felt like forever, not having the guts to ask Shalnark to just tell you straight up – because he wouldn’t, you know that.

From what you managed to gather from your online map, it seemed that Nobunaga’s place and Uvogin’s place were near each other, no more than a fifteen-minute walk at most. If they lived so close to each other, why didn’t one of them just visit the other? That was the third red flag you didn’t say anything about… and came to regret only half an hour later.

The electric sign attached to the entrance of the bus flickered from time to time with varying degrees of brightness. One person complained openly to the driver that the screen was so dark they did not know that they had missed their dormitory’s building. He didn’t care, only shrugging his shoulders and telling the student that ‘that’s life’. They got off murmuring curses you could hear from the middle part of the bus. Once again, he didn’t care. Like Shalnark, the driver wouldn’t take anything you say seriously; so you just used your online map to count the stops ahead.

“Hey.”

“Next stop: Aster Road, Thirds Street.” The automated message from the bus speakers loudly said, glitching a little after the word ‘Road’.

“Hey.” 

You failed to notice who was behind you as you were too busy counting the stops ahead on your phone.

“Hey.”

“Next stop: Ritas Street, Wilds Complex.”

“Hey.”

“Next stop: Neo Road, Neon Green.”

“Hey.”

“Next stop: Romeos Road, Kiki Terrace.”

“Hey.”

“Next stop-”

You failed to hear the name of the stop because the hand that tapped your shoulder startled you and made you turn your neck around to the seat behind you.

You see a familiar face despite the fading light – or should you say, a familiar body.

“O-Oh… hi… Uvogin.”

Satisfied you had finally noticed him, Uvogin puts his hands behind his head as he smirks. 

“Fancy seeing you so late,” he begins, looking down at your black bag. “Going to Nobu’s place, ain’tcha?”

“Yeah… you?”

“Basketball.”

Was Uvogin on the team too? If you remember correctly it was only Phinks, Feitan, and Nobunaga who were on it. Perhaps he just wanted to watch? Oh well. It’s not any of your business.

After remembering your last conversation with him yesterday, you decide to ask him why everyone thinks you are Nobunaga’s girlfriend – you only talked to him when necessary, in the classes you shared with him, but to be fair he also escorted you around the building most days.

“Listen… about that time…”

“What?” Uvogin turns his head, cupping his ear with his hand. “Speak up.”

“About Nobunaga and me…” You look down – at the books, at your cold wet hands, at the heels of your feet bouncing up and down. Your gut tells you that you’re making a mistake if you talk to him about you and Nobunaga’s relationship, or lack thereof. Your brain goes against it, saying that clearing things up will lead to less trouble down the line. 

Your heart is beating too fast to accept or reject the possibility. 

“Nobunaga and me…”

“You’re still talking too low,” Uvogin interrupts, his stare near-lethal to you. When you flinch at his words, his annoyance seems to disappear. “Hey, you can tell me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Yeah. Yeah, you’re friends or at least acquaintances. Saying the truth won’t hurt him and won’t hurt you. Maybe Shalnark’s teasing will go away. Maybe Chrollo won’t give you a task again. Maybe Nobunaga won’t be confused when he comes back to school.

“Nobunaga and me… aren’t dating-”

Uvogin’s expression changing wasn’t as fast as before, but his glare intensified as he stood up.

“Next stop: Nightstar Avenue, Owl’s Place.”

Your ears felt numb after you heard the ‘beep’ sound of someone pressing the stop button. Your eyes felt numb as you tried to see the details of Uvogin’s scowl in the dark.

It was Uvogin. He made the bus stop. But why?

It then hits you; this is the closest stop to Nobunaga’s place.

“Stop requested.” The speaker stated. The bus started to pull over next to a tall blue sign.

“Woah, the bus got here so quickly,” Uvogin says, going to the exit doors. When he didn’t hear you stand up too, he turned in your direction. “Don’t tell me you don’t know the directions to your boyfriend’s house?”

“Please exit through the rear door.” Another automated message. Uvogin presses on the door and it lets him out. After a few more seconds you follow him – your gut tells you that you must.

He helps you down with his much larger hands despite you not really needing it – there are handrails on the doors for that.

“What were you saying?” Uvogin asks. “Something about Nobunaga?”

There is a lit street lamp above the sign. It doesn’t flash like the ones near your dormitory and is much brighter. Despite the weather still being stormy, you can see houses a small distance away – not just the street. 

You can see that Uvogin is smiling again.

“Nothing… It’s nothing.”

“Oh?” He sneers, his smirk getting even bigger. “You didn’t want relationship advice?”

“No…” You reply, your hands going to your backpack’s zipper to make sure the notes don’t get too wet.

“Nobunaga likes mochi. Maybe you can get some for him next time. Daifuku especially. He’d be so happy, maybe he’ll stop skipping class with me.” 

A sigh comes out of both of you at the same time for much different reasons. 

“But I don’t want that to happen… hmm.”

*~*~*~*

The outside of Nobunaga’s house wasn’t the house that stood out the most in this neighborhood. It had rather small walls that had peeling white paint in places closer to the ground, and cigarettes and used needles were thrown all over his dead lawn. The only thing you somewhat liked was the rusty gold sign beside the front door that read 251 – and only for the styling of the numbers.

“Here’s the place,” Uvogin says, patting your back as a way to gently push you forward. “Go on, doorbell's right there.”

You were forced up the steps with a force you knew was gentle for Uvogin but not for you. A trembling finger approaches the button slowly – as if using it would make you lose it via a guillotine’s blade.

Doing so didn’t because this is reality, but the pain in your heart feels similar to such a fate anyway. After a few more seconds and the door still being closed, Uvogin knocks loudly.

“[First]’s here!” His yell almost made you cry.

Your name may as well have been the password because Nobunaga opens the door right away. He pants a little like he was running to greet you two.

“Oh fuck, you made it! I thought the storm woulda scared you away.”

Nobunaga didn’t look very sick; he wasn’t wearing a shirt, had his hair down, and only his boxers covered his lower half. He didn’t look very sick; he actually looked quite well. Those signs scared you more than Uvogin’s subtle threat – if his glaring was intended to be such, that is. You don’t step past the doorway, leaving Uvogin to stand in the rain as you take off your backpack. But when you try to undo the zipper, you feel both of their hands touching you up and down as their grins widen.

“Stop that,” You murmur, attempting to step back. Your spine was greeted by Uvogin’s front half. You feel something pressing into you. Once you figured out what it was, you started to go under one of Uvogin’s arms. His leg caged you in then.

“She’s cute, Nobu.”

Nobunaga doesn’t answer in words – he only chuckles and continues to have his hands resting on your hips.

“Listen. Your notes are here, Hazama.” You say, making an effort to still be nice, to still be understanding. You don’t want to scream because what if you’re misreading something? You don’t want anyone to… be framed for something they didn’t do, right?

“It’s Nobunaga.”

“Huh?”

“Call me Nobunaga,” You’re pushed and pulled more. Before you can blink, you’re thrown on the couch’s back. Uvogin is the one who lets go of you and the one who locks the front door, Nobunaga is too busy feeling the back of your thighs. “I’m your boyfriend – it’s normal to call each other by our first names, right?”

Boyfriend?

Was… Was he…

Was he the one who told his gang you’re dating?

“I missed you, baby.” He murmurs, leaning down and pecking your neck. 

He doesn’t seem to note how you’re trembling now.

“Stop.” 

Uvogin simply gets closer. He doesn’t touch you, but he crosses his arms smirking as he leans against the sofa’s frame.

“Stop,” You repeat, trying to push Nobunaga harder off of you.

It’s not an order either of them recognize, so Uvogin continues to stare and Nobunaga continues to kiss your body.

“Stop!” Your tone makes Uvogin slightly shift. He frowns and his arms uncross. 

He takes a few steps towards you. 

“Nobunaga.” Uvogin’s voice is cold now, like how it was when you were about to get off the bus. You freeze. Nobunaga doesn’t stop – he doesn’t even look at Uvogin. “Nobunaga.”

“Stop, Haz-”

“Watch it.” Uvogin glares at you. “It’s ‘Nobunaga’ for you.”

He’s not… He’s not going to help you?

“Yeah.” Nobunaga agrees, pulling you further into his embrace.

“Let go of me!” You snap and push harder than you did before – and manage to finally ply him off of you.

Nobunaga stares down at you. He is now still. He doesn’t blink. His smile has slightly faded, but it is still there. There are subtle movements in his hands. His fingers are curled up. They want to grab something again.

They want to grab you.

“Don’t joke around like that, princess,” Nobunaga finally says, taking a few steps too close to you. “Not many guys are willing to forgive their girl for pushing them away like that. You almost screamed my ears off.”

“I’m not joking!”

“You are.” Uvogin interrupts, stomping his feet. “You are and I am starting to get annoyed. What about you, Nobu?”

“I’m just here to give notes Lucilfer told me to give to Hazama! I’m not here for anything else.”

Nobunaga’s gaze lingers on your backpack for a few silent moments after you say that. “Really… nothing else?” 

“No, she’s here to cheer you up, Nobu,” Uvogin says, attempting to give a warm smile to his best friend. “She’s… just shy.”

The glare he gives you when Nobunaga’s eyes aren’t on him makes you feel like you are about to see God.

“...Right, [First]?”

You don’t respond right away, but Nobunaga does. He giddily smiles like a child on Christmas morning.

“Oh, you!”

He hugs you – his skin feels akin to slime and his hair clings onto your neck in little bunches. You feel unbrushed knots and his heart beating fast with adrenaline. When your own heart mimics the motion, Nobunaga thinks you are simply being shy – Uvogin had once again fed his delusions.

“She brought you the notes you missed. Even wrote a few cute lines in the blank spots.” Uvogin smirks as you look at him in horror. “She wanted me to come with her. Was anxious about missing your bus stop, sweet thing.”

He walks over to your backpack and grips onto the zipper. You attempt to stop him, walking a bit forward and trying to raise your hand, but Nobunaga’s grip is too strong. Within only a few seconds, the stack of notebooks Chrollo had given you is in Uvogin’s hands. He opens a page and starts reading aloud the cute notes someone else had written.

“Go get them, tiger.” 

He turns to another page. 

“Don’t die on me now.”

Then another.

“Remember one plus one?”

Then another.

“A whole bunch of hearts here…”

He then turns to a section you hadn’t looked at before – the back page.

“With lots of love, your one and only girlfriend [First].”

Oh shit. Oh shit.

Did his gang set you up?

…They did. They did.

This is bad. So very bad.

“I never-”

“Stop being so shy with your boyfriend, [First].”

“Why are you being so difficult?” Nobunaga asks, slightly frowning as you protest.

You have to get out of here – fast. If you distract them enough, maybe you’ll be able to make it outside. But they’re faster than you, just better overall when it comes to physicality-

Uvogin’s hand rests on your shoulder, silencing any thoughts or ideas he does not approve of.

“I know what she wants.”

“Huh?” You and Nobunaga ask simultaneously with two distinctly different tones.

It then dawns on both of you what he means – because his shirt is tossed on the couch before you can even take a step toward the front door.

“I know what she wants.” Uvogin repeats.

He wants nothing more than to put you on your knees as he unzips his pants and as Nobunaga keeps you down. He wants nothing more than for Nobunaga afterward to have a turn – or he could go first if he wishes. One of his fingers and one of Nobunaga’s own will be forced into you after your own clothes are discarded. Two tongues will slather all over your pussy like thirsty dogs – and after a few pictures are taken you’ll stay the night with Nobunaga while he makes his way to tell Chrollo that his idea was a success.

“I really couldn’t have done it without you, boss.”

-You try to scream and Nobunaga’s hand muffles your mouth’s cries.

“Don’t go being such a brat,” Uvogin continues, “When all you really want are two bodies to love on you.”

Your arms are grabbed and you are dragged up the stairs.

In a last attempt to get out of here, your legs spread out on the stairs and kick around at Nobunaga – but the fight is short-lived because they thump so roughly with each wooden step and it hurts; Nobunaga makes a note to finally get rid of any rotten oak once you leave.

The bedroom isn’t as spacious as Uvogin had hoped. Clothes were scattered all over the place already; most Nobunaga’s but others were clearly from past flings or some of yours that he had managed to steal. Your dorm was nicer despite it being the same size as the bedroom and your bed being even smaller. But at least yours had a frame and covers.

Maybe later Uvogin will stop by to see you crying yourself to sleep and to take some trophies.

Your white panties were a favorite of his, but Uvogin wouldn’t mind a little bit of change in his collection. A few bras perhaps or a few black thongs. He hopes for whole lingerie sets, but he knows it will only happen if he is lucky that particular evening.

Uvogin sits on the bed first. He thinks about pulling on your hair to make you sit on the dirty floor, but he dismisses the idea. That would be hurting you more than he has to and Nobunaga would be upset at him inevitably having long strands on his palm.

“Hey Nobu,” He says, unzipping his pants and boxers as he quickly tugs them both down to his ankles. “Make sure she’s comfy as we do this, okay?”

It took a while for you to stop crying after that. It took a while for you to do a lot of things Uvogin and Nobunaga wanted you to do. It took a while for you to take just the tip of Uvogin’s penis. Nobunaga had told Uvogin to take it slow when you had finally clamped your lips around him.

“It’s her first time, Uvo – be gentle, okay?”

Uvogin almost laughed at the irony he managed to leave unsaid.

He didn’t want Nobunaga to get upset with all the information he had attained while stalking you for months. You were supposed to just be his little secret he pinned down once in a while, but then Nobunaga just so happened to share a few classes with you.

He fell for you too. Uvogin had never felt any negative emotion for Nobunaga ever over their years-long friendship, but the slight tinge of envy he possessed the moment he found out could almost count.

Oh well, he thinks. I still have pictures of you that he does not. Pictures I would rather not have him see and you probably don’t either.

Just for future reference in case you acted up too much, though Uvogin could always take the more physical route.

Though once again he remembers that Nobunaga is in the picture now. Though their bond is as strong as forged steel, he knows that his friend has always been a bit too controlling when it comes to what he has and loves.

Whether that be simple instant ramen or expensive bottles of brandy, Nobunaga has always had a habit of stowing his possessions away where no one can even look at them.

Uvogin understands although Nobunaga had said nothing about you being something to own. Uvogin understands because he sees how he looks at you.

It’s not disgust he feels. It’s something much less potent, but he cannot put his finger on the exact word. Machi had described it perfectly once when they were all in their mid-teenage years.

He doesn’t bother to remember right now.

You are more important.

You look prettier than he had ever seen you – precum is leaking a little from your lips as little noises come out of them too.

Please. Please.

Please.

You’re not in tears right now.

Uvogin is glad. You in makeup is nice to look at, but he knows that since it is absolutely pouring outside you didn’t want to put some on. Either for that reason or because you knew that Nobunaga was just a friend, despite what Nobunaga in return has told the Troupe. It’s cute, really.

Maybe later he can pull this when he inevitably breaks into your dorm or even in a study room in the university’s library. You’ll have makeup on when you feel like it or when he forces you to. He can ask Pakunoda about how to apply mascara and stuff. She’ll teach him. As a bonus, she won’t tease him like Shalnark does daily.

Thinking more about the idea, Uvogin makes the mistake of letting go of your face.

You cough louder than he had expected. Your spit is now all over the wooden floor Nobunaga has to clean up later. The floors are water resistant. But not waterproof. Uvogin has to remember that there is in fact a difference. Hopefully, it won’t stain and rot like the stairs did, but if it does Uvogin wouldn’t mind paying for the damages.

He wouldn’t mind paying you to keep silent about this too – or he’ll make the cops silent if it came down to it.

“Oh,” Nobunaga rubs your arched back as you squirm and saliva runs down from your clearly sore jaw. He sounds disappointed, but trying not to let it show. It’s not successful. Every person Nobunaga has ever crossed can read him like a book, not that Nobunaga knows about it. Or maybe he does and just doesn’t want to admit it. “You spat it all up. Didn’t wanna swallow it?”

You don’t respond. Uvogin is getting used to that by now. Not Nobunaga though.

“Shh… it’s okay.” Nobunaga senses your distress but thinks it is just shyness. Uvogin is getting used to that too. “It’s okay… you did such a great job.”

“Home,” You choke out. “Please… let me go home now…”

“What are you talking about, sweetheart?” Nobunaga asks, turning his head a little. “We’re not done here.”

“Please… Please, I-”

“Shh.” Uvogin interrupts. Now it is his turn to play the good guy here. “Nobu still hasn’t had his turn, remember? Thankfully he won’t use your mouth.”

A blend of hope and fright is in your gaze. Uvogin didn’t have to get used to that one. He has seen it too many times with all sorts of people. Chrollo loves that look. Feitan loves it too. Maybe their partners’ eyes are like that as well. A ginger-haired girl avoids Chrollo like the plague and Uvogin hasn’t seen that look particularly on her. Apparently, she does in fact beg him for things. With how prideful she acts, Uvogin would pay money to see that.

“He’ll use his,” Uvogin says. He stands up, zipping his pants back to how they used to be. There are a few white stains here and there, but nothing the laundromat wouldn’t fix. “Then you can go home. Okay, princess?”

You’ll get used to this, Uvogin thought to himself. Everyone gets used to things. Even death.

[pasdasin]

Wicked Game

wolverine x vampire!reader

an: omgg I am so happy yall like this! thank you for almost 100 notes!! If you want to be added to my tag list pls comment and ill do my best!! Remember Logan beefs with Alex Summers not Scott bc Scott is my son (dofp casting)

ch 2

warnings: mentions of blood, needles, generic doctor stuff, cussing i think, angst, poor reader :(

previous -- next

~~~~~

The next day you were sitting the in teachers break room, listening to Hank and Charles debate on what to do for the annual end of year movie night. Both options sounded boring, a basic slasher and some movie about a train. You turned to your right to look at your other close friend, Storm. 

“I heard Scott learned Dracula was about you” She hummed, bored of the debate as well. “I was wondering if you finally would tell your version of events?” You turned to look at her and pierced your lips. Thinking about the choice before you. It would be nice to get to talk about it, but at the same time you didn’t see it as fair to only do it since you brought it up to tease the boy. 

“I’m not su-” “She’ll do it” You turned harshly to the voice behind you and not surprisingly it was Logan. 

“Are you serious?” You pushed his arm away as his tried to lower it down on your shoulder. 

“What are you not proud to be a vampire?” 

“I am not a vampire” You grumbled looking back to Storm, who was also starting to get over this conversation. “Yeah sure whatever” She smiled and squeezed your arm as a thank you before leaving the two of you alone. 

Logan looked down at you and smiled. “I ate some broccoli today.”

“Wow. I’m impressed it wasn’t also soaked in scotch”

“Well I didn’t say that” You giggled at his response. You decided to get more comfortable under his arm, sinking into his side. Turning your attention back to Charles and Hank who finally agreed to a movie. The Breakfast Club. As they reached the decision, Alex Summers entered the room. 

Alex Summers was everything he was supposed to be. Kind, tall, handsome. The school girl crush of almost every girl that attended the school. He was calm, he was smart, he was caring, and he hated it. 

“Oh hey y/n.” He always wanted to be with you. You felt Logan tense up against you, his face contorting into an annoyed expression.

“Watch it bub” Logan said, staring at him intensely. You instinctively scratched his back to help him relax.

“Hi Alex! You need to stop by my office later for your check up.” You reminded him cheerfully. Alex thanked you for the reminder, promising to see you before Logan pulled you up with him and out of the lounge. In fact he managed to somehow pull you along out of that section of the mansion before he finally let go of you. 

“Dude what is your problem”

“I don’t like him”

“Yeah no shit.” You remarked, causing him to look down at you and raise an eyebrow. 

“I also don’t like when your sassy.” He poked your forehead with his finger, causing your face to scrunch up. “Besides your giving a presentation about your life, you need to make good on that promise” 

“I didn’t know you cared so much”

“I don’t” Oh. There it was. The fatal rejection that you have experienced from him over and over again. You looked down at the floor, muttering something about finding Storm and hurriedly walked away. He had hurt you for centuries. Your mind, body, and soul yearned for him and yet his own chased another. He had to know at this point. He just wanted to tease you until you couldn’t take it. Unfortunately for you, you had always shown him tolerance. 

Your walk was cut short as you bumped into Storm, who informed you that you were gonna “spill the beans” the next day, leaving you to walk back to your office and get ready for Alex to get his check up. 

As you prepped the trays you needed for his appointment, the all too familiar voice of Alex filled the room.

“Hello doctor,” He said in a flirty tone, cheering you up slightly. 

“Hi Alex, sit down here” You patted the bench and started the procedure. It was just a normal check up. He talked to you about his brother and his upcoming mission. Saying how he will miss his hot doctor when he left for Europe. 

It made you chuckle as you placed the stethoscope on his inner elbow, focusing once again on the sound and patterns of his blood. He watched you intently as you nodded your head along as if some kind of melody was playing and he was producing it. Your eyes were closed and your eyebrows furrowed together before you relaxed and smiled up at him.

“You're all good. Beautiful blood” He thank you before placing a blow pop he kept in his pocket in his mouth and walked out of your office. As the door shut, you started to clean and pack away your personal belongings. Putting the last needle into the biohazard box, you moved to turn off the lights when Charles wheeled into your office.

“Hello y/n. I need to ask you a favor”

~~~~~

tag list: @captain039

[irkimatsu]

Hmm, anything for sexually deprived Husk who snaps at you but feels bad so opens up? You offer a hand, but only that unless he wants more? 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🎉

Anon, I am so sorry if you didn't want breeding kink, because what came out of my cursed hands is breeding kink.

Husk goes into a rut, Reader offers to help him out, Husk quickly comes unglued. About 2.5k words. Seriously NSFW. Breeding kink, mating press, all that good nasty furry shit.

---

Husk has seemed especially agitated these past few days.

It’s not like he’s ever been the friendliest resident of the hotel, not by a long shot, but normally that manifests in him offering terse responses and no-nonsense advice. In fact, he seemed to have developed a bit of a liking for you. He enjoyed bantering with you over drinks, and even smiled in your presence a few times, a real rarity for him. Recently, however, he seems to be outright avoiding you. He won’t sit near you during hotel bonding activities, and when you go up to the bar, he silently pours your usual drink and seems to be waiting for you to finish it and leave. He hasn’t even looked you in the eye in a while.

Did you do something wrong?

It’s the third night of Husk’s attitude, and if anything, he seems worse off than ever. He’s making a horrendous racket as he digs through shelves, slamming bottles and glasses onto the counter.

“Where the fuck did I put it?!” he growls to himself, before finally finding a black, gold-trimmed bottle at the back of a shelf. “Fuckin’ finally…” He twists the cap off of the bottle, then tilts his head back while he gulps down as much of the bottle as he can in one go. He finally stops his gulp with a heavy exhale, then shakes his head. “That’s the stuff…”

“Husk…?” you ask as you take a seat at the bar.

“What,” he growls as he slams his liquor bottle onto the bar in front of you. His fur is bristling, and his ears are pinned back.

“S-sorry,” you stammer out, immediately regretting opening your mouth. “I was just wondering if you were okay…”

“Do I look okay?” he asks before taking another long swig from his bottle.

“...I guess not.” You watch him drink, wondering what could have possibly happened to make him this moody for this long. “Did Alastor do something?”

“For once, no,” he says after pulling the bottle away from his lips. He’s still not looking at you. Whatever he’s looking at doesn’t seem interesting; he seems to have chosen that direction simply because it’s not yours.

“...did I do something?”

His silence isn’t encouraging.

“If I did, I can’t make up for it if you won’t tell me what it was. It’s been three days, Husk.”

Husk groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose between two of his claws. “It’s nothing you did… it’s something stupid. Just forget about it.”

“You’ve heard me talk about stupid stuff all the time,” you say. “Aren’t we friends? Can’t you at least tell me why you’re avoiding me?”

He needs to drain his liquor bottle before he can make up his mind. “...yeah. Okay. I’ll talk. But only to you. If anyone else walks in, this conversation is over.”

“Of course.”

He grabs another identical bottle from the cabinet and takes a seat next to you. “When I died, it didn’t surprise me when I woke up in Hell. What I didn’t expect was waking up as a cat.”

You’re not sure where he’s going with this as he pauses to open his new liquor bottle, but you’ll hear him out.

“I still had all my human memories, my human personality… but there was still something different in my brain. Different instincts. Stuff I couldn’t suppress no matter how irrational I knew it was, like wanting to climb and scratch things, or suddenly being afraid of water.”

“Or like chasing laser pointers?” you say with a smirk.

“That was one time,” he answers, not at all amused. Your punishment is for him to take a particularly long swig before he’ll continue talking. “And one of those instincts is… well… mating.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Every once in a while, I need it bad. I know it’s stupid! Why is that instinct even there?! Sinners can’t have kids, and even if I could, why would I want to bring new life into this shithole?! But the thoughts still take over. I need to mate. I need to have kits. It only lasts for a few days, but it’s frustrating. I can barely think about anything else.”

“I’m guessing you… can’t take care of it yourself?” You know it’s an obvious question. He’s been here for decades; if he could take care of it himself, he would have figured it out by now.

“I actually can, normally,” he says, to your surprise. “I can feel it coming, take a day or two off, maybe get some toys, stay in my room and ride it out. But sometimes…” He trails off and looks away from you again.

“Sometimes…?”

“Normally that instinct isn’t directed anywhere. I just wanna mate, I don’t really care with who. Led to some… interesting nights as an Overlord. But sometimes… someone catches my eye. I don’t know what it is. Does that person have to be someone special? Do I just have to be in their proximity the instant it hits? But whatever it is… that person ends up being all I can think about.”

Your face grows hot over what he’s implying.

“And when that happens, it’s fucking miserable. Nothing short of being with that person will make me feel any better. Trying to take care of it myself just makes it worse. Just reminds me that they aren’t there with me…”

“What if that person didn’t mind helping you out…?” you ask, testing the waters.

He raises one of his large eyebrows. “You… do realize who I’m losing my shit over this time, right?”

“I figured as soon as you mentioned someone catching your eye,” you admit. “It’s not like you’d wouldn’t tell me about it if it was someone else. And if there’s anything I can do to help…”

“What are you gonna do? Jerk me off until I can finally get some fuckin’ sleep?” He laughs coldly at his own joke before finishing his second bottle, and as he sips, he realizes you aren’t protesting. “...you’re fuckin’ serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I like you, Husk.”

“I couldn’t take advantage of you like that.”

“You’re not taking advantage. I’m curious about you, myself. Just for a bit, to see how it feels for us both?”

It takes him a moment to think, and you can’t imagine his screaming instincts making it easy to turn down your offer. “All right. Fine. But if I do anything you don’t want me doing, I give you full permission to beat the shit out of this stupid cat body.”

—

Husk isn’t wasting any time as soon as you get up to his room. Within seconds, he’s stripped of his pants and underwear. You can’t help but stare as his already-erect cock is revealed; it’s quite thick, and covered in curious looking bumps. Husk is panting, already struggling to catch his breath.

“Okay. Just a handjob,” he says as he sits on the edge of the bed. “Just once, maybe twice if we both wanna keep going. You don’t owe me more than that. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Husk, it’s fine. I want to do this with you, I promise,” you assure him as you take a seat next to him. Normally you’d warm up a partner with some kisses and cuddles, but given the way his face is flushed, you don��t think he has the patience for that. Instead, you go right for the prize, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock.

Husk instantly hisses through his teeth as he jerks his hips up. “Fuck, that’s it…” His tip is already leaking precum down his shaft and onto your fist. You lightly pump his cock, adjusting easily enough to the small, rough barbs that line it. His rapidly building precum makes it even easier to glide your hand against them. Within seconds, his eyes are starting to glaze over. 

“Can I hold you?” you ask.

“I mean… if you want…” he says as he jerks up again. “Fuck… that’s better already…”

You wrap your free arm around his shoulders and pull him against you. His body is so heated with need right now… you can only hope you’re helping to alleviate that need, even if only slightly. You nuzzle your head against the soft fur on his neck, and he purrs in satisfaction.

“Mmm… babe…”

He’s never called you that before, but you like it.

He wraps his arms around you in turn, burying his face into the top of your head. “Damn, you smell good…”

You grip him harder, and he gasps and squeezes you tighter.

“Oh god…” He starts peppering the top of your head with rapid kisses, seemingly unaware of himself. “You’re doing so good, baby…”

You could easily get used to this rhythm, working him up to a climax while held tight in his arms…

“I want more.” He grips at the back of your shirt as he pants. “Want more… want you… wanna mate…” He kisses you again as he tugs at your clothes. “Wanna mate… wanna mate…”

You turn your face up so that his kisses catch your mouth instead. This doesn’t stop him from kissing you. He groans against your lips as he presses further against you, his body trembling. “Want you, baby… want you…” he whispers against your lips.

“Take me,” you whisper back.

He pulls your hand away from his cock so he can seat you in his lap, leaving you free to return his embrace as he kisses you. You lean in deeply to the kiss, letting his rough tongue caress your own, as he keeps tugging on your clothes. You only break the kiss for as long as it takes for you to get your top off in one piece. He slides your pants down off your ass, and groans as he palms your cheeks.

“So fuckin’ hot…”

The instant you’re naked, he turns to pin you to the bed, landing your head directly on the pillows. He moves quickly, squatting above you and holding up your legs so your thighs are pressed against his. The whole time, he can’t stop muttering to himself.

“Want you, baby, want you…”

You cry out as in one swift thrust downward, his cock fills you to the hilt, his hips flush with yours.

“Want you… want you…” His irises are blown wide as he stares down at you. “Want you…”

You smile reassuringly up at him as you fold your hands behind his neck. “I want you, too.”

You don’t know if it’s your words or your touch that set him off, but either way, he’s launched immediately into a frenzied pace, thrusting down into you as if his life depends on it. It’s a rough way to start, but you adjust easily enough to his pace and to the barbs scraping your walls. His claws are tearing at his pillows, and he’s growling and panting, as if there’s no human thought left in his head.

He’s fucking hot like this.

“You’re… gonna look so good…” he growls as he keeps thrusting. “...when you’re filled…with my kits…”

“Fill me, Husk…!” you gasp out. His tail lashes as he fucks into you even harder.

“Have my kits… have my kits…!” His speech is becoming more choppy, his thrusts more erratic. “Have- want- fuck-”

As his cock throbs inside you, you pull him down for another kiss. This seems to be what pushes him over the edge, as he slams deep inside you and immediately lets loose. His cum fills you deep, your current position preventing anything from leaking out.

“Fuck…” he groans, just barely pulled backed from you kiss. “C’mon… take it…” He keeps thrusting, pushing his cum as deep inside you as he can. “Take all of it… you gotta have kits for me…”

“I will,” you promise before kissing him again. He relaxes against you, comparatively; his body is still hot to the touch, his cock still hard inside you, but at least he’s breathing a little easier.

As he pulls back from the kiss, he looks down at you through dazed, half-lidded pupils, his tail’s swaying now a lot slower. “Beautiful…” he murmurs with a laugh before kissing you again. “You’re gonna have kits with me… I’m so glad…”

You don’t have the heart to ruin his fantasy right now. You’re sure his mind will clear it out any second, anyway.

“Babe…” he whispers as he strokes your face. He smiles, and his cock twitches inside you. “Can I do that again? I wanna make sure…”

—

Your hips are so sore as you wake up in Husk’s bed. Just how many times did you let him fill you? You lost track after the third. It’s hard to keep your head on straight with a beast pumping you full of cum over and over again.

You know he would have stopped if you asked him to… and that’s why you never asked.

You look over to see Husk sprawled out on his stomach on his side of the bed, snoring loudly. You can’t help but smile; he’s so handsome when he’s asleep. If you had to pick a resident of the hotel to wake up next to like this, he would have always been your choice, no questions asked.

You spend some time stroking the soft fur on his head, paying special attention to his ears and cheeks. It takes him a while to finally stir.

“Why do I feel like I got hit by a truck?” he grumbles as he tries to push himself up, before quickly giving up and letting himself drop back down to the bed. “What happened last night?”

“Good morning, Husk,” you greet him, voice a lot more cheerful than you really feel. You wouldn’t mind sleeping for a few more hours, and it doesn’t seem like Husk would object to that idea.

“What the-” He turns and stares blankly at you for a few seconds, as if not quite comprehending what he’s seeing. “...was that real?”

“You mean, you fucking me and begging me to have kits for you?” you say as you stroke his ear again. “It was real. Thank you, Husk.”

Husk groans as he grabs another pillow and sandwiches his head between two of them, apparently trying to smother himself. “What the fuck was I saying last night?! Of course I don’t want kits! We just barely met! What the fuck!”

“Husk, it’s okay,” you assure him as you take the top pillow from him. “It was just a fantasy, right? And I enjoyed it.”

“We just barely met,” he repeats. “And I said all that shit to you already.”

“Did it make you feel better?” you ask.

Husk hums in thought. “Well, my brain isn’t screaming at me to start fucking you anymore…”

“Then it worked,” you said.

“But now you know what I’m like when my brain goes stupid on me,” he continues. “So I bet that won’t happen again.”

“Of course it will,” you assure him. “I told you, I enjoyed it. And next time you start feeling like that… I’d rather you asked me than someone else.”

He stares at you in what seems to be disbelief. “So… you know I’m a creep, but… we’re still friends?”

You can’t help but laugh. “Maybe a little more than friends, after something like that.”

Thankfully, that got him to smile. “Okay… just don’t tell anyone what just happened.”

Given how loud you two were, it’s probably a little too late.

“And maybe sometime… we can do that when I’m not a horny idiot. I have a softer side, too, I swear…”

You stroke his cheek and kiss him. “Can’t wait to see it. “

[silent-stories]

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊

Pairing: Eddie x GN!Reader

Summary: You drank too much at a party and Eddie drives you home.

Warnings: drunk!reader, mentions of drugs, fluff. (I wrote this a bit randomly after months of not writing)

The air was thick with anticipation, a heady mix of teenage hormones, cheap perfume, and the unmistakable scent of alcohol and substances that teenagers should not have possessed. The room buzzed with conversation: half-truths, secrets, whispered confessions and loud laughs.

Colored lights danced across the walls, casting patterns on the faces of the revelers. The stereo blared an eclectic mix of hits, and the speakers threatened to burst from the strain.

Steve Harrington, the unofficial king of Hawkins High, moved through the crowd, laughed, clapped shoulders, and flirted shamelessly. When he tripped on the beer-stained carpet, you thought you weren't the only one who drank too much that night.

But you weren't there for Steve. You were there because your friend had dragged you along, promising a night of freedom and adventure. But now, as the room spun around you, you wondered if you'd made a terrible mistake as your friend had vanished into the throng, probably swept away by some guy with a charming smile and in a basketball team jacket.

The alcohol had blurred the edges of your consciousness, and you stumbled toward the bathroom. The hallway seemed endless, and you clung to the walls for support, the bathroom door swung open, and you stumbled inside, gasping for air. You leaned against the sink, your stomach churning.

And there, leaning against the opposite wall, was Eddie Munson. His presence was unexpected, like finding a hidden passage in a familiar book.

You knew who he was, hell, all of Hawkins knew who he was.

You had to admit though that the description people gave didn't exactly match the boy who sat behind you in science class. You had talked to him a few times during the boring lesson that you usually spent scribbling on the edges of your notebook: the first time he had told you that he liked your drawings, and you had smiled at him in response. Little did he know that he had given you a reason to return to that class, the week after, and the week after that.

Once you had lent him a pen, another time you had laughed at a sarcastic comment he whispered under his breath.

The times you had a real, even if brief, conversation with him was when you picked up Dustin after Hellfire (his mom had asked you to do this favor for her and you couldn't say no to your neighbor). Sometimes you talked about music, sometimes about how the campaign of that game that seemed too difficult to understand but which interested you anyway went. Or maybe you just really liked the way his eyes lit up when he talked about dragons and hidden worlds.

His eyes met yours in the reflection in the mirror in front of you, and for a moment, the chaos outside the bathroom ceased to exist.

You felt a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach and you weren't sure if it was from being alone with Eddie or from the alcohol.

He was the last person you expected to see at that party: you knew the rumors going around about him, you knew he wasn't exactly the type to be invited to events like that.

"Hey." He simply said, as if he was the surprised one of the two, taking a step towards you. The chain attached to his jeans jingled, or maybe it was just your ears.

"Hey." You responded in the same way, turning towards him, staggering slightly.

By instinct, he reached forward with one arm as if, if you fell, he would be there to catch you.

“You look like you’ve seen better days.” He said when he made sure you wouldn't collapse on the bathroom floor.

“Yeah... you can say that." You thought of a nice way to ask your question, but none came to your mind, "What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, his leather jacket creaking. “They needed a dealer. I needed cash. It’s a match made in hell.”

You nodded, swaying slightly. “Hell...has a great playlis' tonight.”

Eddie’s gaze softened. “You’re wasted.”

“Yep,” you agreed. “Los' my friend. Probably making out with some... guy in Steve’s bedroom.”

“You deserve better friends.” He commented.

"Mh-mh."

"You didn't take any of the stuff I brought here, did you?"

"Wha' stuff?"

"Drugs. You didn't take any of that shit, right?" He questioned in a more worried tone, scanning you with his brown eyes for a possible answer written on your face. Why did he care so much? You were already completrly drunk, your night was ruined, your friend left you alone and-

Eddie called your name again.

"Please don't tell me that-"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Don' like 'em."

Eddie breathed a sigh of relief. So he really cared.

He took a step closer when tou closed your eyes for a brief moment, concern etching lines on his forehead. “You need to get home.”

"Yeah... I need a moment to remember where I left my car and-"

“You can't drive like that.”

"Yes I can... I jus' have to-"

A wave of nausea washed over you.

You stumbled toward the toilet, and he followed. Your knees hit the floor as you threw up.

You felt a warm hand touch your neck and you realized that Eddie was holding your hair back, his touch surprisingly gentle. It seemed like he was almost afraid to touch you, as if you might believe he had bad intentions.

You knew Eddie would never try to harm you. You weren't afraid of him.

He handed you a piece of toilet paper to wipe your mouth. His eyes held a mixture of concern and gentleness.

When you flushed the toilet, you realized that Eddie's hand was no longer holding your hair but was slowly moving up and down your back. His touch was gentle.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." You sniffed, your throat burning and your eyes watering. "Thank you."

"Do you trust me to drive you home?" He asked still sitting next to you on the bathroom floor.

"That would... be nice, yeah."

“Alright,” he gave you a little smile and stood up, reaching out a hand and helping you do the same, “m'lady.”

"It could have been worse. I could... have vomited on you." You chuckled, glancing out the window at Eddie behind the wheel.

"Yeah, I wouldn't have liked it." He replied, laughter in his voice.

"It almos' happened once. I was on a date with a guy and... his jacket smelled like shit. You have no idea."

Eddie’s laughter filled the car once again. It was obvious that you had entered the "I say whatever comes into my head" phase of your drunkenness.

"Mine doesn't stink right?"

"Oh no. Yours perfect." You reached out, brushing the leather covering his arm as he drove, “I'm glad I didn't throw up on it.”

Eddie laughed again and god, you were starting to love that sound.

"Can I confess you somethin'?" You asked after a few moments of complete silence.

"All that you want."

“Science's my favorite class.”

"Because you like dissecting animals? And they call me the satanist who sacrifices animals in the w-"

"'Cause you're there too."

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

"Oh."

"Cause you're funny and kind and... you thank me when I lend you a pen. I once lent Jason a pen and never saw it again."

"Yeah, I should start bringing one to school."

"No, please. I like being able to lend you a pen... It's an excuse for me to talk to you."

Eddie opened his mouth and then closed it again, saying nothing.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No. No, absolutely not. I just… I didn't think you liked talking to me."

"Why not?"

"I don't know...people don't usually do that."

"People don't know you."

“You don't know me either, sweetheart.” The nickname didn’t sound flirty; it was affectionate, tinged with sadness. As if he believed that once you truly knew him, you’d no longer want to talk to him.

You wondered how many people had hurt him in the past.

"I'd... like to do it."

"Maybe it's just the alcohol talking. Maybe on Monday you'll pretend I don't even exist at school."

"I would never do that."

"Why?"

"Cause I like you."

Eddie parked his car in front of your house. You had arrived.

“It's definitely the alcohol talking.” He laughed.

You grabbed his hand when he helped you out of the car.

"That's not true! I like you... and you're not like people say and you're sweet and-" As you stumbled toward your house, Eddie instinctively wrapped his arm around your waist, steadying you. The contact pressed you against his body, and under the soft glow of the streetlights, it felt like a scene from a movie.

“And... have they ever told you that your eyes are really pretty?”

He stared at you for a moment and you wondered what was going on in his head. You thought maybe you said the wrong thing but his gaze was still kind. Always soft.

"A long time ago."

"They were right."

Eddie let one of his arms fall to his side when he made sure you could stand.

"Watch the sidewalk." He said as he walked you to your front door.

It took you a while to find the key, eventually Eddie helped you open the door and turned on the light in the hallway, without setting foot inside your house yet.

You walked to the kitchen, not even thinking about it. Then you turned around.

"Aren't you coming in?"

He chuckled, leaning one arm on the doorframe.

"To do what?"

"I don't know... for a coffee. Somethin'."

Eddie sighed. "Go to bed, okay? Get a good night's sleep and then if you're not feeling good take an aspirin."

You snorted. "Don't you wan' some coffee?"

"I don't want it right now. Maybe one morning we can skip some boring class and go get it somewhere. Together."

You immediately smiled at his proposal. "I'd like that."

He watched you take off your shoes and leave them in the corner of the room.

"Get some rest okay? I'd miss you in science on Monday if you weren't there."

"Really? Then I'll be there."

“I won't bring a pen.”

"So we'll have an excuse to talk."

He smiled "Exactly."

When he closed the door, saying goodnight, you still had a stupid smile on your face. You didn't know if the alcohol was to blame or not.

Tags: @jacklesbrainworms @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat @michaelfuckinglangdon @flawiette @needylilgal022 @bubsonnobx @yujyujj @findmeincorneliastreet @kennedy-brooke @witchwolflea

[iinumakiis]

Damned If I Do Ya (Damned If I Don't)

summary: gojo satoru is your average frat boy; hosting parties, serial playboy, and somehow managing to pass his classes all the same. unfortunately for him and his normal day to day, he finds himself becoming far more interested in a new addition to his friend group: you.

pairing: gojo satoru/you

warnings: college au, slight smau inclusions, fem!reader, cussing, eventual smut, angst if you squint, gojo's a lil bit of a whore, not proofread, chapter one of multiple

a/n: decided to start a gojo fic 👹 i'm so excited for this y'all don't even knowwww. dividers by @rookthornesartistry + @cafekitsune <3

taglist: @sad-darksoul @seternic @imaddicted-b (ask to be added!)

masterlist / next chapter

Gojo stands outside of the business building, casually chatting up his most recent hookup before class. The woman wraps her well manicured fingers in her hair, toying with it, obviously flirting with a pristine grin. Which Satoru absolutely acknowledges (more so because half of her titties are out), but nonetheless pretends to be interested in anything she has to say.

Meanwhile, Shoko and Suguru show you around campus, being that you transferred in two months late from Kyoto.

"So this way is towards the business building, usually that's where at the dick-for-brains frat boys hang around-" Shoko is rudely interrupted by Suguru loudly yelling overtop of her.

"Speak of dick-for-brains frat boys: Gojo!" Suguru smiles and breaks into a steady jog, eventually meeting up with the snow haired man and clapping him on the back. "Who might this lovely specimen be?" He remarks playfully, eyeing up Gojo's newest arm candy.

His blue eyes roll instinctively, smile still plastered on his face. "This is Ayaka, the smokin' hot girl I told you I was seeing."

Shoko groans from a distance. "Looks like Gojo has another toy to play with." She spins around to face you, making your expression contort into confusion. Gently, she grabs the sides of your arms, "Whatever you do, do not fuck Gojo. He has a new girl like twice a month, and as the newbie to this city, he would feel no shame in taking advantage of your ignorance."

A frown replaces the look of confusion, your brows furrowing together. "Shoko, respectfully, I'm not really one for hookups anyways..."

She nods in response, sighing in relief. "Thank god, I cannot handle graduating being the only girl he hasn't slept with."

You laugh at her deadpan nature. "Yeah, sounds like that should be it's own personal award."

Suguru turns in you and Shoko's direction, "Come here you guys! Y/n you have to meet Gojo!"

Another groan is elicited from Shoko before she reluctantly leads the way towards the two men, Ayaka having given him a kiss and left for her class. Gojo glances at you up and down and quirks an eyebrow, something bordering on curious. He steps to meet you two, much to his own surprise and extends a hand.

"I'm Gojo Satoru, you can just call me Satoru." He says, eyes hidden behind a pair of round sunglasses, his bright smile plastered over his face.

Your hand timidly meets his and shakes, "I'm y/n, I just transferred here literally this morning." You shift your weight to one foot, already feeling too open from the way he's staring at you, but you smile back at him anyways.

The tension is thick, Shoko awkwardly shuffling beside you. Suguru is thankfully unaware of this and continues to ramble about whatever else they had managed to come up with in conversation.

Thankfully, Shoko speaks up between the two men for you, refusing to stand here and watch Gojo semi-ogle you while trying to hold a conversation. "Anyways, I'm going to finish showing y/n to the science and art departments, you two dorks can kiss or whatever it is you do."

Your wrist is enveloped by her hand as she drags you around the men and down the sidewalk, the both of you opting to ignore the protests of the duo behind you.

For some reason you can't put your finger on, you glance back towards Satoru, only to find his eyes already on you.

Satoru's eyes follow you, watching Shoko drag you to the north side of campus where the rest of the buildings were. He doesn't realize he's been tuning Suguru out the entire time, well, up until he interrupts the long haired man mid sentence.

"So does she have a phone number or....?" Satoru drags the question out, turning slightly to once again face Suguru, who's expression is one of mild annoyance.

"Yes she does, why are you asking?" He crosses his arms and cocks an eyebrow, almost in an interrogating way, causing Satoru's arms to shoot up in defense.

"I just figured if she's going to be friends with both of my best friends, I might as well be her friend too. Think it'd be pretty awkward if I wasn't her friend, actually."

Suguru sighs, but can't really fight the logic. Tapping away at his phone, he sends your number to Gojo.

"Don't fuck up man, she's new."

Later that night, after finally settling into your dorm and becoming acquainted with your roommate, your phone pings.

[https-florals]

The reader gets rlly flustered easily and she's so shy, her boyfriend JJ thinks it's hilarious and is always teasing her especially in front of ppl. Most of the time she hits his arm and yells at him but he js never learns his lesson 😭 then like one day he stops doing it and the reader is all like '???' And he says he stopped bc she didn't like it but she secretly loves it so she's a little pouty until he starts it back up 😭

(IF THAT MAKES SENSE ‼️‼️)

this was honestly such a cutie ask and i hope i did it justice with this lil drabble!!! tease jj is my favorite. i've been in such a writing slump lately and this was a nice little prompt!!

one thing about jj maybank- he loves to embarrass his friends. it is quite literally his favorite pastime, and his favorite to annoy is you. when you first started dating, he reigned it in, but lately it’s an unstoppable force. his compliments are constant, his teasing persistent. jj is hooking his fingers in the waistband of your sweats, just a way to stay tethered you in all honesty, but he loves to feel your skin heat and the way you swat him away. 

when the boys and kie surf, you and sarah sunbathe. he is shouting from his board, essentially catcalling you with whoops and whistles. he can’t hear you, but he almost falls off his board watching you groan and cover your face. 

jj is also a downright devil when tipsy- which happens at each and every social event. He’s pulling you down on his lap, holding you still when you try to wriggle out of his arms. for someone who blushes when they get called pretty, you’re damn near having a heart attack when he whispers the lewdest things in your ear. His first response when you roll your eyes at him (desperately trying to maintain your cool) is to tell you how much he likes it when your eyes roll back when he’s fucking you.

“jj!!” you jump up, and scold him. the only thought in his head is that you are very pretty when you’re yelling at him.

he loves this little back and forth, and keeps at it, until a new year’s party where he introduces you to someone as his exquisite girlfriend- you’re trying to figure out when he has ever used that word when he plants a kiss on the corner of your mouth and you go chili-pepper hot. that’s innocent enough, so you just fiddle with your pendant necklace and laugh and let him hang onto you. later, kie is doing a diy photobooth where she has out a polaroid camera and groups of people are lining up for a photo op. jj immediately drags you over there, and you both are just giggling quietly as you watch friend groups be silly and couples kiss for the camera. 

when it’s finally your turn, jj immediately asks the important questions. “sweet or silly!”

“silly, obviously!” his hand instinctively goes to the small of your back, and you lean into his hold so it looks like you’re about to fall. you make a scared face and wrap your fist in jj’s shirt because, truth be told, you’re a little afraid he will actually drop you. he doesn’t though, and when kie counts down and the flash goes off, jj tilts his head down and licks a stripe up your exposed neck. 

you hear a few lewd whistles and catcalls, and you jump straight up and hit him on the arm. “j! what the hell!”

he is grinning like a devil, cheeks a little pink but undeterred anyways. “yeah, baby?”

kie is laughing too as the camera whirs, and she shakes it under a light and lets out another giggle as it develops. jj snatches it out of her hands, and holds it just out of your reach as you swat at his arms, pinch his sides, anything to get that somewhat incriminating photo. in your opinion, it should sit in a drawer. instead, jj is showing everyone around him, saying stuff like ��aren’t we so hot?” and, “look at her face!!”

you’re so embarrassed that you could just die, but you take the route of huffing and skulking into the bathroom. you would love to lie and say you didn’t hide there for about two hours, but you’re honest. you hid for two hours.

when you and jj catch a ride home with pope, he’s oddly quiet. his hand stays at your knee, and he’s not touching you anywhere else. not making jokes to pope, and not pressing his lips up against your neck as he loves to do anytime you’re both in the backseat. you don’t really think anything of it, and let your head drop against his shoulder. when you get home, jj shoves the polaroid into a drawer and it isn’t spoken of again.

a few days pass, and you’re convinced something is deeply wrong with your boyfriend. he’s normal enough at home- stage-5 clinger, loud, and horny at all times. but in public, it’s like someone has replaced him with a robot. the most contact you have is his hand on your waist or his arm around your shoulders. there’s no compliments in front of your friends, no butt pinches, no silly whistles. he doesn’t even plead you to shotgun with him when you’re all smoking! you never take him up on the offer, but it’s the thought that counts. the change affects you more than you like to admit, being a little grumpier than average. when you’re in the chateau living room with everyone and jj tries to kiss your cheek, you’re huffing and pushing him away. every comment he makes to you that isn’t the highest praise has you annoyed and ignoring him.

later, when you two are alone with his face pressed to your chest and your fingers lazily twirling through his hair, he makes a joke about being surprised you’re tolerating him.

“don’t be rude,” you snap back, “i’m not the one being super weird lately.” you ask him what’s been going on. he’s dismissive, as he usually is when little problems arise. 

“nothin’, honey.”

“don’t lie to me, maybank.” you tug his head up so he’s looking at you, and his lips pressed into an annoyed line, put off by the fact that his face is no longer up against your boobs.

“explain,” he says, not in a rude way, just genuine and questioning.

you shrug. “you’ve just been weird around our friends lately. not as… like touchy,” you gesture and pat his shoulder.

“ohhh, that!”

so he knows what you’re talking about?

“i just noticed you got kinda like, uncomfortable when i did that kind of stuff. like my jokes, or whatever. i guessed i needed to stop embarrassing you,” he grins sheepishly.

“i’m just shy!” you say defensively with a little whine. “i can’t help it.”

he nods, hand rubbing up your torso to console you. “ it’s okay to be shy, baby. it’s not okay for me to be mean.” jj mimics your pouty lip.

you sigh and smile, running your fingers down his neck. “i like it when you’re mean.”

he immediately pushes himself up so he’s over you, and grin. “really?”

“i’m serious!” you counter, but you don’t stop the way his knee starts to slide between your legs. “i like your jokes, and i like you making fun of me.”

jj pauses. “you’re serious?”

“yeah! i’m sorry, i thought i hated when you’d do that kind of stuff, but you’ve been so boring without it.”

“me, boring? i’m not boring.” to prove his point, you guess, he starts peppering kisses all over your neck. 

“you were boring!” you laugh. “Like, it wasn’t you. i like when you’re a tease.”

“i miss being a tease,” he groans. “i miss you getting all flustered and i really miss coming and finding you when you hide in bathrooms.”

that part does confuse you. “huh?”

“cause,” he kisses you in between the phrases, “you’d be so angry and pretty, and then we’d get to makeout in the bathroom. that’s my favorite part.”

“that’s my favorite part too,” you laugh.

later, when you’ve melted into each other and you’re sitting in the pretty quiet, you both come up with a new year’s resolution: always do the embarrassing things, and worry about the embarrassment later. 

your fun little polaroid no longer sits in a drawer alone, but in fact on your bulletin board, with a bunch of other pictures just as flirty, just as teasing, and just as sweet.

as always, likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!!

[lxmelle]

Gojo’s letter to Megumi.

Guess I had more thoughts on the subject matter... this is part 3!

Since we don’t know what he said to Nobara, but it is implied it isn’t dissimilar to what he wrote for Megumi.

Like many things related to Gojo, the way he showed his feelings for his students has divided some readers.

I think some people struggled with how it was so light-hearted, treating it as if it was dismissive (as part of Gojo’s farewell). Or what it didn’t carry any weight of emotion (to his students, and/or even as a character).

But I kind of disagree that it depicts anything dismissive… I understand it is somewhat disappointing for some who see him as a very emotional & caring sensei. From the POV of what’s characteristic of Gojo, however, it is extremely fitting. It’s very consistent with Gege’s portrayal & what we have seen of Gojo. This is Gege’s character after all. It’s foolish to fight him over his own creation.

Let me put it this way: it had to be light-hearted.

This was always, always Gojo’s way of putting people at ease. Whether it is appropriate or not, this was his way. And some conclude, is also why, Megumi chuckled like that.

Think even in HI, when Gojo got ambushed within the barriers at Jujutsu Tech, he reassured/told Geto: “I’m good, really.” But this really threw him off. The poor kid was sweating profusely against the anomaly that was Toji with no cursed energy, so even with his six eyes, he couldn’t track him well.

Think about this scene where he hides & masks his actual feelings/instincts telling him that something was wrong.

Think about after having to take the life of his best friend that he had wanted to save for years & whom he felt left behind by, but having to be a sensei whom they could all rely on:

I definitely feel that him being goofy was his way of being considerate to his students. So my view doesn’t change from what I wrote about in pt1 & 2.

As an adult who does care, would do for those important to him.

He wanted to reassure everyone. Out of responsibility, as the strongest, retaining his humanity, you know? Love? This was exactly what he learned through his dynamic duo with Geto. This is what you’d expect of your sensei.

Also: How could anyone say farewell, as if they wanted those they leave behind, to hurt? It speaks volumes about Gojo’s character. Geto “joked” albeit cynically at his end. Nobara tried to leave a message that she was ok with it before she thought she was going to die (even if she didn’t). Choso imparted his gratitude for having been able to be a good brother.

Gojo was trying to protect their feelings and youth until the very end. Gojo never talked about how he felt to anyone else besides Geto; this was the entire issue that Shoko had with both Gojo & Geto. This is just fact; demonstrated by the entire convo between him & Geto in ch236.

To Gojo, no more words needed to be said in the letter. It would make his students cry, it would make them more attached to him, etc. Gojo never wanted that. He was never even the kind to be sentimental about things (besides his 青春 / memories of his blue spring of youth).

He was even this way with himself:

“Yeah - it’ll be fine!”

“I’ll win.”

“I can’t feel my cursed energy… this is checkmate…” (but nevermind me) “my six eyes tell me…. …. Who are you?!?”

You get my drift, right? Gojo was very much the kind of person who just keeps marching on. He doesn’t have lingering attachment to anything, including himself, besides his one and only complex <- we know what that is.

But it DOES NOT MEAN HE DID NOT CARE. He just recognised that they needed to let go of him to carry on living. It’s rather selfless and loving if you ask me.

The letter was written as if to say, with a cheerful tone:

It’s okay to let me go.

Because, I am okay to go too.

めんご!

[sleepymarimo]

𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤.

summary: toji tells you about the newest job he's set to take on. you can't stop worrying but, hey, he always comes back, right? pairing: toji x fem!assassin!reader cw: s2 spoilers, angst, angst, angst. no comfort. character death. realizing you're in love too late an: did i cry while writing this...perhaps. this is technically part of my little set of blurbs i write w toji and an assassin reader bestie. i aint done yet, but this is how it ends ig? or is it... wc: 1.7k

"star plasma vessel?" something twists in your gut as the words leave your lips.

he's crashing at your place, again, briefly explaining how he'd get a nice thirty million yen for this particular kill.

"yeah." he yawns, sprawled out on the couch. his lazy green eyes follow you as you go about your routine in the comfort of your kitchenette, more than accustomed to his impromptu visits. "think she's all safe, just 'cause that gojo guy is guarding her."

if possible, your stomach churns even more.

you'd taken on many jobs, are more than familiar with the weight which came with that name, and your instincts scream at you.

still, you can't find it in yourself to show your growing concern, so you hide behind a facade of passiveness.

"maybe he'll knock you down a peg or two." you huff, brows unintentionally furrowing as you ignore the pit forming in your chest.

what was wrong with you?

toji breathes out a rough bark of a laugh, crossing his arms behind his head, not a care in the world. "a prideful brat like that? nah, i just gotta be smart."

you hum in response, not really trusting yourself to speak. instead you focus inward, preoccupied with your thoughts.

while he was a pain in the ass, distastefully charming and incredibly lax, he'd wedged his way into your life. this profession didn't allow room for many connections, yet in an odd way, you found something akin to a friend in him, though it took a while to get to that point.

perhaps it was more than that, but you didn't dare acknowledge it.

since your first mission together, you knew that toji was capable. as much as you hated to admit it, he was a force to be reckoned with. so why was this irrational worry gnawing at your gut?

you're so caught up with what you're cooking, that you don't notice him swiftly get up from the couch and make his way towards the kitchenette.

he leans against the counter adjacent to you, his voice making you flinch and click your tongue in annoyance.

"you're worried?" he smirks, crossing his arms over that barrel of a chest as he watches you turn your back on him. "you fuckin' serious, doll?"

ugh, damn him.

"not even!" you hiss, glancing over and fighting the urge to smack him as he gives you a knowing, smug look. your hands come up in a defensive position, tone as nonchalant as you can manage it. "i'm just saying, i have a bad feeling."

out of the corner of your eye, you can see him shaking his head. one of his hands runs though his hair, the black strands messily falling back into place on his temple.

he doesn't wonder about the last time someone was worried about him. if anything, he thinks you're a little foolish for even caring in the first place. why bother putting in effort for a guy like him?

"re-fucking-lax." he waves off your worries, sneaking a taste of whatever you're cooking and grinning at your futile attempt to be angry with him. "quit it with the 'bad feeling' shit, it's too sappy."

you grumble and lazily agree with his words, but your body speaks for you. your tense muscles, the way that you seemingly shut down and refuse to engage in your usual banter... he can tell that you really are worried.

as much as he avoids being plagued by the heavy chains of sentiment, something stirs in his chest at the sight of your unease.

you're not the only one who found comfort in this unexpected... friendship of sorts.

with a resigned sigh, he slings an arm over your shoulders and forces you away from your cooking. the warmth of you against his side is a familiar one, his eyes twinkling with amusement when he hears you verbally protest his actions.

"you're being annoying." you sigh. yet, your muscles relax in his hold. a walking contradiction, a game of chicken between two hard-headed assassins that refuse to give into one another.

he scoffs, entertained more than anything. toji is calm, not even considering the possibility of failure.

"sweetheart, lemme tell ya what's gonna happen, a'right?" his hand trails from your shoulder to your waist, moving you so that you're pressed chest to chest in a lazy embrace. "m'gonna kill the vessel, put that gojo bastard in his place and get the cash."

emerald eyes peer down at you, smirking at your doubt-filled expression.

"then m'gonna use that cash and finally take ya out to dinner." he adds, hoping it would quell those dumbass worries of yours.

he always promised that.

after every mission, he'd tease about taking you to that restaurant he'd always see you eyeing.

did he ever follow through? no. the money was quick to be spent on poker games and horse races.

but you can't help feel that this time, he means it.

so, you relent.

you can count on one hand the number of times you'd actually returned his so called affections. your arms wrap around his middle, stubbornness urging you to plant your cheek on his chest to avoid his satisfied, triumphant gaze.

"fine." you mumble.

his heartbeat thumps rhythmically against your eardrums. strong. unbothered. it's a sound that you commit to memory, one that you hope will stop the lingering worry rattling between your ribs.

toji's palm runs up and down your back, half-teasing as the hand on your waist tightens with... something. maybe after this damn mission, he'll finally deal with all these feelings he thought were buried deep within his heart.

"atta girl." he smirks, giving you a final squeeze before releasing you. "no need to worry that pretty head of yours."

toji can't wait to see the look on your face. he can't wait to say "i told ya so" and give your cheek a pinch, to tell you that you were worrying over nothing.

he and shiu make their way out of their client's building after successfully assassinating the vessel. big whoop, another job that he knew he could handle.

"damn." the words that leave toji's mouth are spoken before he has a chance to think about them. "just wanna get home already."

shiu exhales, a puff of smoke rising to the sky as his eyes narrow in amusement. "is that what you call her place now? since when?"

"slip of the tongue." the assassin nonchalantly insists, nose wrinkling at his small slip up. damn him...

"whatever you say, fushiguro." shiu nods, staring ahead. "i knew i made a good choice when i paired you guys up for that mission a while back."

eventually, the men part ways.

toji stuffs his hands into his pockets, gaze blank but mind strangely full.

dinner. he needs to take you out to get some damn dinner, like he always promised.

the bright sun blinds him, his eyes squinting before landing on an eerily familiar figure. toji hates being caught off guard, that voice snapping him into a state of disbelief.

"hey, it's been a while."

well, shit.

you were right. fuck, you were always right, weren't you?

toji can feel his body giving out, a sensation so hauntingly foreign for a man like him- the only man like him.

he knows he should've left it, that there was nothing in this fight for him except a chance at proving to the world that they made a mistake when casting him aside.

there's not much to be thankful for, to think about, as he dies.

his mind goes to his wife, the first person to show him love. it goes to megumi, the product of said love and perhaps one of the only good things he'd given the world.

and it goes to you, too, the woman who wormed her way into a heart he thought was long sealed off.

he remembers when he'd first told you about his time in the zen'in clan and how he left it all behind.

he swears he can remember your hand messily and purposefully combing through his hair in that way that he hates, his stomach churning when you gave him a smile with empathetic tears in your eyes.

"so you left?" you echoed back, looking through his walls as if they were made of glass. "good for you."

he should've taken you to dinner a long time ago.

the few good memories he has flood into his mind, an odd sense of euphoria numbing the pain of his dying body.

and then, it fades to black.

when you hear three solid knocks at your door a day later, you just know.

shiu stands on the other side of the door, briefcase in hand. he doesn't come in or speak a word, simply extending the case out to you.

it's the pay from toji's job.

the former detective figures that the sorcerer killer would want you to take it. after all, this place was the closest thing he had to a home.

you take the money and the door clicks shut.

it feels like your throat is closing up. you're quick to chuck the case to the ground, your hands running down your face as you collapse on the couch where toji always slept.

you're mad at him. you're mad at yourself. why didn't he take you seriously? why didn't you try harder to keep him from taking that stupid fucking job?

later in the evening, you take the money and head to the restaurant that you'd been eyeing for a while.

you order your favorite dish and hell, you order something you know he'd eat, too.

the chair across from you is empty, in front of it a plate full of food that you know is never going to get eaten.

he finally paid for the dinner that he had always promised you.

you don't care for how other customers look at you, swollen tears silently rolling down your cheeks. when you taste salt on your tongue, you sniffle and take another bite.

he'd probably give you so much shit if he saw you right now. he would roughly wipe away the tears with his thumb and give you a softened smirk. "oh c'mon, princess, quit bein' such a fuckin' crybaby."

your arm comes up to wipe away the mess, head shaking and heart shattering. "you're such a fucking idiot, fushiguro."

[suhkusa]

The cool air is the first thing that greets you as you walk outside. Everyone decides to hangout outside before the 11PM curfew. 

There are so many familiar faces, but at this moment you still feel alone. Some of the other managers greet you as you make your way to a lawn chair that’s set by a tree. 

Your manager friends were already mid conversation with some volleyball players when you walked outside, so you felt uncomfortable just joining in. Atsumu is also surrounded by players you’ve never met before. Plus, it was you who decided to come on this trip. He’s not responsible for you. Everyone else you just don’t know that well.

You’re shocked out of your thoughts as you become self conscious of how really alone you were, how alone you looked. On instinct, you take out your phone and begin scrolling through each app, attempting to make yourself look busy.

Asu? No, honestly things have felt a bit tense, and you don’t want to keep bothering your online friend with your troubles. Your friends? Also no, for the same reason. 

Plus, the way you were feeling was stupid, was it not? You feel so alone, yet no one is stopping you from interacting with any of these people. You have only yourself to blame. 

“What’re you doing over here?” Yet, he seems to always be there when you needed it the most. Scarily enough. 

You look up from your phone, letting a smile make its way onto your face, “Nothing, I’m just tired. Didn’t want to get FOMO though,” 

Sakusa puts another lawn chair down beside you. “I suppose,”

“They snuck in some drinks if you wanted to take shots with them,” he adds.

You let out a breathy laugh, “I’m not an alcoholic, y’know? Thanks for letting me know, though,” you finally turn off your phone and slip it into your back pocket. “To be honest, I have a headache,”

A concern looks washed over his face, “Was it because of the energy drink?”

“Oh, so that was you?” your words catch him off guard, he hesitates to say something and you laugh again, “Don’t worry, I don’t think it was that. I think it helped me stay awake this long,”

Sakusa sighs with relief, “That’s good,”

“I don’t think you’ll miss out on much if you go sleep now,” he adds, “You should catch up on the rest you didn’t get last night,”

“Ah, maybe,” your hands are fidgeting, picking at the skins near your nail bed.

“Are you alright?”

You freeze, not sure what to say. But the words unexpectedly find you and you spill.

“To be honest, I'm just overwhelmed. My anxiety has been through the roof, but I stopped my meds a long time ago. There’s been so much on my mind,”

Sakusa says nothing but nods at your words. The silence freaks you out a bit, so you keep talking.

“I feel like I have to always be happy, it’s what everyone expects of me. And I am, but sometimes I get tired. And I don’t want people to see that I’m tired,” you know you’re oversharing, and it’s random, but you can’t stop yourself, “I hate when people worry about me so it’s always easier for me to push it all down. I don’t know why recently it’s gotten harder,”

“I suppose I relate in some sense. But either way, don’t be scared to reach out, you have a lot of friends don’t you? They all care for you– from what I see, at least,” he fumbles his words a bit before continuing, “I know we’re not friends, but I’m also here if you ever need to talk,”

A small smile teases the side of your mouth, “Whaat? We��re not friends? I thought I said we were though,” you tease.

“Oh, well I mean, yeah, then,” 

You didn’t expect him to play along, to be honest. His words fluster you, and you can feel your cheeks warm. 

The cold air clashes with the warmth of your skin, it feels nice. 

“Did talking to me help at all?” Sakusa asks, and you realize this is the first time you’ve met eyes with him this whole night. 

You offer a small smile before nodding.

“I’m glad,” and for a split second you can make out a small smile on his face in the dark night. 

“I’m going to head in now, want to come with?”

Snapping out of your thoughts, you quickly nod and join him in folding the chairs. The two of you make your way into the dimly lit hallway before bidding each other soft goodnight. 

It was safe to say that you would be getting a good night’s rest. 

SECRET ALLIANCE — SPOILER WARNING

PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

NOTES.

y/n laid in bed for another 30 minutes as the caffeine ran it's course

last day of camp next :3

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[professional-yapper]

Moron.

Aonung x Reader

(cus I kind of liked the enemies thing I had going with aonung in the Lo'ak piece)

Aonung is the biggest moron you know. You can say that with total confidence, and do. Often.

Sometimes to his face, sometimes to others, sometimes to the back of his head as he turns away, thinking he's won an argument. You revel in the way his ears flick back to catch what you shout at him, and the way his broad frame swings around to come after you again, which is usually your sign to take off running.

It's your normal. Yours and his.

He can always rely on you to bring him crashing back down to earth when he's done something noteworthy.

And you can always rely on him to attempt to beat the shit out of you at any given moment, with the slightest provocation.

It's not like you can't hold your own. Sure, you're not equal to him in build or height, but you're a pretty good fighter, if you do say so yourself.

And it's not like anyone stops you two from scrapping, anyway. His dad practically encourages it, says it's healthy. His mum just rolls her eyes with fond exasperation and looks in the other direction.

Yeah. It's been this way for as long as you can remember. Right from day one, his mum says. You were born within a week of each other, and used to have the most vile screaming competitions as babies. It's nice to see some things never change, you guess.

Until they do start changing.

You and Aonung can't stay angry little kids permanently at each others' throats forever. Well, you can't stay kids forever, anyway.

He's getting taller, broader, thick in the arm and in the head. He doesn't spend as much time with Tsireya anymore, something she laments about to you in private.

Ah, yes, that's another sore spot for Aonung. Tsireya adores you. Maybe it's just the allure of the older kid, though not by much. You're only a year or so apart, but you've always felt the age gap even if it wasn't much. She's always been Aonung's cute kid sister, left to wail at you to stop fighting from afar for always.

You've only grown closer to Tsireya as of late, bonding over boys and girls, and going for walks on the shore to see what the tide washes in.

And of course, talking about Aonung. Well, it's mostly you talking- well, complaining, while she sits with a weird look on her face. You guess it's because he is her brother after all, and he's nice to her.

He starts hanging out with some new guys, all equally as moronic as him. They feed off each others' stupidity like a bunch of little vampires.

Which, of course, has nothing to do with you. After all, you're finding new friends too. Guys, girls, people you've never spoken to before on account of being constantly at odds with Aonung, which, believe it or not, doesn't leave a hell of a lot of time for socialising.

But you're both growing up now, growing apart, growing more mature... Well, in most ways. You still come to blows, though less frequently by the day. You find yourself missing the familiarity of it, even if you hate him.

You find yourself chasing the high that came with fighting with him, the high of having blood coursing down your face and not knowing who's, the sting of a cut, the ache of limbs, and the throbbing of bruises left behind.

Yeah, as many friends as you're making, you're making a few enemies too. You're just naturally volatile, you explain, you can't help the fact that your first instinct was to shove the guy when he accidentally bumped into you. You still think it was on purpose, anyhow.

However, you'd expect your friends to be the ones pulling you off the unfortunate kids who have fallen victim to your temper and ache for the high that no longer comes so easily or so often.

But they're not.

That's the weird part, the part that annoys you.

It's always Aonung dragging you off. You don't even know how he's always there when you're getting into a fight. He's got new friends, a new group, new hobbies, new responsibilities as future chief and warrior, basically a whole new life that has nothing to do with you.

But, regardless, it is always him hauling you off, no matter when or where. You've come to expect it like you once expected his fist flying at your face. A heavy hand on the back of your neck, an arm around your waist, fingers locking around your tail. Plucking you off whoever you're fighting like you weigh nothing. Which doesn't help your temper.

At all.

Today is one of those times. You couldn't help it, you honestly couldn't. They shoved you first this time. A rarity, you'll admit, but it's all you need to get on your little high horse and plead that you were unfairly provoked.

You're rolling back and forth with them on the ground, their hand fisted in your hair, your legs locked around their waist, both of you hissing in each others' faces like cut hoses. You're dusty and sweaty and bruised and bleeding in at least half a dozen places, and this is the best you've felt in months.

You roll your tongue over your fangs, the taste of blood raw and blunt in your mouth, taking a brief respite as you manage to pin them down for more than half a second, your knee pressing cruelly into their arm. They squeal like a stuck ilu, grabbing at you with their free hand, nails dragging down your side. The stinging sensation is welcome.

What isn't welcome is the sudden intrusion into your rather bloody bliss. Hands hooking under your arms, lifting you clear like a misbehaving pet, and setting you down on your feet with a bump that sends ground shock rippling up your calves.

You stare defiantly into Aonung's cold face, planting your hands on your hips, blood trickling down your forehead and beading on your lashes, but you don't blink it away. You take in a dusty, ragged breath, preparing to start shouting at him for always meddling in your shit, because, after all, he chose to push you out of his life and what you do as a result of that is none of his fucking business.

But you don't get a chance. He plants a hand on your shoulder and shoves you backward. Hard. "Walk," he says in a tight voice.

You do so unthinkingly, turning and marching off, only cursing yourself for your blind obedience a few steps later. But you didn't really feel like arguing with him after all. What was the point? He wouldn't fight you. He never fights you anymore. You miss that. You wonder if he'd even react if you punched him in his fat mouth right now beyond gazing at you with those cold eyes.

You hunch your shoulders and let your mouth thin into a line as you walk, heading away from the small crowd that had gathered to witness your outburst. You're shaking a little now.

"Here's fine," Aonung says from behind you, but you don't listen this time, planning to walk until you reach the water and can swim off, deep down into the cool dimness.

He grabs you by your tail, and you should've expected it, really, but you still whirl around, snarling, lips curled over your fangs, ears tilting back, hands outstretched to claw his Eywa-damned eyes out.

He catches you by the wrists and pulls you in, using your momentum to do so.

You stumble, smack your forehead on him and reel back, cursing him out, trying to touch your head, feel for any new injury, but he doesnt let you go.

"Stand still for once in your fucking life, you idiot. Listen to me," Aonung hisses, pulling you in once again while you're distracted. It's like a stupid game of tug o'war.

"I am listening," you fire back, still trying to free yourself, contemplating kicking him in the thigh or the stomach to pry yourself free. "See my ears? See how they're attached to my head? See-"

"Why can't you just grow up?!" he snapped, shaking you a little. "You're such a child!"

"And you're such a moron," you snap back, but you subside a little at the blunt admonishment. "Why can't you just stay out of my life?!"

"I'd be able to if you stopped fighting other people!" he hissed.

"I can fight who I want!"

"So why don't you want to fight me anymore?!"

Sudden, abrupt, overwhelming silence.

Aonung's ears flatten against his head and he releases you, stepping back. You'd say he looks like he's been slapped but you're an expert on what he looks like when he's been hit and that is not a face he makes. You don't know what face that is. Embarrassment? Confusion?

You're confused. And say so.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You don't want to fight me! You're too good for a little scrapping here and there all of a sudden, big guy?" you scoff, knowing you're severely understating the level of your fights but not caring enough to correct yourself.

"Well, I thought I did, but that was before-"

Aonung stops again.

You want to jump him. Hit him until he starts acting like himself again. "Before what, dickhead?! What happened that made you too good for me all of a sudden?! Because you're the future chief, a warrior in training, you can't even argue with me anymore? I mean, fuck, forget arguing, you won't even look at me! I don't know what I did and whatever it was, I-"

Oh boy. You've never been the type to cry when you get angry, but you're so frustrated and overwhelmed right now the tears are practically crying themselves. They well up, quivering on your lash line for a half-second, forcing you to look at him with blurry vision, then roll down your cheeks despite your best efforts to wipe them away.

"I-" you try to continue, hiccuping now. "I wish I hadn't, because I just want things to be normal again, I want things to go back to the way they were-" Words escape you and you settle for crying with frustration and rage, looking at him as he still says nothing.

"They can't, okay?" he snaps. "They can't fucking go back! Get that through your head! We can't fight like we used to! It's not the same, I can't fight you and hate you and argue like I used to when-"

"Don't you dare fucking clam up on me again, you bitch," you hiccup, pointing at him, scrubbing away your tears with your other hand. "I have a right to fucking know why I can't fight you, and I can't fight other people, and-"

"I can't keep hurting you when all I can fucking think about is kissing you!" he hisses, hands forming fists at his sides, tail lashing behind him. "And I can't keep letting you get hurt either!"

You still, your feeble attempt to hide your tears forgotten, staring at him like he's grown two heads. Something in your chest twists savagely as you absorb his words silently.

"Don't look at me like that, like I'm some kind of monster for loving you. Yell at me, try to hit me, cuss me out, anything. Just don't look at me like that," he says, voice hitching and beginning to tremble as he speaks.

"What am I supposed to do with that love?" you ask quietly. "Don't say return it. I don't know if I can. Or if I want to. I mean, maybe I do want to but that's mostly just stemming from the fact that you haven't spoken to me in months or even come near me except from stopping me from fighting people, and I don't think it's fair of you at all to-"

"No, I know it's not," he said a little brokenly, and you hated that, maybe even more than you hated him. "I know it's not fair, just... please. Tell me you feel nothing for me, that us being practically attached at the hip since we were kids means nothing to you, that you don't even hate me, you just don't care about me."

You hated seeing him like this. You'd never seen this side of him and you never wanted to see it again. You could tell him that maybe it wasn't hatred and if it was hatred in the beginning it had evolved to a sort of messed up attachment, and if you dug long enough you'd probably find some kind of affection for him in your angry little heart. That might make him stop looking at you that way.

You just wanted him to stop looking like that, so sad and fucking pathetic. It made that same something that had twisted in your chest before twist again, but in a more painful way.

"I don't know if I do like you back," you say slowly. His shoulders slump and he raises his hands to his face, presumably to hide his expression.

You're not finished.

You step forward and take his hands, curling your fingers around them, pressing into his palms, more gentle than you've ever dared be with him. You lower them, looking into his face steadily. "But I think I could learn to. And I want to learn."

He lets out a ragged breath, expression now totally raw and hopeful, which was honestly the opposite of what you were hoping to achieve, which was sober him up out of this sad-sack thing he was in. But you think you can live with it.

"Okay," he breathes, gripping onto your hands. "A chance is all I need, I promise."

You nod and continue looking at him. Probably the longest you've really looked at him without swinging or didn't have your hands around his throat.

The silence drags on, and you're considering what to do or say next when he speaks again, shifting one of his hands from yours to touch your face. Your hand that he just released flies to his wrist, but you stop, relenting, allowing it when you realise he's just, very gently and carefully, unsticking wisps of your hair from the dried blood on your face and tucking it behind your ear. "I want to kiss you," he said bluntly. "Can I?"

You don't know if you'll like it but you figure it can't hurt to try, so you just nod, letting him cradle your jaw in his hand, still holding your other hand tightly, and let him kiss you like you're fragile, something far more delicate than you are.

It's not as bad as you thought. In fact, you like it. Probably more than you should.

Then you don't think much anymore, too distracted by his warm mouth on yours and how he tastes of sea salt.

(challenge to myself to write a reader who isn't a little freak next time)

[unclewaynemunson]

'Back off, man, I can do it alone.'

'No you can't.'

Granted, Max couldn't see shit anymore, but she could definitely feel how Eddie was looking at her – how he was winning their staring contest simply because her withering glare didn't exist anymore.

'Look, I don't want you in there with me, period,' she said, trying to sound more in control than she was feeling. She felt her cheeks burn and she hated it.

'Why not?'

She sighed, wishing she could still roll her eyes. 'Jesus, Eddie, do I really need to spell this out for you? It's one thing that my mom has to help me with literally everything, but there's no way I'm gonna let you.'

'Max.' She hated how Eddie's voice had gone soft all of a sudden. 'What are you afraid of?'

She merely scoffed in response; she still felt her cheeks burn. She didn't want to be here, didn't want to have this conversation, didn't want to think about how fucking vulnerable she felt. All she wanted was to go to the goddamn bathroom, was even that too much to ask?

'It's no different for me than for your mom, you know,' Eddie said. Max wished she could see his face, because something in his voice was different than usual but she didn't know what exactly it was.

'You know that's not true,' she said, her jaw clenched.

'No, it is.' She could hear how he took a deep breath. 'I'm gay. So, um... I can promise you it won't be weird.'

'Oh.' She didn't quite know what to do, taken aback by the vulnerability of those words. He didn't need to share this; he only did it to make her feel comfortable. He just handed her this big secret, trusting that she'd react in the right way, that she'd help him keep it, that she wouldn't want to hurt him. It was almost too much responsibility; she didn't really know what to say. She wasn't good with comforting or kind or reassuring words like Lucas.

'Does anyone else know?' she asked.

'My uh... My uncle.'

The scent of smoke made its way into Max's nose and she grimaced, but didn't tell him off; if any moment was a good one to have a cigarette, this one would probably be it, she supposed.

She still wondered what Lucas would say in this moment, but kept coming up empty.

'Okay, you can help me in the bathroom,' she finally decided, shifting back into a more practical mindset.

'Soooo...' Eddie dragged out the word. 'Are you - are we - okay?'

'Yeah, of course.' She should probably thank him for trusting her and tell him that he was her friend and she would always love him no matter who he loved or some sentimental bullshit like that, but she felt too awkward about it so she went for silence instead.

While Eddie helped her into the shower and washed her – at least as far as possible with all her casts – her mind kept running. It wasn't as awkward as she had expected it to be, to have Eddie undress her and touch her skin and even help her on the toilet. He was surprisingly gentle and kept checking in to make sure she was feeling okay, and he even made some lame jokes to try and keep things light. It made her think that this could be what it's like to have an older brother. It made her think of Billy.

'Billy would've hated you,' she finally broke the silence when she was dressed in fresh pajamas and lying with her head against the sink, Eddie's hands massaging shampoo in her hair.

She felt his hands freeze against her scalp.

'He always used to call people fags and pervs and... you know. And he'd beat people up for it. Sometimes I wondered...' She paused, hesitating. 'If he was, like, compensating for something.'

'Compensating?'

'Yeah, you know... If you go around calling enough people queers, no one will expect you to be one, right?'

Eddie hummed. 'I didn't know your brother very well,' he told her. 'Some people say that the queers have this instinct, like a sixth sense, to recognize each other, but I think that's bullshit. Or well, not entirely, sometimes you do get like a vibe from someone – but in the end, you can't just know someone's truth like that. And some people will bury that truth deep, deep down. And we can hardly blame them for that. It can be easier to pretend, you know – it's definitely safer. This world wasn't made for being different in that way. For being different in a lot of ways, actually. Whatever his demons were, whatever war was going on inside of him, I think Billy knew that very well.' He turned on the tap and started rinsing her hair.

'I'm sorry you can't get your answers,' he added when he turned the water back off again.

She sighed in response and let Eddie help her in an upright sitting position. She could feel how he started brushing her hair, carefully, as if she'd break into pieces from just the tiniest touch.

She realized that Eddie was right: there was no way to know what wars exactly took place in Billy's mind. The only thing she did know is that he had been a terrible brother to her - but that, despite that, she still wished it would've been different.

Billy wasn't here anymore; he was buried in the ground and his body was slowly falling apart, eaten by worms. But Eddie was here.

Eddie had constantly been at her side when they were both in the hospital, and now that she had come home, he still was. He checked in on her every afternoon; he cooked for her and her mom; he told her stories to entertain her and tried his best to make her smile whenever she was feeling frustrated by the limits of her body. He listened to her when she wanted to talk, and he kept her company when she didn't. He looked out for her and even trusted her with his secrets. He was more of a brother to her than Billy had ever been. He was right here - and she had all the time in the world to ask him all the questions she never got to ask Billy.

'Have you ever kissed a guy?'

She heard Eddie chuckle softly. 'I have.'

'Have you ever had a boyfriend?'

'Have not.'

'Why not?'

And he answered everything she asked him, all while softly stroking her brush through her hair. And when her mom came home, they drank tea together on the couch, and it strangely felt like they were a proper family.

[bellezaycafe]

Get Your Shit Together - Chapter 4

genre: 2024 Season AU

pairing: there will be romance but I haven't finalised who yet. platonic! oc x literally the whole grid.

warnings: lots swearing, major car accident, mentions of broken bones, blood and hospitals. A lot of shit happens. Limited knowledge of Silverstone or how the structure of their emergency response on track works.

context: Sadie, a 20 year old university student from Melbourne, decided to take a gap year and volunteer at 2 Formula One races in different countries.

Sadie's Faceclaim: Maia Mitchell (but you can visualise her howver you want :) )

comments: ...prepare for pain. I'm not sorry. I did speak to a doctor friend, and Sadie continuing with her injuries is plausible.

Part 1 | Masterlist

----$----

“Fuck me, it’s a bit cold,” Sadie complained to the middle-aged paramedic beside her.

“Is it too cold for the Australian kid?” Mark laughed.

Sadie turned to him, looked up and frowned. “Not a kid, fuck you.”

Mark laughed again and tried to pat her on the head, which Sadie swatted away.

“Let’s just hope today’s race is dry,” he said after a moment.

Sadie nodded, stray wisps of her dark brown hair loosely flying around her face in the breeze.

Silverstone, in June, was the same temperature as Sadie’s home town in September, just leaving winter into spring.

“This is not summer weather,” she whined.

“You volunteered, kid,” Joe reminded her.

“I know, I know.”

“Where have they placed you?”

“Medics at turn 13. That’s Stowe, right?”

“Yeah. It can be a dangerous one. But you’re with my older brother Keith, so you’ll be fine.”

"How is it in the wet?"

"Worse, but the drivers are in safe hands."

----$----

Sadie paced as she watched 18 -Pierre Gasly and Oscar Piastri had sent each other out early in the race- of the best drivers in the world speed past.

“Sadie,” Keith called, “you should sit down.”

“I’m more anxious when I sit,” she replied without taking her eyes off the track. The track that was getting wetter and wetter as the minutes past.

"Mark said to let you pace and I will, but nothing is going to happen," the grey-haired man reassured.

Sadie sent him a kind smile but didn't reply out loud.

It was a good thing she didn’t. They might have missed it.

Two Red Bulls, the McLaren and a Mercedes flew into view. The McLaren, Lando's McLaren, clipped the back wheel of Lewis Hamilton's Mercedes, sending a shower of debris into the misting rain.

Lando's car spun, twice and then slammed into the wall side on. Lewis spun once but managed to pull his car to a spot in the gravel before it could collide with anything.

Sadie was out the door, pulling on her mandatory helmut and grabbing a first aid kit before Keith was out of his chair.

"Go to the McLaren!" Keith shouted to her as he followed with another kit. "I'll take the Merc!"

She didn't acknowledge his order but followed it without hesitation. She jumped the barrier, her gaze locked on the fluro yellow helmet. The helmet that was barely moving.

"Lando," she shouted as she reached the car. "Are you okay?"

"No!" His voice came as a strangled croak, barely loud enough for her to hear him.

She dropped the first aid kit and grabbed the steering wheel he was holding out.

"You will be, we're here." She stated. "Can you get out?"

Sadie didn't breathe as Lando cried out. "My foot!" he wailed. "My ankle!"

"Okay, take a deep breath, Lando. Push yourself up with you arms. You're strong, mate. Push."

She didn't know what she was saying. She was running on instinct and adrenaline. Purely, instinct and adrenaline.

Get them off the track, Mark's voice rang in her head. Get them somewhere safe.

Lando hoisted himself onto the halo and Sadie saw his ankle bent at an unnatural angle. She couldn't let it show on her face.

"Alright, Lando swing to me. Swing around."

He did so, wobbling dangerously.

"Drop onto your right foot, I'm here."

Cars sped past, the flag only yellow.

Lando didn't drop onto his feet, he fell from the car and into Sadie. She was lucky she had braced herself as she caught him.

He screamed in pain as his ankle hit the ground.

"Lando, my name is Sadie. I've got you now, do not put your right foot on the ground. I'm gonna get you to the medical tent."

"Sadie? Melbourne Sadie?" He whimpered. He couldn't stop making small sounds of pain.

She opened his visor, met his watercolour eyes. She knew her helmet had no visor, knew he could see her eyes.

"Yes, Lando, it's Melbourne Sadie. I've got you now, we've got to get you off the track."

She hauled his left arm over her shoulders and wrapped an arm around his waist. "Walk with me Lando. That's it, with your right foot. Good. You're gonna be okay, mate. It's just a scratch."

Sadie still hadn't registered what she was saying, or the fact that Lando was leaning almost all of his weight on her.

Her head snapped up at the sound of approaching cars. With hands firmly on his waist, Sadie slipped out from under his left arm and placed herself under his right.

She put herself between him and the oncoming cars. She didn't know what might happen, hadn't thought about it. She hadn't thought at all.

It was Perez's Red Bull that struck the McLaren or Mercedes debris. More debris flew through the rain, some thing off all three cars. Sadie pulled Lando tighter into her and shielded him as she continued to pull him towards the closest exit.

Pain tore though Sadie's adrenaline. Her right side, both arm and leg. She stumbled, barely, but right herself and Lando cried out in pain again.

She knew two things, do not stop and do not let the pain stop you.

"I've got you Lando, you're going great. Keep going!"

"Sadie," he whimpered. "Fuck. My ankle, Sadie, my car."

"I know, Lando, I know. You're going to be okay. Your car will be fine, you will be okay."

"Fuck," he whimpered again.

"Keep going, pretty boy. Don't put that left foot on the ground. You're gonna be okay, pretty boy."

More hands joined hers and pulled Lando over the barrier. She didn't register who it was, only that he was on the other side and being treated. She heard a lot of swearing, she heard someone call her name.

She looked up to see Lando staring at her leg. He was laying down, on an ambulance stretcher.

"Sadie," he croaked, his eyes rising to hers.

She didn't look down, a part of her knew she didn't want to know. Sadie kept his eye contact as she tried to stand upright. "I'm okay, Lando. I'm okay." She reassured.

Some one stepped into her line of sight and she lost view of his face. They hauled him into the waiting ambulance.

"Fuck, kid." She recognised that voice.

She turned, limped around to face Mark.

"Mark, Lando he's -" He recognised her voice, just as she had his. She was still wearing the medic's helmet.

"Sadie, your leg. You've-" He stepped forwards and pulled a chair with him.

"I don't know," she whispered. She couldn't be louder, she tried to say it louder but it was the same whispered, "I don't know. I haven't looked."

The paramedic rushed to her, placing the chair beneath her as her right leg gave out.

"Don't look," he muttered. "You're gonna be okay, but you can't look."

Someone handed him gauze and bandages. Another handed him saline and scissors.

Lewis stepped into Sadie's quickly narrowing line of sight.

"Oh my god," he exclaimed.

When Sadie saw him, she remembered what she'd done. She thought about what she'd done.

The crash. Catching Lando. Essentially dragging him off the track. Putting herself between him and the cars. Her leg. She didn't know the damage but her leg was on fire.

"Sir," she breathed. "Lewis, my helmet, please."

"Oh my god, kid. They're gonna look after you, okay?" He dropped to his knees next to her, leaving his own helmet in the dust.

"I know," she croaked as he undid the straps at her chin. "It's not that. The media- Lewis, hide me from the media. Please."

That's when Lewis recognised Sadie. Her brown hair was plastered to her pale face. Her brown eyes were wide with fear.

"Oh shit. Okay kid, yeah. They'll never know your name, they'll never see your face. I swear it, kid. I promise."

Someone handed her a green piece of plastic. The green whistle. Pain relief, and a very strong one.

He last words before the high kicked in were, "Lewis, please. No reports, no one can know it was me."

Needless to say, the rest of the day was a blur. She barely remembered the ambulance ride, getting the piece of Formula One car embedded in her thigh taken out or the stitches in her arm and leg.

It was all over the news.

Medic gets stabbed with shrapnel while helping driver Lando Norris.

Norris out of SIlverstone GP: The Medic Who Saved Him.

Two in hospital after dangerous crash at Silverstone.

But Sadie's name was never written. Every reporter was baffled at the disappearance of her identity.

----$----

Lewis had gone to Max that evening, before the winner had the chance to go out.

"It was the Melbourne volunteer," he'd told him in his hotel room. "The medic in hospital, it was Sadie."

Max's face snapped towards Lewis. He'd been making Lewis a coffee, but it was abandoned.

"What happened? Is she okay?"

Lewis shrugged, shadows passing over his face. "I don't know, man. I- Her leg was bad."

"Fuck," Max muttered. "How did it happen?"

Lewis rubbed his face with his hands. "I don't know that either. I didn't see it. It's what happens now that I want to talk about. I need your help."

Max froze. Lewis knew why, he'd never asked Max for help before. They were friendly, finally, but they weren't close.

"She begged me, Max, begged me, to keep her name out of the media. So far, so good but I need your influence in the paddock. You still have the unpredictable 'Mad Max' reputation to some people. I need you to use it."

He nodded and there was an understanding between the champions. Sadie had protected their friend, maybe saved his career if some of the initial reports were true, and it was their turn to protect her.

"I don't why she was so desperate. She was begging me. She had a piece of fucking metal sticking out of her goddamn leg and she was begging me to hide her from the media."

"it doesn't matter," Max stated. His eyes were dark as he search his contacts for a name. "It doesn't get out. Her name appears no where."

They would protect her.

----$----

I'm not sorry. I hope you enjoyed! Feedback in welcome :)

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be still, my foolish heart [2] - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k

series warnings: lots of language throughout, some allusions to smut but nothing explicit, a LOT of fucking fluff mostly ngl

a/n: the response on the first chapter of this was so overwhelming in the best way. i'm literally beside myself that people enjoyed it! my current plan is to update this every other day and try and get some little blurbs and one shots out in between. have a fabulous saturday night my loves <3

series summary: when jamie gets called up to the england team for the first time, he's terrified. enter you, all smiles and swearing, and suddenly his only fear is falling head over boots for you.

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

---

chapter two - i swear i thought i'd dreamed her

“Is that all you’ve got, Tartt?”

“Oh you’re so fuckin’ on, Rife.”

It’s day four of training camp. Jamie is over the moon to find that the England lads are largely similar to his Richmond lot and while he’s not half in love with them like he is back home, they’re a good bunch of lads. They get on. They can rib each other endlessly and then enjoy a good meal. He feels far more at home than he could have imagined.

He hadn’t expected Ted to get quite so jealous when he was telling him all this on FaceTime the night before.

“It’s nothin’ like being at home, though, Ted. ‘Course fuckin’ not. Haven’t got a grandad screaming at me all the time, ‘ave I?”

That was enough to placate Ted, allowed him to get on with telling Jamie how everyone was getting on at Richmond. Apparently, Ted had originally called him to get some advice on hair care products, but Jamie didn’t buy that for a second. He knew Ted could tell how nervous he was before he left. He was so grateful to have a gaffer - and a friend - willing to make up a shit excuse to check up on him.

He was holding his own in the training sessions too. He knew he wasn’t first choice up front, and however much it might have irked him previously, now he was able to enjoy the prestige that came with being here. The feeling he got when he shrugged on his England kit every morning just like he’d dreamt about when he was only a sexy little baby.

He loved penalty practice with Rife, tackling Marko in a 5v5 and knowing he’d be tackled back any second. He knew they were training for what would turn out to be some of the most important matches of his career, but it didn’t feel like it. It felt like making a few new friends and dragging them down to the nearby pitch everyday to have a kick about. It felt nice.

Still hadn’t managed to talk to the City lads, though.

It was beginning to affect his play, too. When one of them would shout out an instruction to him, he’d do it without hesitation, wanting to make nice. But he knew that his own instincts got him his place on this team and blindly listening to others wasn’t going to get him any minutes.

Which was why he was stood behind a plant, outside the hotel bar, trying to figure out his move to just go over and talk to the fuckers.

They were nice lads. He knew that. They used to be friends, yeah, but he was a prick back then, so maybe they only liked prick Jamie and weren’t that nice at all. Or they hated prick Jamie and wanted nothing to do with him ever again. Or they thought he was a total joke who didn’t deserve to be there. Or-

“What did the plant do to you?” came a voice from behind him, which made him realise he was gripping the stem with a vengeance, “You need me to kick it over? I’ll do it, but you’ll need to be lookout.”

That playful teasing, that voice, was familiar. When he turned and found you, kind head of PR you that he hadn’t seen properly since your first meeting, he couldn’t decide if he was a lucky bastard or had the worst misfortune in the whole world. He groaned either way as he let go of the poor plant.

“I’ll water it later to say sorry, I guess,” he said, patting a leaf in a way that felt pretty pathetic, “You’re stayin’ ‘ere too? I haven’t seen ya.”

That wasn’t totally true. He’d seen you about once a day since that first day, but only around the camp itself rather than the hotel. The two of you had shared curt nods each time, a reminder of your first meeting, but each time these nods had been followed by easy smiles to each other.

Each time you’d been sharply dressed. A pencil skirt here, a trouser suit there. It reminded him a little of Rebecca, except for the little touches that he’d noticed you let slip through the professional facade. A beaded anklet, a pair of fluffy earrings. You were a ray of sunshine around the place, that much he had picked up on. The regulars at the camp greeted you as a similar breath of fresh air.

“Perk of being head of a department,” you smile, “How’s training treating you? Issues with the grass that you’re taking out on all plants in sight?”

There was a very loud sigh waiting in his throat. He could make up a lie about waiting for someone, or checking out the plants because he wanted to get himself one back home, but you’d see through any bullshit he offered up. And he didn’t really want to bullshit you anyway.

“More embarrassin’ than that, I think,” he admits, watching as your face falls from that teasing smile to something with more worry in it. It’s very hard to keep eye contact with you when you’re looking at him all concerned like that, “I’m gonna give y’ the option to walk away now, if ya want, so y’ don’t have to be part of it, like.”

He watches you make a face as if there’s an obvious answer to what he’s just said. Without thinking, he takes a quick glance back at the City players huddled around the bar to check they haven’t clocked him. Of course, you notice.

“I hope you know how mysterious and intriguing you just made this situation,” you say as you come to stand beside him, more behind the plant than you were, “Something to do with the lads in there?”

That big, loud sigh he’s been holding in manages to break free.

“Yeah, it is. Yeah,” he doesn’t even know how to say it without sounding like a sad sack of shit. You smell really good and it’s the first time he’s seen you in anything other than work clothes and you look incredible in cargos. His thought process is scrambled, “They’re all City, yeah? Sooo…we were teammates an’ then we weren’t. Now I’m…fuck, I don’t even fuckin’ know what I’m doin’.”

Part of him hates swearing like that in front of you until he remembers your penchant for swearing. He hadn’t looked at you when he was talking, but when he risks a look back at your face, there’s no more of that worry that had been there briefly. There’s understanding instead, and he likes it a lot more. 

“You want to talk but don’t know how? Think they hate your guts?”

“Well, it’d be hard to hate these guts,” he says, words cocky but he doesn’t get the tone right and he’s quick to self-deprecate instead, “But yeah, that sums it up. Pretty fuckin’ pathetic, huh?”

“No. Not fucking pathetic at all, Just Jamie. Don’t call yourself that.”

You’re looking at him expectantly so he nods, a little confused by your ferocity.

“Good. Not pathetic,” you say again, for him or for you, he isn’t sure, “So, let’s get us a game plan. How about we go in there, order a drink maybe, definitely some chips, and I’ll wave them over after ten minutes. I’ll make up some PR bullshit, get the conversation going.”

He hesitates. Suddenly, he realises his previous plan was to stare at them all night through the leaves of this plant before running back to his room when they looked like they were about to get up.

“I dunno…maybe I should leave it? Like, I’m making a big deal out of nothin’, really.”

“I think they’d appreciate you making an effort,” you insist, “I can confirm that they don’t hate your guts, if it helps. They’re decent lads. Warne is a dickhead, but he’s harmless. I’m sure you know all this, really.”

“You might be underestimatin’ what a dickhead I was, Just Y/N,” he laments, although the use of what he could now call a nickname between the two of you makes him feel better, “I was fuckin’ awful.”

“No, I know,” she says instead, and he wasn’t expecting that. His head snaps to gape at her so quick she actually laughs at him, “I watched Lust Conquers All. It’s trash but it makes you feel better about yourself, you know? And yeah, you did seem like a dickhead, but you don’t seem like one now. Anyone with half a brain would notice, so I’m sure even Warne will realise you’re not coming at them from the same place you were at.”

It’s a lot to process. Firstly, that yet another person has watched that godforsaken fucking show and it’s you and he feels like a total idiot in front of you now. But then he registers the rest of it, that in such a short time you’ve just proclaimed that he’d obviously not like that anymore. That he’s changed. He knows he has, but he doesn’t always expect other people to notice straightaway.

“How the fuck did you watch that show and still manage to be so nice to me when we met?” he asks, because he can’t help himself. He wants to know the answer. Wants to know if you’re just like that with everyone, because that would probably be easier.

“Hey,” you lower your voice, “Richmond fan, remember? I’ve been to the games. Even a couple of the open training sessions. Everyone at Richmond knows you’re a different person now, right?”

He gulps. Nods.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. So…I do too,” you’re practically whispering now. Talking to you is like having a piece of Richmond with him, maybe even more so than the playlist. You’re Richmond and you know the new Jamie. It means more than he should tell you to feel like he has someone on his side, “Also I’m pretty good friends with this guy at the club. Do you know Trent Crimm?”

“You know Trent?” he exclaims, louder than he should. You hush him, but you’re smiling as you do it. He repeats his question a lot quieter, “Sorry. You know Trent Crimm?”

“Yeah, he used to do some reporting on England, for a while. We ended up chatting quite a lot. There’s not many male football journalists out there worth making friends with, but Trent’s one of the good ones. He texted me to look after you, actually, so you must be pretty great.”

Now Jamie was really torn. On the one hand, Trent texting you to take care of him was really fucking nice for a man he hadn’t even spoken to all that much. On the other hand, there was now a sinking feeling in his chest that all this kindness was a favour to Trent and had nothing to do with him at all.

“Oh. That’s- uh, that’s nice to hear.”

“Oh fuck, that’s not why I want to help you!” you said quickly, like you’d read his mind, “I just saw you with the plant, wanted to check you were okay. I’m not just, like, fulfilling a promise to him or anything.”

That sinking feeling lifted. Especially because he liked that you wanted to make sure he knew that. He could feel little pieces of his confidence floating back into his body. They were on thin ice, however, when you tugged on his arm to follow you as you walked straight into the bar, heading directly for the City players as you did so. He had no choice but to follow you.

His first thought was that you really did look criminally good in cargos, and his second thought was that this wasn’t in the fucking plan.

“Boys! My City Folk,” you greet them, definitely going for awkward on purpose. The three players smiled and waved as you came to stop beside them at the bar, Jamie following behind attempting to look as cool as possible, “I do hope you’re not breaking any rules? I am a known grass, and I will tell Gareth.”

They laugh and Jamie joins in because then maybe he’ll be part of things. Also, you’re funny, and he can tell you know it.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, just water for us tonight. We thought if we came down here, it might at least feel like we were drinking.”

“And I thought there might be some girls to chat with,” Warne added, as expected by pretty much everyone who knew him, “None around until you showed up, Y/N.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Warne,” you reprimand, though there’s enough teasing in it that he just grins, “Didn’t the others remind you this hotel is entirely booked out for England players and staff?”

“Yeah. But you never know who you haven’t met yet.”

Jamie snorts at that and it draws more attention to him than he’d like. But it’s an opening, and your eyes are wide telling him to go for it! So he does.

“Strangely profound for you, Warne,” he supplies, grateful when you chuckle and the other two City boys join in, “Hey, how about the next round of water is on me?”

That really draws a laugh out of them, even Warne.

“You were always a generous son of a bitch, Tartt,” Rocky smiles, clapping him on the back. Again he sees an opening and with you still looking at him all encouragingly, he wants to take it.

“Nah, I wasn’t. I was a prick when we last talked. But I’ve been told I’m slightly better now, sometimes,” he glances at you when he says it, but you look so fond he has to look away, “Anyways, what I’m tryin’ to say: I’m sorry for before. Hope we can start fresh, like.”

“Mate,” Rocky shakes his head, brushing him off, “We’re all good. Long as you don’t keep drifting offside when I’m trying to thread one to you, I think we’ll manage.”

“Yeah, and don’t beat me in the fitness trials, alright? That’s my time to shine,” Warne adds, and even he’s got a friendly look in his eye, an attempt to respond to Jamie’s obvious and unexpected vulnerability. The weight that Jamie feels lift off his chest is massive. He can breathe properly again.

“No promises, mate. I’m fuckin’ fast now. Lightning, me.”

And with that, it’s easy to fall back into the banter he was used to. When Warne has launched into a story about not being able to find a toilet in Ibiza, he turns to you to say a silent thank you, but you’ve vanished from his side. He tries not to let his disappointment show on his face.

Searching around for a second, as subtly as he can, he spots a flash of your cargos behind the plant he’d been so well acquainted with. You pop your head out when you see that he’s looking and shoot him a double thumbs up and it’s all he can do not to excuse himself from the conversation and run over to you.

But you’re already giving a little wave and walking the other way. He watches you until you’re gone. Lets his eyes linger even a little longer than that.

When he turns back to tune into Warne again, hoping none of them noticed his wandering eye, he’s so incredibly grateful that you helped him face his fear. That he’s got his wish, and can get back to the game he loves without anymore unfinished business hanging over him.

Alongside that gratefulness, is the tugging at his heart that thinks his position behind that plant wasn’t so bad, once he gained some company. 

But he wouldn’t have flirted with you. He isn’t going to. Bad idea. Just talking, in a totally friendly way, would have been a pretty fucking nice evening, he thinks.

---

next chapter

if you've got this far, i fucking love you!! <3 and if you're at all into real life football like i am (enough to be pursuing a job in the field ffs) then see if you can work out who any of the England players might be based on hahaha

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What About Me? Ch. 4

Sorry it took so long guys. Been working on asks and some personal things have been kicking me in the ass. I'm hoping to get most of my asks out today so I can focus on this fic a little more. As always, I love you guys and hope you enjoy!!

Gangle talked with you for hours, making you feel much more comfortable. You had some knowledge as to how this place worked, now. You knew who was who, how they acted, and the parameters of what is considered “inappropriate” and would get you in trouble. 

Eventually, she stood up, stretching. You snorted to yourself, why would ribbons need stretching? She picked up her liners and whatever paper she hadn’t drawn on, “It’s pretty late, though,” she yawned, despite the fact feeling tired wasn’t digitally possible, “I’m going to head to bed.”

“Alright,” you agree, hopping out of bed to walk her to your door. You did this out of habit: every time your friends were leaving in the real world, you would accompany them to the door. She giggled as you walked her to the door.

“Madam,” you fake an accent, bowing as you opened it for her. Gangle only laughed harder, walking from the room, “Why, thank you!” You stand upright again, waving as she trotted up the hall, “See you tomorrow!”

She waved back, “Yeah, definitely!” and slipped into her own bedroom. You pause a moment, just in case she forgot something, but she didn’t pop back out. Almost instinctively, you look down the other side of the hall. A door closed rather suddenly, making you jump. You hadn’t heard or seen anyone coming, and Gangle didn’t say anything if she had.

The fact someone had been watching you didn’t frighten you. No, it was the fact they didn’t want to be seen that made you uneasy. Your eyebrows knit together, but you decide to man up and see who it was. You ignore the little voice in your head screaming at you this is how people die in horror movies!

“Can’t die here,” you mutter under your breath, reassuring yourself a tiny bit. Reaching the door, you stop in surprise; Jax’s door stared you down, his annoying smile present even in the image that adorned it.

You raised your fist, about to knock, but stopped suddenly. There was a shadow under the door, indicating that someone was standing relatively close to it. You chicken out immediately, dropping your arm and speedwalking back towards your room, slipping inside and closing the door as quietly as possible.

You place a hand on your chest, breathing deeply to calm your anxiety. You wander to your bed, falling face-first into it. You grunt, realizing that it was a lot more of a smack than you had thought it would be. People in fanfictions did it all the time, you just copied it.

You shake your head to clear it, wrapping yourself in your sheets and snuggling down. You didn’t feel like getting lost in another existential crisis today. You yawn, surprising yourself. Maybe it was to make everyone feel normal. Your eyes droop, and you soon find yourself drifting into a deep sleep.

You were awoken to a loud banging on your door. You jolt upright, eyes wide, confused and still half asleep. “Wake up, sleeping beauty, everyone else has been up for hours.”

You grumble, trudging to the door, your blanket still wrapped around you. You swing your door open, glaring at the one on the other side.

“Jax. Was waking me like that really worth making me jump out of my skin?” His grin only widened, “Absoluetly, it’s what i was goin’ for.” You roll your eyes and toss your blanket on the ground, “I’m awake now,” you grump, shoving past Jax roughly and heading up the hallway. 

You ignore his blatantly, knowing very well he was following you. He had to rush a bit to catch up with you, but soon was walking beside you, beat for beat. “What was that for? You never been woken up by your parents or something?”

The only response you give is a rather sour expression. You wouldn’t even look at him, let alone speak. You swore you saw his face drop a bit, but he recovered quickly enough. “Didn’t you ever learn manners? You’re supposed to talk back, remember?”

Ignoring him once more, you round the corner to the main hall. You perk up immediately, seeing exactly who you were looking for. “Gangle! Ragartha!” you chirp, running over, leaving Jax in the dust.

“Oh, hey! You’re a lot happier than yesterday!” Ragatha smiles sweetly. “Oh, definitely. Gangle and I hung out all day!” Gangle giggled, “I was just telling her, actually!” 

You noticed Jax hadn’t moved from where you left him. He was just… standing there, looking at the little group you’d formed. He honestly looked disappointed, or maybe sad, or even abandoned. That was it, abandoned. Something about his expression made regret nibble at your chest.

“Are you coming or not?” you call to him, hoping you wouldn’t regret it. But seeing him perk up, before playing it cool as he headed to you, you knew you weren’t going to. You can handle this guy.

“Heh, sure, if you want me that bad,” he stopped beside you, crossing his arms, “what’s up, dollface? Crybaby?” Alright, maybe a bit of regret. “Don’t call Gangle crybaby,” you snap. You didn’t say anything about Ragatha, knowing she could handle herself. Besides, she didn’t seem to care about her own nickname.

“(Y/N) was nice enough to ask for you to be here, are you seriously going to ruin it by being a jerk?” Jax lifts his hands in a gesture of mock surrender, “Alright, alright!” You see him glance at you, it’s quick but you notice it. Ragatha seems to have seen it as well, and backs down a bit, “Thought so,” she adds with a grin.

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