#similar to characters taking off their glasses and putting it on again

[frosty-tian]

Finished a silly doodle (of two gay disasters) as warm-up.

[astrxealis]

sometimes i think of scenarios in my head with my ocs and then sometimes for happy brain i kinda crossover them with my favorite medias atm and also insert myself in bcs i like being self-indulgent and yeah my brain is so fucked up that i just keep repeating the same first bits and can't get far in thinking and i end up just having my s/i ramble my thoughts and it's hard to explain but yeah but anyways it's interesting thinking about who or what my ocs would like in video games or colors or whatever because all my ocs seem to reflect a certain part of me and i can get into the psychology of that but also its hard to explain my thoughts but also anyways yeah i find it interesting thinking about who my ocs would kin

[authorhjk1]

How does DC give head? 🤔

Jiu

"Oh god."

You groan when you feel Jiu's tongue swirl around your tip. Both her hands are placed on your thighs, your own hand on the back of her head. But you don't do anything. Jiu is the one taking good care of you.

"Does this feel good, baby?"

You can only nod, silently begging her to put her lips on your cock once more. It isn't even the way she gives you blowjobs. It's just the fact that she seems to enjoy herself so much while doing so, that turns you breathless. And it isn't that cock hungry lust either. It's pure affection.

Jiu only has eyes for you. Especially in the bedroom.

SuA

"C-Can you slow down?"

"Take it like a man."

SuA's response makes your head roll back as she sucks on your tip once more. She is stroking your cock with a torturous pace, making you flinch, whenever she tightens her grip a little. SuA always pushes you right towards the limit. She sucks you off very aggressively, before stopping at the last moment. Then, she strokes just as fast, threatening to hurt you badly, just so she can stop right before the edge once more.

"I-Please..."

"What's the magic word?"

"Mommy?"

"Good baby boy."

She likes it when you call her that. You always feel a little ashamed afterwards, after giving her so much control over you. But if that means she'll let you cum...

Siyeon

Siyeon likes to play with you. Similar to SuA. The only problem is, Siyeon doesn't understand the difference between privacy and public.

"C-Can't we wait, until we're home?"

Siyeon looks up at you as you melt further and further into the sofa, which is standing in Dreamcatcher's dressing room.

"Why?"

Her innocent face and the tone of her voice conflict with what she is doing to you right now.

"What if the others...."

You can't finish your sentence. Siyeon has decided to shut you up by letting her tongue dance around your length a couple of times.

"What if the others what?"

Once again, she makes you think that you're the problem and not her.

"Don't you like what I'm doing?"

"I-"

Before you can answer, Siyeon is all over your cock once again. And so, like after every Dreamcatcher performance, you're left with anxiety, fear and pleasure at the same time.

Handong

If there would be an Olympic competition for not running out of ideas for roleplaying scenarios, Handong would definitely win gold.

You can't count the amount of outfits she only bought for sex. Just like this one. A grey, see through blouse, her black bra clearly visible. Expensive looking glasses and the tightest and shortest skirt she could find.

You've seen Handong several times in this outfit before. Strict teacher Ms. Kim, rich heiress Lady Handong, submissive student Dongie. But today she is someone different once again.

"W-We shouldn't be doing this."

You groan when you feel her soft hands stroke your base, while her tongue plays with your tip. So far, not one of her characters was a miss.

"It's okay, sweetie."

Handong looks up at you, a mischievous smile on her face.

"I'm not your real mom anyways. And as your stepmom, it's my job to take care of you."

Yoohyeon

Yoohyeon is never the one who initiates something sexual. Even when she's in the mood, she just clings too you, until you finally suggest something. And public sex isn't really the things for her either.

But when the two of you are alone, that's where she shines. She always seems sweet and shy, so you never expected her to be this much into being tied up. Just like right now.

Yoohyeon's hands are tied behind her back, and a collar decorates her neck. The end of the leash, or rather chain, is loosely lying in your right hand.

"Am I being a good puppy for you, master?"

"Yes, you're a good girl."

You pat her head as Yoohyeon resumes her blowjob. She does take the pet play to an extreme sometimes, but you like it the way it is right now the most.

"You're doing great."

Yoohyeon gives you a gorgeous smile, but you force her back onto your cock by pulling at the chain a little.

Dami

Dami puts her finger on her lips, telling you to shut up. Her other hand is covering your mouth, making sure the two of you don't get caught.

She resumes her blowjob a moment later. You feel your eyes rolling back as she swallows your cock.

It's late already and SuA and Jiu are sleeping on the couch right next to you. The credits of the movie you just watched are still rolling. But like always, Dami just has to tease and play with your anxiety at every chance she gets.

"Be a good boy for me and stay quiet."

She whispers, before focusing on your cock once more. You groan into her hand as you feel Dami slowly forcing her mouth further down your shaft, until your cock finally fills her throat.

Gahyun

"What the hell, Gahyun?"

You push her head off of you. Your cock is covered in her spit, her mouth messy as well.

"I told you."

A mischievous grin plays around her lips.

"Voting for me to get killed during the mafia game will have consequences."

"I was just playing the game, Gahyun. I-"

Before you can react, Gahyun starts to fuck her throat with your cock once more.

"Fuck!"

You can't help but groan loudly. Which is still not as bad as the sounds she is making. All of Dreamcatcher must hear the youngest gags as she keeps impaling her throat on your cock. Spit bubbles form on the base of your cock, while Gahyun's hands are placed flat on your thighs to give her more leverage.

"Gahyun..."

It's a combination of groan and plea. You can almost see Jiu's disapproving look right in front of you as her precious maknae ruins herself all over your cock on purpose.

When Gahyun finally takes all of you, her lips kissing your base, she stays in place for a while. The silence doesn't last long though. After a couple of seconds, she starts to cough up spit, drenching your cock in even more saliva. By now the whole group must know what's going on.

[justcallmesakira]

"𝑰𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚 𝒃𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒌?"

summary: just my favourite characters taking care of reader when shes sick

genre: hurt to comfort, full fluff

warnings: reader has a personality similar to me!, fem reader, nothing else, double suicide joke on dazai

a/n: guys please I am so sick right now I feel sohdghdgdhd if only there was someone who could send me some sakilai selfship stuff/j

"nikolaiiiii" you whine from your bed eyes too teary to reach out wherever he is.

"Ah, my dove, I am coming right now" he shouts from outside of your room running in with a packed box of soup.

Unfortunately because of nikolais amazing cooking skills he failed to make a simple cup of soup. So he decided to order from takeout.And that soup is the food you need to eat right now.

"feed me please..." you state when he placed the bowl of soup and sat down next to you."Dove i think you can feed yous-" you only sniffed and looked at him with teary eyes which instantly made a certain feeling of guilt rise up in his stomach.

"fine then. Guess I will have to take care of my lovely crybaby girlfriend!" nikolai jokes before using taking off his gloves using his teeth and putting them aside, which you always considered a very handsome and hot thing for him to do.

His bare hands pick up the spoon full of soup and vegetables and gently slides it into you mouth, as fragile like a glass doll.

"Also I am not a crybaby! It was an act for you to feed me" you puff to which gogol gasps a bit too dramatically "you pesky silly! Come here daddy's going to punish you kittem" he jokingly says putting the bowl of soup on the bed side.

"HELP nikolai that is not funny! Stop THAT IS NOT FUNNY AT ALL. I am sick!!" you cry out getting out of his way which fails as he lunges towards you and holds you in his grasp

"I was joking! Calm down (name) I just want to hug your germs away." "Those germs will hug you back but okay!"

You sneakily crept up to the fridge before opening it, looking for a tub of icecream before finding it instantly. You reach out to grab it but before your hand can get any closer a hand slams the door shut.

You don't turn around to the figure behind you and swallow a spit, scared of the man's creepy and menacing smile from behind you.

"Now now, isn't my dear supposed to be in bed resting? So I wonder who this woman here is" his sarcastic voice rings in your ears as you slowly turn around.

"Fedya hahaha what are you doing here ahaha aren't you supposed to work?" you nervosuly laugh before you start coughing again, more ferocious this time.

His cruel and irritated shade hovering his eyes become more soft and tendor as he picked you up over his shoulders like a pack of potatoes and carried you to the bedroom.

"Fyodor? Since when did you become s-augh augh strong-?" you asked clearly shocked at his sudden romantic move.

"Say that again I am giving you medieval style treatment." "WH- wait how do you know medieval tre--"

Before you could finish your sentence, he throws you on the bed in the gentlest way before sitting down next to you and grabbing a medicine.

"please tell me it's not those swallow pills. I hate them like you everyone in Yokohama hates you" you pout but he only glares at you for a second.

"I mean- I love you hahaha, you know" you laugh it off and look at his nail bitten fingers elegantly take the spoon of the liquid and holds it up to you lips.

"ew that looks like pink vomit" you get away from the spoon infront of you. "(name) I didn't ditch my work for this, it feels like I am taking care of a child rather then my significant other."

"wellll you still counted me as your significant other so" you tease him, trying to make him forget about the medicine.

"(name)" his voice is colder than your cold and you only look at him with puppy glistening eyes. "can.. can you feed me with your mouth? a sickly kiss?" you ask innocently.

"you are already sick fedya, please?" he only sighs at your statement, knowing it's stupid and silly to argue with you.

He takes the medicine in his mouth and pulls you closer to push it in. It tastes bitter, but his lips make it sweet. It only lasts a moment but cures that starving feeling in your heart.

He pulls away as you swallow the liquid before tucking your self under the covers and start giggling like a school girl.

"sigh,,,please don't eat anything cold, your sickness will only worsen. Take your pills daily and I will send some chocolates later, okay? Don't be too much of a hassle"

"Bellllaaaaaa, i got you your favourite food!" his voice soothes out like a lullaby to your ears as you rise up from your bed and rush towards him.

"zai-zai!" But before you could say anything your head starts spinning and everything seems dizzy.

He keeps the bag of food on the table before rushing to catch you. "WOAH bella, can't have you spinning to death now can we! You told me if you had to die you wanted to die with me! Together"

He says picking you up bridal style and laughing at the swirls in your eyes. "i am here feeling like I just hot down from some Rollercoaster and your here joking? I swear to god dazai this is why you can't pull hoes"

"why would you say that bella? You pull germs" he pouts like a child but was probably smirking inside at his cheeky remark.

"You little manwh-" "shhh lets eat soem chocolate cheesecake shall we?" he places you on the side of your bed and brings the packets of cakes and slowly lays it down infront of you.

You sick and tired looking eyes glow up. "I want the cheesecake!" you announce to him as dazai laughs before opening the packet and taking a spoonful of the desert before motioning you to open your mouth.

He feeds you it whole slowly, which you only giggle "i didnt new yuo weer so living, dezai" you mumble chewing on the contents.

"finish your food first bella, then you can compliment your amazing BOYFRIEND HAHAHA" he laughs before getting up to clear up the packets.

While he does that you snuggle up to your bed before coughing for a while. "come join me, love" you motion him which your boyfriend does as he lays himself next to you

"Oh my bella, I hope you get well soon I can't wait to kiss you and hug you and maybe even fall off the bridge with you!"

You moved away from the camera turning on the record button and started dancing to the choreography of 'detention' by melanie martinez which by the way you should actually check out.

However as you were swifting your movements according to the dance you heard a Click and ran to you bed, but you only had a second to choose a sleep position before yosano can come.

"(name) I am not that stupid." she opens the door to enter the room as she looks at your pretend sleeping position.

"You can just dance hystericaly while you have a bad cold and have iron cells lesser than than the literacy rate in japan" your girlfriends scolding hits you hard so you decided to get up, what's the point.

"As much as i wish i could see more of you dancing" she continues, "You need to get better for it, I dont want you fainting once again like yesterday.

"who knew you could joke" you whine out. Yosano takes a chair and takes a place beside you. "I am not that serious, love. Now let me check your fever."

She takes off her gloves and presses her hand on your forehead. "Hmm, you have long way to fully recover" her voice is much softer than when she was scolding you.

"huhhh, that's not fair...i dont want to be bedridden for soooo long :(" your eyes start looking teary again, nose red from the heavy coughing from when she was taking care of you last night.

she sighs, "awhh my baby, there there. This is why I told you to take the medicines. But you didn't listen did you" you look up to her eyes glossy like a child who needs to be cared.

She kisses your forehead before getting up.

"I wish I could kiss your cold away however it won't work like that instead I will cook you your favourite chicken soup for you okay?"

a/n: man i hate my hoarse throat aughhhh I want fedya to take care of me rn *cough cough*

Divider crds: @anitalenia go check her blog NOW

Tags: @little-miss-chaoss @terururuko @inojuuy @biscuits-tragic-diner

[shortie-stack]

I've seen a lot of posts comparing Bill and Ford (and for good reason, they are very much parallels and foils to each other) but I haven't seen as much exploring how Bill and Stan mirror each other. Where Bill saw Ford as a tool and maybe even sympathized with him because of their shared experiences (outcast by their peers for traits beyond their control, hungry for knowledge and prestige, isolated from friends and family), Bill sees Stan as the embodiment of everything Bill hates about himself. on the website, entering "Stanley" and clicking enter a bunch of times opens up pages from Bill's perspective about how stan defeated him. Bill maintains that Stan didn't actually beat him, that it was Ford's plan, that Stan just got lucky, but we know from the show that that simply isn't true-- it was Stan's plan and it was Stan that defeated him. It's interesting to note that bill is okay with giving Ford the credit for his demise, but Stan? unacceptable. we'll come back to that though.

To Bill, Stan is simultaneously everything he hates about himself and everything he wants to be. When listing all of Stan's faults, Bill calls him a "side character, a resume-inflating, cheap trick loving, past denying overgrown child protected by failure only by a forcefield of denial and shamelessness". who else do we know who ticks all of those boxes? Bill himself is a side character for much of gravity falls in the real world, but in the context of the show this statement shows his fear of not actually being anything special. sure he was powerful in his home dimension, but we see time and time again that there are other beings in other dimensions that are just as, if not more powerful (the axolotl, for instance). Bill takes credit for liberating his dimension when he really didn't, he "honors" his deals through loopholes and turns if phrase, and he shouldn't be throwing stones in a glass house, seeing as he's the one having a temper tantrum. Bill is also deeply disconnected from his past, if him telling us the story of the demise of his home dimension is anything to go by, and only digs himself in a deeper hole through putting on this cheerful, confident, powerful persona. Stan does the same thing, especially as Mr. Mystery. but the thing about Stan is that he grows and changes as the show goes on, while Bill's mindset is perpetual. They both were cut off from their family because of something they did (Stan messing with Ford's project, Bill by destroying his entire dimension), but Stan allows a new family to get close to him and chooses to make sacrifices to make his niece and nephew (and even his employees to some extent) happy. Bill on the other hand, surrounds himself with henchmaniacs, yes-men who just want to party and will follow him as long as he shows them a good time. Every depiction of Bill is a window for him to look through, and with so many in the mystery shack, it's certain that he sees Stanley, the embodiment of everything Bill hates about himself, getting what Bill thinks he could never have. and Bill hates it because it means that if Stan can grow and change and make peace with his past mistakes, it also means that Bill can too. But that would require Bill to actually be vulnerable and endure the pain that confronting your past (many, many) mistakes brings. He would have to acknowledge and accept that his home is gone because of him, that countless lives have been ruined because of him, and that the reason he has never been able to maintain close relationships is solely his fault. But he won't. And as a result, he will always end up alone, a king of ashes.

I think Bill thought of Ford as a way to fill his emptiness because of their similarities, and possibly also because he saw Ford as a form of redemption. Ford was brilliant and good and just like Bill and Bill saw that and may have thought, if he likes me there's no way I'm a monster. in a way, Bill saw Ford as the only one worthy of killing him because if it was Ford it was just a forgone conclusion: Ford hasn't made Bill's mistakes so he is automatically "better" than Bill and Stan, so obviously he could kill Bill. but to have it be Stan means that someone who has messed up in a manner similar to Bill has the capacity to be better. and that shakes Bill to the core.

[muffinrecord]

Also I'm a little harsh on Magia Record's storyline being a little... soft? On the hostilities between characters. But I also understand why things are resolved the way they are.

Magia Record is ultimately a story about characters coming together and saving each other. It's baked into the gameplay-- the connect was a big feature that even made its way into the anime.

You can tell the vibe of the game just by comparing it to the anime in fact. In the anime, a ton of characters die. Iroha is unable to save Kuroe, Mifuyu and Momoko have to die as penance in exchange for saving the ones they mislead, Homura fails to save Madoka (and possibly other PMMM original characters) and rewinds time, Ui dies, Touka dies, Nemu dies. Alina dies. Alina's interactions with Karin amount to mostly fan teasing. We see magical girls in the background who are working together against Walpy, but Kanagi is barely present, which means she doesn't have her moments of grouping up with Yachiyo (and all that represents for the east versus west conflicts).

In the anime, the girls fail.

In the game, they succeed. Characters like Mifuyu, who lead others astray, try to kill themselves for redemption but are prevented from doing so because her friends love her and want her to stay with them. Kanagi gets to work with Yachiyo, showing that they have bonds and similarities beyond their differences. Momoko's group never fractures and joins the Wings of Magius, so their friendship continues to keep them propped up and saved. Kuroe is introduced late in the game but she obviously survives and learns to live on. Homura gets to save Madoka and stay her Glasses self, continuing to deepen her friendships with the rest of the gang. Ui, Touka, and Nemu get to be friends again. Touka and Nemu are put on trial but still get to work to try and save humanity. Alina fails to kill people and has Karin more prominently present to remind you of her softer sides, Nemu fails to get herself killed, and blah blah blah, you get my point. This isn't even getting into arc 2, where characters start off very hostile to everyone but smooth at towards the end.

I've got my own personal dislikes of how conflict ends in Magia Record sometimes-- I feel like it takes the easy way out and ignores more interesting routes. I think ending a story so that everyone gets along can be boring and lazy sometimes.

At the same time, I do respect the writing direction for it. I think there's value in saying that everyone (or damn near everyone) can be saved, that people ultimately want to help each other. People want to connect with other people. Friendship can save all. Your friend might be going down a dark path but you can save them through the power of subtextual yuri companionship, compassion, and understanding.

Like, it's a fantasy because you shouldn't be burning yourself to help others, but also fantasy isn't always bad. Sometimes it's nice to have stories where things work out for the better.

I do think though this is why the darker stories in the game really stand out as fan-favorites. Glasses Homura failing to save Kuro is such a gut punch because it feels like that should be impossible in the world of Magia Record, where you can march into a cult and make the leaders into good guys again. Mikoto's pain and suffering stands out because Hanna is never coming back and Mikoto isn't going to get better again. Ryo and Ikumi stay dead. Jun stays dead. Sakuya stays dead. They don't come back.

I'd wager that one reason the story "Girls in the Hood" and its follow up "Dependence Blue" are so popular (besides good writing) is because the fantasy fails and has painfully realistic outcomes in it. Jun isn't able to prevent Mitsune from contracting, despite trying her best to show that you don't need magic to be strong. The two struggle with communicating with each other, despite how much they care for one another. And Jun dies without their feelings being resolved. In a story where so many characters get happy endings (or learn to accept their circumstances), stories like this stick out and have a painful resonance.

I'm meandering again, but yeah. I wish Magia Record was more brave with its writing and that it wouldn't chicken out on pursing conflict at the expense of making characters unlikeable, but I also feel like that wasn't what it wanted to do either. We can say that it's because they wanted to keep their characters as loveable as possible given that it's a gacha and they need to market it to you, but it's also just a storytelling direction that they preferred at the end of the day. I don't have a link but I remember hearing that the writers wanted to keep the game light, that they didn't want people to log in and feel miserable playing a phone game (I could be very badly remembering this).

And you know what, sometimes that kind of cozy friendship-defies-all was very comforting. I dunno. Yeah.

[woooyeahbaby]

How JJK Men Would React to You Being Stared At

warnings: creepy men staring at you, suggestive things, fem!reader, alcohol consumption (nanami)

characters: satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji fushiguro

a/n: stupid tumblr isn’t letting me put my bat separator image between satoru and the characters list so take this gif i guess? i hate not knowing how tumblr works

Satoru Gojo

satoru could feel that guys eyes on you as soon as he started staring. it wouldn’t be the first time you two were in line and you’d been getting ogled by some random dude, and usually he’d just turn around and stare him in the eyes until the guy backed off. but he decided to have fun with it this time. first, satoru places his hand on your lower back, which isn’t uncommon, so you didn’t question it. he expected the guy to stop staring once he did that, since he’d realize you’re taken, but he didn’t let up. so satoru lowers his glasses slightly with his free hand, then, with the hand on your back, slowly slides it down to your ass. you look up at your boyfriend, confused, then see that his head is turned to look at the man behind you. his bright blue eyes are just burning into the other guys’, and you enjoyed seeing this scare tactic from your boyfriend. you didn’t stop him. the man behind you two stopped staring and went to another line.

Suguru Geto

suguru’s way of showing that you’re his is fairly similar to satoru’s. once again, standing in line at some restaurant, you’re holding suguru’s hand and contemplating your order. your boyfriend, on the other hand, is more focused on the guy behind you, whose eyes have not left your backside since he got there. however, unlike satoru, suguru doesn’t ease into reaching for your ass, he goes straight for it. he gives it a quick squeeze, making you jump slightly and whisper to him, asking what the hell he thinks he’s doing. he nods his head in the direction of the man, not even trying to hide the fact he’s talking about him. so, the both of you look at the guy, who is now turned away as if he wasn’t doing anything. suguru gently places his hands on your hips, guiding you to stand in front of him so nobody other than him can look at that part of you.

Kento Nanami

a silly little work holiday party that allowed a plus one. so, naturally, kento invited you, his girlfriend. what he hadn’t expected was for one of his coworkers to be eyeing you up the whole night. he waited for the perfect opportunity to show that coworker that he shouldn’t be looking at you of all people. you, kento, and that man were standing together, drinking wine and talking about whatever. of course, kento took into account that his coworker was tipsy, but didn’t take it as an excuse for him to be staring at your boobs. somehow, kento finds a way to be more straightforward than the previous two. “is there something wrong with my wife’s breasts?” not only does the question catch both you and his coworker off guard, but the usage of the word wife. of course, you weren’t complaining about that, but the fact you didn’t realize where the man’s eyes were until kento pointed it out made you uncomfortable. he apologized and walked away, embarrassed. kento smiled slightly at you, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead before continuing the conversation as if nothing happened.

Toji Fushiguro

toji had a bit of spare money for once, so he thought, what else could he use it for other than taking his woman on a date? certainly not food, supplies for megumi, or anything like that… and that’s exactly what he did! of course, it was no place fancy, just a little ramen place. despite how rundown and messy the place looked, he didn’t necessarily expect some old guy to be ogling you from the next table. so, he took advantage of the quietness of the restaurant — other than the few other people in there talking and some sports game on the old tv — and looked that old man dead in the eye as he asked you; “since we’re eatin’ out tonight, can i eat you out tonight?” with his full voice. absolutely no effort to be quiet. because being discreet about that was the opposite of his goal. he wanted to show that old fart who you belong to. and it seemed to work, since the grey haired man quickly realized toji had been looking at him, which made him finish his food, slap his money on the table, and shuffle the hell out of there. this left toji smirking and you a blushing, embarrassed mess.

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

One of Us is Guilty; Epilogue (Final)

Azul is now gone, but the actual room is known. Perhaps they will live to tell this tale.

Characters; Vil Schoenheit, Jade Leech, Silver, Azul Ashengrotto, Cater Diamond, Rook Hunt

Content; Murder mystery, the ending of this tale

Content Warnings; Blood, injury, death, murder, kidnapping (aka dead dove content)

Word Count; 1.3 K

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Epilogue (Part 1) | Epilogue (Final)

Do not put my work into AI If you enjoy my writing, check out my masterlist

Azul was gone, in much a similar manner as Cater — the only evidence serving that he was there being the shattered glasses that now lay on the ground.

“AZUL!” Jade was too late though, and this was the most emotion that he had really shown that night; the bottled emotions finally coming to the surface. 

He knelt down and carefully picked up the glasses, paying no mind to the tiny shards that pricked at his skin through his gloves. Paying no mind to the pinpricks of scarlet that had begun to stain the white fabric. And he stared at the broken glass; in a way, it represented their night. Normal enough at first, but once you got too close, it cuts at you and makes you bleed… it hurts you. And Jade was hurting, he had been since he had found the Prefect’s body earlier that night. 

There was no time though; to mourn, to panic, to freeze. Time would come later, now was the time for action; to stop this here and now.

“Sorry,” Jade breathed, dusting himself off, and pocketing Azul’s glasses. “Are you both alright?”

Silver and Vil both looked at Jade, taking in the slight tremble of his hands as well as the pinpricks of blood that stained his gloves. The calm mask had slipped for a mere second, but they both knew that this affected Jade just as much as it affected them.

“None of us are alright,” Vil sighed, massaging his temples. “And you don’t need to apologize; it’s okay to not be alright… especially in this situation.”

Silver nodded his head in agreement. “If it were Malleus… I would have the same reaction,” he whispered. “You’re strong, Jade.”

Jade pursed his lips but said nothing, instead just offering them both a silent nod; he got the message, but he also knew this was neither the time nor place to lose control of himself. 

“But if the teacher’s lounge wasn’t the room–” Silver mused.

“The library,” Vil exclaimed, eyes widening at the realization. “Think about it; where was Rook at the beginning of all this? The library!” Vil calmed himself down though, since that outburst was quite unlike him. “And if Cater and Azul are being held there, that’s where they will likely be.”

Silver and Jade looked at each other before looking back at Vil, and they followed after him, hands on their pens; ready for the worst, but hoping for the best. Because hope was the only thing that they had now.

…

…

The library was brightly lit up, almost harshly so. And although it was bright, the brightness cast equally as dark shadows.

Rook was nowhere to be seen, and that was both reassuring and a cause for dread. If he wasn’t here, he could be anywhere — hiding.

“Stay together,” Vil murmured, taking the lead again.

Silver and Jade looked at each other, each of them taking to a side of Vil; Silver to his left, and Jade to his right. 

“MhmMMMMM!” 

Muffled yelling; at least one of them was alive.

Following the muffled sounds, Vil, Silver and Jade found themselves in a sheltered alcove of the library. And amongst the dusty books that rarely got any use was Cater, who was looking at the trio with tears in his eyes, and Azul, who was currently unconscious.

They were both alive. And while the trio felt tremendous relief that they were both alive, they couldn’t help but question why. 

Why did Rook spare them? Why did he kill Crowley? Why did he kill Crowley and Professor Crewel with magic, yet he slit the Ramshackle Prefect’s throat? Expired love potions caused some nasty side effects, but nothing to this level of violence and bloodlust.

Jade acted first though, cutting Cater free of his bounds first; using the broken glass from Azul’s glasses to cut through the ropes. 

Once Cater was free of the ropes, he ripped the gag off, taking it heaving breaths. “Get out,” he hissed, gripping Jade’s shoulders. ��He’s planning something and you need to get out!”

Jade stared into Cater’s eyes and nodded, and took his hands off his shoulders before moving over to Azul. “We will, but not without both of you,” he said just loud enough that Cater could barely make it out.

Vil and Silver covered Jade as he cut through Azul’s ropes, and then carried his house warden like a bag of potatoes over his shoulder. Yes, he would be livid once he woke up, but this allowed Jade to carry Azul while wielding his pen, should he need to protect himself, Azul, or the group.

And right as they were about to cross the threshold of the library’s doors, they slammed shut, and all the lights died out.

It was a trap, but I already knew that. It was too easy. Vil thought to himself, and brought out his pen, illuminating their immediate area in a purple glow.

“Ah, leaving so soon?” Rook’s voice called out from the darkness, a breathy chuckle echoing off the walls.

Vil grabbed a book, and while the others were looking at him with shock — since now is not the time to read — he paid them no mind. “It seems that you caught us,” he answered, hoping that some banter would allow him to do what he needed to do. 

Give me a few minutes of time, please. Vil looked into the darkness, searching for that familiar face. “It is awfully rude of you though, to leave your guests in the dark. After all, you can only see the fairest of them all with proper lighting.”

Leave, get out now. Vil’s message got across though, and using the third-year’s distraction, Jade (still with Azul over his shoulder), Silver and Cater managed to slip through the door.

“Roi du Poison, what are you planning? Do you think I would be so foolish to accept anything from you knowing how your unique magic works?” Rook finally stepped out from the darkness, just enough to where he was faintly visible.

Vil quirked his brow at Rook and shook his head, “No, I know you well enough.” But do you know me when I’ve been backed into a corner? “And I know that the real Rook wouldn’t do any of this. It’s the duty of the beautiful to take responsibility for all of their choices. So — Take. Responsibility.” Vil hissed, his grip tightening on the book. 

Rook cocked his head, staring at Vil with empty eyes, the sclera still stained black. “Why does the cat chase the mouse, even though its food dish is full? Why does someone hunt, but not for food?” Rook mused, taking a few steps closer, not breaking eye contact with Vil.

Just a bit closer.

“For sport. For the thrill,” Vil tutted. “Was that what all of this was for then? For you to just have fun hunting down your professors and peers just because you were bored?!”

Rook stopped walking, just an arm's distance away from Vil. “No, it wasn’t fun; they didn’t know…”

Now.

Vil took a breath, stealing his nerves. “You trapped yourself, and you shall remain trapped until we find a way to fix this,” he placed a hand on Rook’s shoulder, and once Rook looked at Vil’s hand in curiosity, Vil pushed the book he was holding to Rook’s chest.

Remain trapped until we find a way to fix this.

And the book sucked Rook into its pages; a prison of paper. And Vil slumped to the floor. Out of relief — that for now, it was over — but also exhaustion. He was so tired.

And while, yes, Rook was now caught, he and the others still had far to go. With reporting everything that had happened. To figuring out how to free Rook and reverse the effects of the potion. To working through the trauma they all had lived through, since this whole ordeal definitely had taken its toll on all of them.

...

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Fin!

Author's Note; Thank you to everyone who voted throughout the duration of this event. Without you, none of this would be possible. I hope that you enjoyed this event as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

[kenmakodz]

˖˙ ᰋ ── the yap temple ˖*

introducing the main cast of "inamorata"! , an inumaki x reader smau.

⤷ our mains !

inumaki and y/n. both second years at tokyo jujutsu high.

toge inumaki, a semi-grade one sorcerer, who uses his inheritance of cursed speech to his advantage. seems like a quiet one, but is actually extremely talkative.. whether through rice ball ingredients or text. it takes quite a smart cookie to decode the meanings in his words, but being with him every day has gotten you mostly accustomed to it.

“toge, maki said if you ate her chips she left on the picnic table she’s going to find you. i don’t really know what that means.”

“FISH FLAKES”

y/n l/n, a grade one sorcerer, who also uses one of the five senses to her advantage, that being her eyes. this technique is called the ‘three stars technique.’ the three stars are identified as time manipulation, teleportation, and telekinesis. to put the time manipulation simply, focusing on a target allows the user to move much faster than seen in real time. essentially, slowing down time for themselves, but nobody else. can be used as a support or a main damage dealer in fights, making it quite useful. (concept created by iwa970 on reddit !)

[ adding onto this, although y/n can control the technique at will, she opts to wear glasses her mother gave her as a child while not fighting, that have been said to "keep others safe". she doesn't know just how true that actually is, but for loves sake does it anyways. often snags one of maki's weapons even if they're not really necessary, either to take dead weight off of panda (if he's around), or to test them out because honestly why not? (does she find it amusing? no sometimes.) ]

⤷ the second years !

yuuta okkotsu, a special grade sorcerer who can copy any ability at will, and utilize them with ease. can come off as a scary guy, but is actually the clumsiest, shyest, awkwardest, nicest person you'll ever meet. trains with maki often, but tries to frequent y/n as well. (he usually gets fed up and tells her "you're too fast! quit it!"

maki zenin, a fourth grade sorcerer who has been horribly mislabeled. one of- if not the most agile students at jujutsu high. she's flexible, quick on her feet, and easy to teach any of the few things she doesn't already know. you're in trouble against maki, not only on the battlefield but if you insult her or one of the people closest to her? in the words of panda, you should probably run.

panda, he's a panda. (jk). a semi-grade 2 sorcerer who is a goofy, cuddly guy most of the time, but can be quite intimidating if you're around him when he swaps his build. not as swift as the other students, but makes up for it with his strength. likes to say he's the "bodyguard" when in reality most of his friends will use him as a pillow.

⤷ the first years !

yuuji itadori, a semi-grade one (newbie) sorcerer, unarguably the physically strongest out of all the students. aside from his first mission, yuuji utilizes hand-to-hand combat like no other. quite a sight to see him lift and break things that nobody around him could ever fathom the strength of doing.

"yuujiiii?! i dropped something behind the fridge again! come move it please?"

nobara kugisaki, a grade three sorcerer who's inherited the straw doll technique. she relies on this technique for the majority of combat, similar to that of a 'voodoo' doll, one could say. picking fun at her is always funny until you realize your fate could (quite literally) be in her hands. she says she isn't strong, but you've witnessed her somehow cause itadori to fall down an entire flight of stairs. sorry shoko.

megumi fushiguro, a grade two sorcerer, inherited the ten shadows technique via the zenin family. often calls his shikigamis out during combat, but similar to maki is skilled at wielding weapons as well. sure, the demon dogs can be.. deadly, but who is he to say no when his friends are practically pleading for pets?!

all main characters unlocked!

masterlist is in progess, please be patient :)

previous , masterlist (wip) , next

taglist is open!

⤷ © kenmakodz

[fruittt-punchhh]

sativa

Synopsis: little one shot based off of this ask, so idc to make this fancy: you and Toji smoke a lot of weed and fuck. enjoy💋

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x you.

Content: Minors Do Not Interact! smut, afab! reader, fem! reader, stoner! Toji, stoner! reader, having sex while high, big dick! Toji, rough sex, suggestiveness, cursing, breeding, dick suckin/pussy eatin, just filthy, unashamed Toji smut. I love that man.

Word Count: 5.6k-ish

Notes: ily and anon was the smartest for this idea. sorry if this is lame but being the stoner I am I couldn’t resist. I’m also bad at endings but it’s fine you’re the best byeeeee😈🥹🫶

You have all of thirty minutes to get ready for the party. Your mascara is dried out, hair totally untouched, and you still couldn’t decide on what outfit to wear.

You weren’t too concerned, but you want to look presentable. It was some random block party, but it was 4/20, so the theme was ‘Mary Jane’ of course. And if you were going to do anything, it’d be dressing appropriately for the occasion. You also know that every time you get high you love taking pictures of yourself and your friends, and you always felt a little better with your face beat and your hair laid.

Speaking of laid, it’s been a minute. Not for any particular reason other than no one has caught your eye recently. But maybe tonight could be your lucky night.

You settle on a green mesh top, a short skirt to go along with it, and some black platform boots to finish it off. You accessorize with your favorite green and gold jewelry, making sure to grab your ring with the big leaf emblem on it. You took a look at your ‘420’ sunglasses, noting how similar they look to New Year’s Eve glasses. Cringing yourself out from the amount of ‘hey I smoke weed!’ energy you’re giving off, you decide to leave the glasses home.

This was the first time in a while you’ve been to a party where you didn’t know anyone there. The front door opens as a couple walks out, and smoke literally billows from the living room. You scoot past them, as well as a large burly man who you assume is security, to get to the kitchen.

You had brought your own weed of course, but you were intent on sharing with others. There were plenty of supplies in the kitchen so you start to roll a few blunts before bringing them to the living room.

Sure, you’ve seen some of these faces around. But you were awful with names and may have snuck in a little gummy edible before the Uber arrived, so socializing has lost it’s sparkle.

You immediately light up, wanting to join the rest of the guests in their euphoria. There was loud music playing, plenty of laughter and talking, and you felt content in your own world.

You pass the blunt to the girl nearest you, and spark up again, wanting to start a rotation.

You’re lost in your phone as you wait for the blunt to come back your way. You look to the man to your left, and notice he’s hogging it. You’re much too chicken to say something, so you decide to let it pass. He was probably just too high and forgot he was holding it.

You continue scrolling, anticipating a lazy bump of your shoulder so you can steal back your blunt. Until a large, looming figure waltzes its way in between you and the blunt stealer.

“Think you’ve had enough, huh? Why don’t you give it back to the lady?” He says as he has a seat next to you, taking the blunt out of the man’s hands. He had it for so long, it wasn’t even burning anymore. You appreciate the gesture and put the blunt between your lips, cursing a muffled ‘dammit’ after you realize your lighter is lost in the abyss. Either that or someone stole it.

Until the man beside you pulls a standard, black bic out of his tight jean pocket. His large hands engulf the lighter as he flicks the spark wheel, bringing the flame closer to your face so you can relight.

You pull a deep puff in, uttering a thank you before you pass it back to him. It’s only right he has some since he saved such a damsel in distress.

You had unknowingly been avoiding eye contact with him; it was a habit of yours when you smoked. After passing the blunt to him, you have a realization.

“I thought you were security,” you blurt out, immediately laughing at the word vomit you were trying to keep to yourself.

“Security?”

God, does he look good.

“Yeah, uh, w-when I came in you were posted up at the door like someone paid you to keep watch. L-Like a big guard dog,” you say, fumbling over your own words like you were paid to.

“You’re funny,” he admits, not knowing what else to say. He passes you back the blunt for the second time, to which you take happily.

God, do you look good.

“Uh, my names Toji by the way.”

“Oh, nice to meet you, I’m y/n.”

You watch his eyes trail your body. You can’t help when you do the same. He was intoxicating to look at. He was so tall, had such a large frame, and looked like he could kill you so quickly. Which as much as you hate admitting, was something you liked in men. He had dark hair and a little scar on his lip.

“Watchya’ staring for, hun?”

You turn to pass the blunt to the girl next to you again, hoping he didn’t notice the redness in your cheeks.

“You were starin’ first,” you say, and he can’t help but agree.

“It’s hard not to.”

“What do you mean?”

He takes a moment before responding, giving you another chance to examine him. Your eyes meet his, and you are the first to break eye contact, not being able to stand your ground under his stare.

“You look really fuckin’ good,” he says with the upmost confidence, before he leaves to go to the kitchen. Giving you no time to respond.

He’s back shortly after with two fresh blunts. Instead of taking his seat again, he leans over the back of the couch, pressing his cheek to your hair before he tells you to ‘come smoke with me upstairs’. His voice so close to your ear, so low and so quiet, scared you. But you were truthfully desperate for dick, and he looked like he knew how to give it. Even if it didn’t go that far, the living room was getting far too loud anyways.

You follow suit, standing up from the couch with an ‘okay’ before he beckons you upstairs. The crowd is thicker now, and you have no clue where the upstairs are. You look back at him, signaling you are totally lost in this dank, dark house. He puts a hand on your waist to help guide you and you swear his fingers dug into your hip intentionally. He lets out a rough ‘move’ to some couple in front of you two blocking the stairs.

He finds an empty bedroom upstairs.

“Owner doesn’t care if we smoke in here, it’s some guest bedroom.”

What a hell of a guest bedroom, you think. The room is fully furnished including a couch, a tv, gaming equipment, and there’s an attached bathroom. This shit was better than your own room back home.

Toji leads you to the couch where he pats the spot beside him, motioning for you to join him. He already has one blunt affixed between his soft lips, giving you the other once you sit down.

He instinctively puts his arm around you, but leaves it there once he notices you don’t mind whatsoever.

“Sorry, just got too loud down there,” he admits before lighting his blunt.

You reach for the lighter, but he grabs your hand out of the air. He turns your face to his, cupping your jaw with his other hand. He brings his face closer to yours, sticking the end of his blunt to the tip of yours, waiting for you to pull to light your own.

God, did he look really fucking good.

You mutter another ‘thanks’ taking a deep inhale as you had so many times that night. You can’t help but focus your eyes anywhere other than his face, trying to keep your embarrassment at bay.

“You’re starin’ again, doll.”

“Can’t help it,” you admit sheepishly, “you look.. really good.”

“Is that so?” He says with a smirk, trying his hardest not to love watching you squirm.

You nod, to which he responds, “use your words, y/n,” and you think you could faint.

Surely you weren’t wrong in assuming he wanted you too, right? At this point you were high enough that the potential backfire of your next question was no where near present in your mind.

“Can you fuck me?”

He coughs, accidentally blowing a puff of smoke straight in your face. You must have taken him by surprise.

His answer to your question comes non-verbally, as he grabs your plush thighs to situate you on top of him. You can already feel how much he wants this through his pants. You gasp, taken aback by his forwardness.

“Oh I can, doll, I really can. You think you can handle all that, though?” He asks, putting the blunt back in his mouth so he can grab your hips and pull you onto his length. The sudden stimulation to your clit leaves you reeling as you try not to throw your head back in ecstasy.

“I won’t know unless I see it,” faking how confident you were appearing. Your only motivator in putting on this mask is to get the release you need so desperately. You throw in a ‘please’ to stress how urgent this was.

“Gotta’ learn how to be patient, brat” he says with a light laugh, reaching out his hand to take your blunt for the moment. He finds a nearby ashtray to sit them on for the time being.

He wastes no time pulling you into a messy kiss, all teeth and tongue in his attempt to devour you. You lean into the kiss, meeting your chest with his as you slowly roll your hips down onto his length. He grunts into your mouth, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth harshly.

He pulls away only to yank your shirt over you, his hands flying to cup your tits the second they’re free. He unlatches the clasp at the back of your bra while he trails sloppy kisses along your clavicle.

You can’t help but moan with every touch, each kiss, every roll of your hips. It had been so long since you’ve been touched like this and his ways with you were electrifying. Each touch left you wanting more and the lazy, rough rolling of your hips left his cock angry and weeping at the tip.

His lips latch to your nipple and suck, biting ever so slightly. You arch into him and he follows your movements, leaning back into the couch so you can really be on top of him, properly. He reached behind his head and grabs one of the blunts, praising god that it was still lit.

You were surprised that he wanted to continue smoking, and your movements stilled slightly.

“I didn’t tell you to stop, did I?” He asks, taking a brief inhale of the smoke and purposefully blowing it in your face. Shocked at his bravado, you continue the movements of your hips, already feeling close from the rough stimulation. But you can’t quite get there.

You place your hands underneath his shirt, running your cold hands up his taught stomach to his chest. Your right hand trails up to his nipple, and you can’t help but grab a handful of his tit, laughing as you do so. You expect him to get mad and maybe even call the whole thing off.

Instead, he laughs along with you to cover up a moan, passes you the blunt, and pulls his shirt over his head, ruffling his already disheveled hair.

“You gonna’ strip for me, pretty boy?” You ask, genuinely needing to feel him closer.

He laughs again, and you can tell the weed is hitting him hard. But you were right there with him, you think, puffing on the blunt for the nth time that night.

“Only if you do, brat,” he says before he’s already reaching to take off his belt. He pushes you back some, needing room to get those tight fucking pants off. Your eyes are glued to his pelvis, waiting to watch his cock spring free.

He leaves you hanging, only pulling his pants down slightly before he’s telling you to ‘get up’. You follow suit, trying your best to take your skirt off slowly in front of him. He pulls his pants fully off and is left splayed on the couch in nothing but his tight, black briefs, neck and chest all red and splotchy. Laid out like your own personal slut.

It takes everything in him not to make you ride his face then and there, but he wanted to watch you cum all on your own.

“The fuck are you waitin’ for?” He asks, noticing how lost in thought you were. He brings you back to reality with his sharp words and motions for you to take your seat back on his lap.

He mutters a ‘gimme’ that’ before he steals the blunt from you again.

He takes a puff, “make a mess on me, yeah?” and you can’t help but comply. You fully seat yourself back in his lap, nothing between you two but the thin fabric of your thong and his briefs. Having his thick jeans out of the way let you fully feel how hard, how big he was underneath you. You could feel a wet patch at the tip and you were so eager to get your mouth on him.

You pick up the pace as he ruts his hips up into yours, hard cock pressing over and over again into your clit. You were already so close before, and the lack of fabric was dizzying.

“T-Think I’m gonna’ cum, T-Toji,” you pant, handing him back the blunt so you can brace yourself on his muscular stomach. He’s moaning fully now, waiting to watch you come undone. He sticks the blunt between his teeth quickly before he grabs your thick, plush hips and pulls you into him at a merciless pace.

“Do it then, bitch,” and with that, you were finished. You feel your legs tremble and attempt to close as you release all you have on the man before you. Your movements attempt to still, but he keeps up his brutal pace, not allowing you a moment without stimulation.

“T-Toji, s’too much, p-please,” you beg, pulling away from him so you could have a break from the overstimulation.

He mocks you, “awww, poor baby can’t handle it, huh? Why don’t we give you a break then?” He asks and you hope this means what you think he’s implying. He pushes you off of him fully and seats himself with his back to the couch again. He looks down at his briefs, noting the wet spot you left.

“Coulda’ done better, I think,” he says before he leans back and puts one hand behind his head, obviously waiting for you. He still holds the blunt tightly in between his lips, and he looks so fucking perfect like that. Waiting for you to do your worst.

You get off the couch, dropping to your knees in between his long legs. You reach your manicured hands up to his shaft, palming him through his briefs. He stiffens as do you, as you try not to freak out at how big he felt already.

“Take ‘em off, brat,” he lets out, almost sounding… desperate?

“You sound like such a slut, ya’ know?” You say, unaware of the consequences this would have for you soon enough.

“Fuck you,” he spits before taking it upon himself to fully undress.

Your eyes widen, “Jesus Christ,” and he can’t help but laugh.

“I get that a lot,” he says, which you note sounds awfully close to something a slut would say. But you hold your tongue, for now.

He was so perfect. His dick was long, thick, and veiny. His balls were heavy and relaxed, and his cherry red tip was spilling precum. You were desperate for a taste.

You grab him at the base, diving in headfirst as you take his tip fully in your mouth and suck, hard. He grunts above you as he puffs on the blunt again.

You had no want to draw out this process longer than it already had been, so you start working your hand up and down his shaft, inching your head lower and lower.

The quickness of your movements left Toji in a state of shock as he tried his best to stifle his noises. He didn’t expect you to start fully giving him one of the best blowjobs he’s ever received, figuring you’d be too timid to reach halfway down the shaft by the time it was all over.

But here you were, nose buried in the black hair decorating his pelvis, swallowing around him like you were paid to.

Needing air, you pull off with a loud pop before asking him a question.

“What’s the matter? I can see you trying to keep quiet, ya’ know.”

He laughs, again.

“Sluts whine when they get their dick sucked by a pretty girl. But I’m not a sl- fuck,” he whines, not expecting you to continue so soon after you asked.

You were taking him almost fully now, in and out of your throat, relishing in the salty, bitter taste of his precum. He was leaking profusely, so unbelievably turned on by the sight of you taking him like a pro.

Managing to get some noise out of him only motivated you further as you now work both hands up and down his shaft, taking what you couldn’t cover with your hands in and out of your wet heat.

“Don’t chicken out now, doll. You wanna make me act like a slut, you’ve gotta.. fuck- earn it.” He says as he grabs a fistful of your hair, standing to his feet and it takes all you have to keep your balance.

Immediately, he’s thrusting in and out of your throat mercilessly. The sounds filling the room were so indecent and filthy. He still has the blunt glued to his lips, not even taking a hand up to remove it as he fucks your throat.

He’s using you like a toy, controlling your every movement as you take him deeper.

“Who’s the slut now?” He asks, muffled only slightly by the blunt. He must have done this before, you think.

He pulls you off of him harshly, bending down to see you nearly eye to eye.

“Didn’t I ask you a fuckin’ question?”

You nod, not realizing the mistake you just made. He grabs your face roughly, slapping your cheek with his other hand lightly, although with his strength it felt nothing of the sort. But you weren’t mad about it.

“And what the fuck -,” he starts, grabbing himself at his base, forcing his way back into your wet mouth, “- did I say about using your words?”

His eyes are glued to you, watching your eyes water as he tries not to come apart entirely after hearing you choke around him.

“Imma’ ask again. Who’s the slut?”

You attempt your best to answer with a muffled, unintelligible ‘me’.

“That’s- shit -what I fuckin’ thought,” he says, knowing he wouldn’t last much longer if he kept using you like this.

You grab his thighs, bracing yourself before you start to actively move with Toji, meeting his pelvis with your nose with each thrust. You try your best to hollow out your cheeks, wanting to hear some more of those little noises he wouldn’t dare let slip.

“God..dammit, woman,” he huffs, pulling you off of him regrettably, “gonna make me cum.”

He grabs you tightly by the arm, bringing you to your feet as he pulls the blunt from his mouth, kissing you once more before he takes care of you. Your mouth was so sloppy and wet from the abuse and he truly couldn’t give less of a fuck. All you could taste from his mouth was smoke.

His blunt was nearly finished now, so he snuffs it out in the ashtray before he commands you to lay back down on the couch. He grabs the other, fresher blunt, and relights it, handing it over to you.

“We gonna’ smoke the whole time we’re doing this?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“Don’t see why not. Can’t let good weed go to waste,” he says before he’s towering over you, planting wet kisses on your stomach and waistband. You still don’t know if you were even ready to cum again, but it seems like you have no choice.

He lands a particularly sloppy kiss on your mound, tasting you through your panties as your hips impulsively buck into his mouth.

“Be patient, doll,” he reprimands.

He crooks one finger underneath your panties, opting to push them to the side instead of pulling them off fully, which he felt was quite fitting for a slut such as yourself.

“You’ve got a pretty pussy, ya’ know that?” he says, leaving you no time to respond before his lips connect with you, wet tongue exploring every inch he can reach.

You whine, bucking your hips up into him again. He takes one hand to hold both of your hips down, ensuring you can’t squirm anymore.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, doll,” he mutters quickly, not wanting to waste any more time not latched to your sweet pussy.

He begins to suck on your clit, earning a loud whine from you. You feel a protrusion at your hole as he slowly enters two fingers into you. The stretch burns, but the feeling was quickly replaced with pleasure when he immediately curls his fingers up into your spot. You wouldn’t last long at this rate.

“Y-You’re realllyyy.. good, fuck,” you manage, to which he responds with a long, drawn out ‘mhmm,’ knowing the vibrations would drive you mad. He’s now bobbing his head, fully lost in your sex as he brings you closer to your second orgasm. He’s fully thrusting into you, preparing you for the stretch his dick will bring. The blunt was nearly forgotten at this point, hanging over the back of the couch along with both your hands. You were lost in the ecstasy of the moment until he takes his hand and pushes down on your lower stomach, increasing the sensation of his fingers deep within you.

He pulls off of you for just a moment to say, “gonna feel me all in here, aren’t ya’?” He inserts a third finger and curls that one all the same as the rest, sucking and flicking your clit with his tongue as you chant whines of ‘Toji, Toji, Toji’. With one final thrust, you’re releasing onto his fingers, attempting to clamp your legs shut to no avail.

“Uh-uh, pretty girl. Hah, gotta’ clean you up first,” he says as he pulls out all three fingers, replacing them with his tongue. You catch him reaching down to his length, fisting his angry, red tip in his hand as he finishes the job. He did as he promised, lapping up every last drop of your cum like the filthy dog he was, all the while groaning into your pussy. He finishes cleaning you dutifully, opting to leave your panties on, telling you how good they looked on you.

You take another drag and ask, “you want this back?” reaching out to him to hand over the blunt. He grabs it quickly after he wipes his mouth with the palm of his hand, and through the smoke and haze, you think you see him lick his palm clean, just like he did you. What a slut.

“Turn over f’me, baby,” he asks, not giving you time to respond before he’s manhandling you on the couch, flipping you over as he pulls your ass impossibly high into the air. He pushes your panties to the side, rubbing his cock over your puffy pussy as you try not to pull away from how sensitive you still were.

“Let’s see juuuust how deep I can go, yeah?” He says before he’s pushing his fat head into you without warning. You let out a loud ‘fuuuck’ as he enters you slowly from behind. His lips are sealed, still trying desperately to keep his pitiful noises to himself. He takes a drag of the blunt before he puts it in between his pointer and middle finger. He needs his hands free so he can spread you open, loving how your tight hole swallows him entirely.

“Look-,” he slowly thrusts into you, covering half of his cock in your slick.

He pulls entirely out, “-at-,”

Then back in again, “-that,” he finishes, before continuing his painfully slow pace. Although he’d never admit it, he had to keep himself from cumming too early. Having you at his will, totally spread for him, taking his dick so well was becoming too much for him.

He picks up speed, still not entering you fully. The blunt is replaced between his lips yet again as he grabs your waist, slamming you down onto his cock over and over again.

“T-Toji, more, p-please,” you manage, needing to feel him entirely.

He continues his pace, much to your dismay. “You’re gonna’ take what I give ya’ and you’re gonna shut the fuck up about it,” he says, enunciating his words with each thrust.

Taking matters into your own hands, you start meeting his thrusts, desperately trying to make him move faster. Fortunately for you, he likes watching you put on a show.

You whine as he stops thrusting, looking back to see him staying still on purpose, taking a long drag from the blunt and ashing it on the floor beside him while he waits for you to continue.

“You wanna’ get fucked harder, mama? Prove it, hah,” he chuckles, slapping your ass while he waits for you to move. You comply, slamming your hips towards his, hard, knocking the wind out of both of you as he finally seats himself balls deep into your cunt. You continue your movements, pulling your hips up and almost entirely off of him, just to slam back all the way down.

“S’ fucking messy, baby, goddamn,” he pants, not knowing how much longer he can keep up the tough guy act while you’re brutally sucking him in and out of your snug cunt.

The pace you’re at now is bringing you closer to your third orgasm of the night, but that won’t do. Toji pulls out of you fully, throwing you back down onto the couch so you can face him.

“Wanna’ see that pretty face when you cum, slut,” he adds, handing you the blunt again, “see if you can keep this in your mouth and I might let you cum again.”

You obey, sticking the blunt between your teeth as you wait to be fucked, properly this time. He rips off your ruined panties, discarding them onto the floor beneath you. He grabs both of your legs with one hand behind your knee, pushing them up close to your chest so he can marvel at how incredible you look, so wet and willing for him.

He lines himself up again, wasting no time to increase the pace he had set earlier. Your instinct was to take the blunt out of your mouth so you could moan freely, but the second he sees your hand move, they’re both pinned above your head.

“What’d I tell you, huh? Wanna cum or not?” He says as he gives you all of his inches, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he absolutely abuses your poor cunt.

You let out a muffled ‘mhmm!’, eyes wide and pleading for him to let you finish.

“Such a greedy..mmph - fuckin’ cunt, yeah? Bet you feel me in your tummy now d-don’t you, mama?”

And truth be told, you did. Every thrust he was pounding your cervix, desperate to break through to fit that last inch in fully. Toji was becoming more vocal, letting out huffs and groans each time he entered your warm, sloppy hole.

“I feel it now, baby, hah. Lil’ pussy’s boutta’ snap my dick in half,” and goddamn was he good. You were due to cum any second now, focusing solely on how sinfully he kept hitting your spot, over and over again.

“Cum for me, doll. Right fuckin’ now, cum on this dick,” and before he can finish, you’re spasming underneath him as you somehow manage to keep the blunt tightly between your teeth. Smoke is billowing from your nose and mouth now, and every breath you take brightens the cherry red end of your blunt.

“Thaaaat’s it, such a nasty slut f’me,” and you nod, knowing he’s read you all too well.

You hand him back the blunt and he finally puts it out in the ash tray, wanting to focus his sole attention on you.

“T-Toji?”

He grunts out a ‘hm?’ as he drags your hips impossibly close to him, tossing each of your legs over his shoulders.

“C-Can you give it to me, hard? P-Please, baby. Wanna feel all of you,” you admit before grabbing him by the neck, pulling him into another heated kiss.

“Ya’ sure? Dunno’ if you can handle all that, pretty girl,” and your answer comes in the form of action. You reach down in between your legs, rubbing yourself lightly before you bring it to his cock, rubbing his shaft with your juices. You line him up and try your best to pull him into you.

He smirks, leaning down to put his forearms on either side of your head, stretching your legs impossibly far.

“Please,” you mutter, scared he might fully break you, but the need to feel him as deep as you can take supersedes that.

“I might fuckin’ break you,” is the last thing he says before he’s thrusting fully into you, pushing against your cervix, and he starts at a pace that has you seeing stars. No more games, no more going easy on you. He was fully intent on fucking you within an inch of your life. He just had to make sure you could really take him before he started fucking you like the animal he was.

This is what really sends him. Losing all control, fucking you as he was made to: primally.

He starts grunting, then moaning, and then full on whining. With nearly every thrust, he was spewing obscenities or whining your name.

“Take - fuuuck, baby - take all those fuckin’… inches,” as if you weren’t already. He expects no response from you as you were practically drooling underneath him. You could form no coherent thoughts, no words, just noises. Sinful, filthy noises that made Toji feel drunk.

���Pussy’s so fuckin’ deep f’me,” he spits, sweat daring to drip from his forehead, “such a good fuckin’ slut.”

You were so close although you weren’t sure if you could cum anymore that night. You kept teetering on the edge, begging to fall, but you couldn’t quite get there.

Until you’re finally able to come to your senses long enough to speak.

“I-I’m the.. slut?” You ask with a strained laugh, waiting to see just what he does with you now.

He laughs too, after he’s grabbed you by the throat, not forgetting to move his other hand down towards your clit.

“Can you f-fuckin’ blame me, doll?” He asks, somehow quickening the brutal snap of his hips.

You feel your core tighten, “You make me s-so pussy drunk, mama,” he confesses, too far deep to care if you thought he was a slut or not. He knew deep down he was nothing but a man whore. But he tried to keep that fact about himself under wraps. Everything about you, though, was bringing it all to the surface.

“Cum f’me, one more time, baby. ‘Know you can,” is all he can manage to say before he’s a grunting, sweaty mess above you. His fingers toy with your clit and his cock is hitting you too deep, filling your walls to the brim.

“Not gonna last, p-please fuckin cum, doll,” he begs, needing to watch you come apart up close and personal.

You feel the coil in your stomach snap and you reach around his back, digging your nails in the soft skin you find for leverage. You go mute, unable to process anything other than your orgasm hitting you like a truck. Your back is fully arched off of the couch, making your entrance even tighter, and Toji can’t take it. You grab him harshly, pulling him even closer to your face.

“Inside me, Toji,” you whisper and he fully loses it. His hips still before he spills his seed deep inside you, pitiful chants of your name the only thing he dare let leave his lips. He grabs the base of his cock, slowly stroking up to where he’s still buried in you before he pulls out, cursing at the overstimulation.

“Holy shit,” he sighs, standing to his feet to find a towel. He comes back from the bathroom, tossing you the towel so you can clean up.

As he lights up the rest of his measly blunt, he has but one more question to ask: “you hungry?”

hehehehehe

@theobsidianempress @scorpiosugar @voloslobotomyservice @lostsoul526 @shhreya @placxdbaby @iminurwallsgege @slvttyplum @bluejayreadsanddreams @iheartsuya @sebastiansssmasterrr @nekodasu222 @batladss @nahmoon

[anxiousnerdwritings]

How is the family and everyone else coping after Joanna!Reader's poisoning and death? (Just a hunch but i dont think that they have healthy coping mechanisms)

Tw: Mentions of character death and unhealthy behavior/yandere tendencies

Cersei is the worst out of the lot. She is absolutely and utterly gutted, not only did she lose a child, her most beloved child at that, but also her second chance at having a piece of her mother back in her life once more. She would be much more heavily dependent on wine than she already was, rarely seen without a glass full in hand. It would take months at the very least for Cersei to even bring herself to try and feign some semblance of having pulled herself together. She’s distraught, she feels both numb and completely riddled with pain at her loss. She can’t unsee the image of holding her dying child in her arms and just being left to watch helplessly as they were torn away from her forever. Her hatred for Tyrion would be unmatched, it’s even more intense and overflowing then ever before. She blames him wholeheartedly, she blames him for everything. He was the death of her mother and now he was the death of her child. To her, he killed her mother twice and this time he wasn’t going to get away with it, she wouldn’t allow it. Cersei would often spend whatever spare time she had in Joanna!Lookalike!Reader’s room, just needing to be surrounded with what was once their’s. Everyone would know not to disturb the queen during these times. This was her solace for the briefest of moments and you would need a damn good reason for interrupting her and taking her out of the only place that could give her even an ounce of comfort in her time of grieving. More often then not, Cersei could be found sleeping in her late child’s room, just wanting to be closer to them again. She would become incredibly territorial and overprotective of Joanna!Lookalike!Reader’s room and everything in it. When it came to the servants cleaning the room up and keeping things in order, Cersei would be right their overseeing it all ensuring they don’t mess anything up and everything is in the exact same place it had been before. And she’ll know if even the smallest thing is off by less than half a centimeter, she’s memorized the room to a T after all.

Tywin would be the second worst out of the Lannister family when it came to Joanna!Lookalike!Reader’s death. He would only be haunted with the remembrance of losing his precious Joanna all over again, the immense pain and grief flooding his entire being once more as he can do nothing but watch as his grandchild is writhing slowly and painfully, desperately clawing for some sense of relief from the pain and distress they’re in but to no avail. Tywin would completely shut himself off to anyone and everyone, even more so than usual. When it comes to Joanna!Lookalike’s funeral, Tywin would demand some time alone to say his goodbyes to send off his grandchild and in those moments he would allow himself to breakdown. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s cried, not since he lost his Joanna, and now here he is again just like deja vu. Tywin doesn’t lose himself in this moment though, he can’t let himself do that. He only gives himself the briefest of moments but it’s enough for him. After this he puts his venture focus on avenging Joanna!Lookalike and getting their justice against Tyrion. And similar to Cersei, Tywin puts his entire being into blaming Tyrion for tearing away his second chance at having a semblance of his precious Joanna again. He would do anything and everything in his power to see Tyrion punished to the fullest for the horrible fate that the Reader had to suffer through at his hands. Tywin was ruthless before but after losing his beloved grandchild he would only become all the more ruthless and apathetic. He can’t even bring himself to try and comfort Cersei as she grieves her own loss of the Reader, he doesn’t have it in him. He doesn’t have anything left in him to give to anyone, especially not now. Any small ounce of humanity that Joanna!Lookalike’s mere existence and influence had on Tywin was completely washed away after their death. He was left only colder and more heartless than ever before, any warmth that had mustered up within him was void now and nothing could bring it back. The only one who could was gone now.

Jaime feels absolutely useless and weak after the Reader’s death. Whether he was in attendance or not depending on which version of the Purple Wedding you want to go with, Jaime would blame himself for not being there or for not being able to do anything in the moment. He honestly can’t bring himself to fathom the thought that Tyrion really did poison Joanna!Lookalike, he knows his little brother more than enough to know he loved and cared for the Reader as much as they all did. He can’t bring himself to even try and force any kind of blame on Tyrion even if he wanted to. No matter how much Cersei and Tywin try to force their own intense hatred and wrath towards Tyrion onto him, Jaime won’t go with it. He can and will only blame himself for what happened. The loss of the Reader has him deep in regret and reevaluating himself and his place in the world as a whole. He can’t help but regret not being more involved in the Reader’s life when they were growing up, it’s not like he wasn’t there for them but Cersei definitely kept them close to her side even when he was right there and wanting to be a part of his child’s life as more than just an “uncle”. Unlike Cersei, Jaime wouldn’t be able to bring himself to go into the Reader’s room after their death. The most he can bring himself to do is stand outside their bedchamber door and just stare, to anyone passing by it would most certainly look like his intense and unwavering stare would burn straight through the sturdy wood of the door. That’s just how lost and in his head he was. After the loss of Joanna!Lookalike, Jaime would stray further and further from Cersei’s clutches. He wants to do right by his late child, he wants to be someone they would really be proud of. Someone they could be proud to call their father or at the very least acknowledge as their father. Jaime would vow to protect and care for both Tommen and Myrcella in particular after losing the Reader. Not only to make up for not protecting and keeping the Reader safe from their fate but also knowing that the Reader would have wanted Tommen and Myrcella safe above all else. And Jaime would do just that. That was an oath he would keep.

Tyrion would be a mess after the loss of the Reader. Not only is he being accused of it and is the direct target of his father and sister’s immense ire, all he could do while his niece lay dying, clawing and tearing at their throat seeking some kind of relief from not being able to breath was to just watch. He couldn’t hold them himself, he couldn’t even go near them. Tyrion never even got the chance to say goodbye, instead being thrown and left to rot in a cell until his father and sister could pin this whole thing on him. He hoped and wanted to believe that the Reader knew he didn’t hurt them, that he wasn’t the cause of their death. He would never do that, especially not to them. He loved them more than anything else. They were always good to him, loving and sweet, even defending him from their own mother. Why would he do anything to them when they were always on his side? How could he do such a thing to someone, no, to the only one who was truly ever on his side? He would never. He could never. He didn’t. To say Tyrion would not be in the best head space would be an understatement, I mean can you blame him? For a good amount of time after the Reader’s death he’s locked up for being the one who killed them even though that couldn’t be further from the truth. And with all that time, Tyrion is left alone with just his thoughts and feelings. And he’s going through it. He’s hurting from the loss of his niece, he’s angry with the predicament his father and sister have thrown him into. Tyrion can’t help but hate his father and sister for not allowing him to grieve Joanna!Lookalike, he couldn’t even say his goodbyes or be there to send the Reader off for their funeral. Now the whole realm is blaming him for their beloved princess’ demise, he’s become far more hated and loathed than ever before and all because his father and sister are so consumed with their own already festered hate for him that they want him gone for good now. But in a way he can’t blame them too much, sure he hates them for what they’re doing to him now but he does feel guilt for the Reader’s death. He knows he didn’t do it but he can’t help but feel like he had some part in it. He should have done something, surely there was something he could have done to save Joanna!Lookalike or maybe even prevent the ordeal from taking place at all. He knows it’s pointless to dwell on it but he can’t help but to do just that. After all he’s got nothing but his thoughts to keep him company while he’s in his cell. Whether Oberyn still ends up being Tyrion’s champion would depend but either way Jaime would still end up freeing him anyway. By the time that happens though, Tyrion is far from who he use to be. He’s closed in on himself, there’s no more mirth in his eyes or playfulness/sarcasm dripping from his tongue, he’s cold and hollow. I’m 50/50 whether Tyrion would tell Jaime that he did indeed kill Joanna!Lookalike just to hurt his brother and especially Cersei later on when/if she gets word of it. And in a way Tyrion at this point might believe to some degree that he actually did kill Joanna!Lookalike, even though he of course didn’t but that’s how his guilt is eating at him. He would still go through with killing Shae and his father before he leaves King’s Landing for good though. After everything since the Reader’s death, Tyrion feels like a little bit of revenge is the least he deserves. He may not have actually taken Joanna!Lookalike away from his father and sister but he would take his father way from Cersei and Jaime. After all, he wanted to hurt them. Once Tyrion is out of King’s Landing and on the run, he doesn’t care who he hurts or uses. He doesn’t want to feel anything, he can’t really feel anything. He’s numb and he wants to stay that way but every so often he gets a sudden wave of guilt and remorse. Tyrion would drink even more excessively than usual, he would whore around even more than normal just to escape from everything. He doesn’t want to think about or feel anything anymore. He couldn’t careless whether he lived or died at this point.

[basil-does-arttt]

been thinking about Trish a lot lately, and her connection to Eva

(Big ranty thing with some analysis into her character + my own headcanons about trish below)

She was created to be a carbon copy of Eva, right down to the most unimportant details. So much so that Dante recognized her immediately he didnt even do a double-take, as soon as those glasses were off he saw Eva standing infront of him instead of Trish. (I mean, blonde haired+blue eyed women arent uncommon and its not like Dante has never been into a public space before. Hes probably seen similar women to Eva many times throughout his life, but only Trish was so perfectly like Eva that he couldnt see anything else but his mother in her that first moment they met.)

But thats just physical features. It'd be too easy, too simple for Mundus to just create a look-alike to Eva. And i dont think that alone would've been enough to trick Dante either, Dante isnt an idiot no matter how dumb he acts sometimes. So, how deep into this "recreate Eva" thing did Mundus actually go?

Does Trish experience the same motherly instincts Eva had toward Dante (and Vergil)? Does she feel the need to protect them and cherish them like Eva did? Does she get urges to hold them, kiss and hug them and give them praise as Eva once did in their childhood? If so, does she ignore these feelings, pushing them down untill they're buried so deep within her mind that she's forgotten them entirely, or does she let them be and let them pass on their own, wether she acts on them or not. She's quite sassy with Dante in dmc4 and seems quite aloof in dmc5, so maybe thats how she copes with it instead - acting the total opposite to what Eva ever would.

Going even deeper into that, does Trish have any of Eva's memories? Even just vague snippets or imaginings of Eva's life, considering how well Mundus made Trish then that might not be an impossibility. If so, how much would she have the ability to recall? Could she even recall the fire, maybe? If she can, how would she feel about it. Would she grieve? Feel anger, regret, or nothing at all?

And how would she feel about all of this overall? Being a clone of Eva right down to the gritty details even Dante wouldn't know. Trish is so strongly contrasted to Eva in personality, style and tastes that i'd like to imagine she isnt that much of a fan, put simply. She's her own person, she wants to be her own person and she hates the person she represents. She hates how her existence causes pain to somebody she's wired to care so deeply for - sometimes against her will - and she hates seeing him cry or drink himself to death over that dusty old picture thats been sitting on his desk for decades, knowing that she'll only ever make it worse for him in the end, that his grief extends so far into the core of his being that nothing in existence will ever truly fix it.

She's conflicted.

She's Trish. But is she really? Or is that just who she says she is in an effort to push back and ignore the reality of her existence? Nothing more than a fake, a husk of a person who's time was cut short prematurely then taken advantage of by the very being that killed her in the first place.

She's Trish. Not Eva. She can't be Eva, and she never will be Eva. Nothing will change that. Not a dusty old picture, not an old man's delusions, not some dead demon king who breathed life into her form in the first place.

She's Trish. But who even is Trish? Her entire being has always been about Eva. She doesnt know anything else. So she overcompensates with acting sarcastic and sassy, looking hot and sexy and playing with guns and swords because those are things Eva wouldn't ever do herself. Eva. Again, it all comes back to Eva.

She's Trish. Devil hunter and the most 2000s representation of "hot blonde" one could get. Thats who she is. Or at least, that's who she's trying so desperately to be.

Trish needs more love from the developers, her character is so interesting. I have other analysis' of the other characters too if anybody would be interested in that but for now, ill leave you with my take on the iconic blonde from this wonderful series.<3

[nickelbag610-blog]

Foam (Warrior ver.) of Stanley and Stanford Pines

Here is Stanley and Stanford as warrior Cats. And as s bonus I put them next to the other Pine twins. As I made the Stan twins have some features I put on Mabel and Dipper. No the size isn't relevant I just accidentally made the Stan twins smaller.

Stan and Ford are Sliver Speckled Tabbies. With green eyes.

Stan Pines isn't surpost to be cross-eyed he was surpost to be looking at the camera but I messed up so he's a little cross-eyed. He has a collar to represent his gold chain. Due to damage he can't hold up his left ear. His tail is also surpost to be a bit scruffy. You may notice his paws aren't part of his body and that's because as I was finishing cutting out the base. My dog had jumped up and started barking at the door. Causing me to loose construction and cut off one of his paws. So I just cut them all off and made new ones. Since he was going to have white paws anyways. But I don't like how it looks so I won't be doing that again. He has the same white muzzle as Mabel along with the same white chest, belly, tail tip, and paws as her as well.

Ford Pines has black around his eyes to represent his glasses. The blue glitter on his ears are repressions of his deal he made with Bill. It was a way to permanently connect Ford to him. They rap around the ears to represent Bills hold he has on him and to represent how Bill is always telling him to do stuff. He is has a similar white face marking as Dipper. As well as a white cheat, belly, paw and tail tips as well. While not shown he has six toes.

To note in my AU idea I'm still kinda workshopping they were sent to the warrior universe and turned into cats by Bill/ the portal malfunction. So they weren't born into the Warrior universe but rather end up there. I want to set the story I'm working on during the A Vision of Shadows arc in Warriors as that is my favorite arc. But unsure for when during Gravity Falls universe. But have a general idea. In the story I was to focus on the family aspect plus I don't want to juggle way to many characters so Soo and Wendy aren't here. But I may make Warrior Cats version of them for fun. But in the story Dipper and Mabel are taken in by Thunderclan a little after Violetkit and Twigkit get separated. So to prevent the same thing happening to them and because the clan believes they are part of Alderpaw's vision. Bramblestar tells the other leaders that Dipper and Mabel are Daisy's kits. Named Pinepaw and Maplepaw as cover. I debated separating Mabel and Dipper into Riverclan and Windclan. But it would just make everything way to bloated so I'm keeping them in Thunderclan. As for Stan and Ford they are taken in by Skyclan as Leafstar gets a dream from Starclan telling her to take them in. Plus since being kicked from the gorge she needs more warriors. And because Stan and Ford don't know what else to do they go with Skyclan in hopes of finding Mabel and Dipper. This is as far as I got but I'm re-read AVOS currently and and writing an outline. I will drop a link to my first chapter when it's done.

[half-dead-writer]

Read this introduction first

Gordon Goose vs 7 Minutes In Heaven

character: Gideon Graves words: 1,6k reader: gender neutral warnings: making out, Goose being cringe

𝔯𝔲𝔩𝔢𝔰 + 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 / 𝔖𝔠𝔬𝔱𝔱 𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔤𝔯𝔦𝔪 𝔗𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔒𝔣𝔣 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

...Of course it had to be Gordon Goose.

Your history with Gordon wasn't extensive, you only briefly interacted with him during the break periods at school. He wasn't your classmate, Gordon was a year older than you. Everyone knew him by the nickname Fearless, you guessed it was due to his choice of clothing - wearing wifebeater with the text NO FEAR on it everyday. You thought it was a weird choice, but you couldn't deny he was certainly... popular because of it.

He appeared at your school in his dweeby nerd phase - not to say he wasn't still a nerd, but in the time you met him, he began to glow up. His hair almost fully covered one side of his face, he finally got a pair of glasses that fit the shape of his face, he started dressing better. He still wore his Fearless brand, though. He evolved from being a loser to an actually popular kid. Well, he was still kind of a loser, but his courage only grew with time, making him even cockier. His relationships with peers seemed shallow, but that didn't seem to bother him.

You and Gordon had a confusing, on and off... friendship, hostage situation? You didn't really know how to call it. One time he just decided to randomly approach you. He would introduce himself, "breaking the ice" with some ramblings about anime, just to then throw random flirt attempts at you at the worst time. At least you thought that's what they were. He mostly spoke about himself with thinly veiled arrogance.

First time it happened, it took you off guard. You were not about to be rude, but you didn't really... know this guy. You tried to gently push him into the right direction by not really being receptive to his remarks, but he persisted. Until one time when you were a bit more blunt, plainly pointing out how his fixation on you was getting a bit annoying.

"Don't you have other people to talk to?" Gordon only briefly scoffed, as if to dismiss your question.

"Why?" The confident smirk presented itself on his face. "Don't you enjoy being in my company?" Placing his hand on the wall next to you, he partially pinned you to the wall.

It would be more intimidating if anyone other than Gordon acted this way when you were clearly not interested, but his short stature combined with your bit of knowledge about him made the situation less threatening. If you had to describe him, you'd say he seemed kind of- pathetic. He tried way too hard. But his antics also mildly entertained you. He probably learned this move from an anime, you thought, judging by how dramatic his movements turned.

"Not really," you bluffed, partially. His smirk didn't falter, although it became a bit disappointed.

"Aw, why is that?" He tilted his head.

"...Because you keep... flirting?? with me?"

"And why would that be a bad thing?" He continued, not taking a break from his amazing getting-game abilities.

"Because- I don't," you tried to put your thoughts into words, "I don't reciprocate?"

"Well then, let's just call it a casual, friendly chat?" He flashed you his braces in a smug grin.

And similar situations happened time and time again.

You weren't fully off put by Gordon, somehow managing to find a bit of charm in him. He wasn't totally ugly, unlike other people at your school, he looked well groomed, and he gave you attention. You lacked any other suitors than him, so in the end, you briefly considered giving him a chance one day.

Gordon was thrilled realizing you're gonna be stuck with him for the next 7 minutes! His glasses reflected the light in the dimly lit room as he stood up to step into the cramped space. He got there first, sliding along the wall of the closet to lazily sit on the floor. He made little effort to move his legs as you tried to fit in. You decided it would be better to just ignore the lack of distance between him and you than to speak up. You halfly expected him to start complaining if you did. Thankfully, aside your legs touching, he made no other attempts at touching you any further.

The doors of the closet shut off the light, trapping you in the darkness. Even though you couldn't see anything, you could sense the giddiness radiating off of him.

After a moment of silence, he got straight to the point post clearing his throat. "...So?"

"...So, what?" You asked, covering up your halfly amused tone and preparing for his response.

"How do you wanna spend the next 7 minutes in my presence?" He hovered closer. You could only imagine the way his face looked, a big, stupid smirk was probably plastered on it. "Wanna... talk, maybe get to know each other better?"

You tried to judge if the undertone of his response had a double meaning. The faint sound of Gordon's back leaning on the wood calmed you down a little, you were not being pushed to the wall anymore. He eased his eagerness, deciding to patiently wait for your input. Before you could reply, he added,

"Of course, if you just wanna spend the seven minutes in silence, that's fine too." He spoke almost too considerate. "It might be a bit... boring, though." He added, nonchalant.

"That's very mindful of you," you said, not bothering to fully cover up your sarcasm.

"Oh, don't mention it." You took his cocky comment with a grain of salt. You thought- You hoped he was at least self aware of his behavior, that he used his arrogance in a joking way.

You briefly shifted your sitting position, feeling Gideon's stare on you. Taking a few seconds to evaluate your options, Gideon heard nothing but silence. He could probably take it as your answer, to just stay silent until the doors open again, but that would disappoint too much. So he waited, hopeful for your response.

You felt as if it was a decision that could end up in a big failure. What if you shouldn't actually give him a chance? What if your negative thoughts would get validated, and you'd get hurt, or worse, cringe to death?

In the end, you sighed. Okay. It's probably the only situation you'll ever find yourself in where it would be the perfect time to start granting Gideon some reciprocation. No way would you be kissing him for the first time in like, a school bathroom. Or in the corridor, with all of the students eyes on you. The closet seemed like the best place you could find yourself in given your circumstances.

"...Fine," you hesitantly gave in, "we can ...make out- or whatever..." Ironically, you didn't wanna sound like a stereotypical "tsundere", but it was hard for you to push this stupid sentence out. Not like you were accustomed to even being hit on.

You only briefly managed to process Gordon's hitched breath before he quickly covered it by clearing his throat. He pushed his body closer to you, to the point you could feel his warm breath against your skin. It smelled of mint. Even though it was kinda cheap, you were positively surprised. It all happened so quickly, you got kind of shy.

His fingers gently cradled your cheek, giving you the weirdest sensations. Prepared for his mouth landing on yours, you meekly leaned into his touch. He had no idea how much time left from the seven minutes the fate granted him, so he had to use it well. Soon enough, his lips (which, surprisingly, had chapstick on them?) pressed into you. The technique he used didn't convey lots of experience.

Coaxed into the kiss with the deceitfully slow pace, he soon took it a step further, snaking his tongue into your mouth. It was sloppy and a bit unexpected, but you didn't tell him to stop. You granted him the access when you felt the lick on your lower lip, so you partially shared the blame.

His hand crawled to your knee, travelling down onto your thigh. His touch seemed almost desperate. He respected your boundaries by not going any lower, thankfully. Instead, he moved it up your side. You weakly bent under his touch, not used to being treated this way. Even though it wasn't the best kissing of your life, the experience had you feeling pretty electric. You even found yourself missing the feeling after your makeout session was abruptly stopped.

Your tongue fell out of his mouth right after you heard the creak of the doors opening. You didn't want the attention of the whole room on you, doing your best at a nonchalant bee-line out of the closet. Gordon followed behind you, just waiting for a chance to exchange more words with you. You did not see his expression.

You ended up going into the kitchen of the house, with only a few people around, already occupied with conversation with one another. Leaning onto the counter with your back, you turned and raised your brow at Gordon, giving him a pass to speak up.

"Well?" He took the same stance near you. "Was it really as bad as you expected?" He almost beckoned you to say something negative. He was so convinced he did good.

Was it actually as bad? You took a moment to mull over your response, finally returning the stare with ambiguity.

"...Mm, dunno," you shrugged, gaining more of his attention. "...I need a bit more demonstration than that to judge."

[neevblanc]

this is a req for your cafe event! 🩷 15/Dark Era dazai x reader word: hm.....sick (like the kind of sick after you drink too much) bar lupin shall be the death of me🥹 If you need a name: April

a/n —hiii april! :D ty for sending this in! i've never tried my hand at writing dark era dazai so i hope i can do our little funky guy justice lmao :P

blanca’s cafe event!

this event is now CLOSED! feel free to leave a normal old ask, though!

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Dazai Osamu x GN!reader

Tags— dark era dazai, he's a little mean but what can ya do, regular dazai suicidal antics (help him), killer hangover (sort of), bullying him into being cared for seems to be a theme amongst the ppl in his life (looking at you, kunikida)

CW/TW— drinking, underage drinking, mentions of vomiting, dehydration, suicidal themes

please keep yourself safe.

note — i ended up modeling what reader is to this dazai as something similar to what higuchi is to akutagawa. not exactly, of course, since all four of these characters are complex and very much different but the premise was...inspired, i think. it's interesting. dazai is interesting!

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴:

"Dead to Me by Kali Uchis"

00:34 ━━●─────── 03:19

ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ

"i don't know what you've been told. see i am not your enemy."

The walk up to the roof is familiar. The stairway is damp, and the stairs creak under your feet; the building is one of the older ones left in the city and, therefore, made of wood instead of the metal you were used to seeing.

You open the door to the roof, biting the inside of your cheek as you step out into the open and let it shut behind you. The soft night wind bites at your face in greeting as soon as you are entirely on the roof. Your eyes dart to the right, and you find what you’re looking for in the exact place it always is.

“Are you done now, Dazai-san?” You ask, approaching the man. He’s sat on the ledge of the building. Despite seeing him in this position more times than you could count, unease still seeps into your stomach and pools at the bottom. You stop just beside him, and without thinking much of it, you do the math to make sure you’d be able to catch him if anything happened.

You shuffle a foot closer. He doesn’t look at you when he speaks.

“Yes.” Dazai’s response is clipped, but he takes a deep and visible breath before speaking. You know immediately he’s had too much to drink.

“Are you here alone?” You ask, despite knowing that Oda-san and Ango-san wouldn’t have let Dazai up, and Dazai wouldn’t have been on the roof if Oda-san and Ango-san were with him.

“None of your business.” He huffs, almost clumsy, as he swings his gangly legs back toward the roof and stands slower than usual. You frowned but kept your hands to yourself, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate a steadying hand. You turn first, keeping track of his footsteps that sound quietly just after yours. You hold the door to the stairwell open for him, and Dazai passes you without the slightest acknowledgment. 

He heads out of the building without another word, and instead of following his steps back to his…room, you quickly round the corner and head down the steps to bar Lupin. Two steps at a time, your breath comes out in cloudy puffs due to the cold. The bar door creaks ever so slightly as you open it, and the man at the bar gives you a strained smile when he sees you.

“Got him?” He asks, putting down the glass he’d been drying. You nod, sighing lightly.

“Could I have some of those bread rolls you sell? Put them on Dazai-san’s tab, please. I’ll be back to pay it off later in the week anyway.” You say, leaning on the bar. He smiles gently at you and packs the little rolls into a box for you to take. He hands them over and tilts his head toward the door.

“Now get going. It’s too damn cold and late for you kids to be out.” He shoos you away, and you hurry back into the winter air again.

Fortunately, Dazai has slumped against a building wall not too far away. A flickering streetlight shines above him, keeping his form visible to you despite the layers of black he insists on wearing.

You walk to him quickly, and as you near, he straightens and doesn’t bother to look your way. You do him a favor and pretend he hadn’t been slack-jawed a second ago, half coherent and entirely too relaxed in public.

You fumble the take-out box open and hand him one of the rolls, ignoring the hazy way his eyes roll over your entire form as he takes it. A Dazai this plastered doesn’t have much of the subtly everyone might expect from him.

“These are cold.” He huffed, demolishing half of the roll in one bite. You smile tightly at him.

“Unfortunately, they’re not kept fresh for 18 hours, Dazai-san. We’re lucky Lupin had any leftovers at all.” You sigh. Dazai busies himself with the rest of the roll in his hands, so you don’t get much of a response.

The walk to the shipping yard isn’t too eventful. Fellow drunks and the shady people that populate Yokohama’s streets at night become less and less as they tread deeper into Port Mafia territory. For all the fear that the PM no doubt instilled into Yokohama’s citizens, they weren’t the type to break promises. Shop owners paid their protection fee monthly, and they were dutifully kept from any damage caused by the (admittedly desperate and exaggeratedly large population caused by the Port Mafia) local criminals.

Despite his inebriated state, Dazai’s unsteady feet lead him toward the container he calls home- which you’re grateful for since you couldn’t ever remember which was his in the sea of containers the Mafia had come in and out of the shipping yard.

You watch him fumble with the latches, managing only to flip those over. Dazai had never been the strongest, so when he goes to pull on the handles and pop the container open, he stumbles backward and just barely manages to not fall flat on his ass.

“Um.” He slurs, blinking at his hands. They must have let go without him trying to. You bite back a laugh and pull the handles, only slightly staggering with the weight of the door once it pops open.

Dazai huffs softly and heads in, leaving you to close the door behind you by a cable he had fashioned to the door. You secure the door and turn to flick the lamp in the corner on, illuminating the space in a warm glow. The lamp was an addition you insisted on. Eventually, Dazai allowed you to drag in the thing (along with a semi-quiet-enough generator to keep it running). You had a feeling it was only ever turned on when you were in here.

Dazai had collapsed onto his mattress, worryingly quiet and face down. You put the container with the rolls down near the makeshift bed and gently roll him over, making sure he settled on his side to avoid choking on his own vomit in the night. His face is startlingly blank when you can see it again, and he eyes you with contempt.

“I didn’t say you could touch me.” He says lightly, though you know better than to think he wasn’t bothered.

“Sorry, Dazai-san. You wouldn’t enjoy dying in a pool of your own vomit, I think.” You answer lowly, slowly reaching for a bottle of water that had clearly rolled away one night and hadn’t been picked up since.

He gives you that same withering look and brings a hand up to rest over his eyes. You imagine the headache he’s sporting must be killer- Dazai was not one to be nice to himself, especially not with something so destructive as drinking.

You gesture for him to take the bottle in your hands, shaking it lightly as if he were a toddler who needed the visual cue. He huffs and takes it.

“You should leave.” He mutters, haphazardly bringing the bottle’s opening to his mouth and drinking messily. You ignore the way some of the water overwhelms him and dribbles down the side of his mouth.

“I should, but it wouldn’t do to have you die by choking. Even asleep, I hear it’s a horrible way to die.” You hum, finally shifting into a comfortable sitting position next to the mattress.

A sober Dazai might’ve stared you down until you left, and a particularly pissy one would’ve shoved you out himself.

As he was, he grumbled and let the bottle fall back into your waiting hands and promptly went to sleep, sagging like a corpse into the bed. You place the bottle next to you and sigh as quietly as possible- Dazai could be one hell of a light sleeper.

His breathing deepens quickly, and it’s startlingly quiet despite his inebriation. Dazai was always like this, somehow- walking the line between alive and dead. He was your superior by multiple clearance levels, sure, but not much older than you and not all that physically impressive. His strength was in his demeanor, of course- in his sharp tongue and quick-witted mind.

He was still young, though, and despite being a bit younger than him you were always a little taken aback by how other members treated him when his face was still round and soft like a child’s. The only people who really treated him like a kid you could count on one hand, and one of them was his age.

You’d keep these thoughts to yourself, of course. You’d seen people get shot for much less let alone question their superiors power.

The lamp flickered in the corner. The yellow light made him look sickly. The floor of the crate was rigged and unforgiving, but you preferred to stay where you were. In case Dazai needed anything.

And if it meant you got to settle the tightness in your chest by watching his own move steadily throughout the night, then no one else would have to know.

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 17 - Come a Little Bit Closer

📖 One of my friends who beta-read this for me pointed out there is a scene in here that is very similar to one in Ted Lasso (I've never seen it, though there are a lot of people in my life telling me I should now); so I'm just mentioning there might be a similarity.

There is also something in here that people have been waiting for. Albeit, it's probably not the one scene everyone wants, given recent events. But someone(s) gets karma'd 👀

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, mentions of an original child character, angst, mentions of shitty family dynamics, physical fights, Ruthless Dagger Squad, violence, verbal fights, and mentions of blood.

#7k words

Part 16 | Masterlist | Part 18

“Are you a fucking idiot, Bradley?!”

You slapped Rooster hard on the back of his head, the thwack anything but satisfying.

“He is, indeed, a fucking idiot,” Nat quipped next to you. Bradley frowned at you, rubbing the back of his head. “I thought you would be happy I got to him!”

“You do not invert over another pilot on your team, catch them in a fucking corkscrew, and make them hit the fucking hard deck! Regardless if they are my ex or an asshole!”

It was hopeless to think you could ever stop swearing in Penny’s bar, not when Bradley was still pulling stupid shit like that. Therapy was a big step, but you knew deep down it would take a little more than a few sessions to make him less impulsive.

Maybe even more so from behind the joystick of his jet.

Rooster threw his hands up defensively. "I was just trying to teach him a lesson. You know what he did to you!"

You shot him a look.

Bob rolled his eyes and leaned against the bar, crossing his arms. "And what exactly did you accomplish, Rooster? Besides nearly killing yourself and him?"

Bradley gave him a death glare.

“I don’t care why you did it!” You snapped, tapping the end of the bottle opener hard on the top of the bar as you made your point. “You put yourself and a teammate in danger! You’re lucky Maverick stepped in before you got kicked out!”

You spun the tool in your hand while rolling your eyes, quickly popping the caps off the row of beer bottles lined up in front of you in frustration. Placing one in front of Nat, you handed Bob’s to him with a stern look.

“One, Robert,” You said, holding up your finger. “One, and then I am cutting you off.”

He grabbed the neck of the bottle, nodding and throwing his hand back in what seemed to be a 'yeah, I get it' kind of way. You held back on Roosters, holding it out of his reach, engaging him in a staring contest.

"Promise me."

"Liz."

You shook your head.

"This is not something I'm being funny about, Bradley. Promise me you will not pull that shit again."

"You're being unfair; it was just a dogfight."

You raised your eyebrow, purposely glancing over at the barbell for a split second. "I'll ring the bell on you."

Bradley cocked his eyebrow at you. The bell was something he prided on, never happening to him before. "I'll tell your manager you've been providing bad customer service."

You shrugged. "Go ahead."

Penny would legitimately not care. She'd do more damage to Bradley by chewing him out than you ever could.

"You should see the Yelp reviews when they mention me when I ring the bell on assholes. I don't care. Promise me you won't put yourself in danger anymore just to prove a fucking point."

Rooster made no effort to tear his eyes away from you. 

"Bradley Bradshaw, do you promise me?!" you tried again. When he didn't reply for the second time, you raised your voice, "Lieutenant Bradshaw! Do you promise not to risk your fucking life over proving a point?!"

Bradley blinked.

"Yes, Ma'am."

You thumped the glass bottle to the top of the bar, sliding it towards him with a huff.

“Liz!” Jimmy called out. You turned in his direction with a smile, though you were anything but happy right now.

“The Jukebox is doing that thing again. Can you see what’s wrong?”

“Did you try hitting it?” you called back.

“Several times!”

You sighed. Walking to the other side of the bar, you stopped in front of Bradley, pointing your finger into his chest.

“You pull that shit again, therapy or not, I swear to god, Bradley..." You couldn't even formulate the rest of your sentence, throwing your hands up in frustration and letting out a garbled yell as you walked away.

You approached the Juxebox with a huff, grabbing the sides as you peered into the glass. The machine was turned on, but the needle hadn't touched the spinning disc.

Someone slung their arm over the top of the machine, startling you with an almost empty beer bottle in their hand. 

"First, it was the keg, now it's the jukebox. What else is on your hit list, darlin'?"

You stiffened.

You hadn't seen Jake since that night. The minute you managed to get the courage to leave Rooster's Bronco, you cleared out your house of anything to do with him, his overnight bag sitting on your porch when you went to pick up Sadie.

It was gone when you came back home.

And It was suddenly like he hadn’t existed. You hadn’t found yourself going through what you assumed was the traditional aftermath of breaking up with someone. You hadn’t eaten a tub of ice cream, binged rom-coms or cried your eyes out except on the drive home. 

And that had been it.

No calls. No texts. No apologies. 

Without turning to face him, you remarked sarcastically, "Your over-inflated ego, but something tells me I'm going to need something bigger than a broken jukebox to take down."

Jake glanced at the machine, knocking it hard with the side of his boot.

You don't know what was worse, that the machine came to life or that it started up in the middle of the song, 'Come a Little Bit Closer' by Jay and the Americans, started up in the most ironic part.

Come a little bit closer. You're my kind of man, so big and so strong.

The quip fell easy from your lips. “Oh, what do you know, a knight in shining armour, solving all my problems.”

You don't know what you were trying to achieve by being like this. You just wanted him gone. But Jake didn't leave. Instead, he smiled at you. "You always have a way with words, don't you?"

You rolled your eyes. Snatching the bottle from his grip, you turned on your heel.

"What are you doing here, Jake?" you called out, knowing he would follow you.

"I just want to talk."

"I have nothing to say to you."

He quicked his pace, jogging up and interrupting your path. You stopped, gritting your teeth and twisting your hand away from him in frustration.

"Liz, please."

You huffed. You finally met his eyes, your gaze hard. “What is there to say, Jake? What could you say to me other than I was another bartender on your list? I just wish you had the common decency not to involve my niece in this, you asshole.” 

He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a shout across the bar. 

"Jake!"

George had called out to his brother, surrounded by a group of women. When Jake turned at the mention of his name, George was already waving him over.

You couldn't blame the women shooting him flirty glances, eyeing him up and down like a piece of meat. You just wished the pang in your chest didn't hurt as much as it did.

"Go ahead," you offered with a tense smile. "You made your intentions known. You are free to do whatever the hell you want now."

Jake faced you, his expression faltering as the edges of his mouth twitched, failing miserably to hold on to some semblance of confidence.

"You don't think I know that?" he remarked. "I think about it all the time."

“You should've thought of a lot of things before, Jake," you sighed, stepping backwards and away from him. "Don’t start on my account now.”

---

Why George had decided to stick around, Jake had no idea why. Maybe it was insurance that the damage he had done was permanent. 

Jake just wanted him to get the hell out of dodge. 

He wasn’t even paying attention to the conversation he’d been roped into when you walked away from him. He had no other choice but to walk over and let George introduce him to the two ladies he had been flirty with. 

Jake knew what George was doing. He was trying to entice him back into his old ways. It was clear as day to anyone George would be going home with this woman tonight. 

The other one, he thought her name was Bree or something along those lines, was trying to engage him in a conversation, batter her eyes or flirt. But he hadn’t so much as blinked, too caught up in how you shot him down and walked away from him. 

It wasn’t until George opened his mouth to answer a question that Jake snapped out of his trance and caught the last end of his sentence. 

“I guess having played football in high school makes it easier. My throwing hand is awesome when playing darts, though.”

That pipped his interest.

"Since when have you played darts?" he finally spoke up. 

"Since we hired a few new ranch hands,” George shrugged. “All they want to do is drink, sleep, and play darts. It's great for introducing yourself to other ranch owners. I practically win them over each time," he remarked, trying to throw in a bit of modesty.

The gears started to grind in Jake's head. And slowly but surely, the cocky-ass Mona Lisa smile came back. 

He nodded towards the dartboard. "Wanna play a game?"

George raised his eyebrow, taking a swing of his beer, "Want something else to lose your dignity to?"

Jake's grin didn't lessen. In fact, there was a certain glint in his eyes when he replied, "Something like that."

---

A crowd had gathered around the dart board while they had been playing. Practically, the whole bar was suddenly invested in this little game.

And you, leaning up against a pillar next to Bob, who had ushered you away from your post for a few seconds to watch the end of the game. Your arms were crossed, and you had a slight frown, watching him with sad eyes.

It was clear you wanted to be back behind the bar, not standing here, watching the person responsible for your broken heart play a fucking game of darts.

It wasn't even really a game. Jake could land a bullseye with his eyes literally closed. The regulars knew it, too. So, why was he purposely throwing darts with his non-dominant hand? You had no idea.

From what you could tell from when you were behind the bar, he still played well enough. They went for the long haul, starting at 501 points and slowly working their way down. Coyote and Rooster had decided to keep track, using the chalkboard on the side. George had led throughout the game and was still leading, but Jake was always close by enough to make it interesting.

Then George landed enough points that if Jake didn't get exactly what he needed to on his turn, George would win the game with his next. You didn't know why Bob pulled you over here; maybe it was to see Jake lose. Or to see George fail.

You have yet to determine which would be the better option at this point. And yet, you still couldn't bring yourself to step away.

You leaned over to Bob to ask, "What does he need to win?"

Bob sighed. "Two triples in the 20 slot and a bullseye. The bullseye needs to be last."

"What are the stakes?" you frowned.

Bob only shook his head next to you. "Nothing, from what I know."

George spun from his position, smiling at everyone cheering for him. He came to stand next to Jake, patting him hard on the back a few times.

"I don't know if you were trying to prove something, brother," he laughed, "But good game. We should do this again sometime."

Jake did the one thing he wanted to do his whole life.

He laughed at his brother.  

"George, I never understood why you've had this grudge against me for my entire life," he said, stepping out of George’s grip on his shoulder. 

Jake twirled the dart between two of his fingers, shaking his head. With a little sleight of hand, you watched as he switched his grip, the dart now in his dominant hand. You stood from leaning against the pillar and uncrossed your arms.

"You had it all. Dad's approval, the football career. All the girls flocking to your side in high school. You’ve spent your entire life under his thumb, chasing approval.”

He cut his eyes to you, seeing the frown on your face, and knew he had to continue. Stepping up to the mark, he squared his shoulders, eyeing the board.

“Trust me when I say this - you might've been the chosen one in Dad's eyes, but out here, in the real world? That doesn't mean shit."

Jake threw his first dart, the spike landing within the safety of the triple twenty. Everyone watching caught their breath in surprise.

Jake's smirk grew bolder, the fiery confidence he was known for blazing in his eyes as he looked back at his brother.  "Do you want to know what I would have said to you the day you were talking shit about Liz and Sadie?"

A quiet gasp escaped your lips.

George's mouth twitched.

“I agreed with you for one thing and one thing only. I know I won’t be welcomed back,” he stated. “I couldn’t give a damn if I am.” 

Something burned deep inside Jake’s chest as he pushed on, needing George to hear what he was saying desperately. 

" Sadie? She sees right through your bullshit. But she will not hesitate to stand up for someone if she thinks they are being mistreated. She’s so mature for her age, and I am damn proud to be her uncle.” 

He knew he shouldn’t have called himself that but was too caught up to care. 

“And Liz? The world throws so much bullshit at her, and she still chooses to be kind, even when she still buries her grief, because she doesn’t want her niece to see her cry.” 

Jake shook his head, a sad smile on his face. “I found people who, despite knowing my flaws, chose to stand by me. Not hold them against me.”

Jake threw the second dart, hitting the board next to his previous dart within the rim. 

"I remember all the nights you came home, mirroring Dad's words, telling me how worthless I was.” He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “Now I just realize you were literally copying everything he had to say to you from that day. Making yourself feel better.”

He'd never admit Rooster forcing the both of them in a Corkscrew is what made him realize it. He had been regurgitating every diminishing word and sentence his father had screamed at him growing up back at Rooster's face, hoping it would make him feel better.

He picked at the tail end of his dart, the weight of it familiar and comforting, before glancing at George's face.

"You ever heard of Roosevelt?" he asked nonchalantly. George eyed him carefully, "What does a dead president have to do with a game of darts?'

Jake had a conceited grin on his lips. "Well, he had this quote, and I'm probably butchering this, but he said critics don't count. Or the person who points out how we stumble or how someone could have done something better." 

Jake twisted from his mark on the ground, standing square in front of George as he continued to explain his point.

"Because the credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly... and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly."

Jake's voice was steady, but his eyes bore into George's with a fire. "All my life, George, I've been in that arena. I've stumbled and failed, but I didn't listen to someone from the sidelines telling me how to live my life."

Jake lifted his hand, never taking his eyes once off George.

"It's time I remembered that," he said, thinking about Sadie. "You shouldn't have to either."

He flicked his wrist forward, letting his dart fly.

Bullseye.

He heard the thump of the dart hitting the board, and cheers erupted throughout the Hard Deck. Jake had thrown a dart enough times to know whether or not it had hit its mark; he didn't need to look. Even Rooster was laughing at the utter shock and disbelief across George's face.

"I'm living my life, George," he said, patting him on his shoulder, leaving his hand there. "It's about time you did the same."

For once in his life, Jake had managed to stand up to his brother. But the moment wasn't as satisfactory as he might have imagined - He found himself thinking it didn't matter.

Because as he stepped away from George to look back to where you had been, he realized you hadn't been there to see it.

---

Your shift came and went in a blur after Jake and George’s dart game. The squad still hung back well past closing hours, watching and even helping as you closed up the bar, except Rooster, who was messing around on the piano.

Jake was still here. And George. 

They had been out on the patio for over an hour now, simply talking. You tried not to pay them much mind as you tried to get through your remaining tasks quickly, but you couldn’t help but look out the back windows occasionally, unable to take your eyes off the Seresin brothers for long.

George approached Jake soon after he escaped the crowds. There had been no fights, no punches thrown or someone storming out. In fact, every time you looked up, the two seemed to be inching closer to each other.

Damn him and that cocky grin. Why'd he have to be so... Jake?

You didn’t want to be a spectator to Jake’s theatrics during that display during their dart game. Leaving before he threw that last dart, you were now questioning yourself… if you walked away to shield yourself or to punish him. 

While he stood up for himself against George, in the back of your mind, there was an insistent voice whispering that maybe, just maybe, that display was also for you too. 

Some of you ached at the idea of him seeking validation and needing to prove himself. And that's what hurt the most: that deep down, under layers of stubbornness and hurt, you still cared for him.

If it was, you weren’t ready. Not for this. Not for answers or explanations. You deserved more than whatever that was. 

But you still heard him. Heard everything he said to George.  

You really didn’t know what to make of it. 

The sound of the front door slamming up against the wall, rattling some of the portrait frames, startled you from your thoughts. There was a momentary thought of remembering you really needed to lock the front door when you were closing, but it was washed away just as quickly as it came.

You couldn’t take your eyes off Tyler’s body as he charged forward, finger pointed towards you with a seething glare. “You fucking bitch!”

You stepped backwards, the sharp edge of the sink hitting your spine hard. A few glasses jolted from the force of it, sliding off the ledge and shattering to the ground. Rooster’s playing stopped immediately, and the piano bench toppled to the ground.

Was it anger? Shock? Disbelief the past few weeks of not seeing him coursing through your veins responsible for your reaction? You knew Tyler was dangerous, but deep down, you hated how easily you cowered at his appearance.

Tyler didn't get very far in his effort to get to you. Bradley came out of nowhere, something out of a comic, with his fist flying, punching Tyler square in the jaw.

“That was for Sadie, you bastard!”

Unfortunately for Bradley, Tyler only keeled over briefly before taking a swing. Rooster had not been prepared for him to retaliate, thinking his punch would have been enough to put the asshole on the ground.

Tyler had taken more punches and hits to the face as a football player than the average person would in their life. While Jake had managed to get him on the ground when he tried to kidnap Sadie, and Rooster was fitter than the average person, it would take much more than Jake and Bradley combined to keep Tyler there.

The uppercut to Bradley’s jaw could be heard from miles away, and you could only stand there, watching helplessly, as Bradley crashed backwards into a wooden table, his name a cry on your lips as the pieces scattered.

Whether or not they heard your cry or the commotion, the rest of the Daggers swarmed the island bar as Tyler watched Bradley roll on the ground amongst the splinters in some twisted sense of pride.

Whether you could realize it at the time or not, that would be his biggest mistake.

Nat was the first one there, the first one to put herself between you and Tyler, readying herself in case he tried to leap over the bar to get to you. Javy, Fanboy and Payback had run from opposite sides of the room to surround Rooster and Tyler, Bradley finally rolling himself off the broken table on the ground and pulling himself up.

And Jake, almost breaking the sliding door as he bolted inside to get to you, George on his heels. Rooster was too happy to stand beside him as Jake placed himself before everyone else, this hand twitching in anticipation of a fight.

"This is the one who did all that?"

Jake side-eyed George as he came up from the back to flank him on his other side.

"What?" he remarked, puffing out his chest and not once taking his eyes off Tyler. "I'm not that much of an asshole to know that's not how we treat women. Or children. We should drag his ass back to Texas and show him some southern hospitality."

Nat cocked her head at Tyler, speaking up from her spot next to the bar. "You must be a complete idiot to walk back in here after what you did to them."

Tyler shrugged, a sickening smile on his face. "I've got nothing left to lose. Literally."

"What, Daddy cut you off and kicked you out?" Rooster asked, spitting out the blood pooling in his mouth.

With the presence of your friends, you managed to calm down a little bit. You were still scared, which would never change as long as you could see his face, but you could take in Tyler's state more clearly.

Dark circles under his eyes. Blonde hair, greasy. He was still wearing that same freaking white sweater, only it looked like it hadn't been washed in days.

Rooster was right. Tyler had been cut off, indeed.

Fanboy and Payback, having realized what was going on, went to either exit to stand guard. You weren't sure whether to keep people out or keep someone in. But Tyler hadn’t noticed. He was too preoccupied to remove his eyes from Jake.

You watched as Tyler glanced at everyone around the bar, obviously bothered by Rooster's remark but not addressing it. "Seeing a lot of protectors here. Must be that 'Navy bravado,' huh? All show, no substance. We've all seen how they fail when it matters most.”

Ironically, it was George who intervened first. “This isn’t your place, man. Walk away before you get hurt.” 

Tyler flicked his eyes between Jake and George, a smirk playing on his lips, “This is interesting. Another misguided soul ready to join this little squad over here?” 

George smiled at him, nodding at Tyler, cracking his knuckles, “Just somebody who doesn’t like your face.” 

Your voice was hoarse, vocal cords feeling like they were being dragged over jagged rocks, when you asked, “What the hell are you doing here, Tyler?” 

He didn’t even give you the courtesy of looking at you when he replied, “Respect! What else? 

Jake scoffed with amusement, "By wearing that dirty sweater and showing up here drunk and messed up? You're doing a great job, really. I applaud you."

Tyler doubled back with that all-too-familiar smug smirk, " Alright, saw through that one, did you,” He chuckled before he teased. “I came to see how Sadie's holding up. It must be hard, having her favourite play-hero away. Unless you've moved up from being her 'uncle' to something more."

Jake's face immediately paled, his entire demeanour changing from cocky to pure rage in a fraction of a second. The atmosphere in the room grew dense with tension. "You say her name again, and I'll make sure it's the last word you ever speak."

Still grinning but with an undercurrent of faux uncertainty, Tyler raised his hands in mock surrender, "Just stating facts, Jake."

George, sensing the danger in his brother, whispered a warning, "Easy, Jake."

But Jake's voice came out as a dangerous whisper, all restraint seemingly gone, "You wanna dance? Let's fucking dance."

Jake charged, tackling Tyler to the ground as you stood there wide-eyed and in shock. Rooster and Coyote flanked the grappling pair while George kneeled, calling out to Jake all the spots Tyler was leaving himself open. The sound of flesh hitting flesh accompanied Jake’s punches, and you couldn't bring yourself to look away.

A startled cry escaped your lips as you felt someone put their hands on your cheeks, turning you away from the fight and wiping away your tears. Bob had somehow found his way into the bar with you and was currently forcing you to stare at his face.

“Nope, you don’t need to witness any of this.”

"How much trouble are they going to get into because of this?" you asked, scared out of your mind. Bar fights were a thing that could get you kicked out of the Navy.

Bob glanced over to the fight. Nat was walking towards the back door, her phone pressed to her ear, no doubt calling the police. As his eyes tracked back to Tyler, George and Javy had now joined the fight, the elder Seresin brother grabbing Tyler by the back of his neck and his belt, tossing him like a bale of hay onto the top of a nearby table as Rooster surprisingly helped Jake up from the floor.

The legs splintered under the force with a sickening crack. It wasn’t until you shuttered at the sound and let out a soft whimper between his hands he remembered you asked him a question.

"None," his voice was firm. "As far as anyone knows, he walked in here like that."

"Bob..." you whimpered. He stroked a piece of hair away from your face soothingly. "I'm not going to be the one that says he doesn't deserve what's coming to him. Tyler’s not walking out of here now. He literally signed his own death sentence."

Deep down, you knew that. Tyler against not one, but three navy pilots and Jake’s brother? There was no way he was walking away from that.

The sound of glass shattering caused you to jolt again.

"Penny's so going to fire me after this," you managed to say through tears. Bob gave you an affectionate smile. "No way, you're the best bartender she's had in years. You put up with so much shit, and Sadie would no doubt give her two cents. She seems to be doing that a lot lately."

"Bobby..." you huffed through a sob. "You've never heard you swear before."

He shrugged, wiping away one of your tears. "I guess there's a first time for everything."

Bob hadn't covered your ears. He was only keeping your eyes off the ongoing violence. So you could hear everything going on. There were no more crashes, glass breaking, or wood splitting in two. You could only hear the rhythmic sound of flesh hitting hard flesh.

The next cry out of Tyler's mouth made you stiffen.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth!" he gave an almost whine as Bradley laid a punch to his stomach. "I'm sorry for all of it!"

Oh.

Fuck.

No.

Where you were once scared, pure anger builds in your stomach. You pull Bob’s hands away from your face, swatting away his feeble attempts to reach for you. You marched towards the exit doors of the bar, rounding the corner to get to the group.

Jake saw you approaching first with a sharp lift of his head, tapping George on the shoulder, who looked up at his brother before his eyes landed on you, catching on instantly. He grabbed Tyler by the back of his sweater, hoisting him up onto his knees before changing his grip to the middle of his back. Jake gritted his teeth as he tugged Tyler's head back with a vice grip on his hair.

You kneeled down in front of him, taking in his face.

Even bruised and bloody, Tyler looked nothing like the egotistical sociopath you knew him to be. Nothing like the villain that stalked you months before this or when he walked into the bar all those weeks ago.

This version of Tyler looked desperate, unhinged, but on the verge of a last straw. You couldn't say seeing that white hoodie stained red was unpleasurable. To say he had nothing left to lose was one thing, but seeing it across his battered face was another.

“You’re sorry?” you snarked. “You’re sorry you abused my sister? Are you sorry you killed her? Sorry, you tried to kidnap my niece?!”

You wanted to nail him across the face. You wanted to know the absolute pain and heartache and suffering he had put you through. He took Ridley from you. He hurt Sadie. He hurt you.

But then you took in the room, Jake and George kneeling behind him. Bradley and Javy standing by, ready to pounce the second he might try to escape. And the state of the bar, the damage sobering your thoughts.

No questions asked.

You noticed the ties of his sweater were out of place. Lifting your hand, you fixed one back into place, smoothing the string down before looking him dead in the eye.

"I could fucking care less."

Approaching sirens could be heard outside the bar, making everyone hold their punches. You stood, turning your back on the display to rejoin Bob, who had followed you out from the relative safety of the bar.

You wouldn't give Tyler the satisfaction. Ultimately, he was still a narcissist, wanting a reaction.

"Tie him up," you heard Jake command. Despite Bob urging you not to look once again, you couldn't help yourself. You needed to see this. To see Tyler caught and unable to do anything but accept his fate.

You needed to know you and Sadie were safe.

Coyote was handing George a sailor's rope he had torn off the wall, having pulled the twisted pieces apart. Jake pressed his knee down onto Tyler's back, pinning him to the floor as George quickly hog-tied his hands together, not that he'd be going anywhere. The group of men had done enough damage. Tyler wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.

Everything happened so quickly in the moments after. The police burst through the front door. George was holding up some sort of badge, and you were suddenly rushed out into the parking lot by Bob and Nat.

Penny was already there, greeting you outside with extreme worry in her eyes, sweeping you up into a hug the second she saw you. She was trying to console you, tell you Sadie was safe with Mav and that you would be alright. You didn’t realize you started shaking until she pulled back in concern to ask what had happened.

Your breath hitched as you shakily joked, “I promise I’m not purposely wrecking your bar. I don't know where these assholes come from."

Penny huffed out a laugh and a sad smile. Biting her lip, she reached out and stroked your hair at the side of your face as only a mother could. She tugged you into her hold, refusing to let you go.

You don't know how long you stood there until Nat tapped you on the shoulder. She pulled you into her side and looped her arm around Penny's, holding you upright as the front door of the Hard Deck opened. A pair of Police officers were dragging Tyler out, still hog-tied and a mess. George was behind them, following them while speaking to another officer.

When you watched the police car containing Tyler in the back seat roll off into the distance, and a tow truck rolled that stupid white piece of machinery away, you finally felt like you could breathe.

Tyler's frightening hold over both you and Sadie was over.

And yet, it wasn’t as much of a relief as it should have been.

---

You wanted to stay away from the Choas unfolding in and around the Hard Deck. 

Taking the first chance you could, you escaped when nobody was looking, eventually finding yourself sitting in Penny's chair on the beach. 

Less than a year ago, you were sitting in the chair, unaware of what was about to happen to you. You who were desperately trying to get through a book by reading the same page twice. Gawking at a pilot playing Dog fight football who you knew was off limits, trying to get by till the following Saturday night. 

Then Ridley's ex came for you and Sadie. You had fallen in love with said pilot. Learned your sister was murdered. Your best friend hurt your feelings. You had gotten your heart broken by said pilot. 

You didn't know what was worse, the fact you had seen and experienced all this trauma, or that Ridley's death and abscene were still triumphing over all that. 

You jolted when someone placed a blanket around your shoulders.

George Seresin retracted his hands just as quickly as he placed the blanket around you, holding them up in surrender. 

You didn't have anything to say to him, choosing to remain stoic as he lowered himself into the sand, sitting with his back in front of the armrest of your chair. 

It was a full minute before he finally spoke. 

"I need to apologize, Liz."

You scoffed, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. "Apologize for the derogatory display of how you treat women? Or what you said to Jake to make him act the way he did?" 

At least this time, George had the decency to look shameful. 

"If his words at the dart game weren't any indication, I know you egged him on. He was trying to get you to back off, in his own twisted away.” 

"I still need to apologize. For all of it," he sighed, rubbing his temples. "It wasn't my place to do that to the two of you." 

"Yours is not the one I need right now," you spat, lifting your feet off the ground and curling into the depths of the chair. 

Either one of you spoke for a few minutes after that. George seemed to ponder his thoughts, scanning the horizon but not finding anything. The waves were both loud and quiet, making the world smaller than it actually was.

You couldn't handle it. 

"Do you realize the gravity of what you did, George?" you said heatedly, uncurling yourself from the chair and submerging your feet into the sand. "You weren't just egging him on. You were meddling in someone's relationship because your father asked you to."  

"Yes, I know." 

"Do you know how fucked up that is?" 

"Jake doing that grand display with the darts painted a pretty clear picture in my head." 

You rolled your eyes. "When was the last time you asked yourself if you were truly happy, George?"

George thought about it for a second before he replied, "When I became the livestock official back home."

"And let me guess, you made that decision all on your own, without any influence from your father?"

He looked down at the sand, grabbing a handful before watching it fall back to the ground. "Kind of. When I got the ranch, it wasn't by choice. But this felt like the first one I could make by myself."

"You just proved everything that Jake said, right." 

You huffed, frustration evident. "How do you plan on making up to him?"

George took a deep breath, steadying himself. "By supporting Jake genuinely in whatever he chooses. And by ensuring our father doesn't come between you two again."

Your eyes searched his for any sign of deceit, but all you saw was raw honesty. 

"Jake loves you. It's clear as day. Don't let this get between the two of you." 

You spat out a laugh, a high-pitchy sound you hoped would tell him you saw right through his bullshit. "Right."

"Liz, he didn't agree with the BS I was spilling to agree with me. Don't hold it against him."

 "But he went through with it," you countered. "Even if it was some twisted idea of dealing with all the bullshit you and the rest of your family throw at him save Janet, he still said those things. He still hurt me."

You threw yourself back into your chair instead. "I don't know anymore, George. I don't know what to think anymore." 

George dropped his head to his chest, furrowing his brow. "You know, you didn't allow him to explain that day. Or today even." 

That made you sit up. "Are you saying I should have?"

"I'm saying," he replied, "Whatever happened to giving someone a chance to know that people care? Even when other people think they don't deserve it?"

"That's different."

Maybe," he nodded. "But something is missing. I think that's only rooted in what other people think, not when they've done something to you." 

George's words made your voice catch in your throat.

"Give him a chance to explain, Liz. Just listen to what he has to say. Then make your decision." 

Suddenly you were wishing for the asshole from a week ago. Because, deep down, you knew he was right. 

"George, I mean this in the nicest way possible. You have potential. Listen to what your brother told you. You can't have your father tell you what to do for the rest of your life." 

He glanced down to the sand but tilted his head towards you so you knew he was still listening to what you had to say. 

"Ridley and I... My sister... We went through the same thing with our father. And I was so young, I didn't know any better. But she got us out before any more damage could be done. You still can get out. You don't need him in your life." 

"Is it wrong for me to want his approval?" 

You bit your lip, surprised at his question. "No. He's your father. It's natural you'd want that. But you shouldn't have to change who you are. You shouldn't have to seek his approval when he hasn't been someone worthy of giving it." 

George nodded, more to himself than to you, finally managing to mumble, "Jake is lucky to have you in his life. Sadie, too."

Even after everything that happened today, you still gave him a soft smile. "You're not that bad, George,” you said before adding, “When you want to be.”

He shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning upward slightly. "Don't let it get to my head. I might end up like Jake."

You reached over and patted his shoulder. "That wouldn't be a bad thing."

---

George left you a little while ago when an officer sought him out to take a statement. The night air was nipping at your skin, even with the blanket around your shoulders, and yet, you didn’t know how you would sleep after this, the adrenaline spike still showing no signs of slowing down. 

You didn’t know what to feel, the myriad of emotions thrown at you over the past week, month, and even year - any one of them would have sufficed. But you couldn’t bring yourself to figure it out. To live through any of them.

You just wanted to get through the rest of the day.

Dragging your feet through the sand, you made your way up the back steps of the Hard Deck’s back patio, shutting the door behind you. Shrugging the blanket off your shoulders, you gently placed it on the pool table, readying yourself to take in the true extent of the damage Tyler had wrought on the place.

The bar was dimly lit, save for the neon flashes of red and blue pulsing through the windows. There were splintered pieces of wood from the broken tables still littering the room, chairs overturned and scattered menus. With shards of glass and the thick smell of alcohol, you hated seeing the bar in such a state.

And in the middle of it all, Jake, sitting on a barstool with his head bowed and his hands resting on his knees. It was a stark image, seeing Jake’s knuckles bloody and bruised, his hair dishevelled. Looking less than himself. Utterly defeated.

It was a moment you weren’t supposed to see. A moment nobody was supposed to see.

And yet…

He didn’t hear your footsteps as you went behind the bar to grab a clean cloth, nor did he hear you take a metal bowl from under the sink and fill it with water. Or the ruckus as you fought with the first aid box.

It was only when you reached for one of his hands, having come to stand in front of him to run that cloth over his skin, that he jolted out of whatever stupor he had found himself in.

“Liz, I…”

You shook your head, shushing him. “Not now, Jake. Not tonight.”

He let you clean the blood from his hands. Let you dab at the split skin surrounding his knuckles. He was stiff as you worked, eyes tracking your every movement, from how you delicately held the bottom of his hand to watching you ring the cloth over the bowl. The water had already turned red by the second time you’d cleaned the fabric.

You reached for some antiseptic from the first aid kit, tilting the bottle forward as your finger held the cotton swab in place. Jake hissed when you placed the soaked cotton swab on his raw skin, his other hand shooting out quickly to grip your wrist tight.

His touch did feel like Sandpaper. But it wasn't as coarse, not as rough as you made yourself believe. You halted your fingers, the cotton swab falling to the floor at the shock of his touch.

“Sorry,” a quiet murmur on your lips. Jake eye’s darkened, a flicker of something passing through. He loosened his grip on your wrist but didn’t let go, letting his fingers slide loosely down to your wrist. You followed his touch, watching as careful fingers caressed the palm of your hand.

"You don't have to do this, Liz," he stated, his voice rough.

"Yes, I do," you replied softly, keeping your eyes fixated on his hand. "Someone has to. You certainly won’t."

"You're always caring for me."

You reached with your free hand for another cotton swab, but Jake stopped you, meeting your hand with his. He brought it down, and you let him pull you gently into the space between his legs. 

"Do I deserve it?" He whispered, playing with your fingers. "Especially from you."

You swallowed hard. "That's up to you. But I can’t stand by and watch you be hurt."

You finally gathered the courage to look up at his face. It was a miracle Tyler didn’t do much damage other than a slight bruise along his forehead.

“Otherwise, you’ll go crazy,” he remarked, recalling when Sadie was in the hospital. "Even when I've hurt you."

"Jake..." his name a quiet plead on your lips.

He let his hands glide up your wrists to your forearms, the air between the two of you heated as he leaned forward, hooded gaze intent on your lips.

"If not tonight, when?" he whispered.

Your foreheads met, you more than him, allowing yourself to press your weight against his skin. The two of you came together like this, a series of almost kisses and burning moments that left the two of you wanting more. 

Except that was when you thought you couldn't have him when everyone was screaming at you not to get involved with him.

You're not sure what it is now. Because the person who swore so long ago never to let Jake be in a position where he could break your heart was crawling out from the depths, insisting you push him away and run for the hills.

But Jake's breath, mixing with yours, lulled you into his gentle pull, hands tugging you into him as you felt him lightly graze your lips with his.

What would it be like to memorize the touch of his lips one last time?

Penny’s voice startled the two of you, making the both of you jolt back and away from each other.

"Come on, all this wait till tomorrow."

Whether she was referring to the mess in the bar or your relationship, you couldn't tell. 

You cleaned up the first aid supplies as Jake switched holding an ice bag you gave him between his hands and face. Penny locked up the bar behind the pair of you once you finished, always standing between you and Jake.

He followed the both of you hesitantly into the parking lot, unsure what he could say or do.

At the last second, you turned. You looked up at him, really looked at him for the first time since you yelled at him that day in the Hard Deck, a quiet mummer and a sad smile on your lips as you said, "Thank you, Jake."

Then, with Penny guiding you with a hand around your shoulders, you left towards your car, keys in her hand.

He could only watch every step you took, watching as the distance between the pair of you grew, left wondering if there was still hope for him to make things up to you after all. 

Tag list: (I think I'm missing a few people, so if you want to be tagged, please let me know!)

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

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@keyrani @craftytrashprincess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @abzidabzy @memeorydotcom @vicsnook @taestrwbrry

-Wickett ;)

Part 18 - Sapling is in-process