Tumgik
#i know people might not agree with me but!
xorafe · 2 days
Text
watch and learn (part two)
pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader
rating explicit 18+
content warning drug and alcohol use
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.
» masterlist
*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*
You’re at the library the next morning, enjoying how quiet campus is on a Saturday. You’re trying to focus on a discussion board you need to respond in, but your mind is elsewhere.
You can’t believe you agreed to Rafe’s idea. But you don’t regret it. He may be a jerk through and through, but he’s surprisingly a really good listener in bed.
You’re pretty sure he gave you the best orgasm you’ve ever had with someone. While it was an awkward challenge guiding him, you realized how liberating it was getting exactly what you wanted instead of quietly hoping the guy you were with knew what to do.
Your phone buzzes and lights up with a text. It’s 9:44 am and the notification is from Rafe.
Rafe: if you ever want practice sucking dick let me know
You flush and instinctually look around to make sure nobody in the barren library can see your screen. You reply: good morning to you too.
You take a second and send another message. The thought of going down on him rouses you. And, of course, the feedback will be helpful.
You: might take you up on that
Rafe: might?
You: might :)
Rafe is lying in bed, nursing a minor hangover. When he thinks about what happened on the other side of the wall in your room last night, he gets turned on all over again.
Feeling you cum around his fingers was fucking amazing. Knowing he did that to you, made you shake like that, was like an achievement. And he wants to keep doing it.
He texts you: we’re having a party on the beach today. bring friends
Rafe’s brand new to the frat, but he has already learned how important it is to invite as many people as he can to events. And if he’s being honest, he really wants to see you again.
You: only if you dont hit on them. i cant subject them to that
He feels his lips quirk up in a smile. When you don’t have a stick up your ass, you’re actually kind of entertaining.
Rafe: wtf why
You: you’re a fuckboy
Rafe: nahh you said i was amazing
You: i said the sex was amazing. and thats only because i told you what to do
Rafe: you can’t take all the credit
You: watch me
Rafe: you’re annoying
You: YOU’RE annoying
You: send me the address and time for the party
He quickly sends you the details.
This is the best idea he’s ever had. No strings attached sex with a hot girl who has zero interest in a relationship and can be brutally honest with him. He gets to fuck and improve his skills. It’s a dream.
Later that afternoon, Rafe watches the setting sun as he hangs out with a couple of his frat brothers in the sand. The party’s slowly starting to fill up, conversations growing in volume over the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.
“We don’t host a lot of parties here,” Blake continues to explain to Rafe.
Blake’s a sophomore legacy and Rafe has slowly realized that he sort of looks up to him. He’s involved in the frat and seems to know everybody.
“It’s ‘cause it’s impossible to get people to pay cover, so we don’t even ask for it,” Blake says.
“No door to do it at,” Sam, another sophomore adds with a laugh. Blake looks back and shakes his head.
“Fun police is here,” he hollers. Rafe turns to see pacing towards the keg next to the same girl he saw you with last night.
His pulse quickens as he takes you in. Your shorts are barely covering anything. Damn.
You glare at Blake as you pick up a red solo cup.
“Kidding,” Blake says. “We were kinda being assholes the other night, weren’t we?”
Your lips twist into a small smile. Rafe isn’t sure why, but he doesn’t like you looking at Blake like that.
He didn’t mention to anyone that you two hooked up last night. No particular reason - it just didn’t come up. But clearly, he’ll have to fill the guys in later. They need to know you’re off limits.
“Thanks for admitting it,” you say, filling up your cup. “Why can’t you be my neighbor?”
You look over at Rafe, whose jaw is clenched. Him and that temper. Admittedly, you’re already kind of sexually frustrated over how good he looks in his tank top, his big biceps exposed.
“Life’s unfair,” Blake replies with a bigger grin. You return it. It makes Rafe’s blood run hot.
“I guess it is,” you say as your friend finishes filling up her cup.
You walk away and Rafe realizes he didn’t exchange a single word with you. The second you’re out of earshot, he leans towards his buddies.
“I’m hooking up with her,” he tells them.
“Your neighbour?” Sam laughs. “Cap. That chick hates you.”
Rafe almost tells him not to call you a chick because of your advice last night. Wow. He really is learning from you.
“Didn’t hate me last night.” He takes a sip of his beer.
“Wait, for real?” Blake asks.
“Yeah.” Rafe loves the confidence high he’s riding right now.
“How was it?” Blake asks.
Rafe decides to lie. Painting it as a boring experience will make his buddies lose any interest they might have in you.
“Fine,” he says casually. Yeah, right. It was incredible.
Rafe watches Blake turn, surely to check you out.
“She’s cute,” Blake mumbles.
“Bro code, man,” Sam says, slapping his friend’s chest. Rafe is kind of relieved he said that.
“Shit, my bad,” Blake says with a chuckle, looking at Rafe. “You like her?”
“Oh - no,” Rafe laughs. “No.”
“Then you wouldn’t mind if I talked to her, right?” Blake says it as more of a statement than a question.
Rafe realizes he shouldn’t care. This whole arrangement is so both of you can get better at sex with other people. He doesn’t know what got into him thinking you owed him loyalty. His impulse to be possessive serves no purpose here.
“Go for it,” Rafe says.
Dusk falls as you stand in a crowd with Liv, your feet sunken into the sand as you drink and chat.
You told her about your arrangement with Rafe and were surprised to hear how jealous she was, mentioning how rare it is to find a guy who cares about giving his girl an orgasm.
You had to clarify to her it’s because Rafe’s ego needs all the stroking it can get, especially in the bedroom. And that you are not his girl.
You know it’s a crazy situation to be in with someone, but it’s worth it. You’ll learn what you can from him, and he’ll do the same with you, and then you’ll use what you picked up with people you actually like.
As the night goes on, the crowd gets bigger and closer together. It’s dark at this point, the moon covered with clouds.
Rafe’s been looking at you all night, at your bare legs, thinking about how he had his mouth between them last night.
You feel your phone buzz in your back pocket. When you pull it out, you see a text from Rafe: you ever fucked in a car? or are you too scared lol
You look up to meet his gaze from eight feet away at most, shaking your head in incredulity as he smirks at you.
The abruptness of his message, the promise of doing something so outside your comfort zone, is thrilling. But still, you just have to mess with him.
You reply: too scared :( no thanks
You laugh at the way Rafe’s face contorts at his phone. He looks up at you.
You text again: jk let’s go
He flashes his middle finger to you and you return the gesture. He then cocks his head behind him to signal you to follow.
“Tip for you,” you say when you approach him, walking away from the crowd together. “Don’t flip off a girl you’re trying to fuck.”
“Is that not good foreplay?” Rafe asks with a smirk.
“Aw, did I teach you that word?” you say.
“I knew it before.”
“Sure,” you say. “Just like you knew that girls fake it.”
“You’re annoying,” he groans, amusement in his tone.
“You’re annoying” you say, echoing your text conversation from earlier. You playfully shove his shoulder. He hardly budges.
You approach the parking lot and Rafe pulls out keys to remotely unlock his car.
“Get in,” he says, stopping in front of a large black SUV and opening the right backseat door. You notice the luxury brand immediately.
“This is your car?”
“Got a motorcycle, too,” he replies smugly.
“It makes so much sense now.”
“What?”
“You’re rich,” you realize. Rafe shrugs in such a pompous way.
“And?”
“That’s why you’re so…” you begin. What’s the right word? Entitled? Arrogant? Shameless? “You.”
Rafe scoffs at you, unsure of how to take the comment and unsure if he should even care as you settle in his car. He ambles in behind you, settling on the leather seat and shutting the door.
You don’t feel shy to initiate like you did last night. You straddle him, immediately locking lips, feeling him freeze in what you think is surprise before his hands drag over your hips.
Rafe really wants to grab your ass but he remembers you telling him he shouldn’t jump right to groping.
He tastes like beer and he smells like cologne as you deepens the kiss, weaving your lips together. He dips his tongue into your mouth and your noses nudge together, wet lips smacking in his dark, quiet car.
He shuffles under you, the leather squeaking, allowing you to feel his hard-on between your legs, his hands finally wandering over your ass and gripping hard. Lust burns in your stomach.
Your mind drifts back to what he texted you this morning. You’ve been thinking about it all day. You sit back, unable to see much of Rafe in the darkness, but enough to see that his eyes are half-closed, drunk off the feeling.
“I wanna practice…” you say, stroking him over his shorts. “You know.”
“Say it,” Rafe coaches, his dimples caving into his cheeks. You roll your eyes. Right. This is why you’re doing this. To stop being so reserved.
“Sucking dick,” you finally say. Hearing and watching you as your words spill out of your mouth makes his skin prickle with excitement.
“My turn to teach you, huh?” Rafe’s voice is deep and husky, dripping with desire. You nod, your bottom lip trapped beneath your teeth as you continue to stroke him.
“Should I keep doing this?” you ask, palming him.
“You got it, baby,” he rasps lazily. “Touch it before you put it in your mouth.”
“Fuck,” you half-chuckle. Rafe smirks. He knows you love his dirty talk.
“You can talk, too,” he encourages. “Try it.”
You twist your lips in apprehension, but push yourself past your comfort zone.
“I’ve been thinking about doing this all day,” you admit, goosebumps blooming across your skin. “About how your cock is gonna feel down my throat.”
“Goddamn,” he groans, his hands gripping your ass tighter. How’d he get so lucky to be here right now? “That’s good.”
“Yeah?” you whisper, gratified. You unbutton his shorts and pull down his zipper.
“You liked the way it felt inside you last night, didn’t you?” he asks. He shifts to give you the space to pull down his shorts and boxers.
You watch him shut his eyes in pleasure as you wrap your bare hand around him, no fabric in the way anymore.
“I loved it,” you whisper, giving into the impulse to kiss him again. When your thumb rubs over the bead of warm precum on the head of his cock, he bites your bottom lip.
You move to position your head at his groin, your knees on the carpeted floor of his car. You lean forward, slowly putting your lips around the tip, feeling just how wet your panties are when you taste him.
“Shit,” he shudders. You slightly raise your head to dribble spit onto his thick cock, bringing your hand up to rub the moisture over his length.
“Sit up,” Rafe says. “I wanna watch you spit on it again.”
You straighten and the sight of your line of saliva dropping from your mouth to his dick makes Rafe feel like he might go crazy.
His cock is slick now, your hand sliding up and down it easily.
“Should I use both hands?” you ask.
“Yeah,” he huffs. You nod, both your palms rubbing over his girth, cupping and twisting.
He’s about to tell you to start using your mouth, but you drop a hand, leaving the other at his base, and take him in.
Your hot, wet mouth feels unbelievable. You start to suck and slide over him nicely, leaning up and down.
“Squeeze harder,” he instructs, and you nod with his cock still in your mouth, your hold stiffening at his base. You’d assume gripping this tight would hurt, but this is why you’re doing this with him. To learn.
You take a little more of him with every dip of your head, lips locked as spit dribbles down your chin. The sound of your slurping is fucking amazing to him. Your tongue twists and curls as you move.
“Keep using your tongue like that,” Rafe says to you, his words whispered and rushed. “And take as much of my cock as you can. Try to take all of it.”
You nod again, pushing down, gagging but reaching all of him, your nose touching his toned stomach.
“Fuck, yes,” he moans. “Good fucking girl.”
The praise makes you stir with enticement as you pull back, then take all of his length again, flicking your tongue.
“Just like that,” Rafe grunts, his voice hoarse. “Look at me.”
You meet his eyes in the shadowed car, his chest heaving. Rafe might just lose his mind at the way you look with your mouth stuffed with his cock. He reminds him this is supposed to be instructional.
“Guys love this shit, okay?” he says. “When you look up like that.”
You pull back, making him watch his cock slowly get uncovered as you pop off of him.
“Is it wet enough?” you ask.
“Yeah, baby, you’re doing a good job,” he replies. You nod and sink onto him again, starting to move faster, moving your hand in sync with your mouth.
“Hold my balls,” he tells you. “Not too tight.”
You obey, cupping the soft flesh with one hand while the other remains wrapped around his cock. You squeeze gently, massaging his balls and earning a deep groan from him.
Wow. You really are learning a lot from him.
Rafe feels his stomach tighten. He’s close.
“You gonna swallow?” he asks.
“Yeah,” you say, muffled and vibrating over his cock. You never have before, but you really want to impress Rafe and do this right.
He starts to shake, his voice reduced to a whimper. You feel him get even harder, then shudder.
His hot cum hits the back of your throat in one hard splash, trailed by short spurts. He moans his way through his orgasm, his load heavy.
You take it all, making him smile as he looks down at you, panting.
“That was… fuck…” Rafe huffs, titling his head back, his jawline sharp.
It’s pretty gratifying seeing such a big, loud, arrogant man reduced to this tired, heaving mess. He rakes a hand through his hair as you shift to sit next to him.
“A-plus?” you ask. You’re expecting him to tease you but he nods.
“Fuck yeah,” he laughs. “Give me a few minutes. I want you to show me how to make you cum on my dick.”
Nerves suddenly bubble in your stomach. Even after what you just did, the thought of fucking him in here makes you feel on edge.
“Let’s do that another night,” you say, adjusting your top.
“What? Why?” he asks. He looks at you, lips still parted as he breathes heavily.
“We could get caught.”
“The windows are tinted,” Rafe tells you. “Nobody knows we’re even in here.”
You look away, which by now, he has learned means you’re embarrassed.
“Holy shit, why do you get so nervous all of a sudden?” he laughs. “Do you feel bad for liking sex or something?”
You swallow hard. You never thought about it but... maybe he’s right. There always is a little bit of shame attached to every hook-up you have.
He called you out on your lack of confidence last night. Here he is, doing it again.
Rafe doesn’t understand how a girl can be so sure of herself one minute, then ashamed the next.
“Relax,” he says. “Don’t think. Just answer, understand?”
“Okay,” you say.
“Do you want to fuck?”
You nod.
“Say it.”
“Yeah, I do,” you relent.
“Then take your clothes off.”
(part three)
if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘
468 notes · View notes
aventurne · 23 hours
Text
UNDELIVERED❞ - aventurine
summary: his voicemail is full of messages, all from you, never to be heard
warnings: reader is gn, spoilers for the 2.1 penacony quest, angst, hurt/no comfort
notes: like genuinely i am not able to write for him anymore, i’m so sorry if this sucks or anything i’ve been suffering writers block for the longest time 😭
Tumblr media
i saw the prettiest gemstones just now, but they couldn’t match the hue of your eyes. i know people belittle you for it, but i think they’re really beautiful, like all of you. i know you’re probably busy right now. i’ll wait for you to come back before telling you about my day, and you can tell me about yours. do you want to play a few rounds before turning in? i love you.
(played)
thanks for the gift; you seriously didn’t have to. i know you only came to penacony for business, and you didn’t have to take me along either. i’ll make it up to you, i swear. how about a date once you finish work? i heard about this casino; there’s this hotshot there that you might enjoy wiping the floor with. what do you say? see you later. i love you.
(played)
i know something's off, and you’re not telling me about it. where did you go just now? you promised we wouldn’t keep secrets from each other, but you’ve been hiding something the whole time we’ve been here. i’m not angry; i just…i just want you to be open with me. is that so bad? call me back as soon as you can. i love you.
(played)
i’m sorry i yelled at you; your plan wasn’t something… i could agree with, i don’t care if ratio agrees to it. we can work this out; you don’t have to do this alone. just come back, and maybe we can find a better solution. love you.
(played)
i know that i apologized, but it’s not in the way you think it is; maybe it wasn’t even directed at our argument. not sorry, like, "oh, i pity your upbringing," but more of, "sorry for thinking that we could and sorry that we ever tried (to work)." that sounds mean. maybe it is. i could never heal you from the wounds inflicted by your past; they were always too deep to fill up. and i know i wasn’t the best person for you to choose as your second half; why did you do it? why did you pick me out of everyone else? why did you think i was deserving enough of your affection?
look, i know you don't want to talk to me right now. i wouldn't want to either. but i really want this to work out in your favor. i know that i’m being selfish by wanting you even when i can’t. is it wrong to be selfish just this once if it means you’ll live?
yell at me and throw things and scream that i’m as bad as a person like those who hurt you, perhaps even more for knowing that you were hurting and i did it anyway. i don't care. but please don't ignore me. i would rather bleed myself dry for you than be forgotten. i know that nothing i say will change the past; what's done is done. but we can change the future. i don’t want to lose you, not in a million years, in another life, or in any other universe.
we can solve this, find a better alternative, and i can leave afterwards if that’s what you really want. if you can pretend that we’re okay just for a little bit—if you can talk to me one more time—i promise i’ll leave you alone. i promise i’ll never call you again or anything. please call me back. i love you so.
(played)
it’s been seventeen system hours, where are you?
(undelivered)
you’re joking, right? a grand performance? is this just another one of your pranks? there’s no way you- *cuts off*
(undelivered)
you did it, didn’t you? was it worth it?
(undelivered)
hey, please. please come back. i’m sorry. i’ll do anything to have you by my side. don’t leave me alone. please. i can’t live with myself knowing that the last words I said to you face-to-face were “i hate you.” i don’t hate you; i could never hate you. i’d hate the whole world before i could ever do that. please pick up. i love you please.
(undelivered)
it’s pathetic for me to keep calling you over and over again, thinking you’d pick up. maybe some part of me does, or i just want to hear the sound of your voicemail. i hate you; maybe i do hate you. i hate you for leaving me behind and making me think that maybe this would all work out.
(undelivered)
do you think it would have been any different? is it cruel of me to want you when you have never wanted anything else but this? you don’t have to come back as a ghost to haunt me when i’m haunted by everything because it reminds me of you. i can see you in front of me, always protecting me, but never once doing so for yourself. i can hear your laugh—your real laugh, not one of falsehood. i used to draw stars around your scars, didn’t i? but i was the cause of them bleeding you out before you...you’re gone now.
(undelivered)
i miss you. i’m sorry for what i said, and it’s too late now anyway. i won’t be able to forget you, like you told me to. they say that the brain can’t tell whether something is real or a dream, so i’d always believe this horrid dream, even if you’re not here anymore. i think of you all the time now that you’re gone. will you think of me up there?
(undelivered)
*static before it cuts off.*
(undelivered)
i hate the phrase ‘till death do us part’ because even after death, i would still love you. i’ll always be here right where you left me, waiting for you to come home even though i know you won’t.
(undelivered)
sweet dreams. i love you, kakavasha.
(undelivered)
Tumblr media
© AVENTURNE 2024. DO NOT COPY, REPOST, SHARE, TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD MY WORKS ONTO ANY OTHER SITE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION
294 notes · View notes
disneyprincemuke · 15 hours
Text
you can't spell lonesome without me * fem!driver
everyone and everything she's ever loved seems to be slipping away from her grasp and she doesn't know how to stop it
pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, mick schumacher x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, liam lawson x fem!driver
notes: hi! matt and rocky angst comes after this so hehe gl with this guyz hope u enjoy it because it actually took 20 years of my life tryna write this LOL
(series masterlist) | (📂 2025: fall from grace)
(prev)
Tumblr media
sebastian keeps telling her that it’s not her fault; to look at the bigger picture to get some perspective. but she doesn’t quite understand why the bigger picture has to have liam in it — frankly, who cares if liam’s qualified 15th and she ended up behind him? that’s not the point.
the point is she finds herself at another weekend where she couldn’t deliver results.
she hasn’t spoken much since she crawled out of her car after getting knocked out in the first round of qualifying. and she appreciates that matt hasn’t forced anything out of her just yet.
she’d stormed out of her garage and tried to get through all her interviews as gracefully as she could. but how could she ignore her results when, week after week, the questions and criticisms are the same?
it’s slowly getting harder and harder to keep her feet on the ground when things are slowly coming undone around her.
and she can’t thank matt enough for letting her cancel their plans without another word. she’d simply uttered that she just wanted to be locked away in their hotel room and he agreed without prodding too much.
she steps out of her racing home, taken aback by the 4 other bodies of her friends that are riddled by the porch, all on their phones. she tilts her head as she holds the door in her hands. “what are you guys doing here?”
logan is the first to look up, furrowed eyebrows and lips pursed in what she can only assume to be out of annoyance. “what do you mean? we’re heading out for ice cream tonight.”
she glances at matt next to her, who’s already looking at her as he awaits her response. she sighs as she looks back at her friends. “i’m sorry, mate,” she apologises, shaking her head. she weaves herself out of matt’s grasp and takes a step forward. “i’m not feeling great tonight.”
“what?” oscar whines, lifting his head from his phone with a slight frown. “is it a fever? are you alright?”
“i’m alright.” she smiles very slightly, picking on her arm as she forces another lie to her lips. “we can go tomorrow after the race, but just not tonight, i think. i’m sorry.”
liam furrows his eyebrows with a loud sigh. “is it because of qualifying?” he grins when she looks over at him. “if it’s any consolation, i’m not happy about it either, mate.”
she laughs softly. “yeah, it sucks.”
“i can’t do tomorrow. my flight’s right after the race,” mick frowns with a sigh. “i’m meeting laila for a bit before the next race weekend.”
“oh,” logan hums, turning away from mick to look at her. “we can go just us, right?”
“i can’t either,” oscar hisses, his frown growing. “i’m flying back home for an event that lily has. she needs me there.”
“ah,” she grins with a nod. she looks at logan. “we don’t have to get ice cream this weekend. it’s okay.”
logan raises an eyebrow. “you’re sure?”
she nods. “i’m sure.”
Tumblr media
“it feels like it’s been so difficult to get a grasp of you lately. have you gotten too famous for me?”
she turns around with her head tilted, lips puckered as she takes a sip out of the pepsi can in her arms. “oh, hi max!”
“hi!” max perks up at her smile. “i’ve barely spoken to you since the second race. how are you?”
she sucks in a deep breath as she looks around the busy paddocks, people turning their heads at her and max, and some cowering away immediately when she catches their eye. she looks back at max with a frank smile. “good.”
he lifts an eyebrow. “really?”
she knows that talking to someone would probably ease her mind with all her thoughts. it might even calm her down to a certain degree.
and she almost does.
but she doesn’t. instead, she says, “of course. i feel great, even.”
“well,” max puts a hand on her shoulder, prompting her to snap her head up to look at him, “take my advice, mate. don’t be too hard on yourself.”
but the question still begs: how exactly does she not do that?
Tumblr media
there’s a slight scowl on her face as she looks up at the podium. her arms are folded over her chest as the australian national anthem blasts from the speakers.
her best friends have made it on the podium this season — without her. while it’s not totally unheard of that she misses out on the share of glory, it’s never usually her on the receiving end of this torment.
at least not as of late.
to oscar’s left is logan clad in blue, and to his right is mick in the mercedes suit. it’s almost annoying.
there’s an itch in her brain and a smidge of resentment starting to grow in her chest. it’s wrong to feel this way — she knows it is — because these are her friends achieving big things in their sport. but is it so wrong that she’s starting to feel a little jealous?
just a little bit. just a little. just a touch.
maybe if she sleeps this off and wakes up tomorrow, all remnants of resentment would somehow no longer exist.
she shouldn’t feel this way, no. it’s not right. she forces a smile to her face, waving halfheartedly at oscar when he catches her eye. he pumps his fist into the air and waves his trophy in the air.
next to her is lily with her phone up, pictures and videos taken. and of course, ylona’s next to her, waving excitedly at logan as she points at her phone to get him to pose for a picture.
she presses her lips together, annoyance growing in her gut as her airways start to close in on itself. it’s just so hard to breathe especially with everyone pressed up against her. she’s still sweaty from the race, her hair is sticking against her forehead and her race suit starts to feel just slightly restricting.
she huffs softly, hooking a finger into the neckline of her fireproofs.
but everything feels like it’s burning.
“excuse me,” she mutters, dropping her head low as she pushes herself through the crowd. she ignores the way lily and ylona call after her in confusion.
she heaves when she manages to rid herself of the crowd, hands on her knees as she struggles to catch her breath. she catches max’s eye right by parc ferme, engaged in a conversation with charles.
she sees the way he perks up in concern at her but chooses to ignore it. she just picks herself up and heads to the media pen to do her interviews.
the feeling will eventually leave.
Tumblr media
she looks around the ice cream parlour, slouched slightly with her hands pressed between the cushion of the seat and her thighs. in retrospect, it felt like coming out after media day would have been the ideal time to come out and indulge in ice cream.
but now that she’s sat here, stuck between liam and mick in a booth, it seems that she has made a mistake.
“what are you having, rocky?” logan asks, tapping the table in front of her to catch her attention. “rocky road with extra marshmallows still? or do you feel like vanilla ice cream today?”
with the way her stomach has been churning recently, any form of chocolate makes her feel sick. she shakes her head. “maybe just a lemon sorbet if they have that available.”
an audible gasp comes from either side of her. she throws her head back and looks between them. liam has the back of his hand pressed up against her forehead, mick’s tilted his head with furrowed eyebrows and logan’s staring down at her with parted lips.
“what are you guys doing?” she asks mellowly, swatting their hands away from her. “don’t touch me.”
“sorbet?” liam scowls, pointing a finger at her. “is everything okay? you’re like sorbets’ number one hater.”
she raises her eyebrows and chews on the inside of her cheeks. “am i?”
“yes,” logan emphasises. “you literally told me off one time for having sorbet during our ice cream dates. you and oscar wouldn’t let me live it down for weeks!”
she blinks at him. “you got a raspberry sorbet, so you had that coming.”
“no!” logan shrieks. “sorbet? really? what’s wrong with you? is everything okay? you always say sorbets are inferior to ice cream.”
she nods hesitantly. she vaguely remembers the one time that she’d gone on a drunk tangent about sorbet not being ice cream. to which she can say that she understands logan’s argument. “well, i’m not really feeling ice cream today.”
mick hums, making her turn her head to look at him. “if it’s just this one time, i guess we can excuse the behaviour.”
she hears logan humming, eyes still narrowed down into a glare. “just this one time, rocky. i’ll give you a chance.”
“great, thanks. i was worried you’d bully me into having ice cream tonight.”
“keep up the sarcasm and i’ll actually force you.”
Tumblr media
she flinches when she opens the door to her driver’s room, only to find it occupied. she blinks. “seriously, you’ve got to stop taking advantage of seb.”
“we missed you,” oscar grins, comfortably lying in her bean bag, tapping away on his phone. “and you weren’t answering our texts in the group chat.”
she looks over at matt and points at her friends. “really? you let them in?”
the green-eyed boy shrugs, lips pressed together. “4 versus 1 argument — remember that.”
there’s nothing that she wanted all day but to come back to a peaceful and silent driver’s room. she’d wanted to simply sit with matt in silence before she had to get up and drag her feet to a conference room and come up with diplomatic answers on the spot.
she just needed a couple of hours to herself to think and recuperate. to get herself in a better headspace after these past couple of races.
“where are we heading for ice cream tonight?” logan raises an eyebrow, not sparing her a look as he continues to tap away on his phone.
“ice cream,” she mutters, trailing off as she blinks. “oh, my god.”
she shakes her head, her palm pressed against her forehead. amidst everything that’s been in her head, she’d completely forgotten to research an ice cream parlour for them to visit tonight.
oscar chuckles. “you’ve forgotten, haven’t you?”
“yes,” she answers, somewhat apologetically. “i’m so sorry. and i’m busy today, i don’t have the time. can either of you find a place?”
but there’s a different answer that she hopes they would choose instead of the standard answer that they’d give her.
she finds them wanting to say nevermind; that they’ll just not grab ice cream together.
to her dismay, that’s not what mick says. “oo, can i choose?”
Tumblr media
“give it a while, kid.”
“i don’t have a while!” she shrieks, looking around at her mobile car, cars passing her from the track. she can practically hear the comments and see the headlines once she steps out of the car when the race finishes. “tell them to fucking get it together! what the fuck is going on?”
she’s looking around wide-eyed, desperate to meet anyone’s eye for an explanation. the longer she stays parked in the pit, for what was supposed to be a pit stop, the less threshold she has to stay in the race.
“this is absolutely insane, seb. i was in p5 before this shit show.”
“rocky,” he hears her sigh into her ears, “just be patient.”
she dug her foot into the acceleration when the sign flipped to the bright green colour. adrenaline pumps through her veins as she convinces herself that her car will be good enough to put her back into a good spot.
that she’s good enough to put herself in a position where she’s no longer on the receiving end of harsh words this weekend.
above all else, she needs to prove to herself that she hasn’t lost her touch as a driver.
“you’re currently in p9.”
“what the hell happened during that pit?” she complains, the urge to roll her eyes growing stronger. “that was so fucked up, seb! you know what– it isn’t. it’s absolutely fucking unacceptable.”
“i know, rocky,” seb answers calmly, clearing his intonation to ensure that the young girl hears him. and actually listens because it doesn’t seem like she’s absorbing much of what he says. “we’ll debrief later after the race, okay? just focus on making the most out of the weekend.”
she grunts. “fine, whatever.”
Tumblr media
“ice cream tonight?” logan pops up next to her, grinning when she lifts her head from her intense gaze on her shoe. “found a spot?”
she sighs, blinking. “no. i forgot.”
logan takes a spot next to her on the couch, furrowing his eyebrows. “you forgot again?”
“yeah,” she huffs as she looks away to avoid his gaze. “sorry.”
truth is that she didn’t look for one on purpose. she just simply doesn’t feel like heading out with them tonight.
she just waits for the time that oscar and logan will let her be. perhaps the stupid ice cream tradition needed to be abolished altogether. just seems like a waste of time.
“no worries,” logan grins, patting her head gently. “you’ve had a long couple of race weekends past you. i’ll look for one, okay?”
she breathes out shakily, smiling halfheartedly. “okay, thank you.”
she finds herself dreading the ice cream date with her friends. she trails behind the group with small steps, watching her feet with every step as she formulates a way to escape her obligations.
she clears her throat and lifts her head. “um.”
“she’s spoken,” oscar jokes, grabbing logan’s arms — previously hitting him — and turns back to grin at her. “the curse must have been broken.”
“someone found the unmute button on the remote!” logan giggles, scrunching his nose. “what’s up, rocky?”
liam hums with a smile. “your girlfriend remembered she has friends!” he looks over at matt and nods. “good for her.”
“i’m like,” she trails off, biting down on her lip as she forces another lie out, “totally not feeling great. i’m on my period and i’m kind of lightheaded. is it alright if i sit this one out?”
“aw, bub,” matt coos, shoving liam off of him, arms extended as he approaches her. he tilts his head and furrows his eyebrows. “you’re on your period?”
she looks up at matt, wide-eyed as she slowly nods. “just got it before we left my room.”
which is a lie.
“aw, does that mean matt’s not coming with us?” mick frowns, furrowing his eyebrows. “i haven’t spent time with him forever, that’s so unfair.”
she shakes her head, flashing mick a small grin. “no, it totally doesn’t mean that. he can go with you guys — i just wanna head back to the hotel and take a nap, really. i’ll be okay on my own.”
matt hums. “i’ll go with you.”
“you should go with them,” she laughs, grabbing his arm with a small nod. “i’ll text you when i’m back, i promise. i’ll be okay — i just need to take a nap, i reckon.”
logan furrows his eyebrows and his smile drops at her insistence. “i can walk you back to the hotel if you want.”
she shakes her head. “i’ll be okay. you guys have fun, okay?”
Tumblr media
she kneels on her beanbag, lips pressed together as she looks out of the tiny window of her driver’s room. right by the porch of her racing home are her friends gathered, laughing and having a good time as they awaited her arrival.
“bub,” matt sighs. “are you sure you don’t wanna come with us?”
she turns around with a small smile, scrunching her nose. “i’ll be okay, bub. i’m just not really feeling like heading to the club tonight.”
he walks over to her, slumping his shoulders as she leans into his body for a hug. “at least let me stay with you? i don’t like you being alone when i’m around. i’m sure we can come up with some silly excuse that they won’t giggle at like 12-year-olds.”
“you have to go,” she hums, pulling her head back to look up at him, “it’s logan’s race win — just go in my place, please? tell him i’m really sorry i can’t be there.”
he hums, cupping her cheek. she leans into his touch with a soft sigh and her eyes fluttering close. “you should tell him that yourself. you owe him that much; he’s your best friend.”
she shakes her head, her hand coming up to rest above the hand that’s on her face. “i can’t,” she chokes, tears filling her eyes, “you know how i feel about this. just do this one for me, bub.”
“fine,” he sighs, hunching over to press his lips to her forehead. “but you can’t keep avoiding logan and oscar and throwing me out there to face them. they miss you, you know?”
she can hear logan’s laugh in the air mixed with ylona’s. she grins slightly, “i’m sure they’ve got better things to care about other than me.”
“don’t even say that,” he pulls away, “text me when you get back to the hotel, okay? i love you.”
Tumblr media
she scratches the back of her head roughly, nails digging into her scalp as she holds her helmet in her hands.
she mutters under her breath as she tears everything off from her body: her balaclava, her gloves, the earpiece. everything’s not right, everything’s not going her way and that’s unfair.
nobody’s worked as hard as she has to be where she is right now is all that goes in her head. it’s unfair that she’s getting the brunt of the criticism when it came to andretti’s performance on the grid this year.
she doesn’t see liam getting decimated by the masses, and she clearly doesn’t see it on sebastian or her team principal or mechanics for not producing a car to get results in a weekend.
she’s qualified at the very back of the grid this time — p19. just imagine what everyone will have to say; what everyone will zoom into just to have something to say about her driving.
it’s always her skills, never the fact that the car is simply shit.
“rocky,” she hears sebastian sigh behind her. “let’s talk.”
she shakes her head, clenching her jaw as she heads towards the exit of her garage. she doesn’t bother turning around to look at him. “just fuck off.”
the one thing she wishes to stop coming by is sebastian’s excuses for the team. it’s the same thing over and over again. it’s unfair that she’s the one getting fucked over by the media.
it’s not fair.
Tumblr media
taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @mclarengf @xoscar03 @nomie-11 @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool
209 notes · View notes
literaila · 2 days
Note
what does reader think of all the students at jujutsu tech ? is she like a proud mum when she meets yuji and nobara and is like "my son made friends" ? does megumi come home kn the weekends ? are they all sad when he officially starts there ?
trust that reader is everyone’s mom figure. she is the only person with any common sense, the most sane out of them all. if there’s a question that needs to be answered, reader should be the first person anyone goes to (someone might say otherwise but still)
satoru might say that you need to be a little “crazy” to be a jujutsu sorcerer, but you think he’s just projecting.
and you tell him this when you’re discussing megumi, talking about him living away from home—because jujutsu is immersive. it’s something you’re supposed to devote your lives to and you know this.
you do. really.
i mean, you lived there. you went to class with other sorcerers—satoru—and you know that you can’t half ass a career in jujutsu. you know.
but still, you can’t help but lay in bed with satoru and talk about megumi and ask him “does he really have to live there?” you’ll stare at satoru’s face. his half vacant eyes, tired from a day of work and all three of you. “he could come home at night and eat dinner. he could drive over with us.”
“what would the other first years say?”
“they wouldn’t have to know.”
you know you sound a bit naive. like a kid. but, honestly, didn’t satoru fall in love with you when you were one. why should it matter to either of you?
“what do you think nanami and haibara would’ve thought if you went home every night when you came to school?”
you give him a look, half joking. in no world would that have even been possible for you.
“okay,” he rolls his eyes. “what do you think suguru would’ve thought about me? if i went home every night to the gojo clan? or shoko?”
“they both made fun of you anyway.”
“megumi wants to go,” satoru reminds you like you don’t already know it. “do you want him to feel separated from his classmates?”
“stop,” you tell him, groaning into the side of his head. his hair smells like gumdrops and plums.
“i’m just saying,” satoru kisses behind your ear, his go-to method of distraction. “he’s a man.”
“he’s not.”
satoru shakes his head against yours, not saying anything.
“he’s not. you’re not even a man.”
the boy in question grins like this is what he was waiting for you to say. “and i still lived in the dorms, a building away from you.”
you sit up suddenly, thinking. “what if megumi falls in love with a classmate?”
satoru laughs.
“no, i’m serious—“
still, when megumi moves into his dorm room, you don’t even attempt to dissuade him. he seems… as giddy as he can get, carrying his boxes around campus like he didn’t spend half his childhood following you or satoru around.
you’re immensely glad that you agreed to work there with him in this moment. satoru says he has no idea when the other first years will show up—as per usual—and you don’t want megumi to be alone for long.
so it’s fortunate that satoru can introduce him to the now second years, and you can stand along slide megumi all the while, grinning at your pupils and nudging megumi to be polite.
you don’t get to watch satoru smile at your overprotective tendencies or proud-motherly instincts. he finds it… slightly adorable (and insanely attractive) to watch you fuss over your son like he’s a tiny little doll you can dress up.
and really, you’re just glad that megumi isn’t afraid of all of this like you were. that he had someone—two people—to show him the reins. that satoru is going to be there beside him the whole time, you just a classroom away.
yeah, you think, for just once, it’ll all be fine.
and then you get to hear all about satoru’s teaching methods from your new students (which ensues a whole… months worth of arguments).
244 notes · View notes
lavender-devotion · 16 hours
Text
Gambling With Souls (Alastor x GN!Reader)
Summary: You made a deal with Husk a long time ago, and ended up paying a lot more than you bargained for. Now you worked in one of his casinos, waiting on him and the people he gambled with hand and foot. One day Husk is challenged to a game by another Overlord, one with red eyes and a sharp ever-present smile…and, despite everything, you can’t help but feel drawn to him. What happens when the two of them start gambling with souls…and yours is thrown into the betting pool? Disclaimer: Husk is going to act pretty different than he does in the show and, yes, he's not going to be very nice to you---this is not me demonizing him. He's an Overlord, he's gonna act like one.
Tags: Alastor x GN!Reader, No Use of (Y/N), I only know Texas Hold ‘Em so that’s what we’re going with, One-sided Husk x GN!Reader (maybe, idk, it's up to your interpretation) TW: Abuse, Alcohol, Groping Word Count: 3.3k Read it on Ao3 <3
The moment you'd agreed to gamble with Husk, your life had ended.
You were a strong demon, not an Overlord---considering you hadn't owned any souls---but still not someone to mess with. Still, it was an incredibly stupid idea to gamble with an Overlord like him, especially since he was known for his proficiency in such things. You didn't remember what exactly had possessed you to think you could possibly win, but it didn't really matter now, did it?
He'd challenged you, and you had accepted.
You lost.
And now your soul was his to do with as he pleased.
Of all the demons who owned souls, Husk was considered by far the worst. He was a gambler and a drunk. He won hands, yes, but he also lost them---and it wasn't exactly uncommon for him to bet the souls he owned in lieu of money. Especially against other Overlords.
You could be working for him in one of his casinos as a dealer and in the span of one hand you were suddenly being dragged to the Vee district and forced to work as a porn star for Valentino, subject to his abuse and the abuse of your "co-stars," only to see your pain broadcasted across Hell to get people off.
Or to the Carmine district to work in a factory, building weapons that would probably kill you one day and dealing with the effects of the toxic gas and physical labor, slowly decaying over time.
Or to the district owned by Zestial...no one knew what happened to the souls he owned, and you sure as hell didn't want to find out.
Oddly enough, though, Husk seemed to take a liking to you. He always had you work at his personal gambling table---serving drinks, food, or rigging the game in his favor when he was in particularly deep shit and didn't want to lose.
And he never bet your soul.
Ever.
Sometimes he would bet you doing certain...activities, sometimes he would bet your time, sometimes he would bet a kiss, but never your soul.
Sometimes you were grateful for it, for the security it brought and the routine---you were rarely ever caught off guard when it came to Husk. Grateful for the knowledge that, hey, at least you would never be traded off to someone worse.
Other times, however, you hated it. Hated that he treated you like his prized show pony, hated that he was willing to pass you around but never loosen the chain on your neck, hated the fact that there was no escape...
...at least, there was no escape, until Husk gambled with him.
----------
It was never a good thing when Husk called you over to his table, so when one of the girls you worked with waved you down and directed you over to him---right before the end of your shift, I might add---you were...less than thrilled, let's say.
It had already been a hard enough day. It was like every jackass in Hell had decided to all get assigned to your tables at once---being loud and unruly, smacking your ass, spilling drinks, causing trouble---and, of course, none of your coworkers were any help. Your feet were killing you from all of the moving around, a customer had spilled a drink on you so now your uniform was more uncomfortable than usual, and you could definitely feel a migraine coming on.
The last thing you wanted to do was stay however many hours past your scheduled time just to plaster on a fake smile and be Husk's plaything. All you wanted was to go home and go to sleep, but the universe apparently hated you.
Fuck your life.
As you approached Husk's table, your attention was immediately drawn to the man sitting across from him. He was noticeably taller than Husk, even without the antlers atop his head---joined by a pair of red and black ears that matched the rest of his hair. He was dressed in a red suit and tailcoat that seemed to be 1930's in style, and a staff in the shape of a vintage microphone rested right next to him.
What was most eye-catching about him, though, was his smile.
Husk was an irritating man, that's just what he was like. He was arrogant without the sense to hide it, too certain of his own success every time he played a game, a hefty shit talker, usually drunk, and irritable and rude when he wasn't. Half of your job was often playing nice to soothe his opponents, trying to keep him out of trouble. Like I said, he was an irritating man.
And yet, even though it was obvious that Husk was getting on this man's last nerve, his smile never faltered. It was...unsettling, to say the least. Oddly enough, though, you found your interest in the man piquing---he didn't look like the type to gamble, after all, so what was he doing here?
As soon as you made it to the table, you plastered on a smile of your own and greeted them, mentally preparing yourself so that you didn't try to throttle one or both of them.
"Hello gentleman," you said, voice falsely bright and cheerful, "will I be dealing for you today or grabbing some drinks?"
Husk turned to you, grinning cockily and...oddly not drunk. Not sober, of course, but clearly more sober than you'd ever seen him before.
"Dealin' for us today, sweetheart," he said, smooth and low---almost flirty. You mentally shuddered.
Despite your distaste, you nodded and made your way to the middle of the table, going ahead and opening a fresh deck of cards before shuffling them---waiting for Husk to tell you which game they were going to play, and therefore what you'd be dealing out.
He turned to his opponent, "now, what game 're we playin'?"
"Your choice," the man replied, his voice overlaid by sharp radio static.
Husk laughed, and part of you wondered if this stranger had a death wish. Didn't he know who Husk was? Didn't he know what a terrible idea it was to give him, not only the advantage of playing in one of his casinos and choosing the dealer, but also the advantage of choosing the game?
What was he playing at?
Never one to pass up an opportunity to gain the upper hand, Husk---grinning---told you the game he wanted to play, and you began dealing out the cards. Quickly, the stranger recognized it.
"Ah, Texas Hold Em', hm?" He hummed, static crackling slightly in an almost-laugh, "a classic! What made you choose such a game?"
"I just figured a basic game like this would be easy enough for you to keep up with," Husk replied, the little insult sliding smoothly off his tongue. The stranger's eyes narrowed and you cringed, mentally praying to whatever god would listen that he wouldn't take his anger at Husk out on you, as was all too common among the characters he gambled with. Thankfully, his eyes never left Husk and he made no move to harm you as you set up the game, now divvying up the chips between them.
Just before you were about to start the game, however, Husk held up a hand to stop you---a dangerous glint in his eyes that made you shudder.
"Why don't we make this game a little more interesting," he said, and you could already guess what he was about to suggest.
The stranger's head tilted ever-so slightly, "what did you have in mind?"
"Why don't we gamble with something a little more valuable than money...something like the souls we own."
The stranger's smile widened imperceptibly, and you got the uncanny feeling that this is what he'd wanted in the first place. Not Husk's money, but the souls in his possession.
'Perhaps Husk's soul as well,' something in your mind whispered, but you brushed it off. Husk never gambled his soul either, so there's no way that would happen---even if that was what the stranger was there for.
Once the stranger voiced his agreement, Husk snapped his fingers and his chips radiated with a silver glow, each chip being branded with a mark that symbolized exactly whose soul was being bet. His soul was branded on a Black chip, the most expensive piece---ever present, even if he'd never bet it. Yours was a Red, the second most expensive.
He gestured to the stranger, signaling that it was his turn. The stranger followed suit and snapped his fingers, this time a bright green enveloping the chips in front of him---starkly contrasting to the rest of his appearance. His chips were now branded with their own marks as well. A Black chip with green details was branded with a bright red 'A,' and you could only assume that was his own soul.
After it was clear that the two were ready, you flipped the first three cards, and the game began.
----------
At first, things almost seemed normal, once the game had started.
You dealt the hands, split the chips in the betting pool, and watched as the two Overlords went back and forth with the flow of the game. Occasionally another one of Husk’s employees would come over and serve them drinks, but other than that none of it caught your attention.
Well, one thing caught your attention.
The stranger’s shadow.
It seemed to dance around with a mind of its own, never losing its smile, just like the stranger himself. The shadow sometimes messed with the chips on the stranger’s side of the board, sometimes it played with the ice in the empty glasses on the table, but most of the time it seemed almost…fascinated by you.
It messed with your hair, helped you shuffle and collect the cards, tugged playfully at the edges of your uniform, and simply stuck by your side most of the time. It was a nice change from the attention you were used to dealing with from customers, or from Husk himself.
The way people would scream at you when they were angry, the wandering hands that would grope or hit or grab, the catcalls and lustful threats, the glasses of alcohol that people would throw at you…this was nothing like any of that. You liked it, it made you feel…precious, in a way. Valued. Cared for, oddly enough.
The stranger seemed amused by the antics, occasionally raising an eyebrow at his shadow only to receive an innocent shrug in response.
Husk, on the other hand, was not so amused.
“Get control of your fuckin’ shadow,” Husk snapped at the stranger as it tugged gently on a piece of your hair, drawing a small smile from you. One that immediately disappeared as you heard Husk’s voice.
“Now now,” the stranger chastised, seeming even more amused at Husk’s irritation, “it’s only having a little fun, no need to lose your temper.”
Husk muttered something under his breath, no doubt some string of insults, but still, he dropped the subject. You tried not to pay any more attention to the shadow after that, not wanting Husk to get angry at you as well.
Husk didn’t seem to notice…but the stranger did.
“Husker, you have quite the specimen working for you here," he said, radio static curling around his voice in an almost...flirtatious(?) purr as he turned to look at you, "what's your name, my dear?"
You flushed slightly before giving him your name, asking his in return. After all, you'd prefer to stop thinking of him as "the stranger."
He repeated your name slowly, sounding out each syllable, before responding, "Alastor, it's a pleasure to meet-"
"Your turn," Husk interrupted, voice grating, and the stranger- Alastor's gaze snapped to him, lip curling even as his smile stretched.
"Of course," he replied, irritation clear in his tone, "pets have such short attention spans, wouldn't want you getting distracted from our game, now would we?"
"The only one getting distracted here is you."
Alastor only hummed in response, raising the bet as he did so.
You glanced between the two, the tension between them palpable, and you were more than a little worried that a fight might break out---but, thankfully, neither made a move towards the other. They just sat there, glaring.
You cleared your throat, trying to dispel some of the animosity, "raise or call?"
Husk pushed a stack of chips forward, "raise."
----------
This is how the game went, back and forth.
Husk winning some hands, and Alastor winning some in return---almost like a dance, a game.
You watched, enthralled, as the two continued on...and as Husk slowly, surely, lost more and more souls. Usually, when it was clear that one of the players were going to lose, they would call the game off---cut their losses and stop before things got any worse.
But, for whatever reason, Husk refused to do just that. In fact, the more hands Husk lost, the more determined he seemed to keep playing---to the point where, if you didn't know him well, you'd think he was gambling under the influence. It was...surprising, to say the least, and by the time Husk seemed to realize how deep of a hole he'd dug himself into, it was too late. His only choice was to keep playing and hope his luck turned around.
He had no reason to be worried, though, and he knew that.
All because he had you.
You see, there was a reason why Husk always had you serving his table. It was because of your power, what you could do for him during these games.
It was hard to pinpoint exactly what your power was, since it manifested differently depending on what you used it to do, but---in simple terms---it was almost like you had control over reality. A small part of it, at least. You could control things...well, under your control. Your appearance, the clothes you wore, anything you made, or---in this case---any game you dealt for.
There weren't any rules against the dealer controlling the game. Husk made certain of it. There was even a clause in the fine print of every contract people signed to play with him, one that gave you full permission to do as you pleased during the game, as long as you were the dealer.
So, sooner or later, Husk would give you the signal to turn things in his favor and you would do as you were told.
...
Well, apparently, it was sooner.
Husk gave you the signal, and you sunk into the familiar warmth of your power---subtly seizing control of the game. You knew the cards in Husk's hands and in Alastor's, as well as all the cards on the board.
Alastor would have two pair, Husk would have one.
Your fingers twitched slightly and the unflipped cards changed, giving Husk three of a kind and Alastor one pair.
Husk won that round.
Safe to say, Husk started to get "spontaneously" lucky, and get some of his souls---his power---back. Alastor, surprisingly, didn't seem at all bothered or shocked by this. If anything, he seemed completely relaxed, as if he wasn't losing hundreds of souls with every hand. It unsettled you, and it definitely seemed to unsettle Husk---even though he tried his best to hide it.
Eventually, though, just as you thought that---surely---Alastor had had enough and was about to call the game off, he said something that stopped you in your tracks.
"All in."
Your power faltered for a moment as you stared at him, eyes wide, and you lost all knowledge of what was on the board. Husk was staring too, mouth hanging open, before a surprised laugh slipped from his mouth.
"You're kiddin', there's no way you-"
Once again, Alastor simply said, "all in."
Sliding his soul chip forward. Smile ever-present.
You glanced at Husk, silently wondering what he was going to do. Even with you controlling the game, he'd still never gambled his soul. Whether that was because he didn't trust that you'd let him win or because he didn't want to take the risk of your power failing, you didn't know, but still...he never bet it.
You raised an eyebrow, waiting for his answer, and, after a moment, Husk shook his head in disbelief...before calling Alastor's bet. A first for him, and for you. You took a deep breath and took control of the game again, ready to change the cards, before Alastor---once again---stopped you in your tracks.
"Is this what you want?" He asked, and you froze.
"...what?"
"Is this what you want?" He repeated, sounding genuinely curious, "to spend the rest of your afterlife working here, for this man? Letting him bet your body, your choices, letting him control your free will?"
You blinked. Surprised.
No one had ever asked you what you wanted before.
"I don't..." you trailed off, unsure of exactly what to say to that. Unsure of how to answer the question.
Husk glared at him, the topic of conversation clearly hitting a nerve, "why don't you shut the fuck up and mind your own business you-"
"You don't have to, my dear," Alastor continued, cutting Husk off, "you do have a choice, you know. You could choose to help me, instead of him, or to let fate take its hold."
It hit you then that Alastor knew that Husk was cheating, that he knew you were helping him. And still, he played the game...still, he treated you with kindness and respect.
He was right, though, you did have a choice. The contract of the game specified that you could do whatever you wanted with your control of the game, so long as you were the dealer and not one of the players.
If you wanted, you could make Husk lose.
You could force him into the same position that he'd forced you into.
You could break free from his grip.
Husk growled your name and your gaze snapped toward him. It was a warning, a threat. He owned your soul, he could do whatever he pleased with it, so you better listen to him.
Alastor said your name softly, drawing your attention back to him. A careful reminder. You still had a choice in this, Husk couldn't make you do anything right now. You could always choose not to help him, to help Alastor instead. All for the chance at a better life.
You took a deep breath and closed your eyes...
...
...before letting go of all control of the game.
Whatever happened now, it was up to the cards. Not you.
Husk slammed his hands down on the table, making you jump back as piles of chips tumbled to the floor, but before you could get farther away, he lunged at you and grabbed your throat---seething with rage.
"YOU FUCKIN' BITCH, HOW DARE YOU-"
Before he could finish his sentence, or cause you any harm, a green chain suddenly formed around his neck and pulled him back---making him fall to the ground. Your gaze snapped up, only to find Alastor at the other end of the chain---his shadow laughing behind him, grin wide. From there you glanced at the table, only to find-
Alastor had a Royal Flush...
...and Husk had nothing.
You glanced back at Husk and then, again, at Alastor---the reality of everything slowly setting in. Your soul no longer belonged to Husk, even if you were still tied to another Overlord. Now, though, Husk had fallen from his ivory tower.
Now he was just like you.
You couldn't help the hysterical laughter that bubbled up from your chest, a weight you hadn't even known was there suddenly disappearing. It was over. It was all over.
"I guess the house always wins," you managed to get out through your laughter, unable to contain the bright smile that took over your face. You were free of him. You were free of him.
"Indeed, my dear," Alastor replied, chuckling at your little joke, "I can already tell, you and I are going to get along just fine."
You would never admit it, but you thought so too.
211 notes · View notes
defectivehero · 2 days
Note
If you'd like, please write about an injured hero who needs to be carried around by villain! >:D
“One more complaint and I’m dropping you,” the villain announces, briefly readjusting their grip. They have one arm looped under the hero's knee and the other supporting their enemy's back.
The hero has been steadily avoiding eye contact, instead looking ahead. They look a bit flustered, for some reason. “This is humiliating,” the hero sighs, looking down at their ankle with a menacing glare.
“Yes, it is humiliating,” the villain agrees, an annoyed expression on their face as they stare ahead. They thank the stars that they're walking down a rather narrow and abandoned side street. They wouldn't be able to do this downtown, in broad daylight—both because they're too prideful, and because someone may recognize them. “Maybe if you had paid attention instead of tripping over nothing-”
“Hey, that’s not very nice bedside manner,” the hero interjects. The villain has to take a moment to process that statement.
“Bedside manner is for people who are ill or dying,” the villain sighs, “You’re just dramatic.” Gods, why do they even bother? They could be at home right now, washing the dried blood from their skin and melting under the warm water from their shower. Instead, they're carrying the hero across town as if they're some sort of delivery service. Absolutely ridiculous.
“You haven’t dropped me,” the hero points out. They look far too smug for the villain's liking. Indeed, their next remark nearly makes the villain's jaw crack from how hard they're gritting their teeth. “So I must be doing something right.”
The villain takes a deep breath, trying to maintain their composure. Leave it to their enemy to make a simple act of kindness so painful, overcomplicated, and tedious. “You’re clinging onto my neck so tightly that I’ll get whiplash if I drop you,” the villain feels the need to point out.
“Fair enough,” the hero acquiesces. After a moment’s contemplation, they loosen their grip on their neck. The villain can almost feel the weight slowly seeping from their shoulders. They had underestimated the hero's grip strength, it seems.
They expect the hero to be still once more, but their enemy doesn't relax. It only takes a few moments for them to snap. "Stop squirming," the villain demands.
"I was loosening my grip, asshole-" The hero seethes irritatedly.
"Oh, I'm sorry, what was that?" The villain asks, making a show of looking around at the empty street around them. "Was I just insulted for helping my enemy back to their agency—which, might I say, is an entirely voluntary and selfless act of heroism?"
The hero scoffs and rolls their eyes. "Oh, please," they huff. The villain gets the feeling that, if their arms were free, they'd cross them over their chest in indignation. "You wouldn't know heroism if it punched you in the face."
The villain just stares at them, waiting for them to catch on to what they just said. The hero connects the dots moments later, as they evidently realize that they themself have indeed punched the villain in the face before.
An awkward tension clings to the air. The villain continues walking down the street towards the hero's agency, internally cursing their pure heart. If this is how inconvenient it is to be a hero, then they don't plan on doing anything remotely good ever again.
Mercifully, the building begins to appear in the distance. As the villain crosses the street, the hero begins to murmur. “Let’s go in through the back,” they say, “Just turn the corner, there’s a door back there-”
“Oh, absolutely not,” the villain interjects immediately. "If we're doing this, then we're doing this." They readjust their grip once more and stroll towards the elaborate front doors of the city's top superhero agency. They can feel the hero stiffen in their arms.
“Please, no,” the hero begs them. The villain doesn’t bother listening, instead continuing to walk purposefully towards the entrance. The security is laughably lax at this hour. It's when they cross the threshold of the entrance that the hero attempts to break free from their grasp. Thankfully, the villain had been expecting them to do just that, and they manage to hold tight.
The villain pointedly clears their throat, satisfied with the way the occupants of the foyer immediately swivel around and stare with gazes of recognition. “I think I have something of yours,” they announce, looking down at the hero in their arms. At this point, the hero is positively wriggling in their arms—desperate for escape. The villain finally decides to take pity on them and they release their grip, leaving the hero to fall to the ground.
“Ouch.” The hero mutters once they hit the ground. The villain rolls their eyes, knowing that the hero managed to break their fall with a tactical roll and land without injury. They push themselves to stand on one foot and someone nearby rushes to their side, providing them adequate support to remain balanced on one side.
Everyone's eyes are on them, as if they're waiting for the villain to do something. "You may carry on," the villain orders, when a few seconds pass and the onlookers continue to stare expectantly. Their voice seems to break through the confusion and anticipation, and the people scattered around the space return to whatever they were doing. "I've done my civic duty for the year." They mutter to themself, turning on their heel and heading for the door.
"Hey." The hero's voice makes them freeze in place. The villain inhales slowly, summoning more patience. They turn around and manifest a calm expression.
"What?" They ask, struggling to keep the frustration from their voice.
"Thanks." The hero smiles.
"Just- don't let it happen again," the villain answers, looking away from the hero's far-too-bright smile. They turn on their heel and walk away, pushing away any and all feelings born from their enemy's gratitude.
©2024, @defectivehero | @defectivevillain, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.
endnotes below!
the villain, holding the hero by the scruff of their neck: look what i foundddd!
the villain: this heroism stuff sucks. the hero: *expresses their gratitude and smiles* the villain, visibly flustered: now hold on a second...
this dynamic really amuses me. I can't get rid of the mental image of the villain holding the hero by the scruff of the neck like a kitten, and the hero just kind of hanging there in defeat. good stuff.
the villain lies awake that night, unable to stop thinking about the hero. :3
and thanks to the anon who sent this request! I posted a cry for help yesterday very briefly and then got embarrassed and deleted it, but! the original point still stands: my ask box is open! send me stuff and i *may* write it!
if ur reading this, ily <3 hehe
tag list: @lateuplight @wit-is-wisdom @greengableswriting @whump-me-all-night-long @noawhite @rekhyt-of-arcadia @the-blind-one-speaks @sufferfictionalcharacters @basically-psyduck @alexkolax @subval01 @emerald-blade @felicia609 @surplus-of-sarcasm @ilickedanenvelopeandilikedit @a-chaotic-gremlin @unknownogre @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @whatwhumpcomments @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @agayprince @starsick1979 @a-lonely-little-ghost @agayprince @plum-tello
click here if you’d like to be on/off the tag list!
148 notes · View notes
schemmentis · 2 days
Text
Like I Can - Pt. 3
Pt. 1 / Pt. 2
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1.7k
Tumblr media
You see more of Melissa in the weeks after your one night stand. Not quite as much as the beginning of your friendship, when you saw her without fail every weeknd. Still, more than the near nothing you’d been growing reluctantly used to.
You still spend more time with Barbara than your favorite redhead, but you’re pleasantly surprised on the evenings that she joins both of you. It’s one of those surprise evenings where she surprises you further.
You’re already at a table at one of your favorite restaurants across from Barb when Melissa strides to the table, apologizing for being late. Like every other time she’s suddenly joined you, you only smile and say you’re glad she’s there. You are. It’s been much nicer to see her and know what’s going on from her than through Barbara.
Occasionally, you feel the knife stab you a little deeper beneath your chest. When she’s laughing. When she’s loose and carefree in a way you know she only really is with you and Barb. Still, you’re never upset to see her and you aren’t disappointed by her appearance tonight.
You’re all nearly through your meals when Melissa snaps her fingers like she’s forgotten something. “Barb, the kids mentioned game night next weekend. You think Gerald will forgive you for missing one Saturday night?”
Good-naturedly, Barbara’s eyes are rolling. “It is a Saturday night tonight.” She points out with a look your way that is meant to convey exasperation. Except you know Barb is very rarely actually so fed up with Melissa. You’re the same way. “I assume you’re hosting?”
“Well, I ain’t goin’ to Janine’s, that’s for sure.”
“Oh, the other teachers.” You laugh slightly. “You said kids. I thought you were going to have all your little students running around for a second.”
“Oh god, no. You know I love my little eagles but they ain’t comin’ to my house that’s for sure. Janine is lucky she gets to.”
“Melissa!” Barbara chastises. Or, she tries to. Except you’re laughing and Melissa is smiling at you. It doesn’t really land. 
“Hey, you should come, Y/N.”
“Me?” You scoff, waving Melissa’s invitation off. “Come on, I’m not going to get in the way of your teacher bonding time.”
“You wouldn’t be in the way. ‘Sides they’d like you.”
“You just want me there so you can have me on your team and guarantee you win.”
“Maybe! It ain’t my fault Barb has us on a losing streak!”
“I do not!” Barbara protests from across the table. 
You sigh, pretending to think it over. You are tempted. More time with Melissa is hardly anything you’d say no to. Still, you’re hesitant. These are the people she sees every day. You’ve heard a little when Melissa tells you about her days and what’s gone on but that’s hardly the same as meeting these people. And then spending an evening in Melissa’s living room with them. In competitive mode over games on top.
“Alright, I’ll come but Barb has to be on our team, too. She’s better at trivia than you, Mel.”
Melissa pretends to be offended, a hand to her chest at your trivia comment. “I won trivial pursuit the last game night we had, thank you very much.”
“Did you sneak in extra sports questions?”
“No! I did win on one though…”
“Of course you did, Mel. Just text me when to be there.”
By the time Melissa texts you about game night and what time; you’d nearly forgotten you agreed to go. You don’t panic though. For some reason, knowing both Melissa and Barbara will be there, you aren’t nervous to meet the others. It might help that you know Melissa doesn’t just let people into her house. Not easily at any rate.
Once you’re stepping into Melissa’s living room, Barb has already beaten you there. Not the others. You would guess having those she’s most comfortable around here first makes inviting the others a touch easier. You barely say hello before she’s handing you a cold beer from the fridge.
The others trickle in over the next half hour. You understand now all the little comments Melissa has made about them as you meet them and the small chit chat that ensues as each of them arrive. Janine is sweet but definitely too peppy for Melissa. You suddenly understand each time Melissa said she would keep coffee as far away from the younger teacher as possible.
“Traitor!” Melissa teases when you pair up with Barb one game. You merely roll your eyes at her, it’s a two person team rule and she’d been claimed by Jacob for that game. Otherwise you probably would have picked her yourself.
You find yourself sprawled across Melissa’s couch. Barb had been the first to leave that night, as you expected. She wasn’t one for late nights in the entire time you’d known her. The others had stuck around a bit longer. Now, it’s just you and Melissa.
The two of you had mostly cleaned up her living room, ignoring some of the empty bottles and other drinks. Now, her television is on. It’s playing one of the reality shows Melissa loves that you don’t pay much attention to. Though you’re learning them and the drama in them through osmosis. 
You’re next to Melissa, your legs stretched over her lap. Your thighs rest in her lap more than your legs or feet. One of her hands is idly messing with your hair as she watches the screen. You don’t remember how this is how you two ended up but you aren’t complaining at all. It’s perhaps the most content and safe you’ve felt in a long time. You struggle to remember when you last did.
“Hon?”
Melissa’s soft voice calling to you has you blinking. You’re almost worried you fell asleep. You may be on your way but as your eyes refocus on the television screen you realize it’s still the scene you last remember so you couldn’t have fallen asleep just yet. You likely won’t be awake much longer though.
“Hm?” You wordlessly answer her. Her fingers are gently rubbing a mindless pattern at your temple.
“You gonna see that woman again? The one from a couple weeks ago?”
You blink at the television set, your half awake brain slowly turning over her question. “No.” You finally answer. You’re too tired to be worried about what the right thing to say is. Too tired to be worried about how you sound, or accidentally saying something will tip the redhead off to your feelings.
“You didn’t like her?”
“She was fine.”
Melissa laughs, just a little. “Fine. Yeah, that’s how you said she was in bed, too.”
“Mel…” You groan. You trail off, letting your tone and the following silence convey your plead for her to not get started on that again.
“You just…deserve better is all.” Melissa finally says softly.
“Yeah, and you deserve better than Gary.” You grumble in response.
Her fingers stop their movement against your temple. You feel her freeze beneath your thighs still draped over her lap. You go to sit up but her hand presses lightly to your shoulder to keep you in place.
“What’d you say?”
“Melissa…”
“No, no. Say it again. What you said.” Melissa urges. Her hand is still lightly pressing into your shoulder still. 
“I said you deserve better than Gary.” You repeat quietly.
“You never liked him.” She says. Definitively. Just like she did after you first met him. She knew then. She knows now.
“He’s fine.”
Melissa laughs. Enough that her head throws back against the back of the couch. She tips her head forward again. Her smile touches her eyes when they refocus on you. “Fine is what you say when you’re tryin’ to be polite, ain’t it? Gary is fine. Your girl from a few weeks ago is fine. You really wanna say they kind of suck, don’t you?”
“No! She really was fine. I told you I’m not really interested in the one night stands and all.”
“And Gary?”
“Gary is…you like him.”
“He’s fine.” Melissa says with a small smirk down at you. “How do you feel ‘bout him though? Don’t worry about sparing my feelings, Hon. I wanna know.”
“He’s nice enough. I might like him if he weren’t dating you.”
“What’s him dating me got to do with it?”
You sigh. “Melissa. You could do better than Gary. You could have any guy you wanted, in a heartbeat. I know Joe, bein’ Joe, made you think differently. I watched him hurt you plenty of times while you tried to work things out, and then through the divorce process. You don’t have to settle for just a….nice enough guy.”
“Any guy I wanted, huh?”
“In a heartbeat.” You repeat.
“What if I didn’t want a guy?”
You blink up at Melissa. In the time you’d known her she’d ever spoken about men, gone out with men. You hadn’t even considered her with a woman. Even though that little bit of hope in your heart for it still lived on with your feelings for her. Still, you’d never even entertained it being possible with how much you’d seen her with men. 
“I…wouldn’t have expected you to be into women, I guess.” You finally stammer out. 
“Why not?”
“You never talk about women. I’ve seen you pick up plenty of guys at the bar. Then of course Joe and Gary.”
“I experimented in college. Like a lot of people do.” Melissa shrugs. “I lean toward men, usually heavily, but I wouldn’t call myself straight.”
“You did once tell me if Barb wasn’t with Gerald you’d make her a Schemmenti.”
She laughs again, nodding. “In another life, absolutely.” Melissa doesn’t hesitate in backing up that drunken comment she made to you forever ago. “So, you think I could get a woman?”
“In a heartbeat.” You breathe out the repetition. You know for certain Melissa could land a woman just as easily as she could a man; or anyone for that matter.
“And if I had a specific woman in mind?”
“Do you? Have a specific woman in mind?”
Melissa only looks at you for a long, drawn out moment. You have half a mind she’s memorizing your face for some reason you don’t know. “I think it would take a specific one, for me, personally, y’know? Like you said…no secret I like men but if a certain woman got to my heart and all…”
“What are you saying, Melissa?”
“I’m saying…I’m saying we both deserve better, Y/N. We both deserve better and I…I wanna be the better you deserve.” Her fingers brush at the small hair near your temple tenderly. “You’re the woman I want.”
111 notes · View notes
Text
she's mean, and he loves her for it.
Tumblr media
summary: your peers wonder how the ever-so-annoying gojo satoru can stand being in a relationship with you pairing: sunshine!gojo satoru x grumpy!female reader genre: angst, fluff warnings: none
Masterlist
"Did you guys know Gojo-sensei is dating-" Nobara looks around left and right before whispering your name in fear that you might be around.
"Ehhh?" Yuuji's eyebrows knit together. "No way. She's so scary and he's so...happy."
Nobara agrees, "She never smiles -- kinda looks like she has a permanent frown, too. She scares me."
"You think maybe she intimidated him to date her?"
Megumi watches as his two friends bicker about whether you and Satoru look good together, not realizing that you've heard everything they said. Megumi notices you've arrived to teach them and clears his throat, catching the attention of his two friends. He glances at you to check how you're doing after hearing what they said, but as expected, you remain professional and stoic. But Megumi knows better, he grew up under your and Satoru's wings after all.
"Shit." Nobara and Yuuji mutter under their breaths.
-----
It's fairly common for people to question your relationship with Satoru. He's this... happy-go-lucky guy who annoys everyone except those on the same wavelength as him, while you keep to yourself, prioritizing your alone time, and taking things seriously.
Sometimes, too serious.
You never let it get to you, though, because you don't really care what people say. You and Satoru are happy, that's all that matters. Until recently, when those jerk Kyoto students came over to train, they started talking about you and Satoru.
"She's so serious all the time, I don't understand how Gojo puts up with her."
"I think he's scared to breakup with her."
"I bet she's high maintenance."
"Honestly, why is he with her when he can be with someone who's... not so difficult?"
You grit your teeth at that last comment. You can't tell who said what, but it doesn't matter. Their words got to your head and now you're angry. Angry because you're scared they might be right.
Does Satoru think you're difficult? You're not entirely sure how to show them that yes, you deserve Satoru despite being the dark, grumpy person you are.
Sighing, you decide to go home instead of joining the dinner. Satoru's not in there anyway, he just got back from a mission and is waiting for you at home.
Once you close the door to your apartment, you immediately feel Satoru's arm envelope around you from behind. He smells like fresh mint -- just got out of the shower.
"Hi darling," he kisses your cheek.
"Hi, Toru." You take your shoes off and give him a quick peck before making your way to the bedroom to put your stuff down.
Satoru watches you slowly, "hm, aren't you supposed to have that dinner with the Kyoto students today?"
Your jaw clenches, taking a second before shrugging. "Decided to skip it. I'm tired."
He just hums, "In that case, you wanna watch Bridgerton with me after your shower?"
"Again?" You groan, "Isn't it like the third time you've watched it?"
"Yes, and?"
"I'll skip, thanks."
He blows a raspberry and leaves you to shower while he lays down on the couch to watch Anthony Bridgerton fall in love with his Kate Sheffield.
While you were in the shower, the words kept coming back to you. Somehow more exaggerated. You're difficult. He doesn't like you. He's just tolerating you. Why would he be with someone who doesn't even smile? Look at him, Gojo is the epitome of sunshine. You're nothing like him. Why would he like you?
Groaning, you let the hot water wash away your thoughts -- though they don't really go away. Maybe you should just try to be nicer to Satoru, be more cheerful.
After your shower, you see him lying down on the couch while watching his show, and you sit on the other end, silently dreading having to watch the same show again. But you're doing this for Satoru, so you will.
With a satisfied grin, Satoru saunters over and lies down on top of you, his head resting on your chest. You smile softly, enjoying the tight grip he has on you and his soft hair between your fingers.
"How was the mission?" You ask, "Did you have to go to Shoko?"
Satoru shakes his head, "Sweetheart, it's me we're talking about here."
"You can still get hurt, Toru." You pat his hair gently, "I've seen you bleed."
"I'm always careful. Don't worry." He kisses your hand.
You sigh softly. You know Satoru is always careful, it's just that he always goes on missions alone, and more often nowadays that it makes you worry. Yes, he's the strongest, but you never want to take that for granted.
"Toru," You call him again, a little hesitant, "You know I love you, right?"
He lifts his head from your chest, staring at you with those big blue eyes. "Of course. And I love you. So much."
He kisses you deeply, now switching positions so you're lying down on top of him. "So do you want to talk about it?"
"No.." You mumble. Of course, Satoru knows. He isn't stupid. He can sense when something's wrong with you, just like how you can feel the scar on his hip that wasn't there before. He did go to Shoko.
But none of you say anything. You just hold each other tighter that night. It's more than enough.
-----
Satoru is on another mission. It's supposed to be easy, at least that's what he said 3 days ago. You haven't heard from him at all in 3 days and you're beginning to worry. Your frown is deeper than usual, you sigh more often, and your fuse is shorter.
Everyone's more scared of you.
You let the kids take a break while you try to collect your thoughts. You can't be seen so distracted, not when Satoru left you in charge of them.
"You doing okay?" You hear Megumi's voice approach you.
Blinking away the tears that almost fell, you turn around to face him. "I'm fine, Megs."
"I told you not to call me that..." He sulks as he stands next to you, leaning against the wall. He can see you're distraught, and growing up with you, there's only been a handful of times he's seen you like this.
"You know he's going to be fine, right?"
You sigh. "I'm just worried."
You remember there was a day when Satoru didn't come back for a week. He couldn't be reached, no one could track him down, and you were just at home, taking care of Megumi. The boy's more like you than Satoru, he's not exactly sensitive or cheery. But he knows when you're feeling sad, so he'd stay up with you, praying for Satoru's safety.
"Guys!" Yuuji runs towards you and Megumi.
"What is it, Yuuji?"
"It's Gojo-sensei-" He pants, "He's back!"
You run as fast as you can with Yuuji and Megumi, and you can finally see your white-haired, blue-eyed boyfriend limping his way back to the school grounds.
He raises his hand and waves to you with a big smile despite struggling to walk. "Tsk-" You frown even more, feeling the tears pooling again as you walk towards him and catch him in an embrace.
"Umph-" He groans. "Hi, baby."
You let go of him and check his injuries -- he's healed most of it himself, thank goodness, but the bruises are still there. "We need to go to Shoko-"
"Mm, that can wait." He pulls you to sit down on the soft grass, hugging you once again. "It's okay, I'm here now."
You choke on your own sobs and hug him tighter, sitting between his legs and burying your head in his chest. "You idiot."
"'M sorry for makin' you worry," he smiles gently, leaving kisses all over your face.
As you cup his face in your hands, you're suddenly very aware of the 3 pairs of eyes staring at you both. Noticing it too, Satoru covers your red, embarrassed face. "Okay, nothing to watch here. Go.. do something. Scram. Skedaddle."
Once the kids are gone, you examine his face before pressing your lips to his. He's here now. He's back. He's safe. "What took you so long?"
A smirk lingers on Satoru's lips. "I took a detour to Kyoto and went to teach some kids a lesson."
121 notes · View notes
itsbecomeblue · 1 day
Text
glue 002 ellie williams imagine
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
don't dare forget about palestine
sinopse: you might have a crush on your friend, college!au
cw: swearing, basically fluff, ellie plays soccer, puppy love again because that's my thing, slightly nerdy loser!ellie, reader and ellie are oblivious, not explicit if reader is fem or masc, not exactly proofread.
you had been up all morning, not up really, awake. it was 11:43 when you actually got up, sick to your core. niyah had checked on you before she left for her classes, leaving you some cash for lunch, it's not like you didn't have any but niyah just felt like a mom sometimes. she also gave you a forehead kiss.
you rubbed your eyes while your other hand hugged your aching stomach. you grabbed your phone and squinted at the brightness of the screen.
“shit fuck.” you hissed, boy did your head hurt. you had suspicions that ellie had made so much nervousness pile up in you that it was threatening to explode your head and your poor stomach.
you had always been a little… anxious and got nervous when you hung out with new people, especially without your best friends. they were your safe space, you smiled sweetly thinkin about them, so you read over the texts on your group chat ‘take ur meds’. never the instagram one, because it's just your friend luana spamming instagram reels.
you laughed at your phone, turning it off just to wait for your friends to show up, you knew they would. you grabbed a piece of fruit and sat down again.
you grabbed your little notebook where you did all of your journaling, you always read some pieces before actually writing in it, so you did that. ‘ellie’ this ‘ellie’ that, from just last night before you got sick. but maybe you had already been sick from the moment she stepped into the room.
sick in your stomach, crippling nervousness. you and ellie hung out so much 1 on 1, so you assumed that's what happens when two anxious people get together to talk alone, even though you had known each other for a while now. you didn't give it much thought, well maybe you did. you wrote in pink ink...
‘she's so cute’ ummm late night thoughts were so funny to read over, right? just hilarious. ‘ellie williams #8’ adorned with stars and hearts? you were already sick last night, for sure!
on the other side of campus, ellie was at class but her mind was on the same side of campus as yours. ellie was very much in tune with her feelings for you, she'd say. ‘we're so awkward, we need to get closer!’ that's all you two needed, right? just that. she sighted, you looked at her adorned name in your notebook, she imagined your face adorned with flowers and asteroids?
she needs to pay attention in class! she'll think about you later, she wants to text you but she'll see you at lunch anyways so she decides against the text. ellie tried her best to focus on her boring class, impatiently waiting to see you again.
abby had texted you a few to let you know she was coming over, she was your childhood friend, inseparable at that. caring and loving, gentle giant abigail anderson. she was now on your carpet in front of you bed.
“so, did you take your meds?” she laughed, abby was a med student and definitely a good one but damn her she didn't know shit about pharmacy.
they might’ve teached her some of it, but this girl had very selective memory, it's not like you know what they teach at med school anyway. but you still thought she should cure you everytime you got sick, all your other friends agreed too.
“yep, i looked it up. turns out my friend being in med school doesn't serve me anything.” you stretched my leg to touch her with your feet and she gave you a disgusted look.
“you're such a bitch to me, i came to see you, sick girl.” she grabbed you by the ankle and pulled you with no force.
“abbyyy!” you laughed and tried yanking your feet back and she used more of her strength. she laughed with you and you felt less sick.
you two kept it up until you were falling off your bed onto her, she grabbed your torso, manhandling you so you looked at her. she looked mischievous, she had something up her sleeve.
“how's our favorite soccer star?” she smirks and you look scared, head jumping up and hitting hers. “hey! ouch lil girl…”
she soothed her head before soothing yours, with harsh pats... you weren't sure if she was soothing you or actively making it worse. you both laughed again, what the hell was wrong with you? you had slipped out of her thighs and sat on the carpet, right next to her.
“she's…” you coughed. “she's alright, i saw her yesterday.” you nodded to yourself and abby nodded back.
“right… right…” abby stared at you, smirk still in her lips, waiting for something.
you thought of what she might’ve wanted you to say. you used your brain so much that you realized something, eyes widened and eyebrows furrowed.
"what? you look like you developed your first thought.” she chuckled and you looked frightened.
“i forgot to tell her i'm sick.” you searched for your phone around the carpet and the bed.
“why would you have to tell her?” abby leaned back, watching you look for you phone.
"you know, even if she was a nurse in your wet dream, i don't think she can help.” she added when you ignored her.
“abby.” you actually slapped her nape and she hissed. “we were supposed to have lunch together, i don't wanna be rude and leave her hanging.”
“oooohh you're bailing her on your lunch date.” abby loved pressing your buttons and she knew which ones to press.
“yeah, our date at the campus cafeteria, abigail.” you found your phone under a pillow, one that you were sure you checked before. whatever, you texted ellie.
“abigail is crazyyy…” abby got up and peeped your phone from behind and you pushed her face, the fat on her cheek smushed. “sweetness, let me see.”
abby had a big sweet tooth growing so when you became friends, her dad started calling you tooth and sweetness, since she could never get enough of you. she clinged to it even now, when she was being nice but really often when she pissed you off.
“fine, tooth.” you caressed the cheek you had pushed. she laughed and playfully bit your shoulder as you turned off your phone.
“it's fine, y/n. she'll understand, of course.” abby slurred, you turned to her.
“yeah, i know. i wanted to see her though.” you rubbed your nose sitting on the carpet again, followed by abby.
“you'll see her soon, it's alright.” she patted your head and you looked at her blankly. “what? don't wanna see me too?” she pushed you head and snickered.
“i do, stop abby!” you laughed, pushing her back.
“you gotta crush and now you're gonna abandon me and lua.” she shook her head. “you won't abandon niyah because you live with her, but who knows! you might move in with ellie.”
“what are you even talking about?” you chuckled at her while she tried to maintain a serious face. “i'm not abandoning anyone.”
"AHA! so you do have a crush on ellie, lil girl…” she laughed loud, slapping her knee, now it was your turn to maintain a serious face while she laughed.
“first, you’re not funny. second, i don't have a crush on anyone.” she arched her eyebrow you held her temples, pressing her eyebrows back to their place. “stop, i don't”.
“be for real with me, pookie wookie.” you cringed hard with her.
“you can leave.” you both laughed so loud until she stopped and tapped your lap. “but she makes me nervous.”
“i know she does, might be something, don't you think?”
“mmm, i don't think so, we're both pretty anxious people so…” you shrugged and abby did too, she'd never pry.
“you might be right, time will tell.” she casually says as gets up. “you wanna order some? “i'm hungry.” you nod and she takes her phone out.
ellie on the other hand, is frowning at your texts, she's upset she won’t see you and she's upset you're sick. she immediately texted her friends dina and jesse about it, asking to have lunch with them instead.
she'd waited for them to meet up with her on campus, holding her phone. she wanted to text you again, but you probably needed rest so she opted out to spam texting cat, who wouldn't reply to the groupchat texts. cat was a fucking ghost most of the times, even when they dated... girl gets busy. when dina and jesse finally got there they walked together.
“y/n bailed on you, damn.” jesse shook his head ironically and dina rolled her eyes.
“shut up, jesse.” dina tickled his ear and smirked. they were walking towards the local subway.
“yeah shut up, she's sick dude.” ellie replied, with little to no humor.
her friends noticed. her hands were in her jeans pockets and she was looking down, jesse and dina knew her all to well to know she was even just slightly upset. childhood friends are like that, you'd know. abby was exactly like that with you.
“what's wrong?” jesse asked, palming her shoulder. dina stopped walking but ellie kept going, making them get back to walking too.
“nothin’. it's dumb, i just miss y/n or whatever.” ellie slurred, looking at her sneakers. jesse and dina chucked and she snickered.
“okay, okay. my bad.” jesse looked sternly at dina so she'd stop laughing. “you had plans?”
“actually yeah, i was gonna invite her to see me play saturday.” she looked up.
“it's wednesday, man. you can ask her later.” jesse started. “right?” he looked for ellie's eyes.
“as in a date?” dina asked, not afraid to. ellie was always open with them, she wasn't embarrassed by her feelings even though sometimes she was confused.
“nah, not a date. and yes i can ask later, but i get nervous and… i dunno.” she held her fingers as she sighed.
“just say it, els.” dina chuckled, jesse and ellie chuckled back.
“yeah, alright. i want her to see me play but i get nervous to ask and i thought i’d do it today.” ellie laughed at herself. dina and jesse nodded, they understood her.
“it's alright, you will ask. don't worry, she's gonna be thrilled.” jesse slapped ellie's back and dina looked at him in disgust.
"thrilled" dina mocked jesse, holding her fingers up as quotes.
they all busted out laughing as they got closer to the subways shop, talking about the saturday game, but never distracted ellie from the thoughts of you.
taglist: @mikellie @amberputh @ellslvr @elliesactualgirlfriend @macaroni676 @onlinelesbo @aispike @kalyxvfx @ellieschair
138 notes · View notes
cerastes · 3 days
Note
as far as my circle of mutuals goes, i think you're the only cishet guy around these days
We held a tournament, Highlander style, where we beheaded each other after climatic sword duels and absorbed the fallen's power. I am the Last Cishet who absorbed all of their power, known only by my title: Son Boy Allowed.
No but jest aside, that post did make me think of the times it's been brought up that I Am This in spaces where that's not the norm, and, well, each friend group or community has its own story, and in my case, it happened to be that the majority of people in my friend group & adjacent community, over the years, came out as trans mainly plus a few other identities, and while I did not understand it at all initially (even considered it could be catfishing, because I am from ye olde internet where catfishing was rampant and an olympic sport), my logic was "ok I love this person, they are asking me if I can refer to them as the other gender now, and that that's what they really are. There's not anything wrong at all with that, nor do I think this person I consider my friend could have nefarious intents with this, like catfishing, because I know them, so sure thing, let's go with that" and with time, I learned more and more about these topics, either by my own initiative (because I wanted to understand more) and when committing faux passes, because my friends would correct me or pull me to the side (send an IM) going "hey uh Drimo, you reblogged something pretty bad just now, are you aware?" "oh fuck no why" and I'd always get a helpful explanation.
Which brings me to the point: As a cishet dude, it REALLY helped me a LOT to understand these topics to have not only loving friends that live those lives, but to have said loving friends that live those lives and are willing to assume that my fuck ups and oopsies were born from ignorance and good faith, not from a hateful and discriminatory hill, and who then kindly informed me of X and Y.
So I have to agree with that post! At the risk of sounding self-aggrandizing, I do think being able to tolerate the misteps of a well-intentioned cishet guy who might not know all the 1s and 2s of the dance does in fact directly correlate to healthy, cool friend groups and communities. Over the years, the majority of my net friends have come out as trans, and a few others as non-binary and genderfluid, and I've never really had a situation where someone blasted me for my misteps, instead explaining What Happened instead. I've learned a lot over the years, and in fact, as a therapist, I've helped trans kids come out and have explained the whole shebang to their parents, but as a cishet guy, again, initially this was all very arcane to me, so I am always thankful for the people that took time and care so we could remain friends and so that I could grow to be a more worldly and open minded person.
145 notes · View notes
Text
Schedule Prompts
“Am I just an appointment to you? Something you can simply tick off your list?”
Know the other’s schedule by heart (- which might lead to a few raised eyebrows and suspicious/teasing looks from other people).
“I barely see you anymore.”
“That wasn’t on my schedule.” “And you weren’t part of my life plan.”
“Could you drive [name] to school/etc. tomorrow/etc.?”
Pencil themself into the other’s schedule.
“My schedule unexpectedly freed up, so I thought… Why not visit my favorite person?”
“Don’t let me keep you. (You clearly have more important things to do than to talk to me. Your partner.)”
“I’m going to mark/put that in my calendar right now, lest I forget.”
“I know today is your free evening/etc. and I wouldn’t ask if… If I didn’t need your help.” 
Since they know their partner/etc. is/should be occupied, they use the free time slot to prepare something for them/do something (they shouldn’t)/etc.
“Wouldn’t you rather spend your time living than planning out your every move?”
“Can it wait? I don't have time right now.”
“I know, I know. I’m a little behind schedule. But…”
“This is not supposed to happen. Not now. I have things to do. Things to take care of.”
Be stressed because they have fallen behind schedule. The other offers them some stress relief.
“We agreed on this weeks ago.” “Well, now, I’m not in the mood for it anymore.”
“Could we reschedule?”
Be stressed and annoyed because something (or someone) disturbed their schedule. 
“Right on schedule. Like always.”
“I don’t want to hope for a gap in your schedule just to be able to see you.”
“We’re going to make the most of it, okay? Quality over quantity.”
Only truly realize how used they got to the other’s presence when their schedules don’t align/intertwine anymore. 
“I’m canceling my plans/appointments. You’re more important.”
The weekly scheduled meeting with the other becomes the highlight of their week.
“I hate having to schedule dates with you.” “I know. Me too. Yet it’s better than not being able to see each other at all.”
90 notes · View notes
grison-in-space · 10 hours
Text
Watching the new Alex Jones doc, which is heavy on the alt right response to Sandy Hook and the gun rhetoric that followed... so yeah I thought of when I was teaching during #GunFreeUT back in 2015 as a PhD student in Austin. I would have been about 25. When people came to my workplace and the state said that the students had been complaining* about how frightened they were to be away from their firearms for twenty minutes. When the entire campus was newly declared acceptable for open carry of ducking semiautomatic rifles. The undergrad who organized #CocksNotGlocks, who accurately pointed out that state obscenity laws banned sex toys in public to appeal to people's comfort and sensibilities, but would not consider such a thing for deadly weapons. As I recall, she drew massive waves of harassment from random people who were actual alt right adults with jobs and lives, not college students. I think she had to take a gap year.
*in fact the law was extremely unpopular among the UT Austin student body, most of who were horrified by having to confront the possibility of deadly weapons belonging to fuck only knows whom in not only their workplace but their homes.
I remember standing in a room for staff resistance through #GunFreeUT, the smell of the room, the texture of the cotton shirt I wore. The hastily organized attempts to carve out any freedom we could. The horrified stipulations about whether firearms could be kept out of classrooms themselves if not campuses (no), and the fretful whispers about what the state had declared about our offices, how we were going to be able to declare them gun free zones... If we agreed that students with concealed carry licenses could choose to meet with us somewhere where the gun was allowed to go. The group that announced it was going to celebrate its new open carry status by staging a school shooting on campus, the shooter of course to be played by a "good guy with a gun." The university announcing that they had interceded and made clear to the group that this re enactment could not take place, so they kicked the demonstration a couple of blocks away. Happened at a local gas station.
I was still seeing sad flyers from office staff and teachers saying things like PLEASE NO GUNS IN THIS SPACE when I graduated with my PhD in 2020, the first winter the pandemic was in full swing. I remember the texture of the paper the last time I saw it vividly. I catch myself starting to think about the campus school stabbing I would teach through in 2017 and any one of a hundred more rearguard final stands between the city and the state and—
Okay, that's where I got up and walked off to get a soda. You're getting me now after I've had a minute.
That's a classic PTSD flashback, in case you're wondering. At no time do my senses report anything to my mind about anything unusual happening in the room. At no time, while I remember these things, do I believe that I am currently in danger for my life. It's a strong, vivid memory, but only a memory.
But it's a memory that grabs you by the mind and shakes you. That's a flashback. It's a classic simple PTSD flashback as a consequence of fear and stress sustained over time. Other folks around me who think maybe PTSD or maybe cPTSD applies to you, if you're hung up on not thinking you get anything like flashbacks?
That's what a flashback is from the inside. Your brain is running over the memory of the thing that forever changed your estimation of safety. Just in case you might forget.
Just, you know. In case anyone is wondering.
86 notes · View notes
random-fics15 · 3 days
Text
Huskerdust fanfic
Tumblr media
Purring
Angel hated it. He hated working for Val. He hated everything about it. Most of all he hated himself for signing that damn contract agreeing to all this. Even though at the time he didn't know what he was getting into. He wished he'd thought about it at least
He walks into the hotel exhausted, his head leading as he slouched. Tiredly, he made his way to the bar. The hotel was the only place he actually felt home. The only place he felt safe and could let himself go. Only to relive the same day over and over again.
He finally makes it to the bar and plops down onto the barstool, his head hitting the counter almost immediately with a groan.
"Rough day at work?"
Angel lifts his head up to see Husk looking at him, whilst already holding a bottle of Angels favorite. Angel groans
"Rough is an understatement Husky..". Angel sighs and slams his head on the counter again. Husk pats his back. Angel listens as a bottle opens and is being poured into a glass. He looks up when he feels the glass lightly bump his arm.
Angel looks up at Husk gratefully and the downs half the drink. He sighs in relief as he looks up at the bartender and smiles.
"Thanks Husk. Fucking needed that after today."
"He took you on a fucking joy ride didn't he?" Husk questioned in a concerned tone, looking at the spider. Angel chuckles tiredly
"Everyone did. And there was no joy in it. Trust me." Angel complains,taking another swig at his drink. Husk looks at him pitifully. Every part of Husk wanted to go down to that porn studio and rip Valentino limb from limb. But he knew better than to try. He wish he could though.
Husk's face immediately goes from concerned to annoyed when he sees Angel smirking at him.
"Although, I wouldn't mind if you were the one taking me on a joy ride whiskers~" Angel smirks and scratches Husk's chin.
To Angel's surprise, there was no retort or shoving. Instead,Husk momentarily stops everything he's doing ,and soon Angel hears a low rumbling noise emitting from Husk himself. Angel's jaw drops
"No fucking way! You can Purr?!" Angel exclaims excitedly.
Immediately after hearing this Husk is brought back into reality and pulls his head back.
"Ah-..n-no! That wasn't purring jackass! It was just-" Husk stumble with his words
"Just what? Hm?...no answer. Exactly"
Husk groans at the spider, who was now smirking. Angel immediately tried to go for Husk's ears.
"Hey!"
Husk grabs Angel's hand. Angel smirk
"Ohh holding hands now are we? You really want me that bad Husky~?" Angel brings up the hand that Husk is holding and pressed it against his cheek. Husk groans in annoyance and takes his hand back. Angel chuckles.
"You know..." Angel begins talking, his first pair of arms supporting his chin, while the second did gestures. "If you let me do this it just might help."
Husk looks at Angel confused. Help? What help did he need? He's the bartender. If anything he's the one usually helping people. Talking about feelings and shit.
"Pleaseee." Angel pleaded, looking at Husk directly in his eyes ,with the best puppy dog eyes he could do.
Husk figured that the spider demon wasn't gonna get off his tail until he let him do it. So. After a brief moment of reluctance.
"Four to five seconds. That's all you get-"
"45 seconds?!"
"Four. To. Five. Seconds"
"aww.."
Husk was tempted to chuckle at the spiders dissapointment. But that was immediately cut off when he just realized what he had said. well it's too late to back out.
Angel hoists himself up onto the counter and turns so that he can face Husk. Husk rolls his eyes and stands infront of Angel.
Slowly, Angel starts scratching behind Husk's left ear, very lightly. Husk's eyes screwed shut, but seemingly became more relaxed as Angel went out. It was a very relaxing sensation for the bartender. Something he didn't expect Angel to do, maybe Charlie, or even Nifty if she was curious. But no. It was the spider demon. And he was surprisingly good at it.
Angel then uses another hand to gently scratch behind Husk's right ear. Husk flinched a bit at the sudden touch, instantly prompting Angel to stop and apologize. Husk assured him that it was fine, and with that, Angel went back to scratching.
And soon enough. A gentle rumbling once again emits from Husk. Angel holds in his laugh and continues. Suddenly he gets an idea
Whilst still scratching behind Husk's ears, angel uses one of his other hands to gentle scratch Husk's chin. This time Husk didn't flinch at all. He just stood there ,tiredly happy, enjoying the attention he was getting
They had both pretty much forgotten the time limit at this point, nor did they care. Husk was happy, and Angel was proud he could make Husk happy.
Angel never thought he'd be this close with Husk ever. But the afterlife really surprised him. Sure Angel is still mad with all the shit Valentino puts him through, but he's also happy that at the end of the day.
He'll always get to see his loser.
--------------------------------------------
And that was it. Hello people of Tumblr. Please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes because this is my first fic. And if you read it thank you
70 notes · View notes
forcemeanakin · 19 hours
Text
Right where you left me.
Tumblr media
•WARNINGS: Angst. Situationship. May trigger people with abandonment issues or that have intimacy problems. Not technically cheating, but it may be triggering. Anakin's a douche bag.
Pairing: au!Anakin Skywalker x you!reader.
Summary: Anakin decides to pursue things outside of your relationship, breaking your heart in the process.
Word count: 1.7k.
A/N: NOT PROOFREAD, english is my second language, so please be gentle. If there are any mistakes, pls let me know in private so I can correct them, thanks :) Also I have a serious issue between differentiating “in” and “on” situations, so bare with me lmao.
☽⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✳⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✺⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✳⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯☾
You ran into the coffee shop, in a hurry, which is a normal state for you and your continuous tardiness. “Fuck.” You muttered under your breath as you forced the door open with unnecessary strength. 
Anakin must’ve been waiting for half an hour now. 
On your tippy toes, you scanned the room, looking for the golden curls to stand out from a booth. 
Bingo. 
Trying to hide your excitement, you rushed to the table where your -relatively- new thing was waiting for you. You cursed your bag for making so much noise and told yourself off for packing so much shit. Maybe there was no need to bring all the stuff with you, but you couldn’t help yourself in your excitement to show Anakin all of the activities you had planned for you two and the remaining part of the summer. 
“Hey.” You whispered loud enough for him to listen to you, but your shortness of breath didn’t go unnoticed by him. He gave you a toothless smile as you sat down in front of him. “I’m sorry I’m late, I was at work and my manager-” You didn’t finish the sentence, instead, your face let him know everything he needed.
“Don’t sweat. I haven’t waited long. Five minutes to be exact.” He checked his phone carelessly. 
Oh. 
“Training ran long?” You hoped.
“Oh, no, just ran a little late.” He shrugged his shoulders. Like it was of no importance. 
At least you felt ashamed for being late. He didn’t seem to carry the same guilt.
Sometimes Anakin did this thing that stung your heart a little. His number one priority had always been him. And when you agreed to try things with him, you knew that was implied in the contract. Part of you had been hoping that you were going to be the reason that changed. 
So far, you had failed in your mission. 
“Oh, right.” You tried to fake a smile. 
“And how’s life outside of work, baby?” 
And just like that, your heart felt a little lighter and spark returned to your face. Especially when he reached out to hold your hand and play with your fingers. Especially when he used that nickname that you loved and you hadn’t heard in a while from his lips.
“It’s fine. My summer classes are always boring.” You rolled your eyes, chuckling at the end because he knew how much you hated to take extra courses. 
“I told you to give yourself some time off in the summer.” He raised his eyebrow.
“I know, I know…” You huffed. “Actually, I’ve been working on that.” You smiled, turning to your bag and taking some of the things you packed. 
Tickets for one of your favorite movies, that he insisted he wanted to watch with you. It made you smile so hard when he had proposed that plan, given that he was aware how much that franchise meant to you. 
You also took out some coins for the local fair, the one you two had walked by and promised to do that as your next date. 
The brand new control for your gaming console you had just bought to join him in video games because he said he wanted to share that without you. He seemed pretty excited to do that as an activity together and he even listed all of the games you might like. 
And right when you were about to take the keys of your summer house out, to hint him that you were ready to take the next step in your relationship, he stopped you. 
Anything intimate always made you nervous, even when you two were in the middle of it. It was a very vulnerable space for you and Anakin was your first in many things. It was normal for you to still be adapting to it. 
But you wanted to try. For you.
For him.
As a more experienced person than you, Anakin had needs. Needs that you sometimes failed to meet. That even though he was patient, you could feel how your lack of confidence sometimes bugged him. Not in an explicit manner, just… the occasional huff when he tried something experimental in bed or when you started to psych yourself out of the make out session. 
Any other person would have already left, but Anakin was your friend first and he was well aware of your uptight personality way before the two of you agreed to be friends with benefits. He knew what he was getting into and he was actually glad to help you experiment with that part of yourself you normally hid.
So your demonstration of being an organized and planning psycho was nothing new to him.
“Hey, hey…” He slowed you down, barely gazing the things on the table and fixing his eyes on yours. “Before you get started, I wanted to talk to you.”
His serious tone alerted you. But you weren’t surprised. Something inside of you had been alerting you all weekend. You thought it was your well-known anxiety. However, this felt unusual. Like his habitual ghosting and lack of response for the past few days meant different things this time.
“Sure.” You took a deep breath, trying to make it not so obvious. “Go ahead.” You nodded with a little smile trying to appear serene. 
“So, sorry for not replying to your texts this weekend. I was out in nature, thinking and connecting, you know?” He tilted his head, his eyes looking for some compassion out of you.
“Yeah, yeah, of course.” You rushed the words when the silence dipped between you two, part of it your fault because you were too worried with your sinking heart. 
You could understand a little impromptu retreat, you only wished it wasn’t right after you did some pretty intimate stuff back at your house. That last day you two crossed more boundaries than ever before. And even though you highly enjoyed it, his absence after that had you feeling nauseous, making you overthink and regret your decision of not giving him your virginity right in that opportunity. Maybe he would have shown more interest if you would have-
“So…Uhm… I think we should stop hanging out.” 
Your heart was down by your feet when he pronounced those words. You tried with all your soul to control your trembling hands that lied in between his palms so he didn’t notice how he was ripping you apart. Your irregular breath threatened to put you on blast but you managed to keep it on the low. 
“It’s not about you, seriously. I love hanging out with you and spending time with you, among other stuff.” He chuckled lightly, but instead of following his action, you released the breath you were holding. “But I’ve been talking to this girl and I just want to make sure that everything is working out with her. Emotionally.”
The sting in your eyes only grew bigger as you realized how embarrassing and heart shattering this moment was for you. Your cheeks felt hot and tight, something you tried hard to disguise with a breezy exterior. 
Like a flash, you remembered the day both of you talked about the rules of your agreement. You kicked yourself mentally when you reminisced of the moment where both of you agreed to let the other one know if they wanted to pursue something with someone else. You had said yes, in the expectation that his constant checking in on you and daily talks was enough proof of interest. Meaning that he would not be looking outside of your “situationship” .
And you agreed, because that was your case. You were interested enough. 
“You let me know if you want to see another guy, okay?”
You could almost laugh at such stupid idea. Didn’t he know?
“I think it’s better if we stop talking, so I can figure out things with her.” He scrunched his nose, like he was running out of words.
But how many words do you actually need to let someone know you don’t want them? He didn’t need much more. You’ve gotten the message. 
“It’s nothing definitive, but yeah… Let me know if you have any questions.” He gave you a side smile, still fidgeting with your frozen-in-place fingers. 
That took you out of the slow motion trance you were in. 
“Y-yeah, okay.” You took your hands out of his quickly, blinking quickly into realization. You started to rush everything back in your purse, screaming the word “Stupid!” over and over again in your head while you carried on with a calm expression. “Do not worry about me. No questions on my part. Thanks for letting me know.”
I guess.
“Totally agree with not talking anymore.” You finally stopped for a second after pushing all of the items on your tote bag. He seemed to be analyzing your expression in search of any sign of real approval, because your shy and cold body language wasn’t reassuring him. So you put on your bravest face and forced a smile. “I hope everything turns out great with her.” 
Speaking those words felt like hot iron was passing through your throat. 
He gave you an honest smile and got up, taking his jacket with him. “Thank you. And thanks for understanding.”
You stayed frozen in place, your purse on your lap with your hands clutching it so hard you could feel your nails through the fabric. You limited yourself to nodding quietly and letting the side of your mouth curve slightly up. 
“I’m sorry I can’t stay-” He began explaining his sudden escape. 
“Don’t be. Don’t worry about me. ” You dismissed. “I’ll just stay and have lunch.” You took the menu and fixed your gaze on the listed items, anything that wouldn’t be his eyes. 
He excused himself off the table politely, leaving you all alone and speechless. You glued your eyes to his back until he exited through the door, begging silently that he would turn around and say something else. Something that would pull you back into his life.
It seemed like that wasn’t his plan.
“I know I shouldn’t look for you for sexual stuff, but can I contact you for friend stuff?”
The text arrived that Saturday at 1am, 5 days later, erasing any progress you had done. 
The day of his usual drunken nights. 
Right around the time he used to get bored and there wasn't anything left to smoke. 
Exactly at the time he would always contact you. 
And you?
You were still at the restaurant. Unable to move.
Every day since that day. 
Right where he left you. 
97 notes · View notes
vaspider · 2 days
Note
just a heads up that that post abt ppl reconnecting is by a like. meeeega z*onist. i usually am like eh ppl dont need to check usernames for everyone they reblog but for that one since its like. relatatef to an extent to the post i wanted to let you know for you and the people who follow u! i hope u are having whatever the best day for ur circumstances is
You're not Jewish, by your own admission. I went to make sure, before I started talking. You have some Jewish heritage, and you might look at converting, but you're not Jewish, so let's start there. And I am going to be as patient as I possibly can under the circumstances.
You have essentially just walked into the living room of a family that you're not a part of and said, "that thing that was just said about connecting with this family that I'm not a part of? You should not listen to it because it came from a term that those of us outside this family have rendered meaningless by overuse and abuse. You should not interact with that person because I am telling you they're a Bad one of y'all, because I've determined this word is Bad, and everyone has beaten it into the ground."
How do you think that would go, if you walked into my living room and pointed at someone there, as a complete and total stranger, and said, 'you should take my value statement about one of the people in your extended family'? Do you think it would go well, whether or not I agreed with that family member, that you've interjected yourself into intrafamily discussions, especially intrafamily discussions about our family's emotional survival and connection?
Because that's what this is, to be clear. Those people? They are my family. You just came in off the street and said, "Take my word on your family. They're bad. You shouldn't interact with them."
What's more, one of the two people you're pointing at, the only two people who spoke on that post, is someone who was present, and indeed the sole official witness, at a moment in my life which rates in terms of joy and personal meaning right up there with my wedding and the moment the midwife placed my daughter, naked and screaming, on my belly. You just came in to my living room and said, "The person who witnessed your mikveh immersion seven years ago? Bad. Take it from me, person who has never spoken to you before."
Do you also walk into drag shows, point at the person on the stage, and yell, "That's a groomer!"? Because that's basically what y'all sound like when you do this: you're coming in from the outside, wielding a word you've effectively rendered meaningless against people who belong here.
I'm real fucking tired of -- literally every time I interact with any post about Jewishness at all -- someone lunging in to tell me that There Be Bad Jews, or demanding that, because I am interacting with members of my family, I answer a bunch of fucking "when did you stop beating your wife" questions.
That was literally just in the last 24h. One post about how Judaism survives because we reconnect with each other, one post about how American institutions like Chabad are being labeled 'Israeli' as a means of smearing them. Literally dealing with living as a fucking Jew in the diaspora is now simply Not Allowed To Be Spoken Of, apparently, unless I strictly validate that everyone in the thread is not a Bad Bad Zionist, which of course applies to every Jew who says something we don't like, regardless of their repeatedly-stated values or self-identification.
It's almost like the end point of all of that is Jews simply not talking about being Jewish anywhere that they might be seen by someone who doesn't like that. If we can only speak about being Jewish if our Judaism meets the strict, ever-changing ethical purity standards of a bunch of Puritan-descended American leftists, then we can't speak about our lives at all, can we?
Funny, that.
Anyway, you have self-declared Zionists in your last 30 reblogs, so like, if you want to spend time endlessly policing someone's blog, make it your own.
Nobody ever send me asks like this ever again. This is the last one I'll even vaguely humor.
87 notes · View notes
sparrow-in-boots · 1 day
Text
so i think we can agree to some degree that, the carrot is a lie. right?
(Intermezzo spoilers ahead!)
we know Kayne is perfectly capable of keeping his deals, but we also know that he's far more capable (and willing) to Not keeping them. and even of proposing deals that he has no intention of going through with.
Arthur getting Faroe back isn't a real deal. just because he stopped one Faroe among countless from death, doesn't mean that deal won't have consequences. he did say "even try continue being friends", which implies A Lot.
first of, what happened to that universe's Arthur? surely nothing good or stable. who's to say Kayne won't put John inside that Arthur as "a body" for him? and also, Kayne has made it very clear he's got access to all the strings here, he can very easily keep toying with them Just Because, making their lives actual hell.
John and Arthur don't have their divorces over nothing, Shit Happens and it causes them to react poorly due to any number of issues they have in their own noggins, but we've seen that a good number of them have been thanks to Kayne's meddling in some way or another. One could even say that all of S3 happened because of him.
"no matter what I throw at you, you just seem to come out better for it", wasn't it?
but also, we can just as fairly say that the stick is also a lie. sure, Kayne's anger is nothing to scoff at, he's a god given greater power than any god in this universe had any right to after all. BUT, he still needs Arthur. he has very little to gain from impossibly torturing someone who he knows has something Special (plot armor) that keeps him from going under entirely, might even become greater than he can handle because of said torturing.
Arthur is at the end of the day, just a human, but he's also an anomaly that he can't grasp, and Kayne isn't an idiot.
it's all smoke and mirrors, lures and trickery. his hard power is very real, Kayne is an entity of his own caliber, but his soft power, it's all on keeping people on their toes around him and go along with his schemes to keep him appeased. that's what the whole bit with keeping Arthur playing because "he didn't say stop" is, flexing that he can keep Arthur cowed enough to keep doing what he says. and that was also why he proposed that deal for John too, to keep him on thin ice and scrambling over pacifying Arthur rather than let them both scheme over how to one-up him when he isn't looking.
carrot or stick, you dont actually need either. sometimes, the illusions of a gift or a punishment are enough motivators, even if they are lies. Kayne never ends a deal freely, there's always Something More, a twist of the knife that he sprinkles in at the end. he has no intention giving Arthur and John a happily-ever-after, and i also think he has no intention of dooming them to turbo Hell or whatever.
if you ask me, the fact that we don't know what exactly he does plan however, is far more disconcerting and scary.
60 notes · View notes