#Rusty Jo

[therealmagicdog]

Well I'm a 13 cards fan basically and it's not just a phase

It turned out that I don't really like the way the fandom treats Joker and the way he's represented in the show

He may play a good part as an antagonist in the comic ngl, but him being an evil chaotic wannabe Bill Cipher villain in the show just doesn't make any sense to me

The show is a slice-of-life-ish sitcom, not Harry Potter

Joker is a chill freaky guy, not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named

[friendlyengie]

suppose now would be as good a time as any to drop the updated refs :--] including a bunch of guys you may or may not have seen before!

fun times.

[twice-in-a-blue-moon]

perv solomon teaching mc binding spells/sigils because "you never know when they'll come in handy!" like he isn't gonna jack off to the thought of them using those spells on him

Ooh, this ask reminds me of some fics that I read sometime ago on AO3: Binding Spells by FeelingRAD and Bound by Fate by Knightyan if you want some extra reading material 👀

Minors DNI!

Anywho, yes! Solomon watches you master those spells with ease, binding simple things around his room. Tonight's victim: a potted plant. Your magic winds around the leaves before tightening down in a snap, constricting them to the stems like rope to a Christmas tree. Solomon watches with the intent of judging your performance to make sure you properly understand the spell until his mind wanders...

A scenario conjures in his mind in, which case he's minding his business in his room, walking back and forth between his shelf and his desk as he brews an elixir of some sorts -- unaware of your presence as you sneak in. With the same flawless ease he's witnessed from you, you'd put him under your spell (quite literally) to bind his limbs against his body. He'd know it's you by your magic and he'd do nothing to stop you, allowing those tendrils of magic to snake along his body until he, too, becomes immobilized.

Solomon shivers just from the thought of your magic binding him in place, tight around his body buzzing softly with energy and warmth. Oh God, how he'd be completely at your mercy. The kisses he'd be subjected to along his neck. One of your hands allowing your spell enough give to be able to slip under his shirt, the other sliding down to cup the bulge growing in his pants and giving it a teasing little squeeze. He knows he'd just embarrass himself afterwards with the desperate sounds and pleas that would tumble out of his mouth, but in the moment he wouldn't care. Until the spell is revoked, he'd be putty in your hands...and mouth.

"What do you think, Solomon? Did I do a good job?"

Your voice is what brings him out of his naughty imagination. There's a dusting of pink on his cheeks which he hopes it's not obvious to you, and a heat pooling in his stomach. Solomon clears his throat, subtly trying to adjust himself in his pants.

"Uh...yes! You did a spectacular job binding that plant, MC. Well done." He quickly to glances at the clock on the wall, pretending that your lesson has went on longer than it has. He needs you out of this room and fast. "Oh wow, how the time has flown. I think you should be heading home now. Don't want the brothers breaking down my door again because I kept you too long."

Solomon begins to rush you to the door, confusing you to no end since most of the time he begs you to stay longer. "Wait, but we still have thirty minutes left in our sess-"

He opens the door, gently pushing you out with an apologetic smile. "Goodnight, see you tomorrow!" With that, he slams the door and listens to your retreating footsteps down the hall.

He feels bad about how he basically tossed you out of his room, but he can't bear for you to see him like this. He knows you'd ask questions and he doesn't want to face you figuring out how arousing using binding spells on him sounds right now. He'll tell you at some point, but for now... Solomon looks down at himself, seeing the tent in his pants and sighs. He's got some personal business to attend to.

[skridz]

Hello here are some of my lesser known interests if you like ANY OF THESE PLEASE DEAR GOD INTERACT I want to know if fandoms even exist for these anymore tbh

• Onlycans: Thirst Date

• Satyrs/Fauns

• Monster Prom/Monster Roadtrip/Monster Camp

• Pony Island

• Happy Tree Friends

• Blush Blush/Crush Crush

• The Animals of the Farthing Wood

• Rusty Lake Hotel/Rusty Lake series in general

• At Dead of Night

• Hypnospace Outlaw

• Warioware

• The Dark Pictures: The Devil In Me

• Jo_Sipu's works

I'm gonna think this is it then punch myself later..,

[wheucto]

if steve cobs really is the only person we can know, definitely, for sure, came as a result of two objects. doing it. and making a baby. if cobs is the only example we can know, for sure, that that happened. no wonder he's the only guy with a name

[shoshiwrites]

A little moodboard for Jo's first summer in Norwich

[addictwiththeart]

Finally getting around to posting this project! I was throwing ideas around while talking to one of my friends and we came up with the challenge to make obscure Nintendo Vs Sega characters as if they were in a fighting game! We each picked 6 different characters from lesser known/forgotten series and made illustrations for them! Recognize any of these characters?

[danderling]

half assed sketch of fucking Rusty Jo of all people???? Whatever most of my friends really liked this design (REALLY liked it) so might as well

[sloppypears-ash-sg]

Lifekettle Kids (Headcanon)

Cup of Joe "Rusty Jo" (TK's son), Teacup (Lifekettle fanchild), and Box (adopted).

Teacup is the only one that belongs to me.

[sadauroras]

( avilionea )

you know i only have eyes for you. ( laurie + jo )

it's something she knows all too well. she feels it in every interaction they have - that he wants more. jo doesn't know how to make it any more clear that his friendship is the most important thing in her life. she doesn't want to lose him but also her feelings are conflicted. she wants to be loved, but does she just want to be less alone? is this not what every girl wanted? she isn't sure anymore.

eyes flutter towards his, shaking her head. "you know, laurie. there are some really great girls out there for you." girls that aren't jo. girls that know what they want and know that they want a traditional life. she fears that she'll never be that type of person and he deserves more. "i can always help you out - ask around .... i don't doubt that they'd love you."

[catenary-chad]

the more I look at how there were outright BIDDING WARS over functional small steam engines in the US in the 80s and how Crown Metal Products’ new build ones from the 60s-80s have a higher survival rate than most other rail equipment of the time in general, the more Rusty becomes the train version of Uncle Joe and the more I cartoonishly hate him. Ironically he would probably have the best job security and physical working conditions of the whole damn cast. Always rolled my eyes at him being a tropey anachronistic character choice, it’s actually impressive how historical context makes him such an actively terrible metaphor for classism.

(also should be a campy fake cowboy for historical accuracy because like 90% of those trains are yeehaw themed)

[lettersfromafarmer]

sophie rose-middleton in footloose 💌🎀

[northlight14]

DnD and RP Character Bio’s Masterpost

Played/playing as:

(Anything lore related will be the idea of my DM. The characters and most, if not all, of the backstory details will be mine but places or organisations will be from my DM)

Hecate Boneflare: here (Campaign ongoing)

Harvey of Tyr: here (campaign ongoing)

Homebrewed Tabletop Roleplay:

Arlo Steelash: here (Campaign ongoing)

Josephine “Jo” Woods: here (one shot ongoing)

Yet to play as:

(All included will be from my own brain (unless stated otherwise) until I play as these characters, to which I will update their profiles)

Warryn Folkor: here (original campaign discontinued)

Greyson Honfoli: here

Leucis: here

Neo Stillsun: here

Mordai Bloodborn: here (Campaign in planning stages, all lore is my DM's)

Cleome Ebonlash: here (campaign in planning stages)

AU and fanfic purposes:

Rusty Roseroot: here

[planetxiao]

HERE FOR THAT SAMU FOR WB!!🫡 uhh for smth fluffy,, maybe togame (& anyone else u wanna do) reacting to reader sending them gifts? :00 like a friendship bracelet they made, or a game they’ve been interested in!! I’d assume the wb!bous would be either confused or flustered at the notion that someone was listening to them so intently😚😚🫶🏼

— munchieschomp (LOVE UR WORK AHH)

# A GIFT FOR YOU

𖤐 togame jo ; sakura haruka ; suo hayato ; umemiya hajime .

⟢ fluff, smau // you get them a gift to let them know you’re thinking of them.

authors note. thank you for this request fren! i hope you enjoy it, i’m a bit rusty in characterization but i had fun with this :) and you’re so sweet!! thank you for the kind words <3

𖤐 TOGAME JO

𖤐 SAKURA HARUKA

𖤐 SUO HAYATO

𖤐 UMEMIYA HAJIME

to note:

# togame debated never drinking the ramune just so he could save it as a memoir of your affection, but then choji took the bottle from his hands and popped it open for him because he thought he was struggling. so instead togame just kept the bottle. mission failed successfully.

# sakura had to have suo tie the bracelet around his wrist because his hands wouldn’t work the way he wanted them to. he’s still not used to receiving gifts, especially from someone he holds so dear to his heart, so every time sakura would see the woven band on his wrist, he’d flush a deep red. swore to himself that he’d never take it off, even if it’s tattered and torn.

# kiryu tried teasing suo about receiving a gift from a ‘secret admirer’ but the comments just rolled off suo’s back like water. ever the mysterious man, suo didn’t play into kiryu’s antics, which bored the pink haired boy quite quickly. instead in the back of suo’s mind, he focused on the floral scent of the tea, wondering what about him drew you to these specific leaves, and if there was a specific kind that reminded him of you.

# hiragi was pissed that umemiya was leaving randomly again, but not for the reasons you thought he would be. it was not because they had meetings that day or patrol shifts to manage, it was because umemiya dragged hiragi along with him to come see you. hiragi has nothing against you — in fact, you two are good friends — but he definitely did not need to be present for yours and umemiya’s displays of affection. aaaand he’s out of antacid tablets.

[maddie0101]

just friends

summary: you and dean are out at a bar grabbing drinks with friends like it’s any other night but dean’s close, almost too close and you’re not doing a damn thing about it.

warnings/ tags: smut (mdni), college!au, friends w benefits, no love confessions (sadly), fingering, some dirty talk, public smut, hidden relationship and feelings, sexual tension.

word count: 1.4k (pretty small for me, yes ik..but I’m a tad rusty)

note: I’m back bitches! :) enjoy!

It’s not supposed to be complicated.

That’s what you tell yourself every time you sneak out of Dean's bed before sunrise. Every time you redress in silence and slip past your sleeping friends with flushed skin and sore thighs—pretending that nothing happened.

Friends with benefits. That’s the deal.

No dates. No hand-holding. No stolen glances that mean too much. And it’s been working—for the most part.

Except nights like this.

You’re at your favorite spot downtown, some hole-in-the-wall bar with loud music and warm string lights tangled above the tables. You’re squished into a booth with the usual group, consisting of Jo, Benny, Charlie, and Cas. Everyone's talking over each other with drinks in hand, plates of fries already half-gone.

You’re wearing a dress. Short, soft, and comfortable. A little risky for October, but worth it. You saw Dean’s eyes drop to your legs the second you walked in. He hasn’t said a word about it, but you felt the shift in the air.

Now, you’re pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with him in the booth, thighs touching, your drink sweating in your palm as you try to pretend you’re listening to Charlie’s story about her lab partner. You’re nodding, even laughing but your body is stiff.

Not because you're stressed or anything—but because Dean’s hand is on your thigh.

It started off innocent, honestly. Just resting there, his fingers lightly curled, the way a friend might touch a friend.

But you both know better.

He’s been inching higher for the past ten minutes, casual as anything, like this isn’t dangerous.

No one can see, not from the angle or with the table pressed against your ribs and the flickering shadows hiding his movements. But you can feel him and he knows exactly what he’s doing.

His hand shifts slightly, fingers brushing up your thigh, warm and steady and your breath catches in your throat.

“You okay?” Jo asks, blinking at you.

You force a smile and nod quickly. “Yeah. Just a little warm in here.”

Dean doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t even react. Just keeps sipping his beer, his free hand wrapped lazily around the neck of the bottle while the other, his real focus is sliding slowly beneath the hem of your dress.

Your pulse thuds in your ears and your heartbeat speeds up.

He’s still not touching you where you want him to. He’s toying with you. Circling higher and closer but never quite where you want him. His knuckles brush the inside of your thigh and you shudder, trying to sit still. Trying to not squirm.

So you shoot him a warning glare. But when he finally meets your eyes—his are dark, amused, and possessive?

You swallow hard and shift your legs, trying to squeeze them together. Dean’s hand follows easily, caught between them now, palm pressed against the soft skin just inches from your center.

You lean in toward him, voice quiet and shaky. “Dean.” You warn.

He hums, barely audible. “Problem?”

“You need to stop.”

He grins without looking at you. “You don’t want me to stop.”

He's right...You think. But here? In front of your friends? That's a whole new level.

His touch and the fact that you're in public, surrounded by your friends, feeling Dean's hand has you soaked. There’s nothing between you but a pair of thin lace panties and whatever control you’ve got left—which is crumbling fast.

Dean shifts again, his hand sliding higher, fingers brushing just under the edge of your underwear now and your breath leaves you in a slow, shaking exhale and you grip your drink tighter, knuckles white.

You glance up to Charlie still talking, Cas asking Jo a random question, and Benny’s leaned back with a lazy grin, completely oblivious—you hope.

But then Dean’s hand slips beneath your panties, bringing you back to what is going on and you choke on your drink, causing eyes to quickly snap onto you with concern.

“Jesus, you okay?” Benny says, reaching for a napkin.

“Yeah,” you cough. “Wrong pipe.”

Dean doesn’t move. Not even when he presses two fingers right there—just enough pressure to make you see stars. Your hips twitch and you cross your legs tighter, trapping his hand in place, but it only makes it worse.

He curls his fingers ever so slightly and leans in, lips brushing your ear. “You wore this dress just for me, didn’t you?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. So he nudges your panties aside and the cold air hits your soaked heat in an instant. He groans softly, barely a sound but you hear it. “Fuck, you’re already wet.”

Your thighs shake and you stare at your glass, willing yourself to keep breathing while his fingers slide through your slick folds. He doesn’t push inside you just yet. He's teasing you. Still playing his game and you shift again, pressing your hips into his hand, silently begging.

Dean tuts softly. “Needy.”

You shoot him another glare but he only smirks before giving you what you want. His finger slips inside, slow and smooth, just one and your breath catches. He moves it slowly, curling upward, then pulls back and adds a second. You clamp your teeth around a whimper and dig your nails into the seat beneath you.

“Doing so good,” he murmurs. “Sittin’ still like that. What would they say if they knew, huh? That you’re dripping around my fingers while Cas talks about his psych exam?”

“Dean,” you gasp.

“Yeah, baby?”

Your thighs tremble and your skin feels too tight. Your eyes are glassy and you’re so close it’s painful.

Dean curls his fingers again, just the slightest motion, and your hips twitch involuntarily. You shouldn’t be like this—not here. Not in public. But your body doesn’t care. It’s reacting to him like it always does—instinctively, desperately, completely.

And he presses his palm against your clit, not rubbing, just pressing, grounding you with that solid weight.

Your vision blurs for half a second and your breath hitches in your throat. You grip the edge of the table so hard your knuckles ache.

He leans in, his mouth just barely brushing your ear. His voice is calm but dangerous. “Gonna come just like this?” he whispers. “In your little dress, right here at the table?”

You can’t answer. Can’t breathe. All you can do is hold on as Dean’s fingers fuck into you slow and deep, his palm now dragging tight circles against your clit.

He’s doing it on purpose. Drawing it out—keeping you right on the edge.

You whimper softly—barely audible, but he hears it.

“Quiet,” he says, lips still at your ear. “You make a sound and I stop.”

You nod frantically, digging your nails into your thigh and casting a quick glance to your friends still sitting around you.

Jo and Charlie are still deep in conversation. While Cas is arguing with Benny over whether Die Hard is a Christmas movie. But no one suspects a thing. Thank God—because no one sees how Dean has you right there—blushing, panting, thighs shaking while he works you from the inside out.

Your dress has ridden up just enough to let him move without resistance, his wrist shifting with each slow thrust of his fingers. You’re dripping around him, muscles fluttering, begging for release.

“Dean,” you breathe, “please—please—”

His hand slows for a second and your breath stutters. “No,” you gasp, shaking your head, eyes wide. “Don’t stop, Dean, I swear—”

He smiles against your skin. “Then come for me.”

That’s all it takes. Your legs seize around his hand, muscles clenching tight as heat rushes through you—white-hot and overwhelming. You bury your face in his shoulder to keep from crying out, your body trembling so hard the table rattles.

Dean holds you through it, fingers still moving, gentler now, coaxing you through the waves.

“Good girl,” he whispers.

It takes a full minute before you can breathe again. And before you realize your nails left crescents in the vinyl seat, that your drink is untouched--that the conversation has kept going without you, blissfully unaware. Dean finally withdraws his hand, slowly and slides your panties back into place, straightens the hem of your dress like a gentleman—like he didn’t just ruin you in the middle of a crowded bar.

You turn your face slightly, hiding your dazed, flushed expression behind the curtain of your hair and Dean licks his fingers while meeting your gaze.

You nearly whimper again at the sight and Dean slides his arm back across the booth, settling like nothing happened.

Like his fingers don’t still glisten faintly.

Like your heart isn’t trying to beat out of your chest.

And you reach for your drink with a shaky hand, trying to pretend your entire body isn’t still humming from the aftershock.

Dean glances at you once more—smug, satisfied, and already plotting what he’ll do to you when he gets you alone.

And God help you, you can’t wait.

author’s note:

hii guys! thank y’all so much for being patient with me during this time! I’ve finally managed to write this little one shot after almost a 2 month hiatus! 🫠 I’m definitely in the mood to write but now it’s about finding the time to 😅 (I barely even have time to eat lmfaoo)

I should have some more fics coming out but I can’t promise how often it will be. I am going to try to work on requests as well and hopefully get those out to you guys!

anywaaaays— I hope y’all enjoyed this one! ❤︎

taglist:

@freeluigihesbae @aylacavebear @supernotnatural2005 @bettystonewell @lieutenantchaos @bejeweledinterludes @ambiguous-avery @star-yawnznn @exansation @darkrose064 @megara0224 @saturnsooya @miss-marmalade @xo-zeze @kamisobsessed @megara0224 @cupidzbunny @imsiriuslyreal @jollyhunter @kimxwinchester @julsvdamxn @tinas111 @acesdiary @sapphic-destiel @callsign-ember @ladykitana90 @h8aaz @closetedangel @lunaleah @pieandflannel @soldiersgirl (lmk if I’ve missed anyone or if you’d like to be taken off of my taglist)

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my works

© maddie0101 do not copy or repost my works without my permission

[tetragonia]

The Tortoise and the Hare

Jo Togame x Fem!Kaji!Reader

summary: You're Ren Kaji's twin, just moved back to Makochi last week. The streets didn't change, the vibe didn't change, and apparently your rival didn't either.

notes: Togame's second kanji ('Kame') means turtle, so there's that. just fluff and all nice so far. some mention of violence, suggestive animal cruelty (I guess...?)

words: 1.6k

The restaurant district hummed with life, neon lights flickering above the bustling crowd. Laughter, the clatter of dishes, and the sizzling of street food vendors filled the air, but you barely registered any of it.

You had only just moved back to Makochi—not exactly the grand return you had expected. This was the place where you had been born and raised, at least until junior high, before leaving for years. Now, everything felt both familiar and distant, like a song you hadn’t heard in forever but somehow still knew the lyrics to.

You had always been good at fighting—fast, precise, never one to back down. But that wasn’t why you had moved back to Makochi. No, you had come back because someone had to take care of your grandma. And it sure as hell wasn’t going to be Ren Kaji.

Oh, you knew. He had the whole cool, responsible act down to an art. With that sharp gaze and his ever-present anger issues, he looked like someone people should fear. But you had grown up with him. He was your twin. And you knew the truth.

Ren Kaji was a pain in the ass. In your ass, to be precise.

A loud, stubborn, reckless idiot who had somehow fooled the world into thinking he had it all together. But you? You weren’t buying it.

That night, you had decided to walk around, maybe grab something to eat, let the city settle in around you. You hadn’t even planned to buy Ren anything—it was your money, and the most generous offer you could make was to buy him one lollipop. That was it.

You hadn’t been looking for trouble yet, since you had only been back for a couple of days. But, of course, trouble had found you first.

You exhaled sharply, shaking out your sore arms. The five guys in front of you weren’t particularly skilled, but they were stubborn. And you? You were rusty.

Cracking your knuckles, you rolled your shoulders back, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Their leader sneered, taking a step forward, “You should just hand over your cash, sweetheart. No need to get hurt.”

“Sweetheart?” you scoffed. “That’s new. Usually, I get called ‘crazy.’”

The insult had barely left your lips before he lunged. You pivoted sharply, slipping past his swing and driving your elbow into his ribs. He grunted, doubling over just in time for your foot to sweep his legs out from under him. He crashed down hard.

In the shadows of a nearby alley, Jo Togame watched.

At first, he had been ready to step in. This was Shishitoren territory, and some lowlife idiots causing trouble wasn’t something he tolerated. But then he had seen you fight. Sharp movements, precise strikes. Even with your rust, you were dangerous.

So he had leaned back, crossing his arms, letting the rabbit handle its own battle.

Two more had dropped after a few well-placed blows. You were panting slightly now, every movement a second slower, your muscles protesting. Togame had noticed instantly. Fatigue.

Then he had seen it.

A fourth guy had crept up behind you, a broken bottle clutched in his fist, his movements quick and silent. You hadn’t noticed.

Togame had moved.

Before the thug could bring the jagged glass down, Togame had snatched his wrist, twisting it with practiced ease. A sharp yelp had echoed as the weapon had clattered to the pavement. Togame hadn’t hesitated. A swift kick to the ribs had sent the guy sprawling.

“Oblivious much?” Togame had drawled, looking down at you.

You had spun on your heel, ready to snap back, but he had seen it before you had said a word—the exhaustion in your posture, the faint tremble in your hands, the shallow cuts along your arms.

Running a hand through your messy hair, you had exhaled.

“Haven’t fought since I moved out. First time today,” your voice had been casual, but your breath had been unsteady. “Had to get my reflexes and muscle memory back.”

Togame had tilted his head, eyes lingering on you.

Then, he had smirked, "Not bad for being out of practice.”

You had shot him a tired glare, “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Dunno. You look like you’re about to pass out,” he had said. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to enemy lines.”

You had scoffed but hadn’t argued, “Suit yourself.”

As you had dusted yourself off and started to walk, Togame had watched you with that same infuriating smirk.

“You sure you’re not about to keel over?” he had asked, hands shoved in his pockets.

You had rolled your eyes, “I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh,” he had nodded, unconvinced. “That’s why you’re swaying on your feet.”

“I’m not swaying.”

“Right. So if I pushed you right now, you wouldn’t topple over?”

You had narrowed your eyes, “Try it and see what happens.”

Togame had raised his hands in mock surrender, “Relax, rabbit. Just saying, you look like you got run over.”

You exhaled at the nickname. You remember that day.

You had just been minding your own business, walking home through a shortcut behind some old buildings, when you had spotted it—a small rabbit caught in a tangle of wires and trash. It hadn’t even been struggling, just frozen, big eyes staring up at you.

You hadn’t thought twice. You had crouched down, carefully untangling the mess, muttering under your breath about how stupid it was for a rabbit to get stuck in the first place. The moment it had been free, it had bolted, kicking up dirt as it had disappeared into the bushes.

You had figured that had been the end of it.

But when you had stood up, brushing your hands off, you had heard slow clapping.

Togame. Leaning against a wall, arms crossed, looking way too entertained.

“Didn’t take you for the soft-hearted type,” he had mused. “Rescuing bunnies in alleyways now?”

You had rolled your eyes, “It was stuck. What was I supposed to do, leave it there?”

“Dunno. But now I definitely can’t unsee it,” his smirk had widened.

Just as you had finished untangling the little rabbit, footsteps had approached from behind.

“Oh! There you are,” an older man had sighed in relief. He had been dressed in a crisp apron, the faint scent of herbs and garlic clinging to him, “That rabbit belongs to me. Thought I lost him.”

You had blinked.

“Oh. Well, here," you had scooped up the rabbit and handed it over without a second thought.

The man had smiled warmly, “Thanks, kid. Would’ve been a shame to lose such a fresh one before dinner service.”

You had frozen.

“Dinner service?”

“Yeah. I run that European place down the street. We’ve got a rabbit stew special tonight.”

Your stomach had dropped as you had watched him secure the little creature in a crate. The rabbit had twitched its nose at you, completely oblivious to its fate.

Togame, who had been watching the whole thing unfold, had burst out laughing.

“Oh, that’s rich,” he had wheezed. “You just saved that thing for the butcher.”

Your eye had twitched, “I—I didn’t know!”

“You looked so proud of yourself, too,” he had teased. “Damn, rabbit, that’s cold.”

And just like that, the nickname had stuck. No matter how much you had tried to shake it, Togame wouldn’t let it go.

So now, as you trudged alongside him, bruised and exhausted, you had heard it again—

“Yo, rabbit, still with me?”

You had groaned, dragging a hand down your face, “For the last time, stop calling me that.”

“Not a chance. Come on, let’s get your beaten ass outta here,” Togame had just laughed.

“You look like you just crawled out of a sewer, but I didn’t comment on it," you scoffed, didn't want to back down from anything.

He snorted, “Harsh. You always this grumpy after a fight?”

“Only when I have to deal with you right after.”

“Guess that makes me lucky, huh?” his smirk deepened, and you resisted the urge to wipe it off his face with your fist.

Instead, you exhaled sharply and started walking.

“Whatever. Just don’t slow me down.”

“You’re the one limping," Togame easily matched your pace.

“I am not limping.”

“Sure, sure," he tilted his head, amused. “Keep telling yourself that, rabbit.”

You shot him a glare, but he just chuckled, following you all the way to Pothos Café. But the second you stepped inside, the conversation halted.

Hiragi, Sao, Umemiya, Sakura, Nirei, Sugishita, and Kotoha all turned toward you, their gazes scanning the fresh cuts and bruises littering your skin.

Kotoha reacted first, “What the hell happened to you?”

“Relax, it was just a warm-up," you waved a hand dismissively.

“A warm-up?” Hiragi raised an eyebrow. If anything, Hiragi was more of a brother than Ren. He was always a around when you grew up. In fact, you picked up how to fight—and getting damn good at it—because of him.

You could see his gaze flickered to Togame, “And you—what the hell did you do to her?”

Togame raised his hands in surrender, looking far too entertained, “Hey, don’t pin this on me. She was like this when I found her.”

“He didn’t find me. He just wouldn’t shut up and leave me alone," you scoffed.

“That’s called being a good friend," Togame winked. You cringed, physically and emotionally. You left him and sat on an empty chair, sighing.

“You’re bleeding," Sakura frowned, as he wasn't bleeding all the time.

You sighed, shaking your head and voicing what you thought, “You guys literally bled all the time. And it’s not fine when I do it?”

“Well, your brother would—”

“Don’t say a word to Ren,” you warned, pinching the bridge of your nose. The last thing you needed was your brother flying into another overprotective fit. He was too damn quick to anger when it came to you, and it was starting to get under your skin.

“Say what?”

The room tensed.

You froze for half a second before turning your head. There, standing in the doorway, was Ren Kaji.

His dark gray eyes locked onto your injuries, his usually blank expression darkening into something unreadable.

Hiragi muttered under his breath, already reaching for his pills, “Oh, this’ll be fun.”

You exhaled sharply, bracing yourself for the incoming storm.

“Well… shit.”