muse - a jax x reader fanfic

8 - pain

~•~•~

We were sitting in bed together.

The blotched face stared at me. Cards, poker chips, and snacks were scattered all around us.

He studied my face, then chuckled. "I can't ever tell when you're lying."

"Good," I said.

"If you're telling the truth, then I'm probably screwed," he said. "I think I'll pass."

My smirk grew. "Score, bitch."

I stole the last of his poker chips and laid back. "You lowkey kinda suck."

"Shut up!"

"You're really dumb for a computer sci major."

"Actually, shut up," he grumbled.

"Aww, is my poor baby sad?" I reached out to his face but he turned around, huffing.

"I'm sowwy." I gave him puppy eyes, grabbing some of the potato chips and presenting it to him as an offer. "Forgive me? Pwease?"

He stayed turned for a second before finally caving in and looking.

He sighed. "Fine."

"Yay!"

I seem happy with him, I thought.

Who was he?

Beep, beep.

~•~•~

I woke up the minute I heard someone stand up. I blinked twice and forced myself to focus.

"About time you're up, mousie."

I groaned. "@+_& you, Jax."

"This is what you get for dragging me around."

"I hate you. When's food?"

"Few minutes. Get up."

I stretched and laid back. "Get out of my room."

He exited politely with a wink and his signature smirk. "Hurry up or I'm barging in, decent or not."

"Jax!"

Quickly, he shut the door to protect himself as I grumbled.

I pulled my journal out. If I wanted to make an entry, I needed to be fast.

day idk what the f̵̧̡̡͍̦͔̙͉̦̬̭͎̿̑́͑̓͂ŭ̴͉̩̖̝͉̯͚̤͚͓̠͍͕̒c̸̝̙̪͍̠̭̦̗͚̙̈́̿̈́̔͂̒̂̀̚ķ̸̡̢̛͇͚͍͉͇̦̪̟͍̞̠́̐̄͋̍͌̍̉͗̚͝ anymore +2

I knew the risks of writing while Jax was standing outside and probably waiting for me, but if I wanted to remember this, I had to write quickly.

we were playing poker with each other, which we did every weekend because tradition. every saturday, holiday, or day worth celebrating like acing an exam, we would go to h̸̡̠̙̀̋̒́i̵͙͋̾̃̀̚͜ś̵̰̯͉̣̾ dorm to play a game of poker.
we always made sure to have fun.

More, I thought. You can think of more, (y/n). More.

Beep, beep.

A knock sounded outside of my dorm. "Mousie, hurry the @&$_ up."

I groaned. "+_@& you."

Quickly, I picked out some cute cream-colored crochet sweater with a (f/c) tank top to go with some baggy black jeans. The crop top looked more like a net than an actual sweater.