#it’s 4am i don’t know what to do with myself

[loderlied]

got some sleep the horrors persist but so does the gortash obsession etc etc

[robotic-maid]

How things are going again… update I guess? Still can’t figure out how to read more on mobile. I’m just typing this out so it can leave my head.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[5starssz]

All For Me

Paige Bueckers x fem reader

Your two year relationship with collegiante basketball star Paige Bueckers ends suddenly in both of your senior year. You couldn’t seem to detach yourself from her even though Paige had seemed to move on. Once you graduated and Paige was doing her 5th year, Paige finally realizes what she lost.

All For Me- Mariah The Scientist

!Warnings! Angst

Purple= Paige

Pink=You

All For Me-Part one

One Year Ago

“Why are you doing this?”, my voice was low, heavy with all the emotions I was forced to bear in that moment. No one expects the person they thought was THE ONE to break up with them on a random Wednesday in December at 2am. Paige sat across from me as we both sat on the floor of a tight hallway in her residence hall. It was an empty hallway with no dorm rooms where we would meet. Paige’s eyes shifted down to the ground, avoiding eye contact with me. “I just can’t do this anymore”, she bluntly stated. “You’re lying Paige, i’ve done nothing but be the person you needed. I grew for you Paige, we grew together. What can’t you not do?!”, you emotionally explained. My voice being unstable due to the puddles forming in my eyes. Paige lifted her head, eyes dialed on mine. For once I couldn’t read her. There was nothing behind those blue eyes that were once filled with love. “I’m sorry”, was the last thing she said to me as she got up and walked off. ‘I’m sorry’ the last words I thought would be exchanged between us. I sat in the same spot until 4am hoping she would run back to me and say she didn’t mean anything she said, i really hoped. She didn’t.

Current

I woke up in my small disheveled apartment to my phones alarm sounding in my ear. Ive lived in this apartment since my Junior year of college. I had a showing for a house that’s up for Sale about thirty minutes from me. I did my normal morning work routine: Brush my teeth, skin care, makeup, hair, and fish for an outfit. Luckily last night I felt like being organized and picked my work outfit the night before, a grey pant suit and some black heels. I hated my work attire but I gotta do what I gotta do. I headed out a few minutes early so I could grab a coffee before I had to drive to the house. My normal coffee shop was closed so unfortunately I have to venture onto campus for coffee. ‘I’m praying i don’t see anyone’, I say to myself knowing exactly who that ‘anyone’ was. The drive isn’t far, which was the goal when I first rented the apartment. I parked in a parking lot next to the shop, walking in and immediately being hit with the scent of coffee and pastries. Due to my amazing luck, the line was extremely long. “fuck it, a girl needs her coffee”, i said quietly walking into the line. As I stood in the line I heard a large group of people laugh, it didn’t catch my attention that much to pull my eyes off my phone. The laughing continued until the sound of a breaking plate made the whole establishment fall into silence. My head quickly turned to the source of the sound. “oh my god”, I said out loud when my brain finally processed what I’ve been looking at. A group of girls in dark blue sweat suits and one standing up with her hands rested on her head. Her eyes shifted around the small shop realizing all eyes were on her. Her eyes were met with mine and my heart dropped. Her eyes grew and her hands dropped to her side. Everyone else around us had gone back to whatever they were doing before and the rest of the girls started laughing at Paige and helping clean up. Not Paige though, she remained in the same spot maintaining eye contact with me. ‘I can’t do this today’, I thought to myself breaking the eye contact with her. I can’t really tell but it looked like she was….sorry? or sad? I can’t read her like I once could. Her eye contact was so captivating, it brought back a flood of memories in that short amount of time. I was left in deep thought in the middle of this long ass line. “Hey”, the voice broke me out of my deep dive into memories. My eyes moved to the right of me to be face to face with her. “Hi Paige”, I said to her with a small smile. “You look great…..and i’ve been thinking lately and I’m sorry about how I ended things with us-“. I cut her off. “I’m sorry Paige but I don’t think this is the time or place for this conversation. I have a house showing to get to”. “I understand. I shouldn’t have dumped all this shit on you right here, right now. We can talk later?”. I grabbed my coffee off the counter and turned back to Paige. “yeah, I still have your number. See you later Paige”. I squeezed my way through the crowd of busy people and walked out the double glass doors quickly until I felt something on my arm. I stopped to turn around and saw Paige grasping onto my forearm. “Paige I-“. “I know you have to go but just know I never closed the door on us……I’m stupid as shit and thought there was someone else for me. I fucked up and i’m so sorry”. Her voice sounded like she was hurt, like she really regrets it. But she left me for someone else?! “We’ll talk Paige”. I said walking away and out of her grasp. I still can’t hate her though, I cant bring myself to hate her. My heart still beats faster for her like it did when we were deep in love, I don’t get it. The only thing I was left thinking was ‘what did that girl have on me?’

————————————————————————

to be continued….

[blueskyheadleft010]

Holy. Fuck.

I just realized that the Lotus can be seen as a metaphor of Hear no Evil, See no Evil, Speak no Evil.

Margulis is the one who never spoke any evil. Though physically blinded after an accident, she didn’t need her eyes to see what was wrong. She continued to use her compassion and endless kindness to heal the broken Tenno and reveal the ugly truth about the Orokin even as she was executed.

Natah refused to hear the evil words of the Orokin. She had seen enough of the evil they had wrought upon the Origin System that she cared not for what they had to say. Perhaps this is what caused her to be captured in the end, but her strong conviction is what motivated her to enact justice upon the evil empire.

Lotus sees no evil. She wears a headpiece over her eyes so no one can gaze upon her or her to them. She directs and leads the Tenno through a database of digital information beamed into her head via wires connected to her headpiece. She is direct, often blunt in commands, but also genuine. She has ears everywhere to tune into things she needs to help guide the Tenno in their fights. She struggles to be more than just the commander and quest giver, so emotion is hard for her to express or process. She has little to no filter when she does get upset, but saves most of her scathing remarks for those who deserve it.

Anyways, thanks for coming to my 4am Ted Talk.

What am I doing in your walls? Well, I suppose that’s something you’ll have to ask Loid about because honestly I don’t know myself.

[roseyreveries]

To my lovely anon who sent me a request this morning, I do see it and I have written it for you, but I can not reply to your request 😭 I think I may have replied back to you accidentally half asleep at like 4am this morning and didn’t realize. I feel awful!! but here it is for you!

Domestic Disasters

REQUEST: I was imagining muggleborn!fem!reader and Draco moving in together in their established relationship. I was thinking it would be so funny if the reader realizes Draco doesn’t know how to do simple things with “muggle products”. For example, loading and starting the dishwasher, working the microwave and stove, or even washing a load of laundry. So reader pokes fun at his attempts but eventually teaches him how to do it all. Example of dialogue: “Draco this is not a big enough load to run the washing machine!” Because he has one coat and a pair of socks in it and he’s trying to add a ton of laundry detergent. 🤣

CW: so much flufffff

Directory <- click!

The first thing you noticed when you moved in with Draco Malfoy was the distinct smell of burning popcorn.

“Draco! What the hell are you doing?” you shouted, bolting into the kitchen. The sight before you was almost comedic. Draco Malfoy, former Slytherin Prince and master of disdainful smirks, stood in front of the microwave, glaring at it like it had insulted his lineage. Smoke curled ominously from the edges of the microwave door.

“It’s supposed to make the popcorn pop, yeah?” he said defensively, his wand gripped in one hand like he was about to duel the appliance. “But it’s not popping. It’s bloody burning! This thing’s defective.”

You groaned, rushing to open the microwave door. A billow of smoke escaped, and you coughed, waving a hand in front of your face. Inside was a charred mess of what had once been a bag of popcorn.

“Draco,” you began, turning to face him, “you’re not supposed to put the bag in for ten minutes! It’s like, two minutes tops. Tops.”

He crossed his arms, scowling like a petulant child caught red-handed. “Well, excuse me for not being fluent in Muggle contraptions. How am I supposed to know the rules for these… infernal devices?” His cheeks were tinged with a faint pink, and you couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or frustration.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, fighting back a laugh. “This is why we read the instructions, Draco.”

“Instructions?” he scoffed, the word sounding almost foreign in his mouth. “Utterly unnecessary. Why don’t we just use magic? One swish of my wand, and the popcorn would be perfect. None of this… nonsense.” He gestured vaguely at the microwave, as if its existence personally offended him.

You stepped forward and plucked the wand from his hand before he could actually cast a spell. “Because,” you said firmly, “we agreed to try doing things the Muggle way. You know, since we’re living together now? And you’re the one who said—and I quote—‘I want to immerse myself in your world, darling.’ Remember that?”

Draco’s lips twitched, and he muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Worst decision of my life.”

“What was that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, though the pink on his cheeks deepened. “But honestly, darling, what’s the point of Muggle contraptions if they can’t even perform their one job properly? Popcorn is supposed to pop, not incinerate.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter anymore. The sight of Draco Malfoy—the man who had once faced Death Eaters without flinching—getting flustered over a bag of burnt popcorn was just too much. He glared at you, but there was no real heat behind it.

“Oh, come on,” you teased, nudging him playfully. “It’s not the microwave’s fault you set it to ‘obliterate.’”

“I did no such thing,” he retorted, sniffing indignantly. “And for the record, I still think this entire endeavor is ridiculous. Magic is far superior.”

“Sure it is,” you said with a grin, grabbing a fresh bag of popcorn from the counter. “But maybe next time, let the Muggle handle the Muggle contraptions, yeah?”

Draco rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned against the counter, watching you as you placed the new bag in the microwave and set the timer for two minutes.

“See?” you said as the popping sounds began. “Not so hard, is it?”

“Hmm,” he murmured, his gaze shifting from the microwave to you. “I’ll admit, it’s marginally less of a disaster when you do it. But only marginally.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. The timer beeped, and you pulled out the perfectly popped bag, handing it to him with a flourish.

“Your Highness,” you said dramatically. “Your popcorn.”

Later that week, you discovered that Draco Malfoy—the boy who faced down Death Eaters and taunted Harry Potter himself—had met his match. His ultimate nemesis? The washing machine.

“What the bloody hell is that godforsaken racket?!” Draco’s voice rang out, sharp and panicked, from the laundry room. The clanging, banging, and erratic thuds were so loud you’d half-expected the Ministry of Magic to come knocking, accusing you both of harboring a rogue Hippogriff.

You followed the noise, already amused, and froze in the doorway at the sight. Draco stood in front of the vibrating washing machine, his pale face a mix of fury and wide-eyed terror. He looked like he was watching a Hungarian Horntail getting ready to strike. The machine shuddered violently, groaning as if it were about to sprout legs and march out of the house entirely.

“Why is it doing that?!” he demanded, flinging an accusatory finger at the poor appliance. “It’s not normal! Machines shouldn’t move like that!”

You bit back a laugh, though your lips twitched with the effort. “What did you put in there, Draco?”

“Clothes!” he snapped, his tone defensive as if you’d just accused him of committing high treason. His arms crossed tightly over his chest, and his chin tilted up in that trademark Malfoy arrogance, though his shaking voice betrayed him. “And maybe… maybe a pair of shoes. But how was I supposed to know it would throw a tantrum about it?!”

That was it—you lost it. You burst out laughing so hard your knees buckled, and you had to clutch the doorframe for support. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you doubled over, your stomach cramping from the force of it. Draco, meanwhile, stood glaring at you, his cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation.

“This isn’t funny!” he huffed, his sharp tone completely undercut by how ridiculous he looked. “I think it’s trying to kill me!”

“Kill you? Oh, sweetheart, no,” you managed to gasp out between giggles, wiping at your damp eyes. “But you’re absolutely killing me right now.”

Finally able to breathe, you stepped closer to inspect the chaos. Peeking inside the washer, you found the culprits: a single coat, one pair of socks, two heavy sneakers, and what looked like an entire cauldron’s worth of laundry detergent. The foam was nearly pouring out of the machine, and it gave one last menacing thud before falling eerily silent.

“Draco,” you began, trying to sound serious despite your laughter, “you can’t just throw shoes in the washer! Or half a bottle of detergent, for that matter!”

“How was I supposed to know that?!” he hissed, throwing his hands in the air. “This… this Muggle contraption is an instrument of torture! I refuse to go near it again. You’ll have to do the laundry from now on.”

You smirked, leaning up to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “Oh no, love. You started this mess; you’re cleaning it up. But don’t worry, I’ll teach you. Just try not to blow up the house in the meantime, yeah?”

Draco groaned, muttering under his breath about “Muggle nonsense” as he begrudgingly followed your instructions. You couldn’t stop grinning, though. For all his dramatics, there was something oddly endearing about seeing him completely out of his depth—and utterly defeated—by something as mundane as a washing machine.

Dishwashing wasn’t exactly Draco’s strong suit either. If the washing machine had been his nemesis, the dishwasher was its equally vengeful twin.

You walked into the kitchen, stopping dead in your tracks at the sight before you. A frothy mountain of soap suds was cascading out of the dishwasher and spreading across the floor like some kind of bubbly, unstoppable avalanche. Draco stood in the middle of the chaos, staring at the mess with a look of sheer disbelief, a bottle of dish soap still clutched in his hand.

“What did you do?” you asked, your tone torn between exasperation and uncontrollable laughter.

“I put the soap in!” he exclaimed, his brows furrowed as if you were the crazy one in this situation. “You said it needed soap!”

“Yeah, but not half the bloody bottle, Draco!” you cried, gesturing wildly at the foamy disaster surrounding you both.

“Well, you didn’t specify how much!” he shot back defensively, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. “How am I supposed to know these things? It’s not as if there’s a spell for proper soap-to-dishwasher ratios!”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, though the corners of your mouth were already twitching upward. When you peeked through your fingers again, Draco had run a hand through his perfectly styled blond hair, messing it up just enough to give him that irresistibly disheveled look. Too bad he was utterly hopeless in this moment.

“This is ridiculous,” he grumbled, glaring at the soap suds as if they had personally wronged him. “How do Muggles survive without magic? Honestly, it’s barbaric.”

You couldn’t help it anymore—you burst out laughing, doubling over and clutching the counter for support. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad!” you managed between giggles. “You’re just… hilariously bad at it.”

Draco shot you a withering look that would have made lesser mortals quake in their boots. “Glad you’re enjoying my suffering,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh, I am,” you replied cheekily, grinning ear to ear as you grabbed a towel to start mopping up the mess. “I’m enjoying it a lot, actually.”

He groaned again, tossing the soap bottle onto the counter in defeat before crouching down to help you clean up. “You know, you could help a little more and laugh a little less,” he grumbled under his breath.

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” you teased, tossing him another towel. “Besides, you’re lucky you didn’t break the damn thing.”

Draco muttered something about “Muggle contraptions being out to get him,” but you couldn’t stop smiling. For all his frustration, there was something undeniably endearing about watching him try—and fail—at the most basic household tasks. As long as he didn’t blow up the kitchen, you figured you’d survive this particular domestic adventure… barely.

One particularly unforgettable evening, you walked into the kitchen to find Draco Malfoy locked in an epic battle with what had apparently become his latest foe: the vacuum cleaner.

“Why is it chasing me?!” he shouted, his voice an octave higher than usual as he backed into a corner. The vacuum’s hose flailed wildly, as if it had a mind of its own, and Draco looked genuinely terrified, his wand gripped tightly in one hand.

You froze for half a second, taking in the scene, before bursting into uncontrollable laughter. You had to clutch the counter to keep from collapsing. “Draco, it’s not alive!” you managed to gasp out, tears streaming down your face.

His silver-grey eyes snapped to yours, full of indignation. “Then explain why it’s attacking me!” he retorted, his chest heaving with frustration. “This… this abomination is clearly bewitched!”

“It’s not bewitched,” you said, still laughing so hard it hurt. “You just turned it on without holding the handle properly!”

Draco’s glare could have frozen the Sahara. He brandished his wand at the vacuum like it was a particularly nasty boggart. “It’s trying to eat me,” he declared with absolute certainty.

You snorted, finally catching your breath enough to step in. Taking pity on him, you reached over and turned the vacuum off with a simple press of a button. It went silent instantly, leaving Draco staring at it with suspicion as if it might spring back to life at any moment.

But before he could recover his pride, you whipped out your phone and snapped a picture of his wide-eyed, cornered expression. His hair was slightly mussed, and he looked so hilariously out of place that you couldn’t resist.

“Give me that,” he demanded, snatching the phone from your hand with a scandalized look. “If you show this to anyone, I swear—”

“Relax,” you interrupted, grinning mischievously. “It’s just for me. You’re way too cute when you’re scared.”

Draco muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Insufferable Muggle contraptions and their even more insufferable girlfriends.” But despite his protests, you caught the tiniest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re lucky you’re adorable,” he added begrudgingly, handing your phone back with a dramatic sigh.

“Oh, I know,” you said cheekily, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek. “And you’re lucky you’re mine, even if you are completely hopeless with anything Muggle.”

His ears turned pink, though he quickly tried to hide it with his usual Malfoy bravado. “Hopeless?” he echoed, smirking now. “We’ll see who’s hopeless when I hex that infernal contraption into oblivion.”

You laughed again, shaking your head as you grabbed his hand. “Come on, let’s leave the vacuum alone before you traumatize yourself. Or worse—me.”

And though he grumbled the whole way out of the kitchen, you couldn’t help but notice how he held onto your hand just a little tighter.

By the end of the first month, Draco had reluctantly mastered the art of microwaving (under your strict supervision) and had developed a deep, abiding distrust of both the washing machine and the dishwasher. But despite his many domestic disasters, you couldn’t help but find him utterly endearing.

One quiet morning, you wandered into the kitchen, still wearing your sleep shirt and a pair of shorts, your hair slightly messy from bed. Draco was already there, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, sipping tea as he watched you with a faint smirk. His grey eyes followed you as you padded over to the toaster, your bare feet making soft sounds on the tiled floor.

You grabbed a couple of slices of bread and popped them into the toaster like it was second nature. You turned the dial, pressed the lever, and leaned against the counter to wait, completely unfazed.

Draco, on the other hand, looked utterly baffled. “That’s it?” he asked, tilting his head like a curious puppy.

You glanced over your shoulder, amused. “What do you mean, ‘that’s it’? It’s a toaster, Draco. You put the bread in, press the button, and voilà—toast.”

His brows furrowed as if the simplicity offended him. “That’s absurdly easy. Too easy. It can’t be that straightforward.”

“It really is,” you said with a teasing grin, turning back to face the toaster. “But I guess that’s a foreign concept for someone who’s used to snapping their fingers and having everything magically done for them.”

Before you could say anything more, you felt his presence behind you. Warm hands slid around your waist, and his chest pressed against your back as his chin came to rest lightly on your shoulder. “Are you mocking me, love?” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, his breath tickling your ear.

“Always,” you replied, though your voice was softer now. His touch was distracting, his arms holding you snugly against him, and you couldn’t help but feel your pulse quicken.

Draco hummed, his lips curving into a smirk against your shoulder. “It’s not my fault I’ve had house-elves and magic to cater to my every whim. You’ve spoiled me too, you know.”

“Oh, have I?” you asked, tilting your head to look at him. “I didn’t realize making toast would put me in the same league as your house-elves.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your back. “You make it look so effortless,” he said, his tone suddenly softer, almost reverent. “Everything you do, really. It’s infuriating how competent you are. Meanwhile, I’m out here battling washing machines and vacuums.”

You laughed, leaning back into him as his arms tightened slightly around you. “It’s called basic life skills, Draco. You might want to pick up a few.”

He let out a dramatic sigh, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “Why would I bother when I have you to handle all of that for me?”

“Oh, so I’m your house-elf now?” you teased, arching an eyebrow.

His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he murmured, “You’re far more than that, love. Though I wouldn’t say no to you in an apron…”

You turned your head sharply, your cheeks heating up as you swatted his arm. “Draco Malfoy!”

He laughed, low and teasing, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “What? Just a thought.”

The toaster popped, startling you both. You laughed, and Draco reluctantly loosened his hold on you, though his hands stayed on your hips. “See?” you said, pulling the toast out with a triumphant grin. “Easy. No house-elf required.”

He watched you with a mixture of admiration and amusement. “Maybe I don’t need house-elves,” he said, leaning in close again, his lips ghosting over your jawline. “Maybe I just need you.”

Your breath hitched, and you turned to face him, holding the toast in one hand as you placed the other on his chest. “Careful, Draco,” you said, your voice playful but your heart racing. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Good,” he murmured, his smirk softening into something more genuine as he leaned down to kiss you. The toast was forgotten as you melted into him, his lips warm and gentle against yours.

As the kiss deepened, he pulled back just enough to whisper, “But you’re still not making me learn that infernal contraption.”

You laughed against his lips, shaking your head. “You’re hopeless.”

“And yet, you still love me,” he said smugly, his hands sliding back around your waist.

“Unfortunately for me, I do,” you replied, grinning.

Draco’s smirk returned as he captured your lips again, the kitchen filled with the warm scent of toast and the unmistakable feeling of home.

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@ferntv @katie_kinz

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

Bakery Girl and Salaryman ~ Ch. 1

fluffy Nanami x Bakery Girl (you!) in which you are crushing on your regular customer and grow closer by flirting over sandwiches // [ao3]

edit: Ch. 2 available here!

Your friend hid a giggle behind her hand as she ducked into the kitchen and waved at you. “Hey, your boyfriend’s outside!” You spun around from where you were wiping the counter and flung the soggy dishcloth at her.

“You know he is so not! Quit embarrassing me!”

She sidestepped neatly out of the way and beamed an infuriating smile back. “Yeah but you know you wish he was. I’d love to serve him myself but it looks like my break is…now!” She wiggled her fingers at you and slid out the back door of the bakery, leaving you alone.

You knew for a fact that her break wasn’t for another hour, but you rolled your eyes and tied on your apron, washing your hands slowly at the sink. You could pretend it was for responsible-employee-hygiene purposes, but you were also trying to quash the irritating swarm of butterflies that had appeared in your stomach. You couldn’t help but be intrigued by the quiet blonde who had started frequenting your shop lately. The quiet, mysterious, gorgeous blonde…

“Not my boyfriend”, you mumbled to yourself, adjusting your red beret and biting your lip all the same as you emerged behind the register.

His back was to you, and you took the opportunity to let your gaze linger. His pinstripe suit hung perfectly off his broad shoulders, tapering over his narrow waist and long legs. His head was a little tilted in the noon sunlight, soft prisms from the entrance window reflected onto his blonde hair. You were struck by a sudden urge to brush your fingertips over his undercut, wondering if his gelled hair would fall out of place, over his forehead, into his dark eyes-

Eyes that were definitely looking right at you. Fuck. When did he turn around?

You slap on your customer-service smile, a little strained as your cheeks flush. “Good afternoon!”

He doesn’t smile, but his voice is gentle when he replies. “Afternoon.”

The man looks exhausted. His sharp cheekbones stand out underneath deep circles that sit heavy beneath his eyes. You bite the inside of your cheek, and concern washes away the embarrassment. You don’t stop to think before asking, “Are you getting enough sleep?”

His eyes widen a fraction at the familiarity of the question, and you wish you could take it back…but at the same time, you worry that no one else would ask.

The silence stretches between you until he raises an eyebrow and asks, “Are you?”

You look up at him, valiantly forcing your gaze up from where it wants to rest on his tight-pressed lips. What would they look like relaxed? On your cheek?

The butterflies in your stomach seem to have spread into your brain, and you laugh, leaning forward on the counter. “Well my shift starts at 4am, so not really, if I’m being honest.”

He nods seriously. “Bakeries are very essential. Your work is quite important.”

He’s not exactly giving you much to go on, but this is the longest conversation you’ve had with the stoic blonde so far, so you make the most of it. “What is it that you do, then?”

His eyebrows knit together and he looks away. “I make rich people richer. My job is…non-essential. Not like yours.” A ghost of a smile twists his marble features. “People would certainly miss this bakery if it were to disappear.”

“Well don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere! We! We’re not going anywhere, I mean.” You smile hard enough to make your cheeks ache, willing him to move on without thinking too much about what you said. Casting around for something to do with your hands, you begin putting together his usual lunch order. “So, is it rich people running you ragged then?”

He smiles, a real, actual, too-brief smile. The crack in his demeanor is like the sun breaking through clouds, and you have to look down at the bread you’re buttering to shake off the dazzle.

“You could say that.”

The two of you go quiet again, but it’s more comfortable this time around. He watches you work, and you would swear he’s admiring the precision of your sandwich artistry. Or you’re delusional.

You put the finishing touches on the sandwich and slide it into the toaster over behind you. When you turn back to face him, he’s looking at you quizzically. “Pardon me but, I never ordered.”

“Oh, you always get the same thing so I made it without even thinking, I’m sorry!” You apologize quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up for the third time in this five-minute conversation. God you’re being such a dork! Get it together!

He cuts off your apology and inclines his head to you. “I didn’t realize you were…paying attention.” You’re astounded to see twin spots of color appear on his pale cheeks. “I suppose I am a man of habit. They stopped selling these at my local convenience store.”

So that’s why he’s come around so often lately! You offer mental thanks to the fickle gods of his local convenience store, and the gods of sandwiches for good measure. “Well I’m sure ours are better anyway, being an essential bakery and all”, you tease. The toaster dings behind you, and you slide the warm sandwich into a plastic bag.

“I’d say so”, he replies quietly, the corner of his mouth tilting up as he looks at you. He looks marginally more relaxed, and you can’t help but feel proud.

“Well, please do keep coming by. We’re always happy to see you, Mister…”

“Nanami. Nanami Kento.” His face has settled back into its familiar flatness, but you this time you think you can see warmth hidden in his tired eyes.

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Nanami.” You bend down to grab a paper bag off the top of the stack you keep below the register for to-go orders, and package his sandwich as he pays. “I hope you get some rest soon.”

Another split-second smile, and he takes the bag from you. “You as well.”

You force yourself to stand calmly by the register until the door shuts behind him, then you rush back into the kitchen and hide your face in your hands, a stupid smile spreading behind them. Nanami Kento.

Your friend saunters back in from her break with annoyingly perfect timing. “How did it go with your boyfriend?”

You’re too giddy to tease her, and give her a grin. “I know his name!”

“Ooh that’s amazing!” she squeals. “That’ll be so helpful when he texts you. What else was he going to say, ‘hey bakery girl?’ Now he can be all, ‘hello, this is whatever-his-name-is’”.

“When he…what? I didn’t give him my number,” you frown.

She steps closer and gives you a sheepish smile. “You…sorta did.”

You round on her, eyes wide with dread. “What did you do!”

“Well, you said he always orders lunch to-go, right? And you always put those in the paper bags, so I figured if I wrote your number on one of the bags and left it on top…”

“Oh my god…” you slump against the dishwasher and hide your face in your apron. “How could you do this to me!”

Your friend mimicked your despairing pose and peeked behind your apron. “I’m sorry, you would just be so cute together! And I knew neither of you would do anything, so I thought I could give you a little nudge. It’ll be worth it, you’ll see!”

Her earnestness wore you down, and you leaned your head on her shoulder. “Fine. But if this blows up on me…”

She threw up her hands in mock surrender and scooted away. “Okay, okay, fair! Just wait and see. You’ll be thanking me at the wedding!”

You rolled your eyes at that, but stood up and prepared to go back to work. True, you never would’ve been bold enough to do it yourself, but you remember the blush that crept up his cheeks when he realized that you remembered his order, and allow yourself to hope he’ll have the same reaction to finding your number. You picture the smile you earned from him, and all you want is the chance to see it again.

[chloeangelic]

addressing the drama (with receipts)

I wanted to have my ducks in a row before speaking out instead of just responding; I’m not doing this to change anyone’s opinions - it’s really not possible change someone’s perception of me even if it’s based on falsehoods - but I need to do this so I know I’ve said and shown what needs to be shown, and people can do with it what they please. 

To the readers and writers who have blocked me, unfollowed me, and mutuals who have stopped talking to me over this - I’m really, really sad you didn’t come to me first and give me the opportunity to explain what was going on. I understand if you wanted to distance yourself from drama but I also need you to understand that this was not discourse-drama I willingly got myself into. This was a month of frequent harassment and slander that eventually turned into bullying by a group of people using false info, hiding behind side blogs and anons, and I hoped it would blow over but it never seemed to stop. With anons turned off for most of the last two months, people have gone to my friends’ inboxes instead to harass them about me (and insult them in the process), and I can’t do this anymore.

I feel so alienated and disliked in this community that I can’t go on the dash without feeling like I shouldn’t interact with anyone out of fear that they’ll get uncomfortable seeing me in their notifs. People keep saying they want the community to get better and then they jump on the bandwagon of vague posting and RBing without taking a second to verify the claims, clearly not realizing how much hurt it causes to perpetuate it. If you’re reading this, I  hope your name isn't the next one they pull out of the hat when they want someone new to push off the platform. 

Explanations, timelines and receipts below. 

-

For anyone waiting for an explanation regarding the posts and anons about me that have circulated for weeks, or waiting for receipts proving or disproving that I’m a mean girl who spends my time talking shit, here you go. I am so beyond hurt, I don’t even know what to say. I’m floored, I’m so disappointed in this community and I’m so sad. In the last two weeks, I stayed up until 4am one night receiving screenshots of posts and anons about me, I cried, I tried to understand why this has happened to me, and I have sat here day after day with no answers. 

If you think I’m being melodramatic, try losing a quarter of your mutuals and having a bunch of people block you when you’ve had either no interaction with them or they’ve all been positive, and see how that feels, on top of constant rumors about you being a terrible person when you know you’ve barely had any negative interactions with anyone on the platform. I can’t be on tumblr any longer without exonerating myself and putting it out there that all of this has been one gigantic mess based on lies about me, seemingly compounded by grievances people have against Gracie (some one whose personal conversations have nothing to do with me). Either I do this, or I log out forever and only post on ao3, cause I feel like the fucking grim reaper here. Posts about me being an awful person are still circulating, despite the original post being deleted and the follow up stating that the OP has talked to me and they have apologized.

I’m not naming names in this. I will be using person A/B/C/D to make it less confusing. I’ve removed identifying information from the screenshots because even though I’m hurt by these people, I know that they will get dogpiled and harassed if I identify them, and I want it all to stop. Several have apologized to me and I have accepted. 

Sometime in December, rumors started circulating that there was a “big/elite writers discord” where they talked shit about small writers (I’m not in any discords specifically for writers and I have never heard of such a server). At about the same time, person A - someone who was very active in my own, now-deleted discord server, started frequently vagueposting about me, calling me a mean girl and, intentionally or not, made it seem like I was part of this “elite group of writers”. This is someone who I have never had a negative interaction with and who seemingly out of nowhere decided that I call myself elite and I’m a terrible person. 

Person B had some grievances with myself, Iris, and Gracie it seemed, so they went to person C and accused us of talking shit in our voice chats. I assume person A and B have talked about me at some point and validated each other’s claims, but I can't know that for sure. Person B messaged me from a burner account and apologized, then seemingly deleted the account after I responded.

Gracie frequently posted about us three chatting, and although I understand this might have felt alienating to some, many writers are open about having group chats with each other. All we did was write, edit, and Gracie sometimes made memes. We talked about non-fic stuff often, and when Gracie had an issue with other writers and she was upset, we talked about it. That’s what friends do. She knows that I believe those situations were handled poorly. One of those situations came to light recently - I had a very pleasant conversation with the writer involved, and we are still in touch.

I have spoken to person C, who posted the most “popular” smear post about me and some of my friends. They retracted their statements and profusely apologized to us, admitting it was based on stuff they heard from person B, showing me screenshots of the conversation. However, their original posts are still circulating through reblogs despite being deleted from their account. 

Person D also posted about me and my friends, however their post was sort of ridiculous, accusing me of spending more time replying to anons than writing. I found this funny, but the way they slut shamed my friend was absolutely not humorous, and dragging a random writer in to criticize them was a strange attempt at adding fuel to the fire. 

-

And for the receipts, 

I blocked person A after seeing a handful of vague posts clearly about me, and after they interacted with every single rude anon posted about me that I saw. I think that’s reasonable, no? I’m not gonna post screenshots of their posts cause I honestly just don’t want to look at them again, they make me feel kind of sick if I'm honest, but if anyone doesn’t believe me, they are welcome to DM me and I will send. 

Person B messaged me, admitted to partaking in this mess, and apologized. This is part of a LONG message:

Person C apologized over message and called me on discord. We had a conversation clearing things up, they deleted their posts and wrote a public apology. 

If you need any proof that person B’s claims were, in fact, baseless, look at this exchange between person B and person C after person C had cleared things up with me.

Person D honestly just creeps me out, cause what the fuck is this? Fine if you don’t like me based on my writing or my persona on here but… Why the witch hunt? 

ETA: Person C asked person D to take down their post and they never responded. This was sent prior to that, I know the full context, I just thought this specific part was worth sharing to show how vile some people allow themselves to be behind burner accounts.

What kind of behavior is this? This was from a sideblog, and I don't know what their main account is. It creeps me the fuck out knowing this person is lurking somewhere in the community.

I have hated every moment of this. None of this has been fun for me. This has completely fucked up my motivation to write and my enjoyment of it, it has made me anxious, it has messed with my self esteem, and it has made me want to log out of Tumblr and not come back. 

Please, I beg, if you have an issue with me, just come to me and I promise I will have a conversation with you. You can’t tell people’s tone over anon and I don’t think that’s a good way to have a conversation, especially one about something that should be solved in private, so they remain off, but my DM’s are open. 

I'm so sick of seeing vagueposts and trying to decipher if they're about me. Having to do that a bunch of times messes with your head.

I'm not sure what to do moving forward, but I needed to say my piece. I don't want to talk about this again, I want to put this behind me. I seriously hope this doesn't wreck my last remaining want to share my writing on here.

Thanks again to everywhere who has supported me in my DMs and comments, you mean the world to me 🤍🤍🤍 And if you found yourself duped by all this but change your opinion on me now or eventually, I won't hold a grudge, and I'm happy to speak again and pick up where we left off.

[chosotallgf]

DOUBLE IDENTITY #3 - TOJI FUSHIGURO

🔙 previous chapter

SYNOPSIS - y/n is a third year college student who is about to intern for the top business company in Japan in a week, what happens when she unknowingly cross paths with her future boss not knowing he's hiding a secret.

WARNINGS - mafiaboss toji x fém!reader, geto x fém! reader, alcohol, moderate au, sexual activity, criminal activity & behavior, naoya is his own warning, angst & fluff (not really lol) not proof read

As the night when on and more drinks were consumed, it was obvious how wasted you were than everyone else in the group. Slurring horrible jokes with Gojo and dancing like you were alone in your room. God how you wish you listen to utahime earlier and took it easy, that stupid bartender just wanted to run our pockets empty.

as you where dancing you felt someone behind you, scared it was a complète stranger but it was just geto “dancing all alone here?” he whispered in my ear. his hot alcohol breath sending shivers down my spine. Turning my head to look behind me I giggle “are you gonna be a gentleman and dance with me?” flashing my eyelashes up at him.

his tall present shadowing over me was already enough to make me feel things I didn’t want too. “I thought you wouldn’t ask” as soon as he said that I got right to it and started grinding on him. his hands griping my hips in a smooth manner following the music.

I’m feeling up against his crotch I can tell he’s starting to get hard “someone excited” i teased at his growing erection. “You find my little problem funny huh” geto slurred as he slowly started to move his hands down to my ass and slap it getting a gasp out of me.

Across the dance floor watching the whole interaction shoko shook her head her “those two together drunk is a bad idea they do reckless things than regret it” “don’t be a cock blocker” Gojo comes behind them with a tray of more drinks. “he hasn’t had anything action this whole semester” utahime whips her head around “and how would you know that” she questions.

“Because the dorm rooms are like paper thin so everyone I could know if he was, can’t say for myself tho” “pathetic, well I’m stopping it, it’s already 4am I’m tried and I’m not babysitting any longer.” Utahime march over to you and geto startling the both of you.

“omg utahime you scared me where have you been” you slurred out trying to hug her. “That’s enough for tonight let’s go say bye” talking to you like the a child who’s leaving a weekend sleepover. “Already? The fun was just getting started” geto winks at you and you blush. “Yes now come on before I leave you”

Even tho she would never you don’t take her words lightly. following her back to you guys area, you stop mid way realizing you had to pee so badly so you quietly sneak away. ‘Shit where is the bathroom around here’ finally seeing the sign you wobble over and as you came closer you in the hall there was a long line forming outside the women’s bathroom.

‘I’m gonna pissed my self if I don’t get to a toilet any sooner’ you whine. suddenly, an idea popped in your head to use the up stairs bathroom surely it was for VIP only in that area but you could work your way around it. Looking out to see who was securing the stairs to there surprisingly didn’t see anyone.

‘That’s odd they would always have a guy or two on stand by, oh well’. ducking going up the stairs so you wouldn’t get caught as you walk by slightly crack door, peeking you saw older business casual men no later than their 30s getting lap dances by strippers as cash was getting blown around.

‘So this what happens up here, I thought they only serve drinks?’. Moving on, reaching a dark lighten hall way, you finally found a bathroom with staff only on it. Not caring you enter the one person bathroom.

A/N - the few chapters it’s gonna get more interesting :)

[merlieve]

Hello! I wanted to request a Gilbert x fem!reader where the reader seeks comfort within Gilbert’s arms after a devastating event in the reader life, the rest is up to you

i’m only me when i’m with you :: g.b

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬, 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲-𝐯𝐮𝐥𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞.

𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 | 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐬: 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐀𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[ Note: you know how i’m a SLUT for hurt comfort, so now i’m chugging this one out, also Dr. Gunn was a real medical publisher, i did my research. sorry if it’s shorter than usual it’s literally 4am ]

The [Last Name] household had been a well-respected family at Avonlea, their reputation of formality and intellect exceeding expectations. That’s why when [Name] had gotten an 80% on her mathematics evaluation, her father ridiculed her for her academic performance;

“How have you managed to get such a scarce grade in mathematics?! Are you an imbecile?” Screeched [Father’s Name], gripping his daughters' worksheet in his hand, veins in his head, almost about to burst. “You’ve shattered our family name!”

Standing in front of her disappointed father, [Name] could hardly do anything, tears flowing from her cheeks, as she felt her heart pounding against her chest.

[Mother’s Name] quickly shut down her husband’s behaviour, “We don’t have the time for this [Father’s Name], let's talk about this in a civilized manner -” “Who cares?! Our daughter’s an idiot!” Interrupted by her husband, she knew better than to fuel his fire. “Times like these, I ask myself if she’s even mine…” Whispered [Father’s Name], tearing [Name]’s worksheet until it was shredded.

As the papers fell in front of her trembling body, [Name] wasted no time in leaving her home, grabbing her coat and shunning the calls of her parents, pleading for her to come back.

…

While walking by the eye-catching rivers and cattle farms of her town, [Name] didn’t seem to enjoy the beautiful scenery, eyes blurry while being filled with tears. [Name] felt like there was no place to go, the once comfort of her own home felt like the last thing she wanted to go back to. If she had nowhere to go, why were her legs taking her to a certain Blythe’s home?

Knock, Knock. Knock.

The faded knocking on the front door startled Gilbert, who was scanning the latest book of Dr. Gunn, he hadn’t expected any visitors to come, ‘then again, it could be the wind,’ and dismissed it, but when he heard a faint; “Gilbert? Is anybody home?” He quickly ran down the stairs, sniffing his clothes to make sure he seemed decent enough.

Opening the door, Gilbert was alarmed at [Name]’s shaky body, “G-Gilbert…” sighed the girl before him, her lovely face drenched in tears. She wasted no moment collapsing in his arms, hugging him with all her baggage. “Don’t let go, please… I’m scared, I don’t know what to do, I have nowhere to go…” Whimpered [Name], shoving her face in his neck, inhaling her beloved’s scent.

Taken aback, Gilbert hadn’t expected [Name]’s sudden vulnerability, but he didn’t need to understand her to give the same amount of comfort back. Hearing her shaky breath, Gilbert’s heart was filled with compassion, “I will never let go. I’ll protect you, darling, I always have and never failed,” Placing his hand on the back of her head while the other patted her back, as he attempted to soothe her.

Whatever happens, [Name] always comes back to Gilbert.

[karinadele]

Budget Walmart Medic

Ratchet x reader

ch7.

Prev (AO3)

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Warnings: Graphic descriptions of incorrect medical procedures, Character on the verge of death, Bad writing, Drugs, Mentions of suicidal ideation, PTSD, its 4am and im not proofreading or reformatting, saving that for when i post on ao3

“Fuck this shit.” You utter to yourself as you slam the door of your apartment closed. Sliding your back down the door to fall to the ground as you clutch your hair. Is it really too much to ask people to respect your decisions? Besides, it was just a metaphor for what you were feeling. Everyone says ‘Oh I’m gonna fucking kill myself!’ but most don’t mean it. Are all Cybertronians this stubborn? Sighing as you push yourself off the door and tossing your keys to the kitchen counter. Fine, sure, you’re a little suicidal, but just passively. It’s been years since you’ve visited grippy sock jail anyways.

But you’re just so mad. Respect is always something to be valued. You didn’t choose to be in this world, and you’d be damned if others don’t respect the choices you do. Even if it means death. Slamming your head against the fridge as you reach to the cupboard and grab a pill bottle. You haven’t been this pissed since your ex. The little white bar with the letters XANAX engraved twirls in your finger before you decide to pop it down. Not even bothering with a glass of water as you just dip your head into the sink and drink it straight from the tap.

Why are you so pissed? It’s just a passing comment that you’ve heard a million times before, yet something boils in you. Is it because your past few days have been nothing but chaos? Have you even had a chance to take a breather and process it? –And no, a cigarette break does not count.

No. There’s something more to it. Is it because Ratchet said it?

Giving up, you decide to end this shit before it gets even more complicated. Classic too scared and scarred to be involved in anything, so you cut off everyone before anything happens. But in this situation, it’s completely acceptable. Alien robots telling you want to do?! If you weren’t being locked up for trying to hurt yourself, you’d be locked up for psychosis at this rate.

One more all-nighter. You tell yourself. Contact Raf and ship the damn guy off and be done with your problems. Poor Raf. Being such a young age and already wrapped in otherworldly business. Either he has a will of steel or just doesn’t know any better. Or maybe it’s not actually that bad. Refusing to entertain that thought, you slide your computer chair back and flop into it.

A child wouldn’t be awake at this time anyways. Typing away as you let your thoughts wander. He’s on the run too right? You feel a pang in your chest as you realize a child can’t even enjoy a good night’s sleep. Probably with that sleek muscle car napping in the back. How you wish you could offer him a hug and a good night’s rest.

Wait.

So why don’t you?

You’re not affiliated with any governments, the Decepticons don’t know you, and you have a spare bed. Besides, you were already on your way to contact him.

Hastily typing out a message as you feel the effects of the Xanax kicking in. Another day saved by drugs. Lord have mercy you probably need rehab after all this. Locating Raf’s number wasn’t that hard, everyone has a social media account these days. Even kids. The real kicker is getting it through without detection. Opening up Scapy as you slog away encrypting each packet.

By the time you’ve hit send, It was already dawn. Another successful all nighter. You take a moment to lean back and relax, knowing it’s now done. Sluggishly dragging yourself over to the fridge as you nibble on a block of cheese –hey protein right? And flop back into your chair, pulling up your music to relax.

You were so engrossed in your music and just catching up with your breath that you didn’t even notice there was a little figure outside your window. Being on the ground floor meant not only bugs, but apparently also creeps.

What the fuck.

Carefully, you pulled back the curtains. If it was any other day, you would have ran into the bathroom and locked yourself up. But viva la drugs! What you find… Is Raf. Along with the black muscle car fully transformed standing on the lawn. Your landlord is gonna be pissed. She spends hours planting those flowers and now..? Yikes.

Hurriedly, you grab your keys and head on out to meet Raf. They sure got here quick? How even? Has it been that long since you sent the message, or can that car just drive insane speeds? Under the dark, you don’t notice much, but the moment you let Raf in, –and told the autobot to lay low and get off the lawn, you realized a surprising problem. Raf is hurt. Barely holding it together.

Scrambling as you pick him up and lay him on your bed, you check for his vitals, the ABCs. Airway seems to be intact, breathing is there, if a little bit shallow. And circulation.. well you don't know. but he’s bleeding with wounds everywhere and you feel your blood boiling. He’s only 10! (he’s 12) how can anyone do this to a child?! You wanted to offer him solace and a good night of rest, not like this!

Flying out your door once you made sure Raf is breathing, as you head to his car companion to find some answers. Only to be replies with bleeps and bloops. Great. An autistic boy with an autistic car. And Raf is in no shape to translate, so the next best is… ah shit. Ratchet. The same one that’s got you all stressed out. Shoving your emotions aside for the nth time of the day, as a life is more important, adrenaline pumping through you, you bolt downstairs into the garage.

“RATCHET! WE HAVE A PROBLEM!” You yell out at him, huffing and panting from running.

Ratchet, still in his little world, under stasis, does not budge. You don’t have time for this! For fuck’s sake! Not another near death’s door! Completely pumped on adrenaline, you smack him, kicking his wheels, banging on his windows and eventually climbing into his hood to smack the windshield. Gosh you wish you brought a crowbar.

Just as you were about to pick his lock and just drive him out, when the medic stirs.

“WHAT IN PRIMUS’ NAME ARE YOU DOING?!” He shouts back. Clearly not liking being forcibly woken from stasis, or appreciating some human crawling all over him causing damage to him.

“We have a situation, Ratchet.” You try to explain to him as calmly as you can. But underneath that, there’s a tinge of stress and panic. “Raf’s not doing good. He’s here.”

For the second time of the night, Ratchet nearly forgot he’s underground and smacks the ceiling trying to transform. Pieces of concrete fall down between the two of you.

“IS HE INJURED??” Optics widened, half transformed, half kneeling down. Raf. He’s been through so much. Dark Energon, and now this! FRAG! And he can’t even contact June or anyone without endangering everyone. He feels so helpless again. Panic also waves through him. realizing just how useless he is again. Again.

Your voice snapped him out of it. “He’s in my apartment right now. His breathing is shallow, airways are clear, he’s losing blood as we speak… ah! But that Camero is here too. I can’t make out left or right about what he’s saying though! Ratchet! Lets go!”

Still grounded in fear, his processors disconnecting as he’s reliving his trauma of how he couldn't do anything for Raf the first time, and how Bumblebee is here too –Another reminder of how he’s failed everyone. Optics widened as he shakes in place.

“RATCHET! FUCK! PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!”

You call out again, as you kick his leg.

“OW! YOU FRAGGING-”

He caught himself before he did anything, realizing you just snapped him out of it. Transforming fully back into his vehicle mode, as you scramble in and direct him over to the main streets, where the other Autobot is.

You let the boys figure out what happened, as much as you’d like to stay back and have a full recount on what happened, Raf is your priority. Running fast as you can back into your building, with how stressed and uncoordinated you are, slamming into the door before you even turned the doorknob like an idiot. When you finally make it in, you’re greeted with a child that’s half your side barely hanging on a thread.

You want to just break down and cry. You don’t know him, but this is not it. Everyone deserves to enjoy life. With the last of the Xanax countering you adrenaline, you get to work. “Sorry Raf. Sis is gonna have to take a look at you. Or try anyways.”

Ratchet and Bee are busy arguing about what happened. That a decepticon managed to trace his alt mode– even with the new paint job. Particular because they noticed Raf. Gunning for the child, relentlessly firing one after another to him. Bumblebee did everything he could to protect Raf, but it was not enough. Both of them sustained severe damage. Ratchet nearly wanted to scream and shout at Bee for being so reckless to have gotten Raf into this situation, but Bee interjected that after they managed to get into hiding, Raf’s phone got a notification. With whatever strength the kid had, he relayed that contact with you was established. And instantly they peeled off, going way above traffic limits, speeding off on the highway in the night to meet you. After all, Ratchet is with you.

Ratchet’s energon lines were nearly boiling. He snapped at Bee. He can’t do anything for humans! And he can’t even contact June! He couldn’t even fix Bumblebee’s voice box! He feels like a failure! And Raf! The one child he’s gotten close to, is now utterly helpless!

As the two boys argue outside, you’ve already started to work on Raf. Context to what happened would be nice, but a critical situation does not afford time for it. Raf is drifting in and out of consciousness, but with whatever words he can explain, he’s pointed out he’s gotten shot, as well as several metal shrapnel had embedded into him.

You’re full of rage. But thankfully for you, stress fuels you. Instantly snapping into work mode, you bring out your medkit. A kit that’s more of a duffel bag littered with supplies that’s probably half expired. Regardless, it’s the best we can work with. You don’t even noticed the two autobots staring outside your window as you work away on Raf.

Do they send him to a human hospital? They certainly can, but will human doctors know what to do when these are energon infused weapons? Would Raf’s family be contacted? Will that endanger the whole hiding in secrecy more? Ratchet is losing it, kicking away plants and punching trees, while Bee is desperately trying to calm him down, despite being hurt himself.

You hear the commotions outside, but are completely tunnel focused, locked into working on Raf. Raf explains he’s struggling to breath, and you noticed one of his lungs is working over time, and the other is very shallow, rather than breathing together, they’re alternating. Considering he was hit with a chest, its not uncommon for it to have developed into tension pneumothorax. You really hope it isn’t, as that’s not a procedure that should be performed in some drug addict’s apartment, but shortly after, his breathing stops. This is not good. There wouldn't be enough time to call for emergency services. Technically you have an emergency vehicle already, but said vehicle is not versed in human medicine. The good Samaritan law right? Either you do something now and hope it brings him back, or he’ll die. or die trying. There’s only one logical option.

Hurriedly cutting his clothes off, as you feel around on his collapsed lung. A child should be two ribs down. Digging on your bottom shelf for vinyl gloves, shoving it on and praying Raf isn’t allergic to anything, you grab your box cutter and quickly swap out the current blade with a new blade. Snatching the vodka on the coffee table and pour it all over your hands, the blade, and a plastic tube you’ve managed to fish out.

Following along the collapsed lung, tracing along his ribs till you’ve counted two, as you press the tip of the blade into the skin, slowly with accuracy, cutting in inches deep before making the cut horizontal across his ribs. If you had more supplies and time, you would have done this with a needle for safety, but fuck! You're convinced you've used up the last of the needles shooting up morphine! Coming back to reality as you work swiftly inserting the tube into his lung, and instant 'pppssshh' hisses out from it.

Ratchet and Bee at this point, have basically glued their faceplate and optics by your window, zooming in into what’s going on. Ratchet recalled that you said you were not a medic, but yet you’re performing with accurate precision. This may be illegal in both Earth and Cybertronian terms, but he can't help but be in awe with how steady your hands and focus on Raf is. Bumblebee however, noticed that you’re completely stressed. Vibrating like a leaf as he points it out to Ratchet. He takes notice as he pulls his optics away from your work, to realize just how scared you are. Clenching your teeth until it’s sore, then swapping to biting your lips until the blood is cut off, moving back to gritting your teeth. He can sense your breathing is all over the place, mostly forgetting to breath as you hold your breath until tears are welling up.

With a gasp, Rafael manages to suck in a breath.

“Easy there Raf. don’t breath too hard. You have a collapsed lung. It probably hurts right now." You tell him.

Subconsciously, Ratch runs a scan on both you and Rafael. You were correct. He did in fact, had tension pneumothorax. And he now is breathing. Still gravely wounded with blood leaking, but able to breath. You on the other hand, physically are safe, but the amount of adrenaline is sky high, and he can see your blood pressure and heart rate reaching the unhealthy range. Powerless to help you two, he wanted to beat himself up. Thankfully, Bumblebee bleeps a few beeps reassuring that you know what you’re doing, and Raf is in safe hands. (Little did Bee know, you in fact, do not know what you’re doing.)

The poor barely conscious boy gives you a nod and you can feel your adrenaline wearing off. Not yet. We still have things to do. He still has bleeding wounds to stop before he’s stabilized. Poor kid is bleeding all over your bed. Fishing in the first aid kit as you grab an EpiPen (totally expired) and stab it into yourself, followed by popping a few pills of Ativan to help sedate the effects.

Ratchet does not understand what is going on, but detected the adrenaline wearing off, cortisol levels rising, only to instantly be replaced with another wave of adrenaline. Is that what you injected?! Why would you purposefully do that?! He was caught in these thoughts when suddenly, a flashback came to him. When he was so desperate to figure out the Synthetic Energon that he tried it on himself… You weren’t testing drugs on yourself… you were desperately doing it to make sure you can continue to save Raf’s life…

Last push you tell yourself. Stop the bleeding and you can have a break. Fueled with too much adrenaline, you instantly start working. Raf will be in such pain you thought. Digging your hands back down the bag for the last vial of morphine you have, -graciously stole from the hospital during your last visit. You mentally calculate how much you need, for a boy this age. You have his age and estimate of height… but his weight? You’re terrible at guessing weights. With no time to think, you suddenly realized something. If Ratchet was able to scan out that you had energon in you, can he scan Raf’s weight? Last thing you want to do is accidentally overdose the poor boy into death. Spinning your head back as you nearly get jumpscared by two bots glued to the window, you slide open the glass.

“Quick Ratchet. What’s Raf’s weight?”

Caught off guard as he was completely focused on your wellbeing, he quickly resets his vocalizer and take a look at Raf’s weight, Giving you an estimate.

Wanting to be on the safe side, you decide 1mg should be enough, not enough to knock him out, but at least subdude the pain. Not like you have local anesthesia or have time for lidocaine creams to work. Realizing you in fact, did have one last sterile needle that you saved from safe needles exchange clinics. Never did you think this was what it was going to be used for. Drawing out what you feel is about 1mg as you tie a tourniquet around Raf’s arms, slapping it a couple times until you can see the vein. Children have small veins, and you’ve opted for a butterfly needle. Thankfully he seems to have better veins than you, and you push the morphine into him. Telling him he’s okay, he’ll feel better soon.

In a moment’s time, Raf is peaceful sleeping, no doubt from the stress and his body finally giving up. But also a symptom that the drug has kicked in. It’s showtime. Making an effort to clean his open wounds with rubbing alcohol as that vodka is totally gone. You work as swiftly as you can, with nothing but a fucking sewing needle and nylon fishing wire, you zone in and start his sutures. It’s been a while since you’ve ever sewn up anything, but once you got into the groove, it was surprisingly relaxing.

Half an hour later, you find yourself done with the major bleeds, finishing off the smaller cuts with a mix of butterfly bandaids and normal one, you proceed to apply medicated gauze over the larger more likely to be infected wounds. Mentally drifting off to how expensive these were, but instantly pulling back to the problem at hand. Finishing up as you bandage him up with rolls of gauze and securing it with medical tape.

Ratchet at this point, could not believe what he was seeing. You, who claimed to not have been a medic, just went through with a complicated surgery, as well as sutures. He wondered if the day he met you was also a life saved by you.

By now, the adrenaline has started to subsided. The parasympathetic nervous system is now starting to take over. Making your way over to the bots as you tell them, Raf is out of critical condition, but he still needs to be in a hospital.

Ratchet is in a turmoil, he know Raf needs to be seen by a proper medic, yet he also know they not only need to lay low, but humans would not know how to even begin diagnosing Raf with energon blasts. “If only we could contact June…” He mumbled.

“June? Who’s that?”

“Jack’s mother, a nurse. Someone who’s aware of our presence.” He curtly replied.

Who is even Jack??

“So– We just need to contact her right?” You already know where this is going, seems like the day is far from over.

“Without detection of course.” Ratchet tagged on. “I have her number if you need it.”

That’s all you needed to hear. Giving him a nod as you flop back into your computer chair and once again, send an sos signal –fully encrypted to this said “June”. You’re fighting your body to stay awake now. The cortisol and benzodiazepines are practically taking over. With the message sent, you slice a little of your windscreen open, and shove the spare keys into Ratchet’s servos.

“I sent her a message. You let her in when she gets here, okay?” As you look out the window. Ah shit. They’ve ruined the whole front yard now. Is that a broken tree?

Ratchet, still having a hard time processing what in Primus’s aft just happened, and Bee just as lost. Without a second thought, you pass out right at your computer desk. You could just hope the bots don’t get in any trouble until June arrives…

[wayfayrr]

it's been declared that my blog is the go-to, to post the drunken late-night (for me anyway) crack fics

anyway this spiraled at 4am on a very long lasting discord call and both myself and @angry-trashcan wrote it in about an hour, it's catboy wild and wars with reader in their home <3 enjoy!

“Wild please for the love of everything holy, get down from the counter top.”  He didn’t listen, instead sitting himself down on top of the stove next. “One day, and one day soon, that thing will be on and burn your bottom. And I will laugh.”

“Not when you’re the one facing the bills.”

“Link.”

“Yes, my partner in crime?”

He’s not moving any time soon unless I do something, and it’s not like I don’t already know he’s incredibly light. Lifting him up so that he can wrap his legs and arms around me is easy enough. 

“See? Isn’t that so much better already?”

 “Better for you and your wallet maybe-”

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” He laughed, a hand to the back of his head, ears twitching wildly.

I looked at him for a hard moment, eyes running over his face. “Uh-huh.” I rolled my eyes playfully, turning back to the stove. “I’m gonna make dinner. Can you go get Wars and tell him it’ll be done quickly so hurry it up.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Hmm? But I thought you didn’t like me holding you?”

His grip got a little tighter at that, his head nuzzling into the crook of my neck like he’s trying to get as close as possible and succeeding. 

“When did I say that?”

“Well with your little comment about my wallet?”

“You know what I meant.”

The way he ended that with a small nip at my collarbone is proof enough of his words.

His feet hit the floor and he turned towards the living room to go get Wars. At least, I thought he was. The loud scream of the other boy’s name startled me, getting a scream of my own to carry through the house. 

“Wild!”

His shoulders rose to his ears, face bright red as he slowly turned back to face you. “...yes?”

“I asked you to go get him not shout for him, I could’ve done that from here.”

Not even words, just a redfaced pout as he turned to run off to go and wake him up from his very likely nap. Then seconds later he simply comes back out of breath and makes grabby hands at me to pick him back up. Not that I can say no, but he’s gotta start learning better manners. 

“You’re spoiled rotten I hope you know that.”

He hums out a happy noise as I pick him up to let him wrap his legs around my waist once again. “You better be helping me with dinner if you’re going to hang off of me like this.”

“Why would I do that?”

I rolled my eyes again, glancing over to see Wars coming into the kitchen. “Dinner will be done soon. Would be quicker if someone would let me cook.”

A gasp. “I am your moral support! You wouldn’t be able to make dinner without me!”

“I wouldn’t be able to make a dinner without hair in it, maybe.”

“I think you know full well that I could.”

“Mmh… full well you could what?”

Oh he really was asleep then, and now he’s winding his arms around me where wild isn’t clinging onto me. Great, I’ve got even less movement to cook properly now. The feeling of his purrs as his head is on my shoulder is nice though.

“Wars please, not you too.”

“Do you really not like it love?”

“I didn’t say that, did I?”

“I kinda sounded like it.”

“Wild, not you too.” I sighed, reaching down to turn off the stove. “Fine, let's order take out. Come on now, to the couch.”

Wild practically leapt off of you, rushing to get the best spot on the couch before Wars could. 

“Can we get seafood?” Wars mumbles.

“Would I dare try to feed either of you anything else?”

“I don’t know, I’d like to try some of that fancy wagyu sometime.”

“Wild.”

“Yes?”

“No.”

[thedept]

I took my son to see Sonic 3 last night. Afterwards, even though it was late, we stopped at the Target two floors down to grab a few quick things.

As we walked in, they had a whole wall full of bins. Big bins for ornaments, long flat bins for wrapping paper, wreath bins, etc. I cracked the lid on our ornament bin getting it down this year and our wrapping paper bin has been ready to burst for years now. This constituted an exciting development in my middle aged life.

As will happen when I’m trying to do two things at once, I get flustered. In this case, it was texting my wife to find out the size of our current ornament bin and also answering a slew of questions from my son on multiple topics.

Then, a text comes into my phone from my mother. It was just “👌”. The weird thing is that my mother died in April 2020.

I text my wife, a panicked sort of “what the fuck is happening.” After a minute of hyperventilating I remembered something about my sister giving her then-6 year old son my mom’s phone when she died and that he just use it as a toy on Wi-Fi. And maybe also something in there about not getting around to canceling the line.

I text my sister and ask if my nephew still has my mom‘s phone number? She replies yes, why? And I tell her, and she’s like holy shit that’s awful.

So while at the time we don’t know why my now-11 year old nephew is texting me ok emojis, at least we know what’s going on, but I’m still all sorts of flustered.

We get home and my son goes to bed, and my wife & I are sitting on the couch and she looks at my phone. I had texted my nephew/mother asking about the size of the ornament bin. I realize that my son likely asked what I was doing and I said “texting mom…” as I was activating Siri to send a voice text. Hence, text sent to “mom,” not to “wife.”

So I’m not mortified at myself along with still freaked out for the couple of minutes that I questioned a death hoax from my mother.

This spurned two of what I can only describe as anxiety attacks. And then I went to bed but couldn’t sleep and was awake on our couch until after 4am. And then I had another anxiety attack this morning, making 3 in 12 hours. I told my wife that I needed to leave, and quickly got dressed, grabbed a coat, left, and started walking.

At first I was thinking I’d sit on a bench a block away and chill/stew/calm down, but I didn’t want to. So I walked. And walked. Before I knew it, I’d walked a mile. Then two.

It was a blur. I’d think that I was near a certain block only to look up and realize I was 5 or 6 blocks further. I called my wife somewhere after I passed 2 miles and while we were on the phone she pulled up Find My Friends, saw where I was, and asked if I’d driven there.

My knees and feet were aching. I wasn’t in good shoes for a long walk. Right after I passed the 3rd mile I came upon an N train station and got on it headed home. I’d been walking for an hour. I went from my neighborhood of Prospect Heights all the way to Sunset Park. This is far.

It’s taken me all day and I’m still not really totally back to normal. But I just took a melatonin and I’m going to try to sleep.

[shveris]

incorrect quotes collection, part 2

sashisu + first years (nanami, haibara, ijichi)

part 1 part 3

shoko: suguru, would you please not satoru this into a situation worse than it already-

satoru: the fuck, did you just use my name as a verb

satoru: at least whatever the fuck is wrong with me is really really funny

shoko: satoru won’t come out of his room

suguru: just tell him i said something

shoko: like what?

suguru: anything factually incorrect

shoko, shrugging: if you say so

satoru, arriving moments later: did you just say the sun is a PLANET?

shoko: schrödinger’s cat is overrated. if you wanna see something that’s both dead and alive you can talk to me any time of the day

nanami: we call that “traumatic event”

nanami, turning to suguru: not a “major L”

nanami, turning to shoko: not a “bruh moment”

nanami, turning to haibara: not “unpog”

nanami, turning to satoru: and definitely not “OOF LMAO”

suguru, entering the kitchen: is something burning???

satoru: *leaning seductively over the kitchen counter* just my love and desire for you

suguru: satoru the fucking toaster is on fire

satoru: i think we should kiss

suguru: and i think we should commit genocide on all non-shamans but we don’t always get what we want

suguru: name a more iconic duo than my incapability of taking care of myself and my insomnia. i’ll wait.

satoru: you and me!!!

suguru, tearing up: okay

satoru: remember when you didn’t try to solve all your problems with attempted murder?

suguru: stop romanticizing the past

shoko: i don’t think yaga-sensei is very happy with you

satoru: what?

suguru: what do you mean?

shoko, stepping closer to the fridge: “dear suguru, dear satoru, i hope this message finds you before i do” wow that’s a threatening piece of paper for sure

satoru: you’re the love of my life and my best friend, i would do anything for you

suguru: i want you to eat three meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule

satoru: absolutely not

suguru: okay, truth or dare?

satoru: truth

suguru: how many hours have you slept this week?

satoru:

satoru: ... dare

suguru: go to bed

satoru: i don’t like this game

suguru: i want to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives

satoru: i go to bed at 4am, wake up at 7am and work until 4am

suguru:

suguru: i want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives

(the last 3 are based on gojo satoru's official time table)

yaga: how many kids do you have?

satoru: biologically, emotionally, or legally?

yaga: why do i feel like you forgot the “illegally”…

suguru: if you can’t beat them, dress better than them

shoko: and look where that got you…

satoru: 112 dead people

satoru:

satoru: I TAKE IT BACK I TAKE IT BACK DON'T THROW THE RING THAT WAS EXPENSIVE-

shoko: we need to open this locked door. satoru, give me your credit card

satoru: here

shoko, pocketing it: thanks. suguru, break down the door

satoru: i need your help

shoko: the last time you needed my help we were stuck in the limbo for three days

yaga: there are seven chairs and ten kids. what do you do?

suguru: have everyone stand

nanami: bring three more chairs

haibara: go to another room with more chairs

shoko: the most important ones can sit down

satoru: kill three

ijichi: do you have any skeletons in your closet?

shoko: you mean literally or figuratively?

ijichi: honestly, the fact that i have to specify...

satoru: why are you on the floor?

suguru: i’m depressed

suguru: also, i was stabbed. can you get shoko please?

*playing chess*

satoru: *easily beats everyone because he knows how to play*

nanami: *doesn’t know the rules, but wins anyway*

ijichi: *doesn’t know the rules, and loses*

suguru: *knows the rules, but still loses to those who don’t*

shoko: actually, you can’t do that, because i said so

haibara: they named a board game after cheese?

satoru: suguru, what are you doing tomorrow?

suguru: having my day ruined by whatever you’re about to ask me to do

satoru: my life is a mess

shoko: toru relax, go get a beer

satoru: i don’t even like beer

shoko: who said it was for you?

*ijichi and suguru are in a car teetering on the edge of a cliff*

ijichi: oh my god! geto-san, backwards!

suguru, on the verge of losing his shit: really, ijichi? i thought i might go forwards into the river, i thought that would be a fun thing to do

satoru: am i right, sho?

shoko: i’m almost certain you’re not, but to be fair, i wasn’t listening

satoru: *trying to buy a father's day card*

satoru: excuse me, do you have any that just say "you are my dad"?

associate: well, i-

satoru: how about "you banged my mom"?

associate: no…

satoru: you know what, i'll just get a blank one

satoru: *writes* you are a father. this is a day. here is a card.

(bonus because i recently rewatched snapcube's shadow fandub and this is my fav line)

toji: let's see, the best way to make money is killing that star plasma vessel girl...

toji: *sees satoru and suguru together*

toji: new idea. adultery.

part 3 is already in the works lmao

[mercury2venus]

Moon River.

Angst because why not.

[ Terry Richmond Drabble, with my OC Venus.]

I stood across the room watching him maneuver through the kitchen. I could see the heartbreak forming in his eyes in every glance. His chest rising and falling with each rapid movement he’d make.

“ you can’t come and go as you please Venus. I’m tired of this charade. “ his voiced cut through the air like a sword.

“Just…stay. For a breath. Could we pretend you love me the way I love you. “

I sighed deeply. A few years ago I met Terry. We were young and I thought he was beautiful. Things got deep on his end quickly. But I couldn’t feel the same. Not when my world was so different from his.

I remember the look on his face when I told him this was as far as we would go.

5 years ago.

“I left her”. Terry said

I blinked slowly “ you left her…why”

“I can’t get you out of my mind Venus.”

I shot him a disapproving look. “ that’s…unfortunate Terrance. “

“It’s Terry “ he frowned.

“ I think it’s time we set some boundaries. Terry. “

He blinked at me, confused.

“ I have no intention on making this a thing. You wanted a relationship so you got with Denise who is actually very sweet. You can’t come back and attempt to convince me to do something I don’t want to do. “ I had to be stern. He needed to know.

Terry walked toward me slowly. “ why are you doing this V ? Why can’t we just try? You’re so quick to shut shit down. You can’t be judge and juror in my decisions.” He held my face in his large palms. “ say something please.”

I pulled away and stared him in the eye. “ why are you tormenting yourself with matters of the heart ? Maybe I should go. Coming here wasn’t a good idea. “ I grabbed my bag and started towards his front door. I felt Terry grab me by the hand. I didn’t turn around.

“ I’m doing too much. My fault that’s on me. Just don’t go Venus. “

So I stayed. Now here we are back on the same topic 5 years later.

Present time

“Am I that horrible to love Venus?” Terry mumbled.

“ No.”

“Then what is it? Just tell me. “

“You’re just.. not the one.”

“You’re lying”

“I’m a liar” I shrugged

I heard Terry sigh, “ stop…stop with the excuses ..stop fighting me Venus.” He ran his hands down his face. He looked exasperated. I felt guilt bubble at the bottom of my stomach, slowly creeping up searching for its freedom.

“ I can’t love you Terry..not the way you need. Not the way you want. I apologize truly, I let you buy a one way ticket to my heart, not telling you that the destination isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’m so sorry. But you’re not meant to stretch my heart strings and surely not meant to stretch my legs past your shoulders at 4am. Not anymore. This has gone on long enough. I just hope we can remain friends. “

When I finally looked at him..his eyes were red. Mouth agape and his entire being cried hopeless. I walked up to him “ Goodbye Terry.” I whispered. I made my way to the door feeling numb. I did what needed to be done. I almost left till I heard him speak. In a faint whisper he said his last words to me “ Thank you..for telling me. Goodbye to you too Venus.”

That was the end, I walked out of the door yet, that was 30 minutes ago. I found myself sitting against the wall on the outside of his apartment. I replayed all of our memories. What was it about Terry that made me so rigid. Was it me ? Have I convinced myself I am not worthy of his love ? I stayed there for a bit, a familiar melody began to play from his home. Our favorite song.

My dream maker, my heart breaker

wherever you’re going

I’m going that way

Two drifters off to see the world

Such a crazy world you’ll see

We’re all chasing after our ends

Life’s just around the bend, my friend

Moon river and me.

I closed my eyes. Maybe next lifetime.

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

Bad Girls Club

El Phantasmo X Fem Reader

El Phantasmo Masterlist Main Masterlist

Request by @madhatterbri (I took a twist on your original request. I hope you like it!)

Summary: El Phantasmo is the leader of the biggest club in Japan, Bullet Club. One night he stumbles across a Jazz singer named Y/n at his friend's nightclub in Osaka. El Phantasmo knows better than to think of Y/n in any other way than a Jazz singer. The two of them being together would just put her at risk. Especially with the current war going on with Bullet Club's archenemies The United Empire. But what happens when Y/n calls in the middle of the night saying someone broke into her apartment and needs El Phantasmo's help?

Warnings: Murder, Blood, weapons, gore, etc Word Count: 2.5 K

Being in the baddest club in all of Japan came with a lot of perks but there were a few disadvantages that no one was willing to talk about. The thought of settling down scared me. Having someone so close to you let alone a family puts you at risk. Other gangs could and would use anything against you. I was scared my future children would be used as ransom in an attempt to pay for my crimes. 

Currently the rest of Bullet Club was away partying in one of the biggest night clubs in all of Tokyo. For once I decided to spend Friday night alone and ended up in a Jazz Club in Osaka. The Jazz club was small, it held about 200 people but there were only about 20. A blond girl stood on the stage singing a song I knew would be stuck in my head for the rest of the weekend. “I’m in love with a dying man, I’m in love with a dying man. I’m in love lying in the sand.” The blond girl wore a short black knit dress with long sleeves. The dress ended just below her ass. She paired the dress with black velvet knee high boots. She swayed elegantly to the track. A song she called Kill Kill. “One…Two….Make it fun. Don’t…Trust…Anyone” The words she whispered in the mic spoke to me. Being the leader of the biggest gang in Japan I knew a thing or two about trusting people. I found myself getting lost in her performance. The way she swayed her hips, the way she looked into my eyes so seductively. I feared I was falling for her tricks. As I went to the bar to grab myself another dirty martini, I ran into a good friend of mine who just so happened to own the Jazz Club. “Hey, Phantasmo, how’s it going?” Tony asked, “I’m doing well Tony, how’s the business doing?” I asked him. “It’s a bit slow but going well, as you can see I have a new act. She’s the best I’ve ever had, sings like an angel” “What’s her name, she’s beautiful?” I asked Tony. “Her name is Y/n but I don’t want you getting any ideas. She’s too young for you” he told me. “How old is she?” “21, far too young for you” 

I spoke with Tony a little longer before returning to the private lounge I sat in prior. Tony’s word’s kept replaying in my mind. ‘Don’t get any ideas, she’s too young for you’. Prior to our conversation I wasn’t even thinking about Y/n in that way. I genuinely thought of her as a beautiful young singer. Tony was right, though I didn’t really mind the 15 year age gap going out with Y/n would just put her at risk. I spent the rest of the night enjoying the atmosphere of the club and Y/n’s performance. Before I knew it it was close to 4am and the club was closing. As I began to leave the club Tony came up to me. “Before you go, I want to introduce you to someone. Y/n, this is one of my very good friends El Phantasmo. If you ever need something or find yourself in a sticky situation I want you to give him a call” Tony said. “Hi, I’m Y/n. It’s very nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard alot about you” Y/n said as she reached out her hand to me. I took her hand and instead of shaking it I kissed her knuckles saying “It’s very nice to meet you too. Tony has told me a lot about you as well. You are very talented, did you write all of those songs yourself?” I asked “I’m glad to hear you liked them. I did write and produce them myself” Y/n said blushing. “Like Tony said, if you ever need anything just give me a call. Doesn’t matter the time, place or task I’ll always help out a friend. You better be careful out there Ms. Y/n, there are some real weirdo’s out there” As I said that last sentence to Y/n, I could see the look in her eyes change ever so slightly. Like there was this tension, that she was on edge. Tony had the same look in his eyes. Even with us being friends for over 20 years and him always having such a stone cold expression on his face I always knew when something was up. I mean there had to be or why else would Tony bring Y/n telling her to call me if she was ever in trouble. 

***

It had been about a week since I last went to the Jazz Club and saw Y/n. During that time a lot had happened. The United Empire, the second-largest gang in Japan and our arch-nemesis were on a killing spree. They went around the streets of Tokyo killing for fun. Their murders were not targeted. They were just killing everyday people just because they could. Y/n was always in the back of my mind. My subconscious told me she was at risk. At risk because she worked in one of the busiest Jazz Clubs in Osaka, at risk because we know each other and at risk because of just how dang beautiful she was. The United Empire was known for doing unspeakable things to young women. It makes me sick even thinking about it. Although I am the leader of the biggest Gang of Japan’s history, my number one rule always has and always will be NO women NO children. 

Originally I had planned to visit the Jazz bar this weekend but The United Empire’s tricks had all of my attention. One of our main camps had been compromised. Millions of dollars in cash, weapons and drugs had been stolen. A dozen of my men were killed including one of my best men. I knew war was on the horizon but when the head of one of my best men Gabe arrived at my doorstep I knew the war had just begun. 

Currently I lay in my bed thinking of Bullet Club's next actions. I didn’t want to just kill these men. I wanted them to pay for everything they have done over the years. My thoughts were broken when my phone began to ring. An unknown caller could mean one of two things. I just hoped the sharp pain in my gut was wrong. “Hello?” I said as I answered the phone. I heard nothing on the other line except for the sound of glass breaking. “What do you want, it’s nearly 3 o’clock in the morning. I’m not in the mood for any games” I said annoyed. “Mr. Phantasmo?” A voice whispered on the other line. “Who is this?” I asked “It’s Y/n, I need your help” I felt my heart sink. “Y/n?! Where are you, what’s going on?” I asked in a panic. I could hear her faint sobs on the other line. “I need you to take a deep breath Y/n so I can help you. What’s going on?” I asked, slightly more calm this time. “I think my ex boyfriend and his friends just broke into my apartment. They’re ripping apart the place trying to look for me” My mind was going at a rapid pace, I quickly grabbed my gun and hopped in my truck. “Where are you right now in the apartment?” I asked “I’m hiding in the closet in my office. There is a lock on the inside of the door. They can’t open it from the outside” “I’m coming right now to get you Y/n but I need you to stay on the phone with me okay. Where is your apartment?” “It’s a few blocks north of the Jazz Club. Pink palace apartment complex. It’s on Mabel street, apartment 34A” I could hear the voice of men in the background yelling and breaking everything in their path. “Come on out and play Bunny. You can’t hide forever” said one of the men. The voice sounded so familiar but I couldn't seem to put my finger on the thick British accent. The second I stepped into the apartment complex I knew what I was dealing with. ‘Shit’ I thought to myself. I quickly messaged the boys for back up and carefully sneaked into the apartment. I didn’t even want to think about which one of The United Empire boys was Y/n’s ex. It wasn't even important, what was important was that I found Y/n. 

The apartment was destroyed. Glasses and plates were shattered on the floor. Clothing and drawers were scattered all over the place. Then all of a sudden I felt my body hit the floor hard. “Oi Bruv, what do you think you’re doing here huh?” That voice I had heard earlier was none other than Will Ospreay. Will had tackled me to the floor, I tried to cover my face from his blows but some crept  in. “Where the fuck is Y/n?” I spat at him as I got out of his grip. “Why the fuck do you care Bruv, she’s my girlfriend not yours” he spat back. The two of us fought for what felt like forever, going back and forth with swings at each other. Just then the other members of Bullet Club arrived and had to pry me from Will. David Finlay and Jay White found Y/n while I made sure Will would never mess with her again. I left him in a bloody mess, along with the rest of his men. They were so black and blue not even their own mothers would recognize them. Somewhere missing teeth, I’m pretty sure one of them was dead. 

When I saw Y/n she looked terrified. She had a black eye and a busted lip. I held her tightly in my arms as she began to cry. “Don’t worry love, you're safe now. They can’t hurt you” The car ride home was silent. I thanked the boys for the help and took Y/n back to my house. I called up the maid to make sure one of the guest rooms was prepared with clean sheets and a fresh change of clothes to change into. Along with a hot bath so she could rinse off the blood and dirt that was on her skin. “This is where you live?” Y/n asked as we pulled into the house. A security guard met us at the end of the driveway and opened the large gates so I could drive up to the house. “Yes ma’am, I told her” “Your house is huge” she said. The moment we stepped into the home I introduced her to my maid Mrs. Kim. “Mrs. Kim is going to look after you. She’s already prepared a room, some clean clothes and a bath for you” Y/n looked at me like she was a deer in headlights. “Don’t worry, she’s not going to hurt you” I reassured Y/n. Mrs. Kim had been my maid years before Bullet Club became as big as it is. She was one of the few people in this world I actually trusted. I knew she would take good care of Y/n. “Okay Ms, if you follow me I will show you to your room” Mrs. Kim said with a warm smile on her face. 

Once Mrs. Kim showed Y/n her room and helped her into the tub she returned to me with a concerned look on her face. “Is everything alright, Mrs. Kim?” I asked. “I know I’m not supposed to ask these kinds of questions, sir. But what happened to that poor girl?” she asked with genuine concern. “She has some pretty bad and deep scars and wounds along with some questionable bruising I think you should see.” Truth be told, I didn’t know what happened to Y/n. I’m not sure if I wanted to know what happened to her. “The only thing I know is that she phoned saying her ex-boyfriend and his friends broke into her apartment. She’s a good girl Mrs. Kim, I have no idea how her supposed ex-boyfriend is Will Ospreay” I explained “Her ex-boyfriend is W- oh hi, Ms. Y/n, have you finished your bath” I looked over to see Y/n wrapped in a big white fluffy Gucci robe. “Why don’t I show you your room for the evening”  

Trying to fall asleep was a nightmare. I had so many questions that needed to be answered. How was Y/n involved with The United Empire? Why were they after her? How does her being a singer at Tony's Jazz Club tie into all of this? I thought about giving Tony a call but knew better than to get more people involved in the situation. By now, it was close to 5 o'clock in the morning. It was no use trying to get any rest. I needed to get up in a few hours anyway. An early start would do me well. It would give me some time to wrap my head around everything and plan my next course of action. But just then, I heard a faint knock on my bedroom door. I got up to find Y/n on the other side. “Would it be alright if I spent the night with you? I don’t really want to be alone right now,” Y/n asked. “Of course, darling” I told her, offering her a warm smile. “Thank you, for everything” Y/n said as she climbed into the bed, pulling the large duvet over her. “Anytime, darling. You know I would do anything for you.” The words came out of my mouth so fast I didn’t even have a chance to think about what I was saying before I said it. Before I could say anything I felt Y/n place a delicate kiss on my cheek. “Goodnight,” “Goodnight Y/n” 

Something about this felt so wrong. This shouldn't be happening not with this current war. As much as my mind denied it my heart told me I was falling in love with Y/n. I didn't know what the future would hold. For fucks sake I have Will Osprey's ex-girlfriend cuddled up next to me in bed. The words I mistakenly admitted were true. I really would do anything for her and I mean anything.