#what happens at the club stays at the club

[starkeynation]

I love you, I’m sorry

A letter from reader to Rafe

Content: Angst, like PURE sad, the lamp looks weird, based on the song I love you, I’m sorry by Gracie Abrams (may or may not be accurate)

A/N: about that cliffhanger and happy ending, I changed my mind… also ignore any writing mistakes if there’s any and this was kinda rushed so I hope it still turns out good

Masterlist

dividers from @anitalenia

Rafe,

It is Saturday night. I should be out doing something, partying or whatever to enjoy myself, yet here i am, pen in hand, finding myself writing to you again. I know this letter will never reach you- it’ll end up crumpled at the bottom of my drawer or burned to ashes. Still, I can’t seem to stop myself.

It has been exactly two august ago since everything fell apart. I remember the way I laid it all out, raw, I wanted to be real, hoping that honesty would mend us. We weren’t perfect. Hell, we were far from it. We fought like fire and gasoline, burning everything we touched. Jealousy leads us to mistrust each other but even then, I didn’t think it would end the way it did. I never thought that fight would be the last..the final, devastating blow before you ghosted me and blocked me everywhere.

I swear it wasn’t my intention to break up with you, I thought by exposing the cracks, we could patch them together. Instead, the truth just ended up pushing you away. When you drove off in your Benz and left me standing at my gate, it felt like everything had stopped. The time, the world, my heart…everything froze. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to scream, I wanted to stop you, beg you to stay, to tell you that we could still save us but you didn’t look back, and i was too late.

Now, i watch you from a distance as you become successful, helping your dad doing business, running Cameron’s development like you were born to do it. I heard your name whispered in admiration at the club where I work, how you charm people the way you trained for. And you know what? I’m so so proud of you Rafe. I always knew you had it in you. I’ll be rooting for you always, even from the shadows.

Maybe two summers from now we’ll be talking again at some point, exchange smiles, our lives untangled and we’re cool again. I can picture you’ll be in your family’s jet, travelling, and me, on my boat moving on with our own lives. By then, i hope..im actually ready to move on. I know you’ve already moved on- I mean, why wouldn’t you? Still, there’s part of me wish that you wouldn’t yet, and maybe, just maybe, you would take me back.

But that’s just selfish isn’t it? I was selfish when we were together too. I made everything about me, i was inconsiderate, I turn something small into raging battles. I didn’t listen, didn’t see you for who you were. I’m ashamed of the person I was, of the mistakes I made. After everything i did, I’m surprised you haven’t send someone to kill me yet.

Lately I find myself sitting on the porch, watching sunsets like we used to, with a glass of something strong in my hand. I laugh at myself, at the crash I made, because what else can I do? It’s a twisted kind of coping—laughing at my own heartbreak. It doesn’t feel real and it’s really hard to let go but i guess that’s just the way life goes.

I know i was a dick, Rafe. I had too many flaws to count but as sick as it sounds, I loved you first. You’ll always be my first love. You were the best and the worst thing that ever happened to me, a storm that left me shattered but alive. Your love had impact me deeply, it is carved in my soul. No matter where we are, i want you to know that I’ll carry the past and the weight of my mistakes with me. Trust me, it will always, haunt me.

I regret every second for not treating you well, for not being the person you needed. Lastly, i want you to know that I still, truly, deeply, love you, I’m sorry.

*Ding* you heard the bell rings. You rush downstairs to answer the door.

“Pizza delivery”, says the delivery boy standing in front of you. You almost forgot you ordered one, an hour ago. You take your prepaid alfredo chicken pizza and thank him. It was Rafe’s favourite pizza, you’re not sure if it’s still his favourite though. After shutting the door, you walk to your kitchen.

Just two seconds later, *ding* the bell rings again. Did the delivery boy forget anything? You thought.

You open the door, “yes-“ you pause. You couldn’t believe it, standing right in front of you,

“Topper?”

“Topper what are you doing here?” you ask, your voice laced with confusion.

He then steps aside and reveals a man behind him, lying on the steps of your porch- a man whose silhouette you’d recognize anywhere. “Rafe,” you whisper.

“Shit I’m sorry to bother you but this dumbass got into an accident for driving while he’s high,” Topper blurts out, panickly.

Your brow furrowing and your confusion deepens. You walk closer to Rafe and spot the blood dripping from his head, “Accident? What? Then why do you bring him here instead of the hospital?” You ask, your voice sharp, slicing through the chaos of the moment.

“He won’t let me. He insisted I bring him here to see you,” Topper explains.

“Y/n,” Rafe speaks up, his voice low and strained.

Your heart skips a beat. It’s like the universe has stopped spinning again. This is the first time you hear him calling your name after two whole years.

“Hey Rafe, you’re bleeding,” you say, your voice mix with feelings.

“I’m fine,” he says, giving a soft, disarming smile while trying to sit up.

You instruct Topper to go find some cloth to stop the bleeding. As he dissapears, you sit on your knees facing to Rafe, “Rafe, what happened? Why are you here?” you ask, still have no clue of what’s going on here.

“I wanted to see you,” he replies, putting on that damn smile again, the one that’s always managed to unravel you. “I miss you, y/n.”

Your face goes pale, your eyes widens, the words hang in the hair, heavy and unexpected. “Rafe, you’re drunk,” you accuse, trying to make sense of what’s happening right now.

“No, I’m not, i swear I’m very conscious right now,” he insists, his voice firm. You’re still not sure if he’s telling the truth or not. “I really miss you, y/n,” he continues, his voice low but still clear for you to hear it.

Your heart aches, torn between disbelief and the undeniable pull of his words. “How hard did you hit your head? God, you’re still bleeding. We need to see a doctor,” you say, trying to stand up, but he grabs your hand, pulling you back down.

“Stop it, I’m fine i swear…this is nothing,” he says waving off the concern. Just then, Topper returns with a towel in his hand. He hands the towel to you and says, “dude, are you sure you’re okay? When i saw your car there were smokes everywhere. Looks like you hit that tree pretty hard,” his voice fill with concern.

“I’m fine Top, just go. I need to talk to y/n,” Rafe says with a dismissive wave. Topper hesitates, he looks at you for confirmation as if you’re the one in charge here. You nod at him, signalling an approval, “s’okay Top i can handle this.”

“Okay, just call me if anything happens,” he says. “Thank you,” you mutter softly to Topper as he’s leaving towards his car.

With Topper gone, you shift your focus back to Rafe. You take the towel and start dabbing on the blood on his forehead, “we still need to get this stitched up,” you say. Rafe then grabs your wrist, his grip firm but not forceful, “look at me,” he demands.

You look at him straight in the eyes, drowning in his blue eyes. It’s overwhelming- staring at the man that you love but no longer yours.

“I do mean what i said, i miss you y/n and i wanted to see you,” he says, his tone steady and sure.

“But why now?” You ask, your voice breaking under the weight of the question.

“Sar..Sarah told me tonight that you’ve been writing letters about me. She found them stashed under your bed,” he says, hesitantly.

Your stomach drops and you shake your head in disbelief, “God���i knew it there was something wrong. She was acting so weird when she left this morning,” you mutter.

“So it’s true? You’ve been writing about me?”

Your face is turning red, you’re struggling to find the words. “I- yes…I’ve been writing letters. Pretending like I’m gonna send it to you but i never do,” you stutter.

“Why didn’t you just send them?” He presses, his voice low, almost pleading.

“You know why Rafe…you’ve moved on. You blocked me few months after we broke up. You’re thriving now with your job, you got your whole life together, and I- I was the reason why we broke up. I can’t just crawl my way back into your life like nothing happened,” you shatter, your voice breaking as you’re struggling to control your tears.

Rafe shakes his head. He brushes his thumb over your knuckles and kisses it. “You’re wrong y/n, you’re absolutely wrong. I’ve been doing nothing over the past two years except than trying to forget about you. That’s why I’ve been doing all these jobs, thinking it could distract me, but no,” he shakes his head again. “Nothing could make me stop thinking about you.”

His confession leaves you breathless, your tears streaming down your face as he continues. “About the blocking and disappearing, I’m really sorry, I was a coward. The truth is, that day i came to your house to apologize. Then, as I stood outside, i saw you were laughing with jj through your window. I knew you guys were not together cause after jj left, I may or may not have confronted him…” he then mouthed sorry. “But then, I remember the way you looked so happy when you’re with him. At that time, I knew I had to let you go cause you deserve someone better and you deserve to be happy so that’s why I blocked you..as if that makes any difference.”

You idiot,” you scoff. “I never wanted anyone else, only you Rafe, only you. You’re the only one who could truly make me happy.”

His eyes glisten, his smile soft and hesitant. “Please forgive me y/n, I swear I’m a better person now and I love- I love you, so much. I still do.”

You reach up, caress his cheek and pull him in for a kiss. “I love you too Rafe,” you whisper. He cups your face and returns the kiss. The kiss is passionate, slow and tender. His lip is so soft and only god knows how much you miss this. The world fades around you, leaving only the two of you, two broken pieces finding their way back to each other.

You pull away from his face and let out a giggle. “Why are you laughing?” He asks, can’t help but let out a soft giggle too.

“Before you came I was actually writing another letter for you,” you admit, a shy smile appears on your face.

“Oh really? Tell me about it baby,” he smirks. Your smile widens at the sound of the nickname that rolls out from his mouth. “Mm I miss that. You, calling me baby. Anyways, it’s in my room, wanna come in?” You ask.

He shakes his head, pulling you closer as he leans back against the stairs railing. “Hmm in a bit sweetheart, you can tell me here while we stargaze. I missed your porch- and mostly you, of course,” he replies with a faint smile.

So you do. You talk to him about the letter while your head rest on his shoulder and your fingers intertwined. “Lastly I wrote, I love you, I’m sorry,” you say, explaining the last content of the letter. But then, you realise he has gone quiet. His stillness unsettling. You glance up to him, “Rafe?” He’s not responding. You check his pulse but there is none. Panic sets in as you shake him, calling his name.

“Rafe”

“Rafe, wake up”

“Wake up!”

“Wake up!”

“Y/n”

“Y/n”

“Y/n, wake up”

You gasp, your heart is pounding like a drum. You’re sweating all over your body as reality crashes down. It was a nightmare.

“Hey..baby you okay?” You turn your head to your right and realise it’s Rafe. He’s okay, he’s alive and he’s sitting on the bed next to you. Relief floods through you like a tidal wave.

“Is it the nightmare again?” He asks. You nod, signalling him that he’s right.

“It’s okay baby I got you. Here, come back to sleep,” he says, gently pulling you into his arms. You smile and cuddle him, clinging to the illusion of safety his embrace provides. You close your eyes again trying to fall back to sleep till your alarm suddenly rings.

You wake up with a tear running down your cheek. You hit the snooze button and realise that was a dream and this time, it’s the true reality. You look to the other side of your bed, it’s empty. It always has been for quite a while now. The truth is, that night after Rafe collapsed, you called for an ambulance. On the way to the hospital, they try everything to make his heart beat again, but nothing works. It was too late. He had lost too many blood before that you weren’t aware of and that same night, Rafe had died in your arms.

It’s been 3 years since the tragic. You keep having the same dream almost every night. Part of you is grateful that you and Rafe had ended in good terms but another part of you knows that the truth is you’ll never get the chance to redeem yourself and be a better partner. There’s nothing remaining other than the memories that will haunt you forever.

Rafe, if you’re hearing this, I love you, I’m sorry.

Like and reblog if you want to kys after reading this😇☺️

[coryndoll]

STAY THE NIGHT ( prologue )

plot ── you unexpectedly bump into your ex-boyfriend, drew starkey, years after a breakup. you reluctantly help him escape the spotlight. what starts as a tense reunion turns into a secret, spontaneous journey through the city that forces you to confront your shared past. will he stay the night?

content ── “starstruck” inspo, exboyfriend!drew starkey x exgirlfriend!reader, aspiring writer reader x new rising actor drew basically

authors note ── hi guys so .. yes a new series i fear.

main masterlist

drew stumbles through the narrow back halls of the club, his vision swimming as the alcohol dulls his senses. his shirt sticks to his skin, damp with sweat, and the lingering press of too many hands, too many bodies, feels like it’s still clinging to him.

he’s out of it. too many drinks, too much noise. but somewhere in the fog, a single thought keeps pulling him forward: he needs to leave. he needs air. he needs to go home.

his hand trails along the wall as he walks, searching for balance, his steps uneven. someone—he can’t even remember who—told him to use the back exit. avoid the crowd. the fans are still out front, waiting, calling his name. the idea of facing them feels unbearable, so he keeps moving, rounding corners, ignoring the distant voices of staff and the clinking of glasses from the bar.

finally, he reaches the last door. it’s heavy, metal, the kind that slams shut behind you if you’re not careful. his fingers curl around the handle, and without hesitation, he pushes it open hard, letting the door swing wide.

the impact is immediate. there’s a solid thud, followed by a sharp, startled noise.

he freezes, his heart lurching as he realizes he’s hit someone.

outside, you’ve stumbled back, your hand shooting up to your head where the door clipped you. the sharp edge of the impact throbs, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to do anything but blink.

“what the hell?” you snap, your voice cutting through the quiet of the alley.

drew peeks out through the doorway, his movements unsteady but quick. his eyes land on you, and for a split second, he doesn’t register who you are, just that you’re there, and he’s the one who hit you.

“oh shit,” he mutters, his voice low, hoarse. “i’m so sorry— are you alright?”

he steps toward you, his words tumbling out fast, almost slurred. there’s a frantic edge to him, like he’s not sure how to fix what just happened. his hand hovers near your arm, unsure whether to help you or keep his distance.

you straighten slowly, your fingers still pressed to the side of your head. you glance up at him, your eyes narrowing in irritation, but something about him catches your attention. it’s the way he’s looking at you. he’s panicked, apologetic, but also . . . strangely familiar.

“what the hell is wrong with you?” you snap again, but your voice wavers slightly now, your irritation giving way to confusion.

drew’s gaze flickers over you, and something shifts in his expression. it’s subtle at first, a flicker of recognition that grows stronger with each passing second.

you notice it, too. the way his features seem to change, the way his panic starts to melt into something softer, something heavier. you stare at him, your chest tightening as realization creeps in, slow but undeniable.

“wait,” you breathe, your voice softer now, almost disbelieving.

he doesn’t say anything, but his eyes meet yours, and it’s like the world around you falls away.

“drew,” you whisper, the name slipping from your lips before you can stop it.

his breath is shallow, his chest rising and falling as he stares at you, his eyes wide with something between disbelief and urgency. “y/n,” he says, your name tumbling from his lips like it’s a lifeline, like he’s been holding it in for years.

you can’t move, can’t speak. your legs feel unsteady beneath you, and your hands hover awkwardly near your thighs, like you’re trying to brush off the dust and rocks but can’t quite follow through. your mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

drew looks away first, his head snapping to the right toward the street. his body tenses, his shoulders rising as he scans the sidewalk just beyond the alley. a few people walk by, but none of them glance your way. still, it’s enough to make him anxious.

he exhales sharply, almost like a curse, and his hands move instinctively to your shoulders. his grip is firm but careful, like he’s grounding himself, or maybe grounding you. his fingers tighten slightly, and there’s something in his touch that says more than words could: relief, hesitation, maybe even regret.

you blink up at him, your lips parting like you’re about to say something, but he shakes his head, just barely, and pulls back.

he starts to turn, his body angling toward the street like he’s about to leave. “i—” he begins, but the words don’t come. he takes a step away. a part of you doesn’t want him to go.

your hand shoots out before you even think, grabbing his arm just below the elbow. your grip is firm, your fingers curling around his forearm in a way that stops him in his tracks. he freezes, his breath catching, and then he looks back at you.

his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, everything slows. you search his face, your gaze darting between his eyes, his mouth, the faint lines of tension in his jaw. you’re looking for something, like an explanation, a reason, anything that might make sense of why he’s here, why he’s running, why he’s leaving already.

drew glances over his shoulder again, his jaw tightening as he checks the street. this time, he mutters a curse under his breath, low and frustrated. when he turns back to you, his expression softens, but the urgency is still there, tugging at the edges of his features.

“do you have a car?” he asks, his voice low and hurried.

you blink, caught off guard by the question. your hand is still on his arm, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. the first time you’ve seen him in years and this is what he asks you?

authors note ── there will be sm drama & a journey & adventure around los angeles & actors & rekindled sparks just u wait omg. if u want to be part of the taglist for this new series, let me know thru replies, anons, dms, reblogs, etc !!

early tags ── @nicholaschavezslut69 @iissza @snowtargaryen @yootvi @ariiwritess @spideysimpossiblegirl @skyslowalking @adribarbie @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @0-tatiana-0 @beebeerockknot @hoelesslyt @lotuslovers

[midnightswels]

★ LET ME BE YOUR VOID

All your life, you've been the "good girl," playing it safe. Vi is the opposite—rebellious and unpredictable. After a chance meeting at a club you were invited to by friends who felt you hadn't forgotten your cheating ex yet, your worlds collide in a way neither of you expected, leading to a "lesbian incident thing" as your friends called it. Well, you've heard that good girls gone bad... [recent work]

tw: cheating (not from the vi's side, reader was cheated on by her ex gf); english isn't my first language

This is the second part of a series of fanfics based on songs from Sky Ferreira's album "Night Time, My Time". Each can be read as a one-shot unless otherwise noted.

You weren’t supposed to be here—not in this club, not surrounded by deafening music and flashing lights, and definitely not nursing a drink your friend insisted on handing you. But here you were, trying your best to act like you weren’t completely out of place.

Your friends had been relentless. They claimed this was what you needed after your ex-girlfriend had shattered your carefully constructed world a few months ago. "You’re too young to waste time on someone who didn’t deserve you," they’d said. And maybe they were right, but a part of you still felt like it wasn’t your scene, wasn’t your speed.

So, it was supposed to be just another night out with your best friend, the kind where you’d forget about work, unwind with a drink, and laugh about things that didn’t matter. You had no intention of getting involved in anything more. The club was packed, the lights dimmed, the bass pulsing through the floor, making everything feel more alive than it should have. You knew the people who invited you, but you didn’t really want to be there. You were more comfortable in your quiet, organized world. Yet, there you were—pushed out of your comfort zone by the gentle yet insistent coaxing of your friends.

That’s when you saw her.

Vi stood by the bar like she owned the place, casually leaning back with a drink in her hand and that signature smirk that screamed confidence. Her short, messy pink hair caught the strobe lights, making her look like something out of a dream—or maybe a warning.

She wasn’t the kind of person who blended in. Vi had an undeniable presence, the sort that made people instinctively look twice, even if they didn’t want to admit it. The kind of woman who always lived in the moment, unafraid of what came next, someone you might be drawn to and terrified of at the same time. She was standing across the room with some friends when your eyes accidentally met, and it was like everything around you faded for a split second. There was something about her that made your breath hitch, but you quickly turned away, reminding yourself that this was just another club night, nothing more.

You caught her gaze for just a moment, and it sent a shiver down your spine. Her smirk deepened as she tipped her glass toward you in silent acknowledgment. You quickly looked away, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

Your friend noticed. “That girl’s been looking at you,” one of them teased.

“She’s not,” you mumbled, sipping your drink and trying to appear calm.

“She definitely is. And she’s hot.”

“She’s trouble,” you said without thinking, earning an amused laugh from your friend.

Trouble wasn’t something you ever sought out. You’d always been the "good girl," the one who followed the rules, stayed out of trouble, and avoided unnecessary risks. Your life was organized, predictable—safe. But something about Vi made your carefully crafted walls feel unsteady.

Hours later, you were leaning against a wall, waiting for your friend to drag you home (you weren't sure when it would happen - it seems she was talking to some guy) when Vi appeared at your side like she’d always belonged there. “Not your scene?” she asked, her voice low and slightly rough, but somehow warm. “And not from around here too, are you?” she added, her voice low and smooth, like honey, a little teasing but also somehow warm.

You turned to her, startled. Up close, she was even more captivating than you’d realized. There was something wild in her eyes, but also something deeply curious. “How could you tell?”

“You’ve looked ready to bolt since you got here.” Vi grinned, taking a sip from her drink. “And also, if you were a regular,” she continued, her eyes locking with yours in a way that made your heart race, “I'd probably have to steal you away from everyone else.”

“Maybe I’m just waiting for someone,” you replied, attempting to sound composed.

“Oh yeah? Someone like me?” she teased, her grin turning into a smirk that made your stomach flip.

You rolled your eyes, though your pulse quickened. “I don’t think so.”

“Good,” she said, leaning closer. “I’m not the waiting type.”

It started innocently enough, just talking, chatting about life, music, mutual friends. But before long, you were both standing by the dance floor, the music drowning out your words. She was closer than you'd expected, too close for comfort, her breath warm against your ear as she leaned in to shout something over the music. You could feel the tension between you two growing, a sharp, undeniable attraction that neither of you seemed willing to ignore. But you stopped yourself from rash actions — it's too early.

Vi was different from anyone you’d ever met before. You were usually the responsible one, the one who kept things in line, avoided risky behavior, stayed on the safe side of the line. And yet, here you were, your pulse quickening every time she looked at you, making you feel a pull that was unlike anything you'd ever known. She was everything you weren’t—bold, reckless, unafraid to challenge the world. You couldn’t understand why she was interested in you, someone so different from her usual type. But as the nights turned into days, you started seeing each other more often (like good acquaintances, almost friends) and the encounters grew more frequent, you started to feel like maybe she saw something in you that you hadn’t seen in yourself.

“You’re too serious,” she’d say, nudging your shoulder. “Life’s too short to be afraid of it.”

And maybe she was right.

But it wasn’t all easy.

You couldn’t ignore the voice in the back of your mind, the one that whispered doubts and insecurities. Vi wasn’t like anyone you’d ever been close to, and you weren’t sure if you were what she needed—or if this was all just a phase for her.

One night, after a particularly long day, you found yourself sitting across from her in a quiet corner of a bar. She was laughing, telling you some wild story about a bar fight she’d once been in, when you blurted out the question that had been haunting you.

“Why me?”

Vi blinked, her laughter fading as she studied you. “What do you mean?”

“You could have anyone. Someone cooler, more... I don’t know, exciting.”

She leaned forward, her expression softening. “You think I care about that stuff? You’re... different.”

“That’s not an answer,” you said quietly, looking down at your drink. “I shouldn't ask it. Sorry, it was pathetic.”

“You're not.” Vi reached across the table, gently tilting your chin up so you’d meet her gaze. “You make me want to be better,” she said simply. “That’s not something I take lightly.”

From that moment on, things felt different. ”Let's dance,“ she said and you surprisingly agreed.

You were caught up in the rhythm of the music, your movements fluid, free, and then, just like that, Vi was beside you, her presence magnetic, pulling you even closer. Her lips were teasing the edges of your earlobe as she leaned in, shouting something into your ear you couldn’t hear. The space between you two had grown smaller, closer, until it felt like there was no space at all.

It wasn’t planned—it just happened. The kiss was messy, hot, and full of need, nothing like you’d ever experienced before. You had been sober—maybe a little tipsy from the drinks, but nothing that would explain this sudden decision. It was wild and unexpected, and you couldn’t even tell if it was a mistake or something else. All you knew was that in that moment, it felt real.

It was awkward. But it felt like everything—chaos, excitement, vulnerability, all rolled into one. And then, just as quickly, you pulled away.

Vi pulled away first, her lips grazing yours just slightly as she smirked. “Didn’t expect that from you.”

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, the sudden rush of shame washing over you like a cold wave. What had you done?

You were still processing what had just happened. You weren’t the type to do something so spontaneous, let alone kiss someone so... bold. You took a step back, your heart racing. You were aware of the looks people were giving, but the only thing that mattered was her—her eyes, her lips, the way she made you feel like you could fall into something deeper than you’d ever imagined.

“I—I don’t usually do this,” you stammered, barely able to catch your breath.

Vi raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lips quirking up. “You’re not a regular girl. I can tell.” Her voice was laced with something teasing, but there was something else in it, something softer you hadn’t noticed before.

”I need to go,“ you awkwardly said. ”Remembered something.”

The rest of the night was a blur. You left the club without a second glance, slipping into the night, your heart pounding as you tried to convince yourself it wasn’t a big deal. You didn’t need to explain it to anyone, certainly not Vi. But then why did it feel like you were running from something much bigger?

The next few days were spent in silence. You ignored Vi’s texts, her calls, anything that might bring you back into her orbit. You couldn’t bring yourself to face Vi, couldn’t stand the thought of what you’d done. She was wild, spontaneous, everything you were not, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you were just a fleeting interest to her. Your friends had all seen what had happened, and now they rolled their eyes, joking about it like it was just another “typical lesbian incident,” a moment of confusion, a kiss, followed by an awkward disappearance. They didn’t understand.

But Vi did.

One evening, she showed up at your door. You opened it hesitantly, already knowing what was coming. Vi stood there, looking just as unbothered as she always did, her arms crossed.

“You running away now, too?” she asked with a small, knowing smile.

You stepped aside, letting her in, but your nerves were a mess. The weight of the kiss was still there, lingering like a silent elephant in the room.

“I don’t get it,” you said before you could stop yourself, your voice tight. “I—I don’t know what I was doing, Vi. I just... I’m not like you. I’m not supposed to be someone who does... that.”

Vi raised an eyebrow, her usual smirk softening. “Do what? Live a little? Look, you don’t have to apologize for kissing me. You don’t have to apologize for anything.”

“But I don’t even know what this is,” you confessed, your eyes tracing the floor. “I’ve never been... like this. I’ve always been cautious. I’ve always... followed the rules. And now I’ve gone and done something reckless.” You looked down, feeling small. “It’s just... you’re so used to being spontaneous, to going for what you want, and I... I’m not that. I’m careful. I don’t do things on impulse.”

Vi walked over to you, her gaze serious now. “What’s wrong with that?” she asked gently. “It’s not about being like me. It’s about figuring out what you want, and trusting that you deserve it. I don’t want you to be someone else. I want you to be you.”

You let out a long, shaky breath. You were still reeling, unsure of what you wanted or where this connection between the two of you could go. “I just... I had an ex, and she messed me up. I wasn’t ready for anything new, and I still don’t know if I am.”

Vi’s expression softened further. “You don’t have to be ready right now. I’m not asking for anything. I’m not asking you to be someone you’re not, and I’m not going anywhere. But don’t run away from me. Don’t run away from this.” She smiled softly.

You looked into her eyes, seeing something real, something vulnerable in them. Maybe it was the calm in her voice, or maybe it was just the way she always knew how to make you feel seen, even when you couldn’t see yourself. But for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t alone in the confusion.

“I don’t want to run away from you,” you admitted quietly. “I just... I don’t know what to do with this. With us.”

Vi took a step closer, her hand brushing lightly against yours, sending a spark up your arm. “Then let’s figure it out together.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, things didn’t need to be perfect or understood right away. Maybe it was enough to just be in the moment with someone who made you feel like you mattered.

“I don’t know what I’m doing either,” she added with a grin. “But I’m willing to figure it out with you.”

The awkwardness was still there, but something had shifted. Something had clicked, and it felt like you weren’t running anymore. You were stepping forward into something you couldn’t yet define, but it was real, and it was yours.

And for once, that felt enough.

“Would you want to go on a date with me?” Vi asked, her voice steady.

A warm smile tugged at your lips, and you nodded. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

[martygraciesversion381]

MY BOY ONLY BREAKS HIS FAVOURITE TOYS (MV1) part2!

piastri!reader x max verstappen

part 1

series name: the tortured poets department song: my boy only breaks his favourite toys ~ Taylor Swift

Warnings: SMUT!, pnv, bit of angst, panick attack (kinda), wounds, blood, max (yes he's a warning), vomit mention, that's all i think

A/n: PART TWO IS FINALLY OUT (sorry for the wait) this is the first smut fic that i wrote but it's kinda good i'm impressed well...hope you like this part too love you guysss!!!<3

masterlist

you and max didn't talk for the rest of the week and your holidays were soon coming to an end. to celebrate the last night, you all decided to go clubbing. you were sitting at the vip lounge between lando and george and you were exaching the recent gossip.

you told them about what happened with max, how your feelings developed and how you were surelly falling for him. they didn't seem shocked at the news, lando even had a small smirk on his face.

"i swear everyone knew it except you" he said chuckling

"you have to tell him! he loves you too" added george enthusiastic

"george anyone with eyes can see that he doesn't. come on he hates me everyone knows it!" you answered not believing him

"okay sure" he answered

you took a sip of your drink and looked at the dancefloor where max was dancing with another girl. you shot them a glare crearly jealous of the girl. but when you saw them kiss, you immediately ran to the bathroom entering a stall and throwing up. you loved max and you hated yourself for it.

in your hurry to the bathroom, you had forgot about the drink in your hands and when you stumbled into the stall, the drink broke on the floor. as your hands held you up resting on the floor, you could feel every inch of the glass break into your sking and blood started to get out of your wounds.

as you cried on the floor, the door burst open and you felt strong arms wrapping around you. You got up to look at who was holding you. the first thing you saw were max's big blue eyes full of concern. He took your hands in his examining the cuts. "I’m bringing you back home." He said wrapping his arm around your shoulders and getting out of the bathroomwith you. "Max what’s wrong?…who the fuck is she?!" the girl he was dancing with before asked. "Fuck off" he answered coldly pushing her away. He walked you out of the club and into his car. 

When he got into the driver’s seat, he finally looked at you. You were a shaking mess. Tears stained your cheeks and the blood from your hands recovered your dress. "What happened?" He asked in a gentle tone that you never heard coming out from max’s mouth. You shook your head as no. You couldn’t tell him that it was because he kissed the other girl. 

He drove the both of you back to the house. You immediately got into your room to take a look at your hands. Dry blood recovered them and you could see pieces of broken glass coming out of your skin. You got into the bathroom and took the first aid kit when someone entered the bathroom. It was max. "D’you need help?" He asked and you nodded. As much as you wanted him far from you, your hands hurt too much to do it yourself. 

He took the oxygenated water and began to clean your wounds. You bit your lower lip cause of the pain. He then gently took out the peaces of glass from your hand and cleaned them before wrapping a bandage around it. He then looked up at you. You smiled at him and muttered a small "thank you" before kissing his cheek and going back into your room. If you would’ve stayed longer, you would’ve saw how max’s cheeks reddened after your kiss. 

He walked back into your room while you were looking into your cupboard to change your blood stained dress. He came to stand behind you and you could feel the heat radiating from his chest into your back. Your heart skipped and beat and you sucked in a deep breath before turning around to face him. His gaze met yours and you felt your legs becoming weak. You could cum just by him looking at you it’s pathetic you think. 

But your heart made its final beat when his gaze traveled to your lips. You let your gaze flicker to his lips too and when he realised it, he immediately slamed his lips into yours and your back collided with the cupboard’s door. You moaned into his mouth and he groaned in response tangling his hand into your hair. He walked the both of you to your bed and when the back of his knees hit it, he sat down pulling you onto his lap straddling him. His hands immediately found their way to the hem of your dress pulling it up just above your hipbone to grab your ass firmly. 

As you continue kissing, max tongue intertwined with yours into your mouth and you started to grind against him. He groaned into the kiss and pulled back. "You can’t do that to me it’s a crime." He mumbled in a low rough voice. He flipped the both of you over so that he was hovering over you on your bed.

He started to kiss your neck and jaw and sucking at the skin on your collarbone before gliding his tongue over it to ease the pain. His hands traveled on your body until they reached the hem of your dress. He tugged at it before taking it off of you and throwing it on the floor. He took his time to admire your soft curves before tossing his shirt on the floor. He looked at your now exposed chest and you tried to hide it with your hands feeling embarrassed. Max took your hands away and pinned them on both sides of your head. "Don’t hide from me darling." He moved his head down to your breasts and licked one of them. He started to play with your nipple sucking and licking it. He sometimes bit it but not harsh so that you won’t feel pain. You moaned his name and your chest moved up and down from your quick breathing.  

He moved his mouth and latched it to your other nipple giving it the same amount of attention. Your moans created a symphony to max’s ears and he couldn’t get enough of them. He wanted you, all of you. He got away from you and pulled your underwear down revealing him your wetness. "God you’re so gorgeous." He grunts before starting to fumble with his belt taking off his pants and throwing them on the floor. You watched as he hovered you and hooked his fingers into the hem of his boxers before pulling them down and throwing them on the floor. 

"You sure about this?" You nodded and he grabbed your waist turning you around. "Ass in the air." You did as he ordered and lift your ass. He immediately slamed his cock harshly into your pussy and you cried out his name. You felt every inch of him gliding inside you and god, he was huge. He grabed your hips and you were sure that it was going to leave bruises in the morning but as long as it was max you didn't care. He started to thrust inside you with a hard and quick pace reaching the deepest spots inside you. Years of hating each other lead to this and you were extremely grateful for it. 

As max kept thrusting inside you, you felt a familiar tingling sensation building inside you. "You close mmh? Gonna cum on my cock like a good girl?" He mumbled. You moaned in response and he sped up his pace letting out a string of cusses in Dutch. The knot that formed into your stomach finally untied and you reached your high becoming a shaking mess underneath max. The pillow muffled your moans but your cries of max’s name could be heard in all the house. As he continued to fuck you, you felt that his thrusts were becoming sloppier and you could tell that he was close too. 

You thanked yourself for being on the pill when his cum painted your walls. After a few thrusts, he pulled out of you and you both collapsed on your bed. He got up and exited your room and you were sure that he was not going to come back. He just wanted to fuck you for his own pleasure then. But, a few minutes later, he came back into your room wearing a shirt and a pair of boxers. He handed you one of his shirts and you took it putting it on. His shirt covered the top of your thighs and you felt a hot sensation burning your cheeks at the sight of his shirt on you. He layed on your bed and you layed down next to him. He pulled the sheets on both of you and caged you in a comfortable embrace while your legs tangled under the blankets. You drifted off to sleep and he did too. 

Oscar’s POV 

I walked back into my and y/n’s shared room after a long night at the club and when my eyes landed on her bed, my heart almost stopped. My sister was sleeping into max verstappen’s arms and their clothes were thrown on the floor. I quickly recovered from the shock and a smile made its way on my lips. It was time that they got together. I got closer to the bed and placed a kiss on her forehead. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled up at me. Then max woke up too and his eyes widened when he sees me. 

I chuckled. "Relax you have my blessing to date my sister if it’s what you want." Y/n looked up at max and he smiled down at her. I had never seen max smile like this and I was happy for the both of them. I got out of the room and when I closed the door I heard my sister moan. Well at least they’re happy. 

taglist:

@g00d--vibes @f1addict3 @gorgeousreputation @swiftlyconehead @motorsportbarbie13 @paulinegba @carloswinner (i tagged you hehe)

[cringefailvox]

Cute headcanon incoming:

In the series, I noticed Alastor has a signature radio. It's the tall cathedral radio with his yellow smile in the front. Why would he need so many replicas of the exact same radio when he has more variety in his room?

I  imagine during his hayday he placed this in shopfronts and such that were under his protection. Basically "beware, the radio demon frequents here! Don't mess with us!" Because where are two instances we see this radio? One is prominently on display in the hotel lobby, and one is placed in the antique shop display window during Stayed Gone. (I refuse to believe those shops were not at some point a collab between Vox and Al. I mean, have you seen Radio Hacks from the pilot with all those TVs inside?)

Anyway, we now know Mimzy owns a club from the Playbill. I would love to see the inside of it sometime in season 2, and hopefully she has one of Al's old radios in there too. 

And if we have a flashback of Vox beginning to build up his business from the ground up? What if Alastor gave him a little cathedral radio for protection, too? What then? (sorry for the long messages)

AW that's super cute. i love the idea that all of alastor's friends have radios that he just discreetly places in their homes once they're close enough for him to care about what happens to them. also you have no idea how unwell i'd become if vox owned a radio

[clarkeyhill]

Strike One | George Clarke

Fluff

The music thumped through the club, a pulsing rhythm that seemed to vibrate in my chest. I sat across from my boyfriend, Josh, at one of the small tables near the dance floor, nursing a drink and trying to ignore the tension brewing between us. It had been a good night until something shifted—an offhand comment, a misunderstanding, I wasn’t even sure anymore.

Josh's voice was sharp, his words cutting as he leaned in closer. “You always do this,” he said, his face dark with frustration.

“Do what?” I shot back, my voice trembling but firm. “You’re the one making a scene right now.”

“I’m making a scene?” His laugh was bitter, loud enough to turn a few heads nearby.

“Josh, stop,” I whispered, glancing around, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

But he didn’t stop. The argument escalated, his words biting deeper, my frustration bubbling over. I tried to stand, to leave the table and cool off, but he grabbed my arm, yanking me back into my seat.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he hissed.

“Let go of me,” I said, yanking my arm free.

And then it happened.

In one swift, furious motion, Josh's hand struck my face.

He didn’t apologize. He didn’t look remorseful. He just stood there, his chest heaving, before muttering something under his breath and walking away, disappearing into the crowd.

I sat there, stunned, my hand pressed to my stinging cheek. Tears blurred my vision as I tried to process what had just happened. How did it come to this? How had I let it happen

“Hey,” a voice broke through the haze.

I looked up to see a man standing in front of me, concern etched across his face. He had dark, kind eyes and a steady, grounding presence.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle but firm. “Why are you crying? What happened to your face?”

I hesitated, unsure if I could even speak, but the kindness in his gaze melted my defenses. “It’s nothing,” I mumbled, my voice shaky.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” He pulled out a chair and sat down, his movements slow and non-threatening. “Did someone do that to you?”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “My boyfriend,” I whispered, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “We got into an argument, and… he hit me.”

His expression darkened, but not with anger at me—with something protective, almost fierce. “You don’t deserve that,” he said firmly. “No one does. You shouldn’t stay with someone who treats you like that.”

I sniffed, wiping at my eyes. “I know, I just… I don’t know what to do right now.”

“You don’t have to figure it all out tonight,” he said. “But you shouldn’t sit here alone. Come join us.” He gestured toward a lively group of people a few tables away, all laughing and chatting.

“I don’t want to impose,” I said, hesitant.

“You’re not imposing,” he reassured me. “You’re joining. And I don’t want to leave you here by yourself.”

Something about his sincerity broke through the fog of pain and confusion. I nodded, standing on shaky legs as he guided me toward his group.

His friends welcomed me with open arms, their energy warm and comforting. George introduced me to everyone, and soon we were chatting like old friends. The conversation flowed effortlessly, their laughter easing the knot in my chest.

George stayed close, making sure I was okay without hovering. Every now and then, he’d glance at me, as if to check if I needed anything. For the first time that night, I felt safe.

As the evening went on, I realized how much lighter I felt without Josh's shadow looming over me. These strangers-turned-friends had no agenda, no judgment—they were just kind. And George? He was something else entirely.

Before the night ended, George handed me his phone. “Here,” he said with a small smile. “Put your number in. If you ever need someone to talk to—or just someone to hang out with—I’m here.”

I hesitated for a moment, then typed in my number. “Thank you,” I said softly, meeting his gaze.

“No need to thank me,” he said. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you’re not worth more than this.”

Over the weeks that followed, George and I stayed in touch. At first, it was casual—checking in, chatting about our days. But soon, he became a constant in my life. We went for coffee, watched movies, and spent hours talking about everything and nothing

He never pushed, never asked for more than I was ready to give. He just… showed up. And somewhere along the way, he became my best friend.

Looking back, that night at the club felt like the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. Josh had broken something in me, but George and his friends had helped me start to rebuild.

And as I sat across from George one afternoon, laughing over some stupid joke he’d made, I realized something else: I wasn’t just healing. I was growing. And for the first time in a long time, I felt whole.

-

🫶🏻

[amphitriteswife]

Next level

Tagging: @yue-yolk

Warnings: Nsfw

Note: shit post

Pairing: Jaegyeon na x reader

.

.

.

Jaegyeon gripped his steering wheel tightly. It was late in the night, yet no sign of the city dying down. That’s Incheon for you, always busy and full in swing. He drove along side the busy streets, flashy bright lights along the roads and the sight of the night clubs coming out from their hiding spit emerged in his vision. He sighs. He hated you, has he ever told you that? You’re so irresponsible. You always act to high and mighty around the other kings. You fight so well and conquer every city you can. You can have it all yet you chose not to just because it takes too much work? And what do you do instead? Party. You party and drink, you meet some guy and flirt, or not. Jaegyeon parked his car far away from the busy red light streets. He doesn’t want anything to happen to Initial N after all. His hand twirling the keys around his fingers while he walked up the street. He doesn’t even know these clubs. They’re probably all boring anyway. Why do you go to these places? You can do so much better. He let out another sigh before walking down the stairs to the club. The hostess by the stand already pointing to your booth. His steps feel heavy. The dim light and loud atmosphere is making him a little irritated. He could see your silhouette from the distance. Lace dress, high heels, make up, loose hair. You’re always so different than when you fight. You’re cold, mean, strong and business like. But now, seeing you in a booth with other girls and boys, laughing while you drink some cheap alcohol one of those randoms bought you, the way you laugh at them. It seems so strange. Yet it’s not new to him no matter how many times he has seen it before. It’s always the same old song with you.

He looks at you, then your table, then the others at the table and back at you. You tell them you have to go and the people in your booth all whine, telling you you can stay a little longer, have another drink, it’s all fun. You tell them no in a half joking voice and grab Jeagyeon by the arm. You cling to his side and he guides you to his car. He talks to you once again. His hands on your frame to keep you from stumbling, you flirt with him, forgetting that the two of you hate each other’s guts. You say you’re cold and lean into his body, your hands brushing over his chest and shoulders. Your sweet voice fills his ears telling him everything he wants to hear from you. You tell him a bunch of lies. Well, maybe half lies. He tries to get you to sit in the car and buckled your seatbelt then walks to the driver’s seat, after Jaegyeon takes his own seat he already noticed that yours is off again, he watched you comes closer to him and sit in his lap. He sighs for the 3rd time that day. He holds you by the hips again and tells you no. You lean into his face and kiss him, he lets you kiss him. He lets you suck and lick his lips. He lets you open up his mouth to let your tongue slide in. He allows it and kissed you back, he knows he shouldn’t, but he’s still doing it. You grab his shirt and pull it off his body, he breaks the kiss and lets you sit in his lap while he drives you to the nearest yet best hotel he knows. He once again books the same room, same floor, same number, same service he always gets when he’s with you. He guides you to the room, you pull him into the bed, he obligates and pulls up your dress. You undo his pants and let it fall to the ground, he gets on top of you and you giggle. It’s always the same. The same thing you have been doing for some years. He kissed you once again. You kiss him back. The bed creeks. The voices are loud. The time is forgotten, the hate is not there. His breath is ragged. Your hair is disheveled. It’s not love making. It’s far from it. It’s just something the both of you do. You’re not lovers. Not even friends. Just some fuck buddy. You call, he picks up, you kiss, he kisses back. You tell him to go faster, he picks up his pace. He doesn’t remember how many times he did it with you, nor the positions. All he remembers is him fucking you and you fucking him. He remembers the way you kiss him and the way you kiss back, the taste of your spit intertwining with his. Him pressing you against the mattress, he puts up your legs and pounds into you for the millionth time while he moans out your name. He fucks you like you’re his girlfriend, but that’s not what you are. And you kiss him like he’s you’re boyfriend, which isn’t what he is.

Jaegyeon lost his interest in other women a long time ago, but he doesn’t know if the same goes for you. It’s all just raw, passionate and quick sex. It’s not boring, it’s fun. It’s amazing. He loves it. But that’s because it’s with you. Even now when he’s laying beneath you, his hands behind his head while you sit on top of him, your back against his legs and touching his body. Your hands touching his abs and then his chest. He still feels the same way as 4 years ago.

‘Don’t you ever want to be more than just this?’

Is what he asks. You laugh and don’t really give an answer, the two of you fall asleep, then you wake up, then you kiss once again. Then it’s turns into something more before he checks out the hotel and drives you home. The next time he meets you is with the other kings and it’s all back to normal. No word of it or what happened. Back to two people who can’t stand each other and back to two people who stil haven’t confessed only to be stuck in one big cycle.

[etclouie]

i loved your hotch fic from kinktober, could you write 2 and 20 from the first group of prompts please? the 50 prompts list

˚୨୧⋆｡ prompt/s; 2) “do you think things would be different?” “how so?” “i mean, if we hadn’t met at a strip club” and 20) “i love you” “i don’t care anymore” — from 50 dialogue prompts

˚୨୧⋆｡ warnings; hotch x stripper!reader, uh kinda a breakup??, angst tho, that’s it really but if i missed any lmk

˚୨୧⋆｡ a/n; i got my car on friday, so i’ve been dealing with that mainly (sorry for not writing much)

— thank you for celebrating 600 with me || submissions are now closed

towards the end of your shift, Aaron had shown up at the club. 

you’d pulled him aside and outback, away from prying eyes and the nosey guys that would always try and keep you to their selves. 

but the look in his eyes told you that whatever had to say was serious, so you waited. 

he gave you a ride home, and his whole demeanour was avoidant. 

he stood in the doorway to your bedroom as you got changed, his eyes flicking from you and away again. a churning feeling in his gut as his eyes grey half lidded. 

his suit blazer had long been discarded, yet his shirt still remained creasless— his expression remained just as guarded as it usually was, but tonight the usual walls between them seemed a little thinner. 

you still had your heels on, the sound of them tapping against the hardwood floors mirroring the beat of your heart. 

for the past few months now, Aaron had been trying to balance his world with yours. 

he’d never been one for casual relationships, told you so when you first starting seeing each other—especially not with someone who’s life was so different to his, complicated in a sense. 

yet somehow, you both had found each other amidst the chaos. 

“do you think things would be different?”

his voice broke the silence, he hadn’t intended to speak aloud but the question had been sitting on his tongue for longer than he liked. 

glancing over your shoulder towards him, eyes quickly searching his for an answer you weren’t sure you were ready to hear. 

“how so?”

you asked, your tone measured but soft. you let your eyes pull away from him as you sat on the edge of the bed, finally peeling off your heels as he watched. 

he pushed off the doorframe and walked towards you slowly, staying a foot or two away. 

“i mean… if we hadn’t met at a strip club. if i hadn’t walked in that night, would we have still crossed paths?”

your fingers lingered on the intricacies of the heel, his words settling in as you placed the heel on the floor. 

hands moving to work off the other one, and for a long moment you didn’t answer. 

the truth was you’d thought about it too. 

your life before Aaron had been a series of stripped down, fleeting encounters. and as some would say, unsurprising for a woman who worked as a stripper— only for what you could offer in a few minutes of attention. 

but that night when he’d walked into the club with the rest of the team, it was different. there was something in the way his eyes lingered on you, not with judgment but instead curiosity. 

it was the first time in years you’d been seen, really seen. for who you actually were beneath the surface. 

and you hadn’t been able to shake it since. 

“i don’t know”

you finally said, voice tinged with uncertainty as you set the other heel down by the first. 

standing from the bed and moving through your dresser, pulling out clean pyjamas and setting them on top. 

“maybe it would’ve been easier, you know? if we hadn’t met that way. but at the same time, i’m not sure i’d want that. maybe it’s the only way it was supposed to happen”

you shrugged, finally turning to face him again. and you couldn’t help the sigh that pulled from your chest at the sight of him. 

he took another couple of steps closer, close enough for you to feel the warmth that always radiated off of him. 

“i don’t want to regret it”

he said softly, not just to you but to himself too. his eyes met yours, and the softness behind them remained but it was mixed with something else. 

you swallowed the lump in your throat, the rawness in his voice hitting you harder than you expected. 

“you’re not regretting this, are you?”

his eyes searched yours again, for a long moment. the weight of his gaze felt heavy, like he was reading into every part of you and stringing together fragments of your past and present. 

finally, he exhaled a breath and shook his head. 

“no”

he told simply, but you sensed a ‘but’ coming. 

“but sometimes i wonder if we’re just living in two different worlds”

you took a step back from him, your back hitting the dresser and knocking something sat on top of it. 

the distance between you remained small, but it felt like a chasm. 

you’d always known this wasn’t easy.  ring with someone like Aaron, so tightly bound by duty and a life of danger and trauma—while you danced for men in dimly lit clubs for a living. 

you loved your job, even if others told you that you shouldn’t. but you couldn’t help but notice the wedge it had driven between you and Aaron as of lately. 

the silence between you grew heavier as you searched his eyes once more, the softness had dissipated and been replaced by something sadder. 

“i love you,”

you whispered, voice almost breaking slightly on the words. the admission felt like it carried a weight of its own, something you’d been holding onto for far too long. 

Aaron looked at you, but his expression hardened from its sadness seconds ago and the air seemed to crackle with a newfound tension. 

“i don’t care anymore”

he said, his voice tight almost as if it physically hurt to speak the words. 

you recoiled, a sharp sting of pain hitting your chest. you’d expected it, in a way. 

there was no way this relationship—your life— could be simple, no matter how much you tried to make it work. 

Aaron stepped back, his gaze never leaving yours and the hurt in his eyes was almost more painful than the words he’d spoken. 

“i’m sorry. i just.. i can’t keep pretending that this is okay. that it’s sustainable”

that stung. 

you couldn’t even pretend that it didn’t. 

but you nodded slowly, trying to keep the tears from pooling in your eyes. you had known deep down, that this day would come. but that didn’t make it easier. 

the man you loved, the one who had seen you beyond the stripping and the shadows, was telling you that it was time to let go. 

“i get it”

you whispered, your voice barely audible but the words felt final. 

“maybe this was just a chapter that ended too soon”

for a long moment the room was filled with nothing but the soft sound of your breathing, the tension so thick it could be cut through with a pair of scissors. 

finally, Aaron moved closer to you again. his large hand cradled your face, and despite the urge to pull away you let him. his thumb soothed across your cheek as he mumbled out to you. 

“i never wanted to hurt you, but sometimes i think loves just not enough”

your throat tightened and though you fought to keep yourself composed, your emotions broke free in the form of a single tear that escaped down your cheek. 

you wiped it away quickly, refusing to let him see how much it for at you. 

“i know”

you whispered softly, voice barely audible. 

“but it doesn’t change how i feel”

Aaron sighed, pulling you into his chest. his hand that held your face now lay on the back of your head as it lay against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat grounding you despite everything. 

even though everything inside you screamed to stay, to fight for this love that you both knew had no clear future. 

in the end, some love stories were written with a beginning and an end that no one could control, no matter how hard you tried to keep the pages from turning. 

and it ate you up inside. 

but now, as he held you—all the pain and tears disappeared, if only for a moment. until he left, you still had him but once he did leave you knew all the pain would come rushing back all at once. 

⋆˚࿔ reblogs are highly appreciated 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[dozing-marshmallow]

PLAYING DDLC WITH THE OTHER FRANKIE HEADCANONS

(Spoilers for DDLC + mentions of DDLC’s dark themes)

Bored, you scrolled through Frankie’s computer to find some games to play. You came across one that featured four anime girls with a pink and white wallpaper. You clicked on it and read through the description.

“The Literature Club is full of cute girls! Will you write the way into their heart? This game is not-“

“Whatcha looking at on the computer, contestant?”

Your reading was interrupted when you heard Frankie, turning your head around to see him peering over your shoulder,“Uh, I found this game with these four girls on the computer for free.” you explained, pointing at the screen,“It’s supposedly one of those dating sims. You wanna join me?”

“I’d like to! Let’s see what your type calls entertainment.” he agreed, standing next to you, his hands on the table.

You were smiling at the cute main screen and upbeat music. This had to be a good game.

It asked you to enter a name.

“I’m just gonna put Frankie,” you declared, fingers pressing the keyboard.

“The right answer!”

ACT 1

Both of you were reading out the dialogues- you read for the MC, Yuri and Natsuki, Frankie read for Sayori and Monika.

There wasn’t a lot going on so far. Your character had joined the school’s literature club for the sake of his childhood friend.

The writing poem bit, Frankie took control and picked a mix of the sweet and morbid words, leading to Yuri’s route.

While Frankie admired Natsuki’s feistiness, he preferred Yuri so it worked out.

Actually, he really liked Sayori as a ray of sunshine, though was very confused on which selection of words would lead to her chibi jumping so you couldn’t get any scenes with her this time around.

He thought Monika wasn’t particularly exciting.

Who to help with the festival preparations?

Dang it, unlike the earlier intervention between Natsuki and Yuri, picking Sayori wasn’t an option this time.

“We have been spending a lot of time with Yuri. How about we spend some time with Natsuki?” Frankie suggested.

“Nah. She said she could bake by herself. Let’s just go with Yuri, she sounds like she needs it more.” you reasoned, clicking on Yuri.

At Sayori’s depression revelation, Frankie didn’t know what to say,”Oh... That’s uh...” 

“Poor Sayori. And to think our character was so dismissive of her.” you sighed, feeling more awful when she confessed her love after Yuri’s visit (Frankie read for the MC whenever it was just Yuri onscreen).

“Uh... I can’t pick.” you pushed the mouse to Frankie,“You pick!”

So after staring at the screen for some time, he went with “You’ll always be my dearest friend”.

This made Sayori scream in despair and run away.

“What? Can I not stay loyal?” Frankie asked apathetically.

It was the day of the festival, but you were begging the MC to go to Sayori’s to check on her.

He did, but it was too late.

Sayori was hanging dead from her ceiling.

Frankie exclaimed,“Oh, dear! What a shame!” but you were really disgusted.

“I thought this was a fun dating sim...” you muttered, standing up,”No, I feel really bad, Frankie. I don’t know if I can continue.”

“You survived worse things.” Frankie reminded dismissively, skipping through the dialogues of guilt given by the MC.

“Because I didn’t have a choice.” you scoffed.

“Well, it’s back to the main screen.” he informed, gesturing for you to look back.

Your eyebrow wrinkled. What was that in Sayori’s place?

ACT 2

“Hmm... A lot of weird things are happening, aren’t they?” Frankie chuckled when stating his observation, the frequent glitches with the music and characters seeming very intentional,“It’s as though without that child, the game is broken.”

“Her name was Sayori.” you muttered,“Be respectful.”

Yuri was getting weirder: she appeared to be getting more aroused, attached to your character’s hip and ruder to the other characters.

Maybe if you had picked the words that corresponded to Natsuki, she wouldn’t have been so obsessed?

You didn’t think so much about that because there were just so many uncomfortable scenes now. From who was once a quiet reader admitting she jerked off with a pen to her eyes becoming three dimensional.

You spent more time gagging and recoiling than reading the dialogue so Frankie had to take the role from you.

“Let’s quit the literature club. There’s no need for us to be around Monika’s slimy tongue anymore.”

You forgot why you were playing this.

Natsuki’s secret letter was a relief from all these gross bizarre moments this time,“Awww... She cares about her friend.”

Unfortunately it didn’t last long since her face became as blank and pale as paper as she spoke “Just think of Monika from now on. Just Monika.”

Frankie was starting to really enjoy Monika’s involvement.

“Natsuki, shut your fucking mouth and let him decide for himself.”

The announcer was an instigator, but he was getting concerned with how derailed Yuri’s character was getting.

“What’s wrong with her?” as the girls got more verbally abusive to each other, you cried for the hundredth time,“Oh, what the hell is this game?”

There came Yuri’s confession, brimming with lust and poisonous devotion.

“Uh... Frankie?” you called him, Yuri’s disturbingly calm eyes staring through the screen.

“Mhmm?” he replied, a sense of anticipation reflecting off his beady eyes.

“Which answer do we go for...?” you asked, swirling the cursor around the two boxes. This felt like a very important decision.

“Uh...” Frankie rubbed his chin,“Well, last time, when I said no, the girl died and you got annoyed at me. So let’s go with yes.”

You agreed,“Okay. Yeah, seems like the safer option.”

It wasn’t. When you clicked it, Yuri laughed madly then suddenly pulled a knife out and began- 

“Woah woah woah!” you leaned back in horror.

She had stabbed herself to death. Another had her body made lifeless right after a confession, in Yuri’s case, left to bleed out on the floor.

Puzzled by how rigged the game seemed, Frankie commented awkwardly,”Whoops?” he was close to believing the game could hear him and killed the girls off to sharpen his image as a bloodthirsty enabler.

You were covering your mouth, Yuri’s text bubbling gibberish,“Oh God, this game is so messed up... And this music...” the music was haunting.

Yet you both had to know how it’d end.

ACT 3

Frankie was obsessed with the plot twist of a calculating self aware Monika.

He felt like he was being seen by another robot.

He took control here, even though by this act, it was just waiting for Monika’s looped messages to pop up periodically.

Eventually he got bored and deleted her character file. He didn’t think he would feel guilty when Monika demonised him, since the entered name was his.

“Frankie... You completely, truly make me sick. Goodbye.”

He tried to get her character file back. You were laughing at his desperation.

“It’s not funny, contestant! I broke the trust of a fellow automation!” shame laced his voice.

“Calm down, she might come back.” 

So he went back on the game, clicking the mouse impatiently.

The game restarted, everything the same except from Monika’s existence. Clearly it wasn’t the end since it didn’t ask you to input a name.

He was upset that Monika wasn’t there, though you were happy as the game seemed like it was going to be normal.

Except now Sayori was acting differently.

You slammed your hand on the desk,“You just can’t win, can you?”

However, whatever was left of Monika interfered and crashed the game. A lot of rebooting and...a muffled voice?

“Can you hear me? Hi!”

“Woah, since when did this game have voice acting?” you asked out of surprise.

“Shhh, don’t spoil it, contestant!” Frankie scolded, covering your mouth for a few seconds, listening to what the voice (presumably Monika’s) had to say. Something about playing the piano and singing.

A long sigh drags out of you when he lifted his hand off your mouth. The calm singing and the credits rolling were curing to your senses. What a... Could you even call that a game?

When the song finished, the game closed itself and neither of you made an effort  to start it again as you silently sat to process what you had just played,”...”

“That...sure was something, wasn’t it?” he, being not so effected by this kind of stuff, was the first to speak.

“The most something of somethings I’ve seen in a long time.” normally, it didn’t irk you either,“Ohh God, I don’t know if I can play this again for the other endings, but... Very well made.”

[aheckinmess]

(One-shot series 1/3 chapters posted - posts regularly on Saturdays. If anyone knows who to credit for the Hizashi fanart, please let me know!) Read on AO3.

Tags: Graphic violence, Hizashi Yamada x OC, Present Mic, Present Mic saves the day, Hizashi Yamada is a ray of sunshine, angst, hurt/comfort, scared reader, pro hero rescue

Word Count: 4,364 words

Summary: Ichijiku Aoki has lived in hell with Kigai as her captor for three years. During a chance encounter at a dance club, she runs into her first breath of fresh air in years: Hizashi Yamada. Kigai makes it clear that Ichi belongs to him, so dare she hope for a better life and an escape from her prison?

Author's Note: I haven't posted fanfiction in years, but after a two-year obsession with My Hero Academia, I have more than enough content to share. This first series is pretty dark, but there's some comfort and sweetness along the way. Enjoy.

TW: Implied/Referenced Sexual, Physical, and Emotional Abuse

Chapter 1: Time Signatures

Ichijiku (Tigress)

In another life, listening to the pulsating beat of the music in the club might be fun. I might feed off of the voices singing at the top of their lungs, or delight in the changing colors flashing all around the dance floor. 

But I’m not living in another life. I’m living in hell.

“Give her another shot.” Kigai’s voice rises over the crowd as he gives me a look. Don’t you tell a goddamn soul what I’m doing or you won’t live to see the sunrise. His quirk stretches into my mind and reminds me just who I belong to. Of course, the bruises littering my thighs are testament to that too. Kigai would never let me go out in anything other than skinny jeans, so it’s not like anyone can see, though.

No one ever sees.

The bartender gives me a smile and I play the perfect part of being his playful partner, leaning over to give Kigai a kiss on his cheek, a loving gaze, and a swat at his butt while bile turns over in my stomach. I throw back the shot of tequila before Kigai puts his hands at my hips and looks directly at me. You’d better get out on that dance floor and pretend you’re having a good time. People have started looking at you.  “Why don’t you go have some fun, sugar? I know you don’t feel good, but the dance floor has always helped you clear your mind.”

He plants a slow and tender kiss on my lips, but all I feel is dread. I want to feel happy. I want to feel a flutter in my chest. I want to feel anything. Anything but Kigai.

You’re mine, Ichi. And don’t you forget that. His eyes bore into mine and then he turns away, laughing at a joke Shihito tells him. I can feel his gaze follow me as I put on my brave face and walk through the dance floor.

In some ways, I’m grateful for the tequila. Otherwise I’d never be able to play like everything’s fine. Winding my way through the undulating bodies feels easier to bear than seeing that look on Kigai’s face. The threat that always lingers there. In this mingling of bodies I can close my eyes and lose myself to the music, feel the beat move in conjunction with me instead of forcing me to move with it. 

The only time I’m conscious of is the time signature in the music. Minutes could pass, or it could be hours. What’s important is that Kigai doesn’t cut in and I can’t see those eyes trapping me in their domineering gaze. 

For the first time in three years, I’m reminded of the better parts of life.

And then the better part of life bumps into me.

“Whoops! Hey there, little lady. Sorry for the intrusion.” A blonde man with a broad smile and glasses apologizes to me. “Did I hurt you?”

For a moment my breath is taken away and my façade cracks. The best way I can describe him is pure sunshine. He only looks at me for a moment with that grin but the warmth seeps into my skin and makes me yearn for a normal life. My throat gets tight. Help me. I want to say. Please make him leave me alone. 

“Woah, hey, is everything okay? Did I really hurt you?” His puts a soothing arm on my shoulder as he makes himself heard over the crowd. “Why don’t you come sit down?”

“No!” I panic, forcing a grin on my face and hoping that he’ll shake it off as me being drunk. That’s what everyone else has done. “Really, it’s okay. I just get emotional when I’m drunk. I’m sorry. You just took me by surprise.” I shake my head as if trying to clear my mind and turn away from him. You’re too pure for someone like me, too beautiful for this world. If Kigai knew I slipped up…I can’t drag you down into this. You could get hurt.

“Hey, wait!” I hear him call behind me, but I ignore it and keep moving.

My feet rush towards the bathroom. I head inside and slam the first stall door I see before heaving into the porcelain bowl. Get it together, Ichijiku. I’ll kill Kigai. We can’t. I sob in the stall. We can’t do anything. Kigai has my family on his radar. We’re stuck! What a foul sack of shit. He’s not worth the stripes on my skin. I want to die. I know, Little Cub, and I’d surely embrace death knowing that you didn’t have to suffer this any longer. But we have to hold on. Change is coming. I can feel it in my bristling fur.

There’s a banging at the door that I know means I’m in trouble. I quickly wipe the tears from my cheeks frantically and flush the toilet before wetting a paper towel and dabbing under my eyes. Breathe. Get it together. We’ll survive. I’m right here with you.

I step out of the bathroom and Kigai’s hand wraps around my arm as he pulls me aside.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He puts on a concerned simper, feeling my forehead with his free hand. You’re supposed to tell me where you’re going and why. You were trying to run away, weren’t you, bitch?  “I thought you were hurt. Did you get sick?”

“I think I drank too much.” I sniffle, looking down so he can’t use his quirk and I don’t have to listen to his haunting voice in my thoughts. It’s a mistake.

His hand comes under my chin. To an outside party it might look like he’s being a tender lover, but there’s bite in the way his fingers dig into my skin. You know I hate when you look away from me, whore.

“Honey, you only had one shot. When did you become such a lightweight?” He laughs. I’m sick of your damn excuses. He runs his fingers through my hair and his hands cup my cheeks as he kisses my forehead. “But if you need to take a seat, go ahead.” Stay where I can see you.

“Thanks, love.” I return his gesture of affection with a hug and a peck on his cheek.

For a while, I sit at the bar again, scrolling through my phone to look busy. I can’t see Kigai, but I don’t need to. His gaze always follows me, even when he’s not in the room.

“It looks like you needed a break, huh?” The blonde from earlier takes residence in the seat next to me.

I turn to look at him as I nurse a lemonade. He’s like a breath of fresh air.

“Yeah.” I look down at the table again and trace around the rim of my glass. “Sorry about earlier. I think I’d been dancing too long and was getting overheated.”

“Yeah, the dance floor can get overwhelming if you’re not used to it.” He laughs. The sound sings through my bones. 

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Yamada Hizashi. But you can call me Hizashi.” He tilts his head like a puppy and the lights around him make him appear almost angelic. “What’s yours?”

“Ichijiku.” 

“Nice to formally meet you, Ichijiku.” He answers. “Was that your boyfriend I saw earlier?” 

“Yes.” I smile into my cup to hide the disgust in my eyes. God, I wish he wasn’t. “He was making sure I was okay.”

“Ah, good to know. From back there it looked like he was going to hurt you, but I was obviously mistaken. I’m glad you’re safe, you know?” 

Something about the way he says it makes me look up at him and feel more hope than I have in a long time. I feel seen and heard. After a cursory glance around the club without seeing Kigai, I feel safe enough to answer.

“Kigai’s not a dangerous man. He doesn’t hit me and he likes to make sure I’m taken care of.” My eyes scream the opposite. I hope he catches it. I hope he doesn’t. “He knows my favorite colors and we watch my favorite movies all the time and he loves me. He never calls me names and he always asks before he touches me; Kigai doesn’t want to hurt me.”

Hizashi’s hand moves closer to mine and when I look at him I don’t feel sick.

“So you don’t need my help at all, do you?” He asks. He doesn’t break my gaze. 

My lips part in a relieved gasp;  I’m ready to tell him everything, but my eyes hold terror as Kigai catches my gaze from across the room. What the hell are you telling him? His smile follows me even though he’s standing beside the DJ. Abruptly, I stand and move away from Hizashi.

“It would be better if you stayed away from me.” I hiss under my breath, cursing myself for wishing for a normal life. Cursing myself for dreaming that I’d ever be able to get away from Kigai. What was I thinking? If Kigai finds out, it’ll be my head. But at least Hizashi knows. Maybe he can get help! Why would he help me? He probably has no idea I need help. I was reading too much into it. No one ever notices the bruises. Or they make excuses if they do.  That’s right. No one cares about you. Who cares about a stupid whore? She’s not a whore. Kigai’s a manipulator and a rapist, and that’s all there is to it, fiend.

“Are you looking at my girl?” I’m suddenly face to chest with Kigai. Shit. He was closer than I realized. Fuck!

“Kigai, honey, it’s okay. I was just coming to find you. It’s fine.” I place my hand on his arm and squeeze, trying to redirect him. 

“No, it’s not fucking okay.” Kigai growls, glaring bullets into Hizashi’s eyes. 

“Hey, man. You have the wrong idea.” Hizashi puts his hands up, looking composed and calm. See? He knows nothing. Everything you told him went straight over his head. “She bumped into me earlier and I was just making sure she’d gotten back to the bar safely.”

“She bumped into you? Or were you trying to cop a feel?” Kigai snarls, dangerously tense.

“Kigai, please.” I beg, pulling at the front of his shirt to make him look at me. Why the hell did you let him get close to you, huh? You know you belong to me. Not some sleaze who’s just going to fuck you and leave you out to dry. After everything I’ve done for you. His words reach into my mind and I do the only thing I can to get out of the situation. I reach up around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. 

Thankfully, Kigai seems to take the bait. He becomes more possessive, gripping my hips so hard I know there’ll be bruises there in the morning. His tongue invades my mouth and he tugs fiercely at my lip. When he pulls back, he still turns a fiery glare onto Hizashi.

“Don’t you get near my girl again, got it?” Kigai wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close to him. My eyes lose their shine. I guess that’s it. We’re stuck again. All in good time, Little Cub. All in good time.

He pulls me away and I risk one last glance back at Hizashi. One last hopeful plea begging him to help, but he’s not looking back at me. 

. . . . .

Six months go by that Kigai refuses to take me out again. For six months he beats the lesson into me.

“You were trying to be a clever little whore, weren’t you?” His foot connects with my jaw, but I don’t make a sound. I take it. “Thought you had a savior. Someone to take you away from me, right? But you’re mine! If you left me do you know what that would mean for your family? For you?” He yanks me up by my hair. “They’d be up shit creek without a paddle and it’d be all your fault!” 

“I’m sorry, love.” I whimper out, hating the taste of the words on my tongue. “It won’t happen again.”

“Damn right it won’t.” He lets go of me and I catch the brunt of my weight on my arms. Tears trickle down my cheeks and then suddenly he pulls me into his arms and then onto his lap on the bed.

“You know I love you, right?” He coos in my ear, saying the words that my heart wants to hear in the most twisted tones. “It’s just…seeing you with that other man…mmm…I hated seeing that. You know he was just trying to manipulate you, right? Use you when you were vulnerable?”

You’d know all about that wouldn’t you? I wish I could have been more specific…told him something more concrete. Then maybe I wouldn’t be stuck here. It’s not your fault, Dear One. “I know, Kigai. I’m sorry. I wasn’t feeling good and I just wanted someone to talk to.”

His grip tightens on me. “You could have found me.”

“You were busy, Kigai, I didn’t want to ruin your time.” I turn and kiss his cheek to make the comment more believable. “I love you.”

“Mmm, that’s what I like to hear.” He kisses under my ear and it burns. Nauseous flames swim along my body until he leaves me broken under the covers. I curl up into a ball as he gets up from the covers and starts grabbing his clothes. “C’mon, baby, get your clothes on. I think you’ve learned your lesson. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

I don’t question it. I’m silent as I pull on my clothes and fix my hair. When I’m ready, I take the arm he offers me. 

“You’re gonna like this, baby.” He rubs a small bruise he made at my neck, smiling as we head out into the street and he looks at me. You’d better not tell anyone it’s anything other than a love bite, got it? Or I’ll have your family hunted down with a snap of my fingers.  “Look at how beautiful you look with my marks on you. Everyone will know who you belong to, yeah?” 

“Of course. Only yours.” I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat.

Before long he leads me to a karaoke bar. The sight of it puts a pep in my step; even though I’d rather be here with anyone else except Kigai, this is the most I’ve gotten out in months. I’ll take what I can get.

“A karaoke bar? How did you know?” I giggle, kissing his cheek as I slip into the assumed role.

“I know my babygirl.” He pauses to kiss me roughly outside the door before pulling me inside. He pays for the two of us before we’re taken to a private room where a few of his friends are waiting. “I hope you don’t mind, some of my buddies came to join us.”

“It’s okay.” I promise, even though seeing all of them makes my heart sink. “As long as they don’t bother me.”

“They’ve already been warned, babe, they’ve already been warned.” Kigai winks at me. Don’t test those waters after I’ve let you out. “Would you like to go first?”

“Yes, please.” 

Once again, the music distracts me from my own crumbling little world. Life seems full of more promise as the notes spill from my lips. 

“Hey, Takamaru! I’ve gotta take a piss. Keep an eye on my girl, okay? Make sure she doesn’t get into too much trouble.” Kigai chuckles and glances at me before he leaves. Don’t do anything stupid.

“Sure, man.” Takamaru doesn’t even look in Kigai’s direction. He’s too busy focusing on Shihito’s selection. “What the fuck, man?! You’ve sung homura three times already! Pick something new.”

“Shut up, Taka, it’s the only song I know.” Shihito huffs, pulling up the microphone again.

“Hey, do you guys mind if I go grab a snack?” I ask, wanting to get some fresh air without Kigai hovering over me. If he gets back before I do, I can always blame Takamaru. He never goes too hard on his buddies. 

“Sure, Ichi. Can you grab me a granola bar while you’re at it?” Takamaru tosses me a couple yen. 

“Sure thing.” I nod and head towards the vending machine on the balcony. 

I walk by a room where I hear such sweet sonorous notes I can’t help but glance into the window. Hizashi?! My feet stutter and I nearly trip. I have to keep walking. Kigai is liable to beat him up if he even sees he’s in the same building. If I were to stop and wave? Impossible. I force myself to keep walking until I make it to the machine. 

Once I’ve got a pack of crackers and Taka’s granola bar, I hang over the railing and take a deep breath. When did this all start? Why did I let myself get roped into this? I hate this… None of this is your fault, Little One. Kigai is a manipulator and a fiend. And his quirk makes it inanely difficult to give any sort of proof to the authorities of your predicament. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” Hizashi’s voice joins me on the balcony. I jump back as if stung and start backing away from him. His moves his hands from his pockets and holds them up in surrender. “Woah, hey, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” I turn to look and make sure Kigai isn’t headed back to our karaoke room and then back to Hizashi. “You can’t be here.”

“Is he hurting you?” He asks me bluntly, eyes somehow fierce and kind all at once.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I choke out, starting to speed walk back into the building. This can’t be happening. Kigai’s going to kill him if he sees him anywhere near me! 

His hand grabs my wrist and I’m forced to pause and turn back to him.

“Is he hurting you, Ichijiku?” 

The first time I saw his gaze in the club, I nearly lost myself. Seeing it now, so intentional and worried…I feel I have no choice.

“Yes.” I hiss, eyes watering. “Yes, he hurts me. All the time. For big things, for little things. But I take it, okay?” Part of me is angry. Not even at Hizashi, just everything in general. Why the hell am I in this predicament? What did I do except love people and want them to love me back? It’s okay. You’re allowed to be angry. Especially at this situation. “I take it because Kigai says he’ll hurt my family if I don’t. Because they’ll die if I don’t suck it up like a good girl, alright? And he’s going to hurt you too, Hizashi. He’ll hurt you really bad if you so much as look at me. If you’re so much as seen with me.” I keep glancing back, waiting at any moment for Kigai to round the corner and exact his punishment. “So go! Leave me alone. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt for my sake…please.” I beg, finally yanking my hand free of his hold.

When I hear Kigai’s voice down the hall, I don’t look back. I rush back into the room just in time and hand Taka his granola bar. I start nibbling on my crackers so I can compose my face before he walks in. I smile at him and offer him a cracker.

“Oo, got me a snack, baby?” He takes the whole pack and leaves me the one. “Thanks.”

The rest of the evening, I’m too nervous to sing like I want to. I pick one or two songs to make sure Kigai’s off my scent, but mostly I watch him and his friends sing. In reality, I keep watching the door to make sure Hizashi doesn’t walk by.

By the time we get ready to leave, it’s dark. I assume that Hizsahi is long gone, because as we walk by his room on our way out, it’s empty and quiet. Thank you, Lord. He deserves a better lot in life than this. 

“Damn, Kigai, every time we go out for karaoke I forget just how shitty of a singer you are.” Taka teases as we give the desk lady her key back. 

“Hey, man! I’m not that bad. At least I can carry a tune.”

“Barely.” He snorts, before nudging Shihito. “And this fucker only has one song he can sing!” 

The ribbing continues as we walk out the door. I keep my eyes down and my arm wrapped around Kigai’s until a group of voices convene on us and someone suddenly pulls me out of Kigai’s grasp.

“Police! Get on the ground, now!” Someone barks out, and my brain struggles to keep up.

Kigai and his pals look shocked to say the least. Kigai is the only one who tries to struggle, of course. “Get the fuck off me! Let my girl go! Babygirl, tell these fuckers to get off me!” 

“Don’t hurt him!” I call out, aching heart bleeding for him even in spite of all the bruises he’s left on my heart and my body.

“Get on the ground.” The cop repeats, needing two more officers to help bring Kigai down to the ground. “Sir, you’re under arrest.”

The world around me sways. My breath gets shaky and I start crying as I beg them to leave him alone. What am I doing?! I want them to take him but… He’s a manipulator. He’s made you afraid and obligated to him. I want him out of my life. I don’t ever want to see him again. My pleas ultimately die down as my sobs get louder. 

The weather is colder in the darkness. My body starts shaking and I start swaying.

“It’s okay, ma’am. We’ll get it taken care of. You’re safe now.” The woman holding me rubs my shoulders and starts looking around. “Can one of you grab a jacket for–”

“I’ve got it taken care of.” Hizashi’s voice melts into my eardrums as the police get Kigai into the back of their cruiser. I wrap my arms around myself and then he’s got something warm and soft wrapped around my shoulders. “Here. Take my jacket.”

I turn to Hizashi and then back to the police cruiser. I look at the woman.

“Excuse me, Officer?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Th–That man…Kigai…he…he said he’d hurt my family if I ever turned him in. Are they–”

“This young man here told us the story. We’ve got a unit at their house.” She assures me, rubbing my shoulder. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore, honey. We’ve got it all covered. We’ve been trying to find definitive evidence to put this guy away for years.”

I look at her, disbelieving. “H=How did you find any evidence?”

The officer looks at the cruiser as Kigai is hauled off, before she looks at Hizashi with a smile and then back to me. “Your friend here said that he recorded your conversation in the karaoke place. He said he’d previously met you and was suspicious of the situation.”

“I hadn’t seen you in months. I was scared I was too late to do anything, so when I saw you…” He pauses. “I started recording on my phone before I walked over to talk to you. I was hoping that maybe if I was blunt enough…you might tell me what was going on.” Hizashi admits sheepishly. “So we left as soon as I got the evidence just in case your group was planning on leaving soon.”

For a long time, I just stare at him. I memorize everything I can about him. The way his hair frames his face and the small, pampered mustache making his smile pop out on his face. Then there’s his eyes.

One look and my body works without my permission. I wrap my arms around him, tackling him into a hug and feeling three years of pain and grief claw out of my chest and manifest as sobs.

“Thank you, Hizashi.” I hold his back in a death grip, and I feel him pat my back delicately. 

“I couldn’t sit by and watch you get hurt without doing anything.”

“Ma’am, would you like me to walk you to your home?” The officer asks me, also reaching over to rub my shoulder.

“I don’t have anywhere to go right now.” I admit with a sniffle. “But if you can go with me to grab my stuff from Kigai’s, that would be great.” I turn to Hizashi. “Will you come with us? Please?”

“Of course. I won’t leave you alone right now. That a problem with you, Officer?” 

“Not at all.” She assures.

When we make it to Kigai’s house, there’s blue and red lights flashing there too. Hizashi steps with me inside as the officer gets debriefed on other things found out about Kigai’s dastardly affairs. “It’s just down this hall.” I assure him.

Going back into Kigai’s room sends a cold chill down my spine. You’re mine, whore. You belong to me, understand? I pull Hizashi’s jacket tighter around me, before steeling my nerves and grabbing my bag and stuffing it.

“Anything you need me to grab?” Hizashi asks as he looks around.

“No. I don’t have much.” I toss in my phone and charger, a few changes of clothes, toothbrush, hairbrush, and a few other necessities. “I think that’s all.” I say once I’ve got everything together. When at last I turn to him and meet his gaze, I’m expecting to hear foul words stabbing into my brain.

He is not Kigai, Little One. It’s going to be okay. 

My nose quivers as I look at him. “He’s really gone.”

“He won’t hurt you anymore, Ichijiku.” Hizashi nods. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

I don’t have to be afraid.

Continue Reading -> Ch. 2

[fraternum-momentum]

WE'RE GETTING EVICTED FROM OUR APARTMENT.

[juveneil]

the fact that the beautiful witty prom queen allison reynolds shares a first and last name with allison reynolds—THE deranged hobo goth basket case from the fucking breakfast club—makes me think it was intentional

[canisvesperus]

Are we going to talk about the thinly veiled ableism towards high support needs autistic adults who frequent websites like deviantart for their hyperspecific non-fandomizable special interests, infrequent hygiene practices, “weird fetishes”, that are all clearly shaped by an experience with neurodiversity that is foreign to all y’all rebranded Asperger’s supremacists

[howldean]

i’m so fucking pissed rn

[narugen-moved]

my brain started cooking up narumina high school au and now i kinda have to write it

au where mina is part of a shooting club (don’t know if this is a Thing or sport in japan but it is in some places so) and she’s the Only Member. the only other member (kafka) graduated before they could do it together so . it’s just her now and Has been her ever since her first year (she’s a second year now)

cue: narumi. annoyed. frustrated. angry. at some stupid shit the teacher said about him skipping classes or playing games in class and the baseball club doesn’t want to let him use their bat and he’s not a member bc they have practice and he doesn’t have any other outlet so he’s trudging along the school compounds walking further and further away from the main buildings when he hears a loud Bang

he doesn’t know what it is, but he plays enough games to recognize a gun going off. he doesn’t run, just finds his aimless walking a bit more pointed. more motivated. as he walks in the direction of the noise

there he finds. to his surprise. a shooting range. there are targets placed on the opposite stretch of the …?? grass?? idk i’m visualising a setup similar to archery rn but once i do more research this is subject to change the MAIN part is that the targets all have bullet holes in them and they’re ALL bullseye

he drags his eyes away from the targets and finds the source of the damage.

a girl with short hair he feels like he’s seen before Somewhere and she’s in her pe uniform the jacket sleeves rolled up to her elbows with the little googles and headphones on and narumi watches in (he hates to admit it) admiration as she loads up the gun with such precise accuracy he can’t follow with his eyes and the next moment he hears another resounding bang

“holy shit.” he finds himself saying and in the next moment the pin drop silence as she aims at the next target is broken because she turns to him immediately.

thankfully the gun isnt pointed at him, and she’s kept her arms in position. the only thing that’s moved is her head and narumi sees the pure confusion on her face and wonders if he’s somehow walked so much he isn’t on the school grounds anymore

“oh.” she says, and puts the gun down and pulls the headphones off her head and keeps them resting around her neck. “it’s you.”

and narumi knows what that tone means. she knows him. he doesn’t know her though.

narumi hates to think about how his face must scream confusion because she follows up before he can say anything with: “we’re in the same class.”

he doesn’t attend classes often. or at all really. so that’s why she seemed a bit familiar. like a blurry after image.

“what is this place,” he says, not a question because narumi doesn’t ask questions, he simply gets answers.

“a shooting range.”

“i’ve never heard of a shooting club in this school.”

“because it doesn’t exist.”

he waits for an explanation. because a building so obviously made to host students or whoever with all this equipment and yet there’s no club?? narumi doesn’t believe it. but he doesn’t think she’s lying to him either.

she takes a painfully long time to find her words, or maybe she just doesn’t want to talk to him, because she keeps her eyes trained on the targets far away.

“i’m the only member. so it doesn’t exist.”

narumi thinks he’s heard somewhere that school clubs need a minimum number of members. he never really cared though. since his after school activities consisted of doing what he does during school hours - play games, pick fights, etc. he doesn’t go to school in the first place. so he doesn’t need an after school club.

he looks at the guns lined up. they’re all clean. he looks around him. everything is spotless. no indication of abandonment.

“well. i don’t care about your circumstances,” he says, and points at the gun she was holding. “i want to shoot too.”

he recalls the image of his form teacher, or maybe it was his science teacher, narumi doesn’t know - he doesn’t even know why he came to school today

(but he does. it’s because they kept begging him to attend at least once a week and narumi can’t say no to family)

but that teacher. with his bald head and smoker breath just kept on saying he should be more responsible blah blah he’s almost a third year god what does narumi care? he shouldn’t even have lived this long but here he is! and just thinking about it has narumi balling his fists up in anger.

“you need to be a club member.”

“does that really matter.”

“yes.”

she’s finally looking at him again. and narumi observes how she has really round eyes. a mole under each one. despite looking pretty innocent, she seems to be serious about this, mouth drawn into a frown and eyebrows furrowed.

narumi can’t really be bothered but he has so much pent up energy. and shooting a gun sounds really fucking awesome.

“okay. whatever. just let me shoot.”

she hurries off somewhere, through a door narumi hadn’t really noticed before and he takes off his school jacket, rolling his sleeves up.

he observes the equipment on the table, and then sees there’s spares in a nearby box. those will have to do.

as he puts on the goggles, he looks around for headphones, ear muffs, whatever, narumi knows their purpose - doesn’t need to know what they’re called but can’t find any.

the girl. he doesn’t know her name still. not that it matters. returns with a piece of paper and he almost barks out a laugh

“fill it in.”

“you’re not gonna tell me to wait until it’s approved before i get to shoot, are you.” he glares at her, because narumi seriously doesn’t want to wait any longer. he wants to let out all these restless energy now.

“i’m the one approving new members.”

“you’re not a teacher.”

“i’m a good student.”

he doesn’t know what the fuck that means but it manages to piss him off a bit more so he scribbles his details into the damn form and shoves it at her.

“approve it.”

“say please.”

he feels himself snap.

“are you trying to piss me off?”

she’s not the least bit intimidated. in fact she doesn’t look away from his glare. most people in the orphanage would have run away by now. and she repeats herself, “say please.”

he takes one look at the gun on the table. the guns on display. the painstaking effort of keeping all these equipment clean despite no one using them. the painstaking effort of keeping a club no one cares about alive.

“please approve the fucking form.”

if she has a single thing to say about it, she doesn’t. she doesn’t say anything. takes a stamp out from her jacket pocket and stamps his club registration.

it takes him a bit later to realize he’s joined a fucking after school club.

he’s being handed a gun, similar to the one she was holding and he grabs it. she doesn’t tell him to watch and follow when she starts loading it up. he got the memo the moment she side eyed him and started preparing, much slower than she had earlier when she was alone.

that annoys narumi a bit.

but he follows everything to a tee. commits the steps to his memory. doesn’t know why. doesn’t think he’ll be back. but he makes sure to remember anyway.

she looks around the area for a bit, as narumi feels the weight of the gun in his hands.

while he’s distracted, he doesn’t realize she’s in his personal space until she is, and he has to hold back from throwing a punch.

their heights aren’t that different, which adds to narumi’s list of annoyances from today, and he takes the split second to calculate how tall the girl must be. above 165cm that’s for sure.

how surprising, she’s got a baby face, so narumi had expected her to be shorter.

when her face is finally drawn away from his, he feels the weight of something around his neck and understands what had happened. she could’ve just passed the ear muffs to him though.

what a weirdo.

she puts her own earmuffs on, and narumi mirrors her actions.

she shifts her stance, and he follows.

she shoots and narumi forgets how to breathe.

the atmosphere around her changes for the split second she releases the trigger, and for once - narumi feels fear.

everything seems to move in slow motion, as he watches her. her face. her eyes narrowed. concentration the only thing there and time resumes as the bullet pierces through the air.

narumi doesn’t have to look to know she’s hit bullseye again.

it’s a challenge. to him, at least. he knows she probably doesn’t care about him. but narumi wants to shoot like that too. so he takes a deep breath and steadies himself and pulls the trigger.

“you’re surprisingly bad.”

not a single bullet hit even remotely close to the center of the target.

“aren’t you just absurdly good?! who the fuck hits bullseye consecutively? look at all your targets!” he screeches, tugging the ear muffs off.

“kafka-kun did say i was weirdly accurate…” she muses, has to think about it- as if she wasn’t aware. as if she only had this realisation.

narumi wants to sock her in the eye or something.

he lets out a deep sigh. at least he released his pent up anger. although he’s kind of angry at a whole other thing now.

“so? what the hell are you doing here if you’re this good. there are competitions aren’t there.”

he doesn’t know why he’s making conversation

“i’m just taking care of the club.”

“the club that doesn’t exist.” he points out.

“i made a promise.”

and narumi remembers he’s not the type of person to give a shit. so he shrugs, ending the conversation.

he refuses to ask for help. for advice. so he keeps his eyes on her as she shoots, and narumi thinks there’s no need for her to train at all. her. accuracy is crazy. he doesn’t know why she even bothers coming here.

by the end of the day, two hours later, he’s managed to get a bit better. or so he likes to think.

he can’t believe he stayed until the sun is about to set. in school.

as she starts cleaning up, narumi finds himself mimicking her actions, the same way he has been doing the entire time.

to his own surprise, his back is sweating, and it must’ve taken a bit more effort than he’d considered.

“ashiro!” somebody calls, and narumi nearly jumps out of his skin. he doesn’t get surprised though. so he pretends he isn’t.

ashiro. he says the name in his head. so that’s who she is.

doesn’t ring a bell.

“hoshina.” she says, and despite a friend (?) - narumi presumes, showing up to this side of the school - she doesn’t smile.

in fact, narumi doesn’t think she’s seen her make any sort of expression that wasn’t a straight face or brief concentration.

well. not that he cares.

“who’s that?”

she looks over to him.

and he looks back at her.

“narumi. from my class.”

so she does know his name.

“ahhh the problem child?”

this guy is pissing him off.

“and who the hell are you? club activities ended ten minutes ago, for your information.”

he doesn’t know if they did end ten minutes ago. but it’s when ashiro started packing up. so he assumes that’s the case

the guy laughs - loud and annoying and narumi held back against punching ashiro but he won’t back against this guy.

“you bastard-,” he growls, walking up to him and glares at ashiro who stops him.

she doesn’t stop him. per say. doesn’t say anything really. but she’s moved closer to him. and she has one eyebrow raised.

“whatever.”

he doesn’t know why he stops.

narumi gen doesn’t stop for anyone.

and that annoys him even more. his list is pretty long now.

longer than it should’ve been.

“so you managed to increase your club numbers? good for you.”

it sounds so sarcastic, but narumi knows it’s not. everything just kind of sounds like shit when it comes from that guy.

“i’m not-,” narumi starts, and then stops. that’s twice now. “i’m not.”

ashiro holds the piece of paper up. the fucking club form and points at the stamp in red. “he is.”

“i’m not coming back here.”

“you probably should though? your aim doesn’t seem to be the best.”

the guy says, and damn this fucking bowlcut guy because the next time he speaks narumi will definitely slam this guy face’s into the wood floor.

“hoshina.” she says, and the tone is a warning. narumi doesn’t need somebody else giving out warnings for him. “your aim is just as terrible.”

“but i’m not a member of the club.”

“he’s new.”

narumi doesn’t know if she’s insulting him or defending him. doesn’t think he’d like either option.

the guy shrugs. before looking at ashiro. “are you done? let’s go.”

she nods and turns to him. they walk out together.

ashiro locks up, and narumi leans a little away from her to take one last glance at the shooting range.

“see you tomorrow, narumi.” it’s the first time she’s addressed him by name. even though she knew it.

“i’m not coming to school.”

“you’ll be here though.”

she doesn’t have to specify for him to know she means here - as in the shooting range.

“i’m not coming to school.” he repeats.

she shrugs, like she already knows.

narumi watches as the two leave, talking about something he can’t hear from where he is, still standing by the door of the shooting range.

he’s not coming back tomorrow.

“you’re here.”

“took you long enough. unlock the door.”

“i told you so.”

“shut up.”

[red-hemlock]

✿ @ghosts-of-gotham from Nora

Send “ ✿ ” for 2 headcanons for our muses’ relationship. @ghosts-of-gotham

River has tried to get Nora to go out and and socialize with her more, with varying degrees of success. One of those instances involved going to one of the many, many clubs in Gotham for 'just a little bit of drinking and dancing', according to River. But the result of that 'brilliant' plan? Somewhat disastrous. River didn't leave Nora's side so that she would be more comfortable, but Nora spent the entire time hovering over River's drinks, and shooting daggers at any man who happened to even glance their way, so very little 'fun' was had on her end. Once River noticed how miserable she was getting, they left immediately, and instead grabbed pizza to-go which they enjoyed in a park. Not a single death was dealt that night.

Nora and River like to trade knives on occasion, and use the others' swapped blade when they work... Its almost like having your best buddy right there next to you, even if they happen to be off doing other things! Though she still struggles with expressing herself sometimes, Nora always gets excited whenever River mentions that she's bringing over a new blade over for her to see, because she feels that River has one exquisite taste in knives... Her favorites out of River's stock tend to be the serrated-edged knives.