#eating asphalt with all their scenes

[skoulsons]

i haven’t watched tlok full through ever I don’t think but I do know a lot of the story and BOOOOOY am i in dad tenzin feels tonight ok hes in my top five dads

[katsu28]

Kissing away their tears with lando, please and thank you!!🫶🏻

anything for you rachel my love <3 ily!

lando norris x reader, 1.6k, there's a crash but no descriptions of injury. request something from here!

“Norris is doing really well today, isn’t he?” 

You’re not sure whose mouth the words come out of, but your head whips in their general direction, as do the rest of folks in the VIP box. Variations of “Shut the fuck up!” echo around the room, people grumbling to each other about those who obviously don’t know one of the biggest unspoken rules in sports. 

Whenever a player, or in this case, a driver, happens to be doing well in a match (or race), you never, ever mention that they are. You can think it, you can say it in your head, but you don’t ever say it out loud. When those words make it out into the open air, bad things happen. 

Call it stupid, call it superstition, but it’s a known sentiment in sports—Formula One especially. It’s like eating the same breakfast or listening to the same song before every race, or wearing a certain item of clothing every race day because you believe it brings you luck.

Does it actually bring you luck? Maybe, maybe not, but you do it anyway because of the possibility that it could. 

You take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut with a prayer to whatever higher power out there is listening.

Please, please, please don’t let anything fuck up Lando’s race. 

Your prayer is futile.

You hear it before you see it on the TV—a loud crash. Tires skidding over asphalt with a deafening screech, metal grinding on metal, carbon fiber snapping off chassis and skidding across the track.

Instantly, you know there’s been a collision. Your heart leaps into your throat at the single thought that screams its way through your mind like an emergency alarm. 

Was it Lando? 

A hush falls over the track, and suddenly the only thing you can hear is the thundering of your heartbeat in your ears.

On the screen flashes an aerial shot of what you assume is the scene of the crash, but you can’t see much through the smoke and dust. The vague misshapen lump of a mangled car, a wheel rolling away from the wreckage, then—

Your heart drops out of your ass. 

The car is bright orange. And as the cloud of dust gets blown away by the strong wind on track, your eyes zero in on the unmistakable fluoro green of Lando’s helmet.

He’s not moving. 

No, no, no, no. 

Your body is in the move before your brain even realizes you’re running, sprinting through the hall, down the stairs that would take you to the McLaren garage. You’re dodging people, you’re dodging equipment and carts and everything of the sort like a pro. All the while, you feel like you can’t breathe because you don’t know if your boyfriend is okay. You don’t even know if he’s alive. 

That’s what scares you the most. 

You’re stopped by track security before you can enter through to the garage. You show the guard your pass, but he still keeps you there, muttering something into a walkie talkie that you don’t understand. 

“Come on, mate! Do you see what it says? Let me through, please!” You plead, near tears at this point. 

The frantic part of you wants to push right past this knob and find Lando yourself, but you know the only good that’ll do is get yourself thrown out, and that’s the last thing you need right now. Your best option is to play nice, despite all the worst thoughts running rampant in your mind. 

The guard takes what seems like a lifetime to look over your pass, glances up at you, then back down to the pass, but steps aside eventually, waving you into the bustling garage. You force yourself to calm down a smidge, not wanting to disturb any part of Oscar’s race. 

From there, it’s not hard to find Lando’s race engineer. Will looks less worried than you, even as he paces back and forth with his headphones still on. 

“Will!” You blurt, coming to an abrupt stop in front of the tall man. “Please tell me he’s okay.” 

“There you are! I sent someone up to the box to fetch you ages ago. Lando’s at the medical center now, he’s conscious, coherent,” Will says. You let out a sigh of barely there relief. At least he’s alive. “He was asking for you. Reckon you’ll be able to see him after the medics check him out, if you want to go wait there.” 

“Yes. Yeah, yes, thank you, Will,” You breathe, wrangling him in a quick hug before making a mad dash back through the halls towards the medical station.

You’re panting when you get there, fully aware you probably look mental to any sane person, but you don’t care. All you care about is getting to Lando. “Hi, where’s Lando Norris? McLaren driver, number 4, was brought in after the crash at turn ten?” 

The friendly looking woman at the front table smiles sympathetically. “You’re his girlfriend, aren’t you? He told us you’d be worried. Wanted us to make sure someone found you.” 

“I am, yeah. Is he—can I see him?” 

“Sorry, dear. The medic team is still doing their tests and all that. Best let them be for now, but I’ll tell you what.” She leans in like she’s about to divulge some big secret. “I’ll let Lando know you’re here. Technically, I’m not supposed to, but you both seem like you could use a little break.” 

“Thank you,” You say shakily, inhaling a wavering breath. “Thank you so much.” 

“Of course, dear. You just sit tight over here, alright?” 

That’s exactly what you do. You sit in the metal folding chair and you wait. 

Nearly an hour passes and you’re still no closer to seeing Lando than you already were. The race is nearing its end, and you don’t want to bother the nice lady who’d already bent the rules for you once, but you’re almost at your wits end.

You’ve got your head in your hands when you hear your name called. It’s the lady again, telling you you’re able to go see Lando now. You're not sure what to expect when you make your way into the station, but you've gone through so many possibilities in your head you feel like you've adequately prepared yourself for almost anything.

Lando is sitting on the edge of the gurney when you walk into the room, legs swinging aimlessly as he secures his watch around his wrist. 

He’s okay. He’s sweaty and covered in dust and dirt and looks like hell, but he’s okay. 

You’re not sure why that realization, the one you’ve been waiting for this whole time, is the final crack in the dam. Lando’s eyes snap to you at the same time you rush forward, jumping off the bed with a tiny grimace and crossing the cramped room to bring you against his chest. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” He soothes, holding your sobbing frame tight. You’ve got two fists twisted into the lapels of his racing suit, clutching at it like you're afraid he’ll slip right through your fingers. “I’m alright, love. I’m fine, I promise.” 

“I heard you—I saw—” You can’t even get the words out through the tears streaming freely down your face. 

“I know. Fuck, I know, I’m so sorry.” 

You feel his lips press against your tear soaked cheeks, kissing all over your face until your breathing levels out. Even when you do stop hyperventilating, Lando continues to litter gentle pecks all around, finally stopping with one long, lingering kiss to your forehead. 

You’re finally able to release your death grip on the front of his suit, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles as if it wasn’t already completely a mess. 

On instinct, one of your hands slides over his fireproofs, splaying over his chest right where his heart is. It beats strongly under your palm, if not a little faster when you look him in the eyes. It helps, but it does little to get rid of the knotted ball of fear that’s been sitting right on your chest this entire time. But hey, at least you’re not crying anymore. 

“There’s my girl,” He hums, swiping the pad of his thumb under your eyes gently to rid you of any stray tear tracks. His free hand comes to blanket yours where it remains on his chest, fingers curing over your own. “Hi there. Are you alright?” 

“Fuck me, I’m a mess,” You say, sniffling. “I should be the one checking on you and here I am crying like a baby. How are you? Are you hurt, what did the medics say?” You size him up for any outward injuries, patting around his suit gently. Your hand presses against his torso and he winces a little bit at the sudden pressure, but tuts at the wide eyed look you give him. 

“I’m fine, darling. Few bruised ribs and bumps from impact but otherwise a clean bill of health. Don’t even need to go to the hospital.”

“Thank god,” You sigh, slumping forward against his chest in relief. “That was so fucking scary.” 

“Yeah, no kidding,” He murmurs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. His nose presses into your hair, inhaling as deep as he can without pain twinging in his sides. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.” 

You shake your head firmly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

“Me too.” 

“How’s the car?” 

Lando grimaces, shaking his head. “Totaled. Not great.” 

“Is Zak mad?” 

“He’s definitely not happy, but I reckon he’s more relieved I’m okay.” 

“That makes two of us.” You hug him again, careful of his bruised ribs. “I would’ve hit him with your front wing if he was more worried about the damn car.” 

Lando lets out a snort of high pitched laughter, though it does sound a little nervous. He knows you're serious. “Babe, you can’t just whack my boss with a broken off piece of the car.” 

“Would you stop me?” 

“I’d feel obligated to or else I might be fired.” 

“But would you?” 

“Let’s just put a pin in that for now.”

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[inkofthebrain]

Hey I was wondering if you still take requests for lee from bones and all. If you do can you do one where reader is a non eater but travels with Lee and Maren (maybe they're in a relationship with Lee Maren as well if you're comfortable) and when they meet brad and jake , Jake says something ( maybe insinuating that he wants to eat her) and they get protective especially lee. If you don't want to write or don't feel comfortable it's ok. Thank you! Have a good day/night!

FOUNDERS’ BLUES

[Lee x Reader oneshot] 623 words

Tags: No y/n, non-eater Reader, lee being protective, no Maren (sorry bae ily)

Warnings: Bones and all typical shit. Mentions of abuse and parental addiction.

A/n: I made this a song fic and idk how I feel about it. Anyway song if from a deleted scene with those mf hillbillies. Enjoy <3

———

———

Beat and bloody, walking along the steaming asphalt of the highway in the peak of summer. Your feet were walked bare and you could feel your pulse behind every cut and bruise.

That was when Lee found you; “all bloody and beautiful.” You had taken enough beatings from your addict parents and when they brought you close to death, you knew it was either that or life on the road.

He took you to a nearby diner to fill your stomach before he started pressing you with questions. You couldn’t hold it in, you told him everything.

He had gotten you a motel for a few nights so you could recover. At first you thought his actions were due to his sincere concern, but when he had snuck into the motel room he booked for you covered in blood; you soon learnt the truth.

I run the roads 'cause I know best.

Leave the highway for to get my rest.

Sleeping o'er the meeting house and dream of who tastes best.

Your parents were declared missing by none other than their drug dealer a few days later. Lee thought you would have hated him, he had only snuck in to take advantage of the shower, but when he said,

“They’re gone.” you just hugged him.

I come to town and I know best.

I greet the day on my two legs.

More months than you could count on your hands had passed and you and Lee had gotten extremely close; physically, emotionally, on every level.

Slide my arms inside these red and grey tails.

Push the window open, find the reverend up and dressed.

I fear the Lord, but I know best.

You and him had ran into another duo, two hillbillies in the woods; Brad, the eater, and Jake, a wanna-be eater. What a gruesome pair.

I clean the floor and stay a day.

Slip in your room, lay my hands on your frame Daughter come and die for me, protesting less and less.

Close your eyes, I'll do the rest.

“You’ve got a sweet one there, dontcha’ Lee?” Brad’s cadence on sweet made chills run down your spine. You, as calmly as you could, gave Lee’s arm a squeeze and he gave you a knowing look.

Midnight comes and it's the best.

Stare the stars at me, the moon to ingest,

“What do you mean by that man?” Lee barked.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you’ve never thought of it!” Lee sat up and scooted a little in front of you, ready to jump at the creep at any second.

“You are crossing a line man” Lee threatened.

The smile he had on his face when he noticed was sickening, you wondered if he was always this off-putting.

You leaned in and asked Lee if it was time to go and he gave you a subtle nod.

Leave the untold buried in a sack where no one guessed,

and take the ride that runs the best.

You got up and quickly walked to the car until you heard Lee yell, “RUN!”

Your head snapped back and you saw Lee running right behind you, the hillbillies on his tail.

You threw open the truck door and slid to the driver's seat, leaving the door open for Lee.

“KEYS!” You yelled, Lee was one step ahead of you and threw the keys in the bay of the truck.

As you threw your arm down to grab them, Lee jumped in the truck and you started it. You drove off and watched the two men run behind the truck.

I'll take the ride that runs the best

I'll take the ride that runs the best

I take the ride that runs the best.

[buddhamethods]

10 BL Characters I Would Hit With My Car

(I don't have a licence and can't drive so this is just for fun OBVIOUSLY)

LISTEN, I love these characters. They are complex, they are human, they are flawed and yet you can't help but root for them. Or they are just giant assholes.

Regadless, I think they would all benefit from getting hit by a car as a little treat.

Feel free to tag yourselves and participate in a bit of lighthearted negativity and media complaining.

1) Ben From Never Let Me Go (2022)

Of course he would be on this list. Mainly because how are you, a closeted gay in a coming of age bl drama, sitting down in front of a piano next to a beautiful boy and not just completely eat his face in a passionate life altering kiss? I understand that was the whole point of the scene, but personally I would rise above the narrative that was trapping me.

2) Dan from Not Me (2021)

Being a cop, killing Sean's father and selling NFTs is bad enough on it's own, I agree. But Dan's biggest sin was taking the cigarette out of Yok's mouth and depriving us of seeing sad First Kanaphan smoking near a body of water-THE queer cinema experience.

As it turns out, you can be gay and homophobic at the same time.

3) Kenji from My Dear Gangster Oppa (2023)

So you have funky hair and kawnty fashion sense? Oh, you partake in fun bathtub threesomes? What, you're a little unhinged and psychotic? Perfect! THEN WHY THE HELL YOU SUCK AT BEING A VILLAIN SO HARD HUH???

Kenji you better put your helmet on, I'm turning on the engine.

4) Kanghan from Dangerous Romance (2023)

Rich people don't deserve rights in general so Kang was already on thin ice to begin with. But being a bully on top of that? UNDER THE HOOD OF THE CAR YOU GO!

Also he is so attention starved on account of his father being a negligent asshole that he will jump in front of my car willingly just to get a drop of love from dad and Sailom.

5) Yu Xi Gu from HIStory3: Make Our Days Count (2019)

(I'm so so incredibly sorry but I HAD to okay you don't underst- *gets shot immediately*)

6) Mork from Fish Upon The Sky (2021)

I looked at Pond for 0.1 second and fell so embarrasingly in love that for the entirety of FUTS I saw no flaws in Mork's character at all. All he did made sense and I was blissfuly having a great time! So I'm pummeling him to the ground for my own sake I CAN'T KEEP BEING THIS STUPID ABOUT HIM HE IS OBJECTIVELY CREEPY!

7) Vee from Love Mechanics (2022)

Was he in my "I want them carnally" list? Yes. Do I find him beautiful and incredible? Double yes. Am I smearing him on asphalt like a squished bug for causing Mark so much unnecessary pain and heartbreak? More likely than you think.

8) Jiwoo from To My Star/ To My Star 2 (2021-22)

MY BEAUTIFUL BOY!! A crumb of healthy communication is all I'm asking for!

Jiwoo was so emotionally bricked up for the majority of both seasons that it caused ME damage. So me hitting him with my car is both a revenge plot and an attempt to let loose some of those pent up feelings of his.

(But also I'm dead meat if Seojoon finds out it was me behind the wheel. He loves that boy too much.)

9) Zee from Twins (2023-24)

I'm volunteering to do this as public service to keep Sprite and First together without any twins switch drama. One gremlin down, one successful volleyball couple UP!!

10) Winner from Pit Babe (2023-24)

I want to do it as an experiment. I feel like he would make a funny sound under the wheels, like when you sqeeze clown's nose or step on a rubber duck. I would also like to see how this will affect his character. Will he become even more annoying? Will it fix him completely? ONLY ONE WAY TO FIND OUT!!

(This was so fun I love inflicting imaginary violence on fictional men. If you read this far into this incoherent insanity, consider yourself tagged!💖)

[jr-acrux101]

Meeting Abby -

(Extension of Carousel - prequel)

Summary: What Mike didn't know was the two of you had already met, and Abby wholeheartedly approved.

Word count: 2.3k

Tags: pre-established relationship, fluff, dates

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This was your 3rd date since the carousel meeting. Mike was still well Mike, the more quiet, nonchalant, and tired type.

Mike really was interested in you but his mannerisms did leave you questioning if he did or of he was trying to get a quick fuck.

The two of you sat at the diner, it was 1 in the morning. It was an odd ass hour to have a date but Mike said it was because of his work hours. Though there was a tinge of fear that maybe you were a side chick or he was trying to land some action.

You were wide awake, you had a nap after class so the sleep wasn't creeping on you but it was slowly on Mike.

Every so often he would nod off and blink himself awake, hoping you wouldn't know; you did.

"Do you want to schedule this for another time?"

He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head 'no.'

"You look tired Mike."

He liked it when you said his name, and showed concern.

"S fine. I have a semi-normal shift tomorrow."

"Then you should be sleeping then. I don't mind waiting. "

Mike didn't want to say so he shrugged instead. "S fine," he repeated.

You gave a sigh but nodded. You noticed the book by. "What's the title?" You asked, cutting the country fried steak to eat.

"Oh um it's called dream theory. It's … hmm.. it's about how every single thing we see is stored in our brain in like this deep vault and dreaming subconsciously unlock those tiny details."

"Hmm. I think I've something similar to the whole we remember everything subconsciously but I never really looked into it. Though I guess it could explain my art."

"Your art?"

"Yeah about half my paintings are landscapes, but I don't really remember any of those places when I was too small. Like um when we went to see snow the 3rd time around when I was a little older and able to grasp some things, I remember I dreamt this oasis of cold in the redwood forest, a tree had fallen down and was mostly covered but some red was showing. Anyway, I dreamt it but don't remember the actual day, just that one scene and when I painted it my mom was shocked I even remembered that specific place. I was still small, she even showed me pictures."

"What made it stick out that you mom knew it was the place you guys went too?"

"Oh um hehe yeah, there was this small grave with flowers on it. It was in the painting as well."

"How old were you?"

"Maybe anywhere from 3 to 5."

"And you remember that detail."

"I'm assuming so, the picture my mom showed was when I was like 1 but we revisited again about that age range. There were no pictures at that spot again because of the grave. We recently started going again and I leave flowers."

"That's nice, I mean to leave flowers for someone you don't really know."

"Yeah, I guess. It was such a lonely place for a grave though so I guess maybe that's why I leave flowers, so they're spirits can know someone else enjoys that spot too. They must have really loved it to be buried there."

"You believe in spirits and the afterlife and all that?"

You hesitated, "I don't know. Do you?"

"Maybe," was his short reply. The conversation came to a stop as the two of you ate quietly.

Glancing at the time, you say it was 1:30 a.m. now.

You quickly finish as Mike finishes his. "Come on l, get up." You leave $25 on the table for the food and tip. Mike protests but still allows himself to get dragged away.

The moon is full, and the asphalt is wet from the earlier rain. You jump on the bed of the small beat pick up truck, patting the seat next to you. Mike took the offer and sat next to you.

With the dead of night and few lights, the two of you stargaze. Mike listens as you ramble on and on about the constellations, giving a nodded and humm of acknowledgment to show he's following along.

He looked at you. As you talked and talked, he loved how your hair frames your face, or how he noticed you fret about your mascara even now and then especially if you laughed a little too hard you'd cry a bit, he liked how passionate you got, and he really liked how kind you were.

While he would get praised for taking care of his sister from strangers, for being kind and self-less. He still felt selfish in a way.

He looked at your headband, shiny black and small. Abby popped into his mind. He knew that after texting for a day he was already too deep to let this be a fling.

It became silent after you were done listing the constellations, now just appreciating the night.

Mike cleared his throat to talk, and you turned your attention to him.

"Would…," he breathed out, "would you want to meet my little sister Abby?"

Your eyes widened in shock. While Mike didn't say much, he said even less about his sister. Another reason why you thought this was maybe just a fling, or trial run before he really got out there.

You opened your mom to speak but nothing came out.

Mike sighed and got up. "It's fine. I gotta go-," "Wait!"

Mike stared as you went up, "I wanna meet her! I do, really. It's just I was shocked since you've never like well talk about her."

Mike stared at you still not really knowing what to say. "Look Mike. What do you want out of this? Before asking if I wanted to meet your sister I was kind of getting the impression this was like a fling. And I'm not really interested in a fling right now."

"Oh."

"Oh?" You questioned.

"Well what made you think this was a fling?"

Mike looked down, not really wanting to look you in the eyes. "I don't know, I just got the feeling you weren't too interested. Mike, well we've only been together for about 3 dat3s. I genuinely can't recall anything you like or dislike or memories you've shared. Even when I text you it feels a bit one-sided."

"Oh."

You hummed as you continued to look at the stars, giving Mike some time to collect his thoughts.

"I'm not really a big talker if you haven't noticed. To be honest, I like to listen to you talk. You have a nice voice."

"Okay."

He gave you a look, "Okay?"

"Okay I can work with that. I just needed to know if it was disinterest or if that's just how you are."

"So it's fine? If I don't speak a lot most of the time."

"I guess we'll find out together, but between you and me I like that whole stoic, "bad boy" look / attitude you have."

Mike laughed and smirked. "Bad boy?"

"Mike every now and then you look like a genuine degenerate."

Mike raised his eyebrow. He closed the distance between the two of you. "Yeah? Isn't that what you like though." He whispered before he gave you a chaste kiss.

You blushed and gave a small laugh. "Yes, yes I do."

You brought out your phone and the time read 2:30 a.m.

"What time do you have work?"

"11 a.m. to 5 p.m."

"Mike!"

He had an amused look on his face, "What?"

"Oh my god! Go home already you have work in less than 12 hours ! You still have to sleep!"

"Don't sleep much to be honest." You huffed air out of your nose.

"Well you should."

Mike grinned, and he put his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. "I like the color green."

You smiled back. "Green? Hmm…"

"Hmmm… what?"

"It fits you."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Yeah of course, green is a very strong but soothing color."

"It is."

The two of you sat in silence before Mike's phone rang. He looked at it and rolled his eyes.

"Hello. Yeah. Yeah, got it. Okay I'm on my way."

He gave a sigh, "Sorry that was my aunt. I asked her to babysit but I guess something came up at her place."

"Oh okay that's fine. Text me when you get home so I know you made home safe."

He gave a tired smile, "Isn't that my line to you?"

"It would be if you weren't running on minimal sleep."

"Fair enough. But text me too okay, in case I forgot while talking to my aunt or you get home first."

You gave a nod and he gave you another chaste kiss. You blushed again, and smiled. He hopped off the truck and waved bye. You waved as he left the parking lot in his beat up car.

You rushed inside your car and towards home, excited to tell your friends everything.

With texts of 'I'm home,' and 'goodnight' s, the two of you feel asleep dreaming of each other.

A week had passed before Mike brought up meeting Abby again. This date was way earlier and on his day off.

"Do you think she'll like me?"

Mike paused. "I'm not sure to be honest. Not ! Not that you're unlikable or anything like that! She's just a timid kid, hell she barely likes me."

"I'm sure she likes you Mike."

"Yeah well you haven't met her," he grumbled.

You gave an amused look but relented. "So she gets out in an hour right?"

Mike nodded.

"Okay and you said she likes art right? To draw and such?"

Mike nodded again. "Okay, perfect. I'll be back here at 3!"

As you started to slide out the booth, Mike stared at you confused. "Wait where are you going?"

"Don't worry I'll be back." You practically dash out the door to your car.

Mike gave a frustrated sigh and got up after paying the bill. 'I guess I'll just have to wait until 3 too then.' He ran a hand through his curly hair and hopped in his car.

Mike parked at the diner, looking back at Abby. "Okay we're gonna meet a friend of mine okay Abs?"

Abby furrowed her brows, "Your girlfriend?"

Mike nodded. Abby stayed silent. He got out of the car as did she. He held her hand as they entered, he spotted you immediately.

You h/c shining from the sun, you were drinking water while reading a book. Lost in your own world Mike cleared his throat. You looked up at him and then down at the little girl.

Abby recognized you as you recognized her. "Hi!”

Before you could get another word in, Abby motioned you forward. You raised an eyebrow towards who gave a shrug reply but you went with her request.

“Don't tell Mike about Mr. Bunny.” She said in a hushed whisper.

You stared at her then at Mike and then at her again. “Okay. Got it. But why?”

Abby looked at Mike, shoved him slightly to get away from their secrets. She cupped her hand, “Because I want to have a secret between us. I like you, you gave my Mr. Bunny when you didn't have to.”

You gave a warm smile, “ Okay deal. Pinky promise, and seal the deal.”

As you pinky crossed and thumbs stamped together, Mike gave you an expectant look.

Abby slid in across from you and Mike sat next to her.

“What?” He rolled his eyes.

“What were you two whispering about?”

“It's a secret!” Shouted Abby.

Mike looked at you again. “Sorry can't see, those are the secret rules and it's backed by a stamped pink promise. You'll never know.” You have a sad look and shrugg. Abby laughed at your expression and Mike shook his head.

“Well I guess it can't be helped.” You and Abby nodded.

You remembered a thought, “Oh yeah!” You rummaged through your bag and got the present for Abby you bought.

“Here you go Abby. It's a sketchbook for your private drawings.”

“Private drawings?” She turned her head to the side.

You smiled at her, “Yeah, drawings for yourself. I have a lot of them that I don't wanna share because they're private and for me.”

“You draw!”

You nodded and hummed. “Can you draw me something?”

“Uh sure. Is it fine if it's in your book?”

She nodded vigorously. “Okay what do you want me to draw?”

She pondered the question. “Oh! A bunny!”

“A bunny? Hmm okay like a realistic bunny or a cartoon?”

“Cartoon.”

“Yeah sure.”

Mike smiled. “Yeah she's been obsessed with bunny's after some girl won one and gave it to her instead.”

You fought off the smile as you drew, and Abby giggled. Mike gave her a questioning look but all Abby did was stick out her tongue, which Mike did back, only for a split second though.

Mike and Abby watched as you sketched out the cartoon bunny, erasing and redoing the line a couple of times. You finished the outline as food came, Mike ate and watched as you stuck your tongue out slightly finishing up the little details. It had a top hat and a bow.

“Alright Abby, here you go!”

Abby squealed in delight. “Thank you!” She stared are your drawing as she ate, it did resemble Mr. Bunny. Mike noticed that too but thought it was a mere coincidence.

The meal went smoothly, with Abby begging for a shake and Mike giving in. Sitting here, you thought it was nice, maybe something to get accustomed to. In fact, you hoped it was.

♧♤♧♡♧♡♧♤♧♤♧♤♡♧♤♧♡♧♤♧♤♧♡

Y'all I can't stop writing im procrastinating 😩 anyway enjoy!!

Taglist: @stinkii-boii @hellothisisprincesskitty

[octoberautumnbox]

Discordant Waltz: Adrenaline (DLC Ver.)

Oh Sieun (Former IZ*ONE/Soloist Jo Yuri) & Male Reader

Categories/warnings: smut, clothed sex, oral, feet!, friends with benefits, doggystyle

Word count: 4.9k

| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 (coming soon)

a/n: this is the alternate version with two added feet scenes! special thanks to @i-am-lifeform24 and @sooyadelicacies for tips on how to write this, and to @sumirhatos for beta reading~

“I don’t care where you are or what the fuck you’ve been doing this entire time. Just please come to the convenience store by the river and meet me.” Sieun's voice, you're sure it's Sieun's voice, is mixed with a garbled tone through the phone.

“Okay, but-” And the line cuts. You shuffle your cellphone defeatedly back into your pocket and start towards your newly-mandated meeting place. 

You’ve only begun putting two and two together: The person you were just with wasn’t Sieun, even though she looks exactly like her. That person wasn’t like Sieun at all, especially not in the way the two of you had sex. It was so different, and the nagging feeling in the back of your head that something was wrong only grows clearer. 

A blaring horn unfreezes you from the middle of the street. You step out of the way and onto the sidewalk, and the truck’s irate driver brings the hulking machine past your point in the road. You watch it drive off, leaving a cloud of dust behind its wheels, and for what seems like a minuscule amount of time, you unfreeze yourself off once more from staring at the now-settled dust on the asphalt.

It dawns on you: you’ve slept with the wrong woman. It wasn’t your Sieun you just had sex with. The girl you just fucked wasn’t the girl you were supposed to fuck. But no matter how you say it, no matter how many times you think it in your head, it just doesn’t make sense. How could that not have been Sieun?

The walk back towards the convenience store by the river is slow and quiet, but your mind races with these thoughts, calling for just more and more of your brainpower to stay conscious and on track towards your meeting place. Even though you’re sure the initial confusion has subsided, the effect still settles deep within every bone of your body: you fucked another woman besides Sieun.

Before you know it, your feet bring you to the convenience store by the river. Sieun’s eyes meet yours from inside through the window, and she motions you to come in faster. You pull the door open and a cool blast of air hits your face, and Sieun pulls you into the seat beside her.

She fights the noodles down her throat, and after a quick gasp, she starts: “Apologize for missing my calls later. Lemme finish this first, then we go over to your house.” She downs a swig of Mountain Dew and fights back the stinging acid running down her throat. 

“My house? But-” she interrupts by bringing a chopstick to your lips. She sucks in air through her teeth, and finally goes back for more of her ramyeon. You note it’s the spicy kind as the heat coats your lips where her chopsticks touched.

“Please shut up while I’m eating. I’ll explain later.” She flashes you the dorky kind of smile that could nevertheless kill and returns to her ramyeon, paying you no further mind. 

Despite being over budget, you pick out another six-pack of beer for the two of you and bring it to the registers. She eyes you from her seat by the window and gives you a thumbs up from there. You sigh and wonder how you landed someone as great as her. If only…

~~~

“Wow, nice place.” Sieun's eyes roam across your living room, from your sofa, to the TV, to the coffee table with its remote and mug filled with cold tea from this morning. “Quaint. I like it.

“ What the fuck does ‘quaint’ mean, Oh Sieun?” you tease. Bring an arm around her shoulder and pull her close, plant a kiss on her cheek.

“It just means quaint,” she sighs casually, leaning into your embrace, “no more, no less.”

Both of you take off your shoes and make your way to the sofa. You place the six-pack of beer on the coffee table as Sieun bounces on a sofa cushion, evidently having a good time. You shoot her a look, and you're stopped in your tracks by how her hair falls unerringly into place like it does. She smiles at you again, but you take a seat on the floor in front of her.

“What are you doing down there?” Her giggle rings clear as day as she says it. She picks up a can of beer and pulls on the tab, releasing carbon dioxide in a melodious fizz that eases the tension around you: tension you didn't know was there.

She hands you the beer and you take it carefully, for some reason trying not to mess up whatever it is your body is planning to do next. You feel the cold floor tiles against the palm of your hand, not nearly as cold as the beer in the other, before giving up on both and focusing on the imminent warmth that is Sieun's feet. 

Set the beer down and grasp her soles through her cobalt blue socks. Find her muscles, tendons and nerves as you push and squeeze around her delicate feet. Wring out strangled sighs and shushed whimpers from Sieun’s lips.

“What the fuck are you doing…” Her breath hitches before continuing on unsteadily. She unravels, thread by thread, under the changing and shifting pressures you apply on her soles and toes, confusion vying to bubble up to the front of her mind but ultimately getting pushed back down by the attention you give her. 

“What’s gotten into you, babe?” She giggles more as you manipulate her body the way you like, and yet you’re pulled into her intensifying orbit. Your… friend… leans forward and takes your cheeks in her hands. She pulls you towards her and kisses you, nibbling your lower lip at every careful squeeze you apply on her foot. Her tongue tries to push past your teeth, and for the first time in a long time, you find yourself hesitant.

“You… must be tired today. I thought I’d be nice.” You try to hide the uncertainty in your voice, choosing to divert her attention elsewhere. You strip her of her socks and toss them in the general direction of your shoes. Continue to rub her feet, and she pulls you in for another kiss.

This time, you accept. Her tongue slips past your teeth and you meet it with yours, swirling around each other as more of her sultry gasps drift out of her mouth. Sieun pulls you even closer, trying to take in more of you, before she runs out of breath and has to break away. 

“Whew, that was hot,” your friend sighs as she leans back onto the backrest and breathes deep. Her head lolls back and she stares idly at the ceiling as she tries to catch her breath. “Where’d you learn that, huh, stud?” 

Ignoring her, you continue to massage her. Moving from her soles and toes to the balls of her feet, your hands make their way to her heels, then her ankles, and up to her calves. 

"Oh, I love how you think, babe." Your hands crawl up her smooth and creamy legs, and she flashes you a smirk. Sieun relaxes with a deep sigh and her eyes shut. Your friend's naughty smile is unsteady on her lips, victim to your sensual assault on her legs.

Stop momentarily, take a beer can from the table. You pull on the tab and release its own pent-up fizz and hand it to her, casually yet carefully. "Take a sip, baby. Let me take care of you."

She receives it with a tiny "thank you" and takes a sip. As you return to her massage, you watch her lips curl around the rim of the can, arousal growing as her tongue wipes over and collects the fluid left behind.

Your hands reach her hips and you grip resolutely. It catches her mid-sip, and it forces her to keep the beer in her mouth for a little while longer. Then, she makes a show of swallowing slowly and licking her lips after once more. 

You slip your fingers under the waistband of her PE pants and pull down. With a little help from your friend lifting her hips off the couch, you successfully peel it all off of her smooth legs. She spreads them for you and you’re met with a pair of blue lace panties covering her crotch. The sight of them sends even more blood rushing into your dick, and your self-control dwindles in the face of her needy whines.

“I picked out a cute pair for you today… You like?” Sieun brings her knees up to her chest, letting her feet dangle in the air. She hooks her arms under her legs and starts biting her finger enticingly, communicating what she wants you to do next.

Remember the comfort that is Oh Sieun, how you just get each other so well, how there’s next to no guesswork when it comes to her. You pull her panties to the side, revealing a drenched pussy in need of some love. The sensation of the fabric leaving her core is exhilarating for her, but nothing excites her more compared to what’s coming. She braces herself as you bring your face closer, and finally you drag your tongue up against her clit.

You pepper kisses all over her crotch in between long drags between her puffy lips and dripping cunt. "Mmm, babe…" She leaks more in response, torn between wanting you to go faster and harder or slower and softer, bucking her hips but changing her mind. Her sweet nectar intoxicates you like a love potion, wanting more of it, more of her, that you tighten your grip on her waist and hold her steady to lap up more of her essence. The feeling of your hands imprinting on her sides drives her closer to the edge, and her moans grow in volume and intensity as you continue the hard, hard work of loving her to death.

“Stop… No, not yet… I’m really close, babe,” she whines powerlessly, not knowing the effect it has on you. “Please come up here, I need you…” She unhooks her arms from her legs and draws them outstretched to receive you. In return, you stand over her and make quick work of your belt. She takes the initiative of pulling down your pants once free, and your friend’s delicate fingers grasp your already rock-hard cock to stroke and marvel at.

“You want this, baby?” Your cock twitches between her fingers, telling her wordlessly that you want her just as bad. With Sieun, there’s no need to thrust into her hands: she knows you so well, she’s so devoted to your cock that she learned for herself how best to service you.

“Yes, please…” She brings it down and right against her fuckhole. She teases herself with it; it’s all she could do when you loom over her with authority. She rubs your head on her clit, showing you just how ready she is for you, before tracing the lips of her pussy and smearing her slick all over your tip. “Can I please have it?” 

“Do what you have to do,” you command, and she heaves a sigh of arousal before doing her best job. Her hand slithers under her jacket and most probably under her bra again to pull out another condom. She tears it open with her teeth and, this time, places it on her lips. Sieun guides the rubber onto your tip and unrolls it onto your length using only her mouth, taking in more of your shaft as she does. She barely makes it all the way to your base, but a sudden bout of impatience hits her and she plunges herself onto you, taking you all the way and causing her to gag. You feel some of her spit drip onto your calf, so you stroke her hair and let her breathe. 

“You’re adorable, you know that? Taking my dick like such a good girl…” Grab a fistful of her hair and slowly pull her off your cock, letting more of her spit fall from her lips to wherever. Her eyes are shut and tears form in the corners, but she doesn’t wipe them away. 

You retake your place on the floor between her legs and point your attention back to her feet. You pick up her left foot and place a kiss on her big toe, causing her to moan long and deep. You continue moving, kissing her sole and the ball of her foot, and her toes flex in response to the pleasure. Finally, you take her other foot and suck on her toes, one by one, making sure to coat each one in your spit. 

“Mmmh, please, more…” Your friend tries to push for more contact between your tongue and her toes, but you force her back under control. Bite down, hard, onto her pinky toe. Sh whimpers and ultimately submits.

“Behave, baby.” Your speech slurs as your tongue laps at every single crease and crevice you could find, never giving her a chance to catch her breath. It drives Sieun wild, and her pussy leaks even more of her slick onto the cushion she’s sitting on, and you find that she’s pushed a couple of her fingers into her needy cunt. Despite this, you pay her no mind and keep licking her sole and nibbling on her toes. Your mouth fills with the salty taste of her feet, and suddenly stopping is the most difficult thing in the world.

“Fuck, please… Shit!” She accidentally shoves more of her foot into your mouth, assaulting your tastebuds with her delicious musk. It’s overwhelming how good every part of her tastes, but you manage to regain control of yourself. Her toes are peppered with more small pecks that only cause her to leak more of her essence on her inner thighs and cushion. 

“I can’t take it anymore… I need your cock, please!!!” She spreads her pussy lips to show you just how drenched she is. Her juices glisten all over her crotch and thighs, and her fingers tracing her fuckhole make her cunt quiver in anticipation for the pleasure you’ll bring. It’s enough to snap your attention right away to the task at hand.

You plant your hands on either side of her head on the backrest, still looming over her. She takes your cock in her hands again and aims it at her waiting entrance with a needy look in her eyes. “I can’t wait anymore, please?” 

Of course you indulge her. Enter her heat carefully, feel her walls make way for your length. Her mouth forms an “o” as you push yourself further and further into your friend’s core, rubbing against all her good spots, drawing out gasps and little moans from her.

“Babe, your thick cock is so good, please…” Her legs twitch when you hit certain points, letting you know exactly how she likes it. Her toes curl with pleasure as she welcomes you deeper into her sex, just as she searches for your lips to steal kisses from in spite of her eyes that won’t open.

You pick up the pace, spearing into her core faster and faster, as her grip on your shoulders tightens with each of your thrusts. Her forehead starts to form small beads of sweat, as do her forearms and the insides of her thighs. She’s getting restless again, squirming under you as you fuck her, and you place your hands on her hips again to keep her steady, the naughty girl. 

“Fuck, babe, please… Please!” She places her hand on the back of your neck to keep you close. Her eyes finally open and you see the fire within her pupils just begging to be doused. You can do nothing else but indulge her, and your friend grows wetter and tighter to accommodate her favorite cock. It only spurs you on further with how pliant, how willing Sieun is. Was she always like this?

On the other end of your mind, a gruesome memory resurfaces. Who was that girl? Why did she look exactly like Sieun? What was she doing in her house?

She pulls you in and captures your lips with hers. Your friend nibbles and licks and grunts throughout the kiss, aligned with every single one of your thrusts into her needy core, all the while trying to hold you tighter so she never lets you go. 

Why did she let you in like that? Why did she let you kiss her then? Why is she letting you kiss her now?

“Fuck… Fucking shit! You feel so good inside me, please!!!” Her screams of pleasure snap you awake, and you’re met with the visual of Oh Sieun, your friend, staring blankly into your eyes as you use her tight little fuckhole mercilessly. Her tongue hangs out her mouth and drops of saliva leak down to her chin and onto her jacket. “Please… please babe, I need more…”

You get the message and give her what she wants. Pull out, only for a moment, and let her adjust. She flips over, plants her knees into the seat cushions, places her hands on the backrest. Sieun presents her plump ass to you, and she squeezes her thigh before spreading her legs again to show you her dripping, freshly fucked cunt. 

As if hit with another dose of adrenaline, you shove your cock back into her soaked and quivering pussy, hard, causing her to yelp and scream. You grab her slim waist, feeling up her smooth skin just burning to be ravaged, and pull her towards you with every thrust, causing the sofa to creak and groan. However, it's nothing compared to the unholy noises forced out of Sieun's mouth; her lungs burn and her throat sores as she's subjected to more and more of your mind-numbing pleasure. 

“I can't… I can't hold it! Babe, I'm cumming!!!” Her velvet walls clench and suffocate your cock, but it does nothing to slow your maniacal pace. Your rough-fucking of her pussy never stops, never slows, and despite the pain she undeniably feels with you abusing her body (you know how sick she is in the head), she nevertheless pushes back to meet your pelvis in what little efforts she could take to bring herself over the edge. 

Your orgasm hits you like a train derailed, and despite your weakened state from earlier in the day, you deliver spurts and spurts of your warm cum into the rubber. She feels every twitch and throb of your cock inside her burning core, and it brings your friend over the edge too. Her hips convulse just as the first streaks of her girlcum spray out of her cunt, leaking more and more of her love juices onto the poor cushion underneath her with every jerk of her hips. She screams and wails her pleasure; surely she’s waking up with a sore throat tomorrow morning. For now, her teeth clamp down on the fabric of the backrest, the only thing she could reach with you keeping her firmly in place.

Your respective orgasms start to wind down, and you pull yourself out of her and let her collapse onto the sofa. Take your seat next to her, pick up your can of beer from the floor, lean back like a king. You take a sip, and the alcohol soothes your shot nerves and dry throat. 

Sieun cuddles up next to you, leaning on your shoulder and draping one of her arms across your chest. You place your arm over her in response, and she melts again.

“Whew,” she sighs, out of breath and with a noticeably raspy voice, “that was great. Why don’t you fuck me like that all the time?” Her chest rises and falls with every tiny circle she draws on your chest, and you squeeze her closer to you. You’re drawn back into the comfort of just understanding each other, of not needing to explain, of just being you around your friend.

But once again, the guilt bubbles in your chest. You remember: you’ve slept with another woman not even a day earlier who looks exactly like her, and what’s worse, she even felt better than Sieun did. She let you sniff her hair, kiss her neck, fuck her ass. Are you really not going to tell her?

The guilt rises up your throat and drops into your stomach at the same time. It dawns on you again, this is your friend. Your friend, who you drank beer with on a Friday afternoon. Your friend, who begged you to use her like she was yours. Your friend, who keeps condoms in her bra for you and only you. Just friends, that’s all. Are you really not going to tell her?

Suddenly, your view is obscured by her eyes. You find Sieun on top of you, straddling you, as she takes your cheeks in her hands. Her hair falls to her cheeks as she positions her face above yours, and she plants wet kisses and licks on your lips. 

“Thanks for today, babe,” she says between smooches. Your hands drift towards her hips again, and once you grasp them, she breathes out slowly and sensually. She breaks the kiss for a bit, but she keeps her forehead on yours. “If you’re trying to tempt me,” she runs her thumbs on your cheekbones, “then it’s working. But not right now, I’m spent.” Her giggles make their way into your ears again, and her gravity strengthens its pull on you once more.

You check the time and find it’s late, much too late for a lady like her to be out alone on a night like this. Wrap your arms around her waist tight, secure the woman of your dreams in your embrace forever. However, you know time is running out and the guilt will only root deeper into your system and eat you alive if you don’t pull it out soon; pull it out now. 

“Do you wanna bring this over to the bed?” You try your hardest to be casual about the question, but the way it comes out, shaky and tentatively-toned, makes it anything but. Still, she finds it cute, evidenced by the small giggle that escapes her. 

“Sorry, gotta be fair. I kick you out every week, don't I?” Oh Sieun stands up quickly and without any hint of dizziness, landing on her feet gracefully. What’s left of her slick runs down her creamy thighs and the moment you snap yourself out of staring at the lewd sight, you notice she was staring too.

“I need your shower and a towel, never mind if it’s used.” She makes her own way into your shower, but not before opening every closed door and flipping every light switch she could find. Once she finds the bathroom, her head peeks out from inside, and she calls at you:

“Leave the towel and my clothes by the door, I’ll get them when I’m done.”

The door shuts loudly, and you realize you failed. Without much else to do, you gather her things in your arms sullenly and drop them by the door like she asked. You take your seat back on the couch and ultimately resolve to turn the beer in the can into beer in your stomach. 

~~~

Oh Sieun exits the bathroom clad in her perennial PE jacket and jogging pants, with the added twist of your towel wrapped around her hair. It’s the first time you’ve had her like this: squeaky clean, sweet-scented, relaxed like you didn’t just rail each other to oblivion. She’s beautiful, and you can’t even bring yourself to tell her.

“Hey, what’s the address here? I need a taxi.” She plops herself down next to you on the sofa and brings her legs over on your lap. Half of you regrets forgetting to put on pants, while the other half starts to get ideas. 

You reach out your hand to take her phone, but while Sieun leans over to give it to you, she notices your cock starting to harden once more. “Something’s up with you today, babe.” The phone makes its way from her hand to yours, and she gets an irresistibly naughty look in her eye again. 

Your friend takes your cock in between her bare soles. You feel the damp skin of her feet rub against your growing shaft while you type in your address and book her cab for her. 

“Is this gonna be a regular thing with us? Because,” you look over to her and find her leaning on the armrest with her head leaning on her hand, “I dunno. I could get used to this.”

“Could be if you want it to, Sieun.” You hand her back her phone, and she sees the cab on the map, only six minutes away. “I’d rather you not start something you’re not gonna finish, though.”

“Wow, Mister Bigshot. Challenge fucking accepted.” She speeds up her footjob, bringing her toes into the mix as well. You groan at every point of contact between your cock and the creases of her feet, and you can tell she’s enjoying it too. “Maybe I took that shower too early…”

You take her feet in her hands and fuck them properly. She moans in response, and she spreads her knees apart and shoves a hand into her pants. You try matching each other’s paces, and with four minutes to spare, you try to go faster and faster.

“Why is it I’m so weak when it comes to you, huh?” Your grunts punctuate every word you utter while you rub your cock on her feet. She tries forming a reply, but the feeling of you just using her messes with her mind and makes her forget everything else but you.

“Shit… shit! Let me suck your cock!” Sieun pulls her feet away and positions her face over your lap. She hurriedly takes half your length straight into her warm, wet mouth, and her tongue glides and rubs all over your shaft wherever and as far as she could reach. You grab her head and force it down to take more of you in, and her hips buck onto her hand the moment you feel yourself hit the back of her throat. 

You keep her there for a while, and she never ever stops running her lewd tongue over your dick. The sounds and vibrations coming from her mouth only spur you on further, as does the sight of her fingering herself under her pants just for you. 

Just to tease her more, you take her phone and show it to her: one more minute. She tries even harder to suck you off, hollowing out her cheeks and going wild with her tongue. Her moans grow deeper and louder to match yours, and the vibrations that reach your rock-hard cock drive you close to the edge.

“Baby, I’m close… Take my fucking seed in your mouth!” You pull her head down as far as she can go, and amidst gags and glucks your friend never tries pulling herself off, instead choosing to be a good girl and receive everything that’s for her and her alone. Your warm cum shoots into her throat, and despite her gags she never lets up or lets go of your cock between her lips. 

Her phone suddenly rings, no doubt the taxi calling to say he’s at the pickup point, and in the closest of calls your spurts come to an end. Sieun raises her head and shows you how much of your seed she collected on her tongue with a smile, and she makes a show of swallowing it all for you. 

She gets up and makes for the door, but when you try to follow her out you find your legs are jelly. Instead, she leans over and plants a kiss on your cheek, and as she walks off you hear the sound of your front door creaking opening and shutting quickly.

~~~

a/n: wow wild ride writing this LMAOOO this took a while what with hiatus and all but overall im pretty cool w how it turned out, this also isnt one of my kink personally like noona was but nevertheless still very fun! stay tuned for the next :)))

| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 (coming soon)

[nyakolya]

Exchanged kisses under moonlight (ii)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Featuring! Edogawa Ranpo, Edgar Allan Poe, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Nikolai Gogol.

Warnings! Breaking in within Nikolai's, also some sexual references in his too

Content! Fluff, gn!reader

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[江戸川 乱歩] Edogawa Ranpo

It was a typical evening rush hour in Yokohama. Red and gold headlights bustling down the asphalt roads as raged drivers cursed the stoplights as if they had been programmed against them. The moment of sonder stirred in your mind as you fell back to reality looking down at your watch ready to pick your boyfriend up- he was very late. Being the world's greatest detective, you knew that this wasn’t due to his case taking a long time to solve or anything, no- but because he’d gotten lost, again. 

You chuckled to yourself taking another sweet and popping it into your mouth- how endearing your boyfriend was, and with that thought he finally showed up. Just as you were about to greet him with a hug, you realized you had accidentally finished the bag of sweets you two were supposed to share- the final candy currently sitting in your mouth. You gulped it down nervously as your boyfriend greeted you with a hug, flopping his entire body weight on yours, your arms instinctively wrapped around him.

"Stupid Yokohama alleyways..." Ranpo grumbled into your shoulder, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, feeling his warm breath fan against your neck causing you to shiver slightly. You giggled softly at your boyfriend's complaint.

"Maybe if you employed me as your official chauffeur you wouldn't get lost as often," You commented, standing him back up, to which he let out a whine. With his pouting at your gentle chiding, you tenderly pecked his lips. However he didn't let you break away, instead he pulled you into a longer, more passionate kiss. Finally after a while of kissing he let you pull away, a big grin plastered on his face while licking his lips, tasting the sweetness you had just left on them. After registering what he had just done, you profusely apologized for eating all those sweets by yourself, but he didn't mind, after all he loves you. But now you do owe him extra sweets.

˚ · • . ° .

[♡] Edgar Allan Poe

It was the night of you and your boyfriend's anniversary, the twilight sky was awash with a dazzling display of constellations. Hundreds and thousands of golden diamonds, each sparkling and shimmering high above the crisp night air. The scene stretched out in every direction, making you two feel like you were standing in a vast ocean of galaxies. As you look up at the night sky, hand in hand, you feel the weight of the stars and space around you, yet somehow, it is a comfort. Like a gentle embrace, as f you two were in your very own romance novel.

"Is here okay?" Edgar asks gesturing to a picnic blanket under an oak tree, illuminated by a dozen candles sprinkled around the sight. The kindness in your eyes softened like a warm duvet, radiating comfort and peace- you dearly and truly appreciated all his effort.

"It's more than perfect," you spoke gently laying down next to him on the blanket. As you and your boyfriend gaze up at the night sky, you notice him rummaging through his pockets. Curious, you look over to see what it is he's searching for, and he pulls out a small notebook page on which he's written an elaborate poem. This is the seventh time this month he's done something like this, and this time you're prepared. After spending days pouring your heart and soul into your own poem, you finally have the opportunity to gift it to him. You take a crumbled piece of paper out of your pocket and read.

"The night opens the performance,

Moon, stars and clouds

They take the centre stage

and they dance and they dance.

It would be foolish to look away.

But in amongst the crowd

laying in the grass

I see my handsome angel

And I cannot avert my eyes."

He listens closely with a blush on his face, but it's not because he doesn't like it. Instead, it's because he's touched by your sweet gesture. He's too shy to kiss you on the lips and goes for your cheek instead, but you notice him looking at them through his thick brown hair. So you take the initiative, and pull him into a tender kiss. He blushes even more deeply as he feels your warmth.

˚ · • . ° .

[Фёдор Достоевский] Fyodor Dostoyevsky

The air was crisp just like any other night, wind howling a discordance of song. The moon rising in the sky, its soft glow bathing the urban view in a magical light, breathing in a mysterious atmosphere into the world below. You had arrived back home from a long weekend's trip and had found your boyfriend working tirelessly to finish a project for work, pale and exhausted.

The Russian's features were gaunt, making his cheeks seem sunken and violet eyes dull under the fringe of his long black hair which was caged by his greying ushanka (it really did need a wash). His figure seemed bonier than usual and was still dressed in the same clothes you had left him in. He had definitely not taken care of himself while you were gone, slouching as if too weak to keep himself upright.

"Welcome home, мой дорогой." Fyodor greets in a voice low and raspy from fatigue, as he swivels his chair around to face you, who was placing down a tray of tea and snacks.

"You really don't take care of yourself when I'm not around, do you, Fedya?" You frown brushing your lips against his forehead, leaving a soft kiss there. He then promises to come to bed early, but you know he probably won't keep that promise.

You settle into bed with a book, half-hoping for him to slip in beside you at any moment.Sure enough, and to your surprise, he comes, and kisses you gently on the temple, whispering a sweet goodnight before falling asleep in your arms. It was a small moment, but one filled with love and tender affection.

˚ · • . ° .

[Мико́ла Го́голь] Nikolai Gogol

It had been a day at the fairground with your boyfriend- a dazzling dance of colours.

You held his hand and followed his lead, along through the bustling throng. The sights, sounds, and smells of the fairground were like a symphony to your ears: your heart beating to the rhythm of the flashing lights, the music from the rides, and the laughter of people having fun. But as the sun began to set, your boyfriend had another activity in store.

Which is why you were here, broken into a wax museum and rearranging the figures into compromising positions- but this wasn’t unusual, just one of your many regular shenanigans together. With each figure repositioned carefully, in just the right pose to evoke lustful feelings, yet also funny enough to induce laughter, your boyfriend had turned it into a little game.

“Quiz time! What position am I going to put this one into?” Nikolai beamed grabbing a waxy Zac Efron and bending him over.

“Doggy style?” You guessed through your giggles, and with the correct answer you were rewarded with a shower of kisses all over your face.

The night grew dark as the moon rose inviting a illuminating shimmer through the windows and the game’s rewards had escalated into a steamy game of cat and mouse. The glow of silver casted a romantic gleam on your skin and the pale wax figures around you as you ran down the hallway chasing after your boyfriend. Shadows playing across his face as you tackle him to the ground. A rush of adrenaline floods your bloodstream and your heart pounces in your chest, the heat of the night stirring a cocktail of warmth in your veins. You quickly attack his face with kisses, a euphony of laughter echoing from both of you.

˚ · • . ° .

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a/n! Not to sure how I feel about this one, hope you don’t mind my cringy ass poem.

consider buying me a coffee <3

Part One Here

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[violetsiren90]

Blame Me: Chapter 1 | Jungkook/Reader

Pairing: artist!freespirit!Jungkook/noona!f!Reader

Genre: Best friend's younger brother; slow burn; friends to lovers; eventual romance; eventual smut; neighbors/childhood friends au; forbidden(ish) love; summer love.

Summary: Upon returning to your hometown after breaking off your engagement to your boyfriend of three years, you reconnect with your childhood bestfriend as you attempt to put the pieces of your life back togethe r. It seems like nothing has changed in the sleepy little town until your bestie's younger brother returns home from college - very, very grown. As the summer stretches on, the stakes get higher - can you play with fire without getting burned, or have you ignited a flame that won't be extinguished?

Chapter Warnings: All my fics are 18+ (minors, dni); allusions to an unhappy home environment/neglect; descriptive scenes of shared meals (the characters will eat together a lot in this fic, as it is part of a family dynamic); mentions of promiscuity made in jest; the accidentally-in-bed-together trope; brief panic attack symptoms; MC has some issues with guilt and feeling like a burden

Updates: When I can! Life has been crazy lately.

Author's note: This is so incredibly late in coming, and I really struggled with it for whatever reason (the initial inspo was there and then it just wasn't coming) but I am still excited to tell this story and thank you in advance to anyone who takes the time to read it!

*Inspired by "Blame Me" by Monsta X 💕

In case no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️ 💜

Tag list: @papijiminfeed @oopscoop @violeata @fancycollectormoon @fandomtales @booboobutt @jlee97 @lifeless-firefly @lovemepie67 @shaybtsforever @woomyteez @smutbangtan @raiu54288

If you want to be added to the tag list, comment or send me an ask to let me know!

You watched the shiny white Tesla that had been your Uber grow smaller and smaller down the long shady stretch of Tiger Lily Lane. You stood on the sidewalk, behind you the warm asphalt of the road and long shadows of the tall, sprawling elms, and before you your childhood home. It was a little grey house with a blue door and white trim, kitchen windows like jovial eyes, curved at the top, staring out over a lawn overrun with crabgrass and lined with bushes of pale pink roses that grew flush with the unpainted picket fence. The porch swing was beginning to show signs of rust, but the two little hanging pots of azaleas that flanked it on either side were blooming and bright. The windows and flowers seemed to loudly stare out into the street,  assuring neighbors and passersby of a happy home, but you knew better. 

You shifted your duffel bag on your shoulder and sighed. You weren't ready to go in. The house into which your family had moved when you were in the third grade had never really been a home to you. In fact, it had been a place you had left. By choice. Granted you had paid the occasional visit, by choice. Because visits were temporary. This wasn't a visit - and the moment you walked through those doors, you would be shutting forever a chapter of your life in which, as stormy as it had been in recent days, had rescued you from the one before it.

An ugly feeling that had been brewing in the pit of your stomach since the pilot had announced that your plane was starting its decent was making itself well known as you stood outside the gate of house number 9195.

A voice snapped you out of your nauseated reverie, and as you turned to see its owner, new feelings washed over you. Better ones. In the lawn of 9197 Tiger Lily Lane stood a pretty, slim young woman with a sharply cut, silky black bob. Her catlike dark eyes were bright and intense, her face bare but lovely, and her clothes simple but strikingly presentable.

    "Y/n!" she called again, her arms extended with open palms in a gesture of embrace and inquisition.

    "Jiah!" you shouted, dropping your duffel with a thud and jogging into the ungated yard where she stood.

    No sooner were you within arm's reach than she pulled you into a tight hug, swaying you from side to side as she pressed out of you, along with all the air in your lungs, a muffled laugh. Suddenly grasping you by the shoulders, she jerked you back so she could look at you. You grabbed her arms to steady yourself, continuing to gasp out bursts of laughter as you protested.

"Jiah, hold on! Woah! I'm gonna fall!"

    "Who cares about that! I haven't seen you since...oh my god, since the summer we finished undergrad, I think? How are you? Are you going to be in town for a few days?"

You looked back over your shoulder to where two bulging suitcases stood beside your abandoned duffel, then back to Jiah's inquisitive gaze.

    "It's gonna be more than a few days, Ji."

    She squeezed your shoulder as she cocked her head to the side.

    "Wait, are you moving back?"

    You mustered a weary, uncertain smile.

    "Surprise!" you offered weakly. Her smile faded, lips drawing into a pensive purse.

    "You haven't even been in there yet, have you?" she asked gravely, her eyes searching yours, hand still on your shoulder. You shook your head, lowering your gaze groundward. She sighed.

    "Alright, c'mon," she said suddenly, marching toward your pile of luggage.

    She grabbed the duffel and tossed it at you, wheeling the other two bags up the driveway behind her.

    "You're coming with me for now. We have some catching up to do."

You didn't protest as you followed her over the threshold of the Jeon household for the first time in a long while.

    Linen. Every house has its very own unique scent - one that draws you into its aura, for good or ill, and wraps you in all of the memories and feelings it has afforded you; it can take you back to a moment in time, and who you were in that moment, unmistakable and fleeting - a smoke ring of a portal to a previous reality. Jiah's house smelled like linen. And lilacs? Something floral, but even more delicate.

You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes as you stood just inside the door. The sick feeling in your stomach began to shrink. Every muscle in your body began to soften. You could hear the laughter of years ago. You could feel the bubbly schoolgirl giddiness of slumber parties under forts of sheets. Movie nights with cartons of takeout. Summer afternoons laying in the grass and tossing lazy wishes up at puffy white clouds. 

    "Y/n? Have you even been listening to me?"

You opened your eyes and blinked at Jiah, who was standing in front of you with two bottles of grapefruit IPA and a look of mild annoyance.

    "Sorry," you offered with a sheepish smile, slipping off your shoes, and traded the duffel in your right hand for one of the beers in answer to the question you had missed.

You followed her into the living room and plopped down next to her on a pretty white couch you didn't recognize, taking a long, wheaty swig from your bottle. She folded her legs up under herself and turned toward you, fixing you with earnest, expectant eyes. You raised an eyebrow quizzically.

    "Well, aren't you gonna tell me?" she pressed.

You smiled to yourself. Always so direct, Jeon Jiah. Even with half a decade stretching between this moment and the last you spent together, things were the very same. You were the Libra - the dramatic, messy one. The one with a heart full of dreams and a head in the clouds. She was the Capricorn with the strong sense of direction and the practical perspective. You always seemed to be in a quandary and she never failed to have a hard take on the situation. You sighed, taking another long sip of beer.

    "Have we really talked at all since freshman year of undergrad?" Jiah shook her head.

    While you had fought like hell to get out of Bellpond - even if it meant chasing your father's dreams of law school instead of your own - Jiah, who desperately wanted to join you in New York, had set aside her own longings to attend a local college while helping the family store survive the recession. Telling her the truth of what happened was going to be painful. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying to transcend the assumption that what you were about to say would let her down.

    "It was a guy, wasn't it?"

You shot wide eyes up at her, mouth agape at her sudden interjection. 

"What?" she pressed with a shrug as she sipped her own beverage,

"That's always what it is with you."

    You blinked, trying to form some sort of protest while failing to find any evidence in memory to counter her claims. You settled for a rueful smile and a huff. 

    "I guess I always have had pretty terrible taste in men," you conceded.

    "Pretty terrible?" she pushed, her face pinching into a comically overt censoriousness. "It's like your number one turn-on is red flags!"

    "Hey!" you rebutted, launching yourself at her shoulder in a playful shove, and sloshing her beer in the process.

You froze in panic as she glanced down at her dampened cardigan, and then at you.

    "Oh, shit! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

You jumped up and backed away, holding your hands outstretched in front of you as she stood up and slowly and menacingly advanced toward you. 

    "This is my favorite sweater," she hissed in a whisper.

    "Jiah, I didn't mean too, I'm sorry!" you whined, manic laughter punctuating your words as you backed around the coffee table.

    "It has lady bugs on the bottom," she hissed again, eyes narrowing as she raised the right hem to gesticulate at the embroidered insects in question.

    "And they're very cute," you placated, hands still raised in self defense. "Look, I said I was - Aaahh!!"

    She lunged at you mid-sentence, and you shrieked, tripping over your own feet in an attempt to flee and you toppled, one after the other, in a heap on the plush carpet. Before you could find out if your friend was in fact as strong as she had been in high school, the front door swung open and a familiar voice filled the room.

    "Jeon Jiah, get up off the floor and help your imo with all these damn groceries! I had to - AHHHH!"

    You looked up at the figure in the door as she let out a high-pitched squeal of delight. She was a petite bombshell of a woman in her early fifties, who, had you not known otherwise, you wouldn't have pegged for a day over forty. Bright and expertly executed makeup adorned her features - softer and rounder than Jiah's. Her permed dark hair was pulled up in a colorful bohemian wrap, and she wore compression pants, neon orange Nike's, and a crop top with a print of Joan Jett flipping the bird. She had dropped the bags of citrus and apples she had been carrying, sending the fruits rolling across the floor.

    "Aebeolle!" She shrieked, running forward, and bending down to pull you up by your armpits into a half-stand so she could crush you in a hug. 

    "Rosie!" You propped yourself up on your knees so that you could wrap your arms around the tiny woman's middle.

    Imo to her niece and nephew, she was Rosie to everyone else. While Jiah's mother had been the responsible one, staying out of trouble, and working in the family store after school, Rosie had been the wild child. Smart as a whip but with no patience for the system, Rosie had dropped out of high school at seventeen and jumped on a tour bus the following summer as the groupie of a grunge band. She hadn't looked back until Christmas Eve of 1999, when her whole world was shattered by a phone call.

She had taken the next flight back to the hometown she had promised to never set foot in again so that by Christmas morning she could have her niece and nephew in wrapped her arms. She left behind her life in the fast lane to take over running the Jeon's store and raise her sister's kids in their family home. 

She had been there for you, too. On those nights you climbed out of your window, a backpack slung over your shoulder stuffed with clothes and a toothbrush, to tap softly on their front door. On the following mornings she had filled your stomach with warm, hearty dakjuk and fluffy slices of milk bread, and let you watch cartoons as she worked out the knots clinging to your neglected hair. She offered the warmest hugs, the softest words of direction, and the loudest cheers of praise. She had always called you "aebeolle" which was Korean for "caterpillar", and she had always given you the nurture you needed to survive. If she hadn't, you weren't sure where you would have come by it.

    "What are you doing here? You finally paying us a visit?" she asked, clapping her hands to your cheeks.

    "She was about to tell me about how some guy wrecked her life. Again."

Jiah interjected, earning herself a smack on the shoulder.

    "Jiah, you brat!" Rosie chided, as she helped you to your feet.

She glanced up at you through fake lashes.

"You really do have the worst taste in men, though."

    You sighed in defeat.

    "Ugh, you two," you blustered, "Where is Jungkook when I need backup?"

    "Headed this way, for the summer, actually," Rosie remarked as she collected the fruit strewn across the floor.

    "So he decided to slum it, huh?" Jiah huffed, "I thought he was going to Ontario, or wherever the heck that last girl he met at that festival was from."

    Rosie shrugged, shaking her head with a smile.

    "I've lost track," she chuckled.

    You blinked.

    "Wait, wait, wait...are we talking about the same person?" You asked, holding a hand up in disbelief. "Jungkook. Your little brother. Tiny. Shy as hell. Looks like the weight of his head is gonna topple him over. Bunny rabbit teeth....is a lady's man?"

    "Well, not strictly," Rosie hummed, hoisting a bag of produce onto the counter. "His sophomore year in Paris there was that one guy...what was his name?"

    "Taehyung," Jiah offered, shedding her sweater and draining her beer.

    "Right, right," Rosie nodded. "I liked him. Too bad."

    Your mouth hung open. Jiah wrinkled her nose.

    "You're gonna catch flies that way," she remarked sardonically. 

    "I...I just cannot believe what I'm hearing. Jungkook. In my mind he will forever be the tiny gremlin I have to keep bailing out of trouble."

    Rosie smiled. Jiah scoffed.

    "Well, he's still a gremlin, if you ask me," she sniffed, chucking the beer bottles in the recycling bin.

    "When does he get back?" You asked.

Rosie shook her head as she divided the groceries between the cupboards and the fridge.

    "He's on his bike so, barring any unexpected stops - which are definitely not out of the picture - he should be here in the next couple of days. Probably by the weekend."

    You nodded, still trying to wrap your head around the newly acquired image of you and Jiah's childhood tag-a-long. Rosie approached you with a picture pulled up on her phone.

    "Look at him," she said with a smile, sliding the device into your hand.

    You blinked at the picture on the screen. There he stood - much taller than you remembered - a girl under each arm, filling out a pair of ripped jeans, a black tank, and an ascot. A fringe brushed the tops of his eyes, while the top half of his dark waves were bound back in a little bun. His right arm was covered in tattoos. He was grinning from ear to ear, with that same toothy smile you had committed to memory.

   "That's just crazy," you murmured, shaking your head, before handing Rosie's phone back to her. 

    "He's going to be thrilled to see you. I think he has a lot of happy memories from when you three were kids just banging around town together," Rosie remarked as she continued to sort the groceries.

    You smiled to yourself. You certainly did. You glanced at your bags by the door.

    "I guess I should get going," you murmured without conviction.

    "Not yet, not until I've fed you," Rosie responded, not skipping a beat as she began to pile the ingredients for bibimbap on the kitchen island.

You smiled to yourself. Rosie to the rescue, as always.

    "Okay, if you're gonna twist my arm," you sighed dramatically as you pulled up a stool on the other side of the kitchen island, followed by Jiah who grabbed the carrots and a peeler.

    You reached for a huge zucchini squash and knife. Jiah shot you some side-eye.

    "You're not getting out of telling us about the big debacle, you know. Time to 'fess up."

    "Yep, spill," Rosie concurred as she prepped the rice cooker.

    You heaved another sigh. Might as well get it over with, you thought. But for some reason, the words stuck in your throat, unable to come out. You looked at your hands, shaking as they tried to steady the knife over the squash. You couldn't do this. Not right now. Not yet.

    You let the knife clatter to the cutting board and scrubbed your hands over your face. 

    "Y/n?" Jiah asked, leaning over to look at you, "Are you okay?"

    You drew your hands from your face and looked up at her with tired eyes. She and Rosie had traded their teasing glances for expressions of concern. You gripped the edge of the counter to stop your stupid hands from trembling.

    "It's really not a fun story, you guys," you said slowly, trying your best to sound casual, "You're not missing out."

    Rosie reached over the kitchen island to clasp your hands.

    "No worries, aebeolle. We can talk about it some other time. For now, just stick to slicing up this zucchini and forget about that other one!"

    She shot you a wink as she cracked open a tupperware of marinated beef.

    "Imo! My god!" Jiah protested with a grimace as you and Rosie burst into a fit of giggles.

    It was all laughter and shots of soju and teasing Jiah about being a prude until you were gathered around the table with steaming bowls of goodness in front of you. Rosie closed her eyes and threw up rock-on signs with both hands.

    "May Stevie Nicks bless this food," she murmured before snapping up her chopsticks to snag a mandu and pop it into her mouth.

    You took a heaping bite of bibimbap, your whole body relaxing as the flavors and warmth returned you to a simpler time. Another wave of nostalgia washed over you as images of three little hungry kids fighting over the last piece of fried chicken replaced the scene before you. Your eyes wandered to the empty chair beside Rosie. There was a missing piece in the picture of comfort you had always found in the Jeon residence - a missing piece in the shape of round head bearing a pair of giant doe eyes that would light up when he'd win and water-up when he'd lose, and little short legs that ran faster than the longer ones, and a bright smile that was all innocence and central incisors.

You smiled fondly as long-dormant memories continued to appear like little spring flowers of the mind. Jungkook had perfectly completed your little trio, because though Jiah was your best friend, you and he had always understood each other in a way that came so easily. You didn't mind that everything brought him to tears, or that he invested himself so earnestly in even the smallest of his joys. You also didn't find it annoying that he wanted to tag along with the big kids, or that he hated being called a baby despite practically demanding to be treated as one. You knew in a way Jiah would only later realize that he was caught between wanting to grow up too quickly and not at all. It was the same battle between longings that waged war in your own heart, along with so many others who in some way had to raise themselves.

    "How's the oi muchim?" Rosie's question roused you from your reverie.

    "Amazing, like everything," you answered, waving your chopsticks over the spread of banchan.

    "I made it a little spicier this time," the older woman said, sampling the cucumbers again herself. "Trying to get these staples just right before the new place opens."

    "New place? Another store?" You asked, helping yourself to more sukju namul. 

    Rosie's eyes shone, a proud smile tugging at her lips as she gave her answer.

    "A restaurant, actually."

    Your jaw dropped.

    "You're finally doing it!?"

    Rosie leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, nodding at her niece.

    "It's all Jiah's doing. She's taking care of all the logistics, I'm just figuring out the menu."

    "Well, if you need help, I'm in between gigs at the moment," you added eagerly.

    Rosie clapped her hands and wiggled in her chair.

    "We would love the help! We've only just started hiring some staff. So far there's one person to wait tables and someone running the kitchen."

    Jiah let out a huff. You quirked an eyebrow in her direction, and she appraised you with a look of wistful discouragement.

    "Too bad you can't cook, or I'd boot him out tomorrow."

    "Who?"

    "The chef," she sneered.

    "Speaking of, Jiah-ie," Rosie remarked over the food in her cheek, "How is Seokjin doing these days?"

The older woman chewed back a poorly concealed smirk as she glanced up at her niece, whose lips curled scornfully.

    "One day, I'll kill him, I swear," she grumbled, shoveling rice into her mouth as if she was punishing it with every bite.

You glanced over at your friend, then at Rosie, who wiggled her eyebrows as she took a sip from her glass.

    "Seokjin...not Kim Seokjin?" you asked. 

    "Yeeeeep," Jiah affirmed bitterly.

    "He's a cook?"

    Rosie nodded.

    "And darn good at it. The only thing he's better at is pissing off this one right here," she remarked with a smirk as she gestured toward her glowering niece.

  You smiled to yourself as Jiah started off on what would likely be a lengthy rant at the young man's expense. Seokjin, or Jin, as he was more commonly known, had attended the same small high school as you and Jiah. In a body of four-hundred students, everyone had played a well-known role - and while she had been the straight-laced valedictorian, he was the class clown. Natural enemies who found the other beyond comprehension, the bulk of the ire had always been on Jiah's side, while Jin had seemed to find her as amusing as he did inexplicable. The concept of the two of them attempting to run a business together was the stuff of sitcoms.

His ongoing feud with Jiah notwithstanding, it didn't really surprise you that he had tucked himself into the Jeons' life. His father owned most of the agricultural land in the surrounding area, and with his older brother having been slated since birth to take over the family empire, Jin had enjoyed a freedom of direction that found him often seeking out the phenomenon of being needed...and people always needed a laugh. But laughter is momentary, and Rosie, having the heart for strays that she did, always provided something more permanent.

    "So now we're probably going to have to keep Jungkook at the store, because you know how they get when they're together," Jiah tiraded on.

    "They don't get along anymore?" you asked, a bit crestfallen at the thought. 

    "The opposite," Rosie chuckled, "You put them in the same room and those dorks turn into a couple of puppies. They broke the back screen door roughhousing last Chuseok. Plowed right through it."

    You snickered at the thought.

    "But Jungkook is darn well gonna contribute while he's here," your friend asserted as she stood to clear the table, still on her agenda about the restaurant launch, "Not just cruise around finding pretty people to sketch between make-out sessions."

    Rosie waved a hand dismissively.

    "He's always willing to pitch in. But it's summer, and he's young, so don't you go all drill sergeant on him." 

     Jiah scoffed.

    "Sure, it's summer, but there's a lot to get done between now and opening, and -"

    "AND," Rosie interrupted, "I expect you to have some fun as well, young lady! Especially now that Y/n is back. You two better do a decent amount of carousing."

    "Carousing?" Jiah asked with a grimace, directing horrified eyes in your direction.

    You let out another laugh.

    "She's got a point, Rosie. I don't think anyone has caroused in quite some time."

    Rosie rolled her eyes, crossing to the sink and running the tap.

    "Well," she rejoined, undeterred, "Whatever it is they're calling it these days, you two better be doing plenty of it! Give your imo some fun to live through vicariously, why don't you?"

    Jiah shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest.

    "And, you," she said, pointing a sudsy wooden spoon in your direction, "Should just stay here for the night. Take Jungkook's room. Then you can rest and be ready for...you know. Tomorrow."

    You accepted the invitation with very little hesitation. It was a relief, and Rosie knew. She had always known. You shot a text to excuse your absence that you doubted was actually necessary and lugged your things down the hall and into the last bedroom on the left.

    The rest of the night was spent stuffed onto the little couch with bowls of ice cream while the three of you shrieked and slapped each other's arms and kick your feet watching reruns of The Golden Girls. It was nearly midnight by the time you slipped under the sheets of the full-sized mattress in the smallest bedroom.

    Though your eyes were heavy with exhaustion, you couldn't help but glance around at the walls and shelves, filled with scented candles, and action figures, Polaroids, and an incredible number of charcoal and graphite sketches. There were drawings of buildings, trees, cars, and people. And though there was little variation in color, the vitality and emotion that sparked along each line drew you from piece to piece. Your eyes drifted over a particular drawing - a girl's lower face - the tip of a nose, lips slightly parted, and her chin tilting upward. It might have been the delirium of your tired mind, but something about it seemed familiar. You stretched for a recollection just out of reach as you slipped past memory and into slumber.

    Weight. The first thing you registered as your mind began to again become aware of its physical trappings was a heaviness. At first your hazy consciousness likened it to blankets, then to the heaviness of a sleep without dreams...safety...security...

    And then something brushed the skin of your stomach under your shirt, drawing a hum out of you as your eyes fluttered open, and what they saw had you frozen in place. An arm. A large, muscular arm covered in dark ink was snaked around your waist, hand slipped under the hem of your sleep tee.

    Fight or flight mode suddenly triggered, you snapped up and pushed yourself away from the body attached to the limb, letting out a shout as you kicked your legs, and only catching a glimpse of dark hair and grey sweatpants as the intruder rolled off the bed and hit the carpet with a loud thud. You jumped off the other side of the bed before you could think, tangling your legs in sheets that brought you tumbling down onto your ass. Before you could thrash free of the bedding, a groaning figure peered with large, dark eyes from the other side of the bed. Dark, wild waves framing his sleepy head like a halo, and wide, round eyes still bleary with sleep, the young man passed tattooed hand over his mouth to wipe the remnants of drool away as he blinked at you from across the room.

    "J...Jungkook?!" you choked out in surprise and confusion, struggling to your feet.

    "You kicked me..." he groaned, his features taking on an injured look as he stooped to rub his thigh.

    "Why...when..."

    "Imo told me to wake you up for breakfast," he pouted.

You scrubbed your hands over your eyes. Same damn baby-faced expression. Huge, bulky man. With tattoos...and a lip ring? This Pokémon had leveled up. Maybe twice. And that was all your brain could register as your heart rate descended from two hundred beats per minute and the heavy fog of an interrupted sleep cycle began to dissipate. You tossed the sheet back onto the bed, and as your eyes flicked back to his face you noticed his had dropped a little lower. Registering with horror that you were in a thin cotton nightshirt with nothing underneath, you snatched up the sheet again, clutching it to your chest. What the fuck was happening?

    "Rosie told you to wake me up, so you decided to spoon me?" You asked incredulously as your embarrassment quickly morphed into agitation.

    Jungkook's eyes widened as they flew up to yours, seemingly caught off guard by the edge in your tone.

    "No, noona...it wasn't like that!" he said, standing to his full height, his brow creasing defensively.

    He was pretty fucking tall. His white tee and grey sweats did little to hide the fact that he was also pretty fucking big. Exasperated by these unbidden acknowledgements that had your brain buffering, you snapped a little again.

    "Then what was it like? You had your hand up my shirt, Kook!" 

    Your voice had unintentionally softened at his nickname, and he caught it, biting back a grin as you hugged the sheet over you just a little more snugly. 

    "It was kind of your fault, noona," he smirked, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. 

    You shot him a quizzical and unamused look.

    "I came in here to wake you up and you pulled me into bed. You kept calling me someone else's name...and..." he giggled, "'Baby', and you kept insisting we sleep for just five more minutes."

    You gaped at him in horror.

     "You pulled my arm over you," he continued, now a bit smugly, "And I had literally just woken up, so...being so comfy...well, I guess I fell back to sleep with you."

    You could feel the heat in your face. You had a history of pretty intense sleep talking, but you hadn't experienced it to that extent in years. You considered that you must have slept deeply as you stammered your apology.

    "Oh my god, Jungkook...I'm so sorry - that's horrifying - I didn't mean to..." 

    The younger man just laughed in response, breaking into his signature luminous smile. His eyes glimmered.

    "Didn't mean to steal my bed, demand cuddles, and then beat the heck out of me?"

    You let out a sigh.

    "Sorry."

He nodded, a little smile still tugging at his lips.

    "I accept your apology for the bruises...but not the cuddles. Those were nice."

    He threw a wink over his shoulder as he headed for the door, and you tossed a pillow and a string of expletives after him as he jogged, giggling, toward the kitchen. Still flustered and a bit thrown, you changed into real clothes before joining the others in the breakfast table. Rosie was placing mayak eggs alongside the piles of bacon and pancakes as you pulled out a chair next to Jiah.

    "You slept well! You must have been exhausted," Rosie remarked, handing you a mug of coffee.

    "Yeah, must have," Jungkook quipped with a smirk as he snagged three strips of bacon.

    You shot him a warning look as you stabbed demonstratively into a stack of pancakes, but his grin only deepened.

    "I thought you weren't supposed to be back until the weekend," you addressed him coolly.

    "Mm," he took a sip of orange juice. "I actually wasn't really supposed to be back until next week. I expected to head north to see a friend but she ended up being out of town, so I just came straight back."

    "A friend, huh?" Jiah crooned patronizingly, as she twirled a fork in his direction.

    Her brother nodded.

    "The same one you were talking to on the phone very loudly when you came in last night?"          

Jungkook scrunched his nose, sticking out the tip of his tongue in her direction.

    "Wow," she drawled, "How very adult of you. And for the record, friends don't call each other 'baby'."

    Jungkook snickered, glancing at you again before he mumbled, "Some friends do..."

    "So, Jiah - " you practically shouted, as you turned toward her in a desperate bid to change the topic of conversation, "You gonna show me the new place today, or what?"

    "The restaurant? If you let her drag you out there, she'll put you to work and you'll never be seen again," Jungkook hummed over an entire egg that he had pocketed in his cheek, casting teasing eyes up at his sister, who smiled back wickedly.

    "You know, Kookie, it's just so good to have you home! We needed someone who puts in those gym hours to do a bit of the heavy lifting." 

    Jungkook flashed another smile, puffing his chest and massaging his pectorals as Jiah feigned a gag.

    You chuckled, and Jungkook grinned as he tucked into his pancakes.

    Watching the two of them bicker and catch up, you realized that things felt a bit more whole again - familiar, if different. You considered that maybe the three of you could all fall back into stride. Maybe this summer wouldn't be so bad after all.

    After breakfast you gathered your things to head next door. You tried to slip out quietly, to avoid Rosie stalling you any further, but Jungkook caught you as he was coming around from the garage, an oil towel in his grease-stained hands.

    "You leaving?" he asked with a tinge of disappointment.

    "I can't over-stay my welcome," you shrugged, smiling wryly.

    His face took on a serious expression.

    "You know you're always welcome here, yeah? It's good to have you back," he pressed earnestly.

    You nodded, touched because you knew he meant it and that the other two members of his family shared the same sentiment. Jungkook wiped his hands on the towel casting a look over at the house next door. 

    "You staying there?"

    You nodded. His brow creased and the corners of his mouth turned down.

    "Okay. You can come here whenever."

    "I know," you said softly.

    His eyes looked worried and uncertain. You dropped your bag and pulled him into a hug. 

    "It's so good to see you again, Jungkook-ah," you murmured, dropping your head against his chest.

    His arms squeezed around you in return. He had always preferred to talk with his body instead of his words. Every playful punch, or little shove, or squeeze of his hand carried a message. This one meant it was good to see you too.

    As you waved goodbye you counted the Jeons' welcome among your blessings - not everything you had left behind would be so welcome to recall. But, life hadn't left you with many choices. So you began the long walk to the house next door.

-End Chapter 1-

[elvenbeard]

OC INTERVIEW: Vincent "V" Ezaki

Tagged by: @pinkyjulien @chevvy-yates @wraithsoutlaws and @v-eats-bugs thank you so much!!! <3

I'm gonna steal the idea some of you had and let him answer in character, but I'm gonna put some more context (and/or the truth xD) after Vince's reply where I see fit!

Tagging everyone who sees this and hasn't been tagged yet :3c I think most of you have done this at this point, but do please tag me if you do, I wanna read about your blorbos!!

■ NICKNAME ■ "Just 'V'."

100% going with the "only people that know me really well can use my real name" canon, because I love that scene and moment so much (and the lil nod to it again in the Tower Ending with Johnny ;_;). In my hc, Jackie gave him the nickname "V" on the day they met. Up until then he had always insisted on the full "Vincent" with everyone, and Jackie was the one to urge him to be careful with whom he shares his full identity. Meanwhile it's the other way around and "Vincent" is reserved for friends only... and "Vince" exclusively for Kerry really xD

■ GENDER ■ "Could say I'm a self-made man." ;)

This highly depends on who is asking the question here, if it's a very casual setting he'd say the above, if it's something to go into a screamsheet or whatnot he'd be more like "well, take a wild fuckin' guess" or just "male". He doesn't hide the fact he's trans, and he's proud of his journey and identity, but it's still not something he'd want to publically discuss with strangers without anything to gain from it.

■ STAR SIGN ■ "Gemini I think, but I gotta say, astrology isn't exactly something I have deep knowledge or opinions about."

He celebrates his birthday June 10th, but his real birthday in in September, so he's actually a Libra xD

■ HEIGHT ■ "5'6."

■ ORIENTATION ■ "Sorry ladies." ;)

Again, highly contextual on who is asking, and depending on that his answer might be more evasive or he'd just decline to answer. The less details about his private life are in the public's eye the better. But if the context is a fun night out with friends and he feels safe, he'd definitely give a more cheeky response and, to not get anyone's hopes up, just straightforward let them know he's gay.

■ NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY■ "Born and raised in Night City and a proud citizen ever since."

He doesn't talk about his family because he's cut ties with them long ago. His mother, Marcella, was also from Night City, your average NUS citizen with mixed European heritage. His father, Kousuke, was Japanese. He and Vince's mother met through work for a certain corporation that wasn't necessarily welcome in NC at the time (but I bet my ass still very much present in one way or another).

■ FAVE FRUIT ■ "When I was a kid, I once had daifuku with real, straight-from-the-ground strawberries. Somewhere way out there on the Japanese countryside, couldn't tell you where exactly anymore. Still got no idea where they even got the strawberries from, but no RealFruit ever matched those."

■ FAVE SEASON ■ "Don't think I have a real preference here, 'specially cause Night City's warm all year round. I like it that way. Could do with less sandstorms though. I like it when it rains now and then, the steam on the asphalt, everything is just... quieter, in a way."

■ FAVE FLOWER ■ "One made from plastic."

Vince doesn't have a green thumb and no mind to care for plants either. He's far from an outdoorsy, nature-loving person XD Do not gift him flowers, he will not know what to do with them. That being said though: he has two big stylized lotus flowers tattooed. The first one he got shortly before he left his home, when he began his transition. The second after his top surgery, when he already worked for Arasaka, as a reminder to stay true to himself on the inside, especially whenever he couldn't outwardly. He just likes the lotus aesthetically, the shapes and symmetry, and that it symbolizes rebirth and transformation.

■ FAVE SCENT ■ "Clean bedsheets and freshly brewed green tea."

And the odd mix of Kerry's overpriced bodywash and favourite cigarettes XD

■ COFFEE, TEA, HOT CHOCOLATE ■ "Yes, in that order please. Coffee with milk and sugar, tea is fine just plain, green or black."

He's definitely more of a coffee than a tea drinker, and whatever it is, it's gotta be a little fancy xD Vince is the kind of person with a long-ass signature order at the coffee shop, and I 100% see him loving bubble tea in any combination and variation in existence. The only time he drinks his coffee black is when he accidentally orders "the same as him" in a moment of distraction at Caliente's with Kerry. But tea he occasionally likes just plain, but then it has to be high quality organic real tea leaves. Hot chocolate is a nice special treat, too.

■ AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP ■ "Even in my line of work a regular sleep schedule is possible - and necessary, to stay sharp. I try to get my 7 hours of sleep in."

The somewhat regular sleep schedule is really something he values and tries to stick to, although the Relic and Johnny's presence really mess it up for a long while. But especially because his lack of sleep while working at Arasaka contributed to him developing a drug addiction to cope with the stress and sleep-deprivation it's something he doesn't want to fall back into.

■ DOG OR CAT PERSON ■ "Defintiely cats."

■ DREAM TRIP ■ "I'd like to return to Japan one day for a short vacation - see if I can find that daifuku shop again, haha. Would also love to visit Europe more extensively than what I've seen of it so far. And, who knows, maybe the Crystal Palace one day."

And the Phillipines with Kerry <3

■ FAVE FICTIONAL CHARACTER ■ "Ooohhh, that's a hard question, let me think for a moment... [insert long analysis of different movie and video game characters and why they're good or bad and why he likes them or not]"

Evading this a little bit because I don't wanna dive into a rabbit hole of seeing what canonical fictional characters there are and why Vince might like them or not xD He is a big nerd and a gamer and knows so much more than I do XD Also, he'd 100% be the kind of person who's rooting for the evil guys, because often their motivations and goals are much more complex and interesting than the "hero's" in his eyes xD and he's fascinated by the concept that they're doomed to lose by the narrative usually (because the good guys usually win), but still fight tooth and nail to achieve their goals and safe their own skin. He can relate to that a lot more than the selfless goodie-two-shoes who just want to save the world and make it a better place.

■ NUMBER OF BLANKETS THEY SLEEP WITH ■ "In this weather one is more than enough. Sometimes none is better."

■ RANDOM FACT ■ "It takes around 7 seconds for someone to form a solid first impression of you in a face-to-face conversation. It takes my Kiroshis' scanners half as long to additionally supply me with all the data on you I need to permanently ruin your life for good."

[madstheauthor]

Don’t Call Me Aaron

Part 1:

WORDS: 1.5K

You and Hotchner have just been called to go and check out a new crime scene for the case you’ve been working on for about a week now.

“I can’t believe we haven’t been able to catch this guy yet,” Hotch says, frustrated, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “This makes six women dead now.” I get it. We’ve been doing everything we can but this unsub is still one step ahead of us.

“I know,” I tell him, “But we aren’t going to give up. He’s getting angrier, which means he may mess up and leave something at the scene that will help us.” I tell him with as much confidence as I can muster at the moment. I’m trying to be hopeful, but this guy has done everything perfectly. Not a sliver of DNA at the crime scenes besides the victims.

The team doesn’t know, but this unsub has hit close to home for me. I’ve never been able to tell them what happened. All they know is that my mom passed when I was 8 and my dad has never been around. Everyone has been trying to find him, especially Hotchner, I don’t think he’s slept since we arrived in the small town of St. Augustine, Florida.

In the three years I’ve been with the BAU, I’ve never seen an unsub get to Hotch the way this one has. I couldn’t tell you exactly what it is about this particular case, but you can see it on his face. He almost looks like he could explode.

“Hotch, I’m worried about you,” I tell him, looking up at his dark brown eyes. “You need to eat and you need to sleep. Those aren’t things you can just skip.” I just need him to take care of himself.

“How am I expected to rest when you-” he starts to say but is cut off when we pull into the driveway of the crime scene. Every police car in the state of Florida must be here. Hotch finds a place to pull over and we jump out of the car.

By the time my feet hit the asphalt, Aaron is halfway to the house, taking giant strides to get there like someone he adored was being held hostage in that house. I run to catch up with him and we walk in together. And as soon as my feet are over the threshold,

Blood. Blood everywhere. On the walls. Floor. Cabinets. If it’s in the kitchen, it’s covered in dark red blood. It looked as if a tornado had gone straight through the center of the house. Not a single thing looked as if it belonged. And right in the middle of the kitchen table, a kitchen knife, covered from handle to tip in the darkest, crimson blood I’ve ever seen.

I tried to hide the horror and fear on my face but I must not have done a good job because if I thought Hotch walked quickly into the house, he was dragging me out before I could blink. I couldn’t do anything but stare ahead of me, motionless. Trying to get my mind back where it needed to be.

“Go wait in the car. Now.” He said staring down at me. He almost looks, sad. I do what I can to keep myself from looking weak.

“Hotch, I’m fine, c’mon,” I told him, sounding surprisingly okay. I tried to walk past him back to the house. I didn’t make it very far though; he stuck his arm out to stop me dead in my tracks. “Aaron, this is my job, and you know I’m capable or you wouldn’t have hired me in the first place. This is important that we look over every detail. I want to find him just as bad as you.” I tell him frustratingly. I know he’s worried about me, but I’m grown, and I can take care of myself. What happened to me is not something I’m just going to forget. The next best thing is to work through it.

“I don’t care if you say you’re fine or not. You’re not needed here. That’s an order. Take the car back to the police station and help Reid with the geographical profile. I’ll get a ride from one of the deputies.” He hands me the keys with a deep sigh. “And don’t call me Aaron.” he ends, and goes back into the house. I walk angrily back to the SUV. I can’t believe he just did that. How am I supposed to help catch this guy if Hotch doesn’t trust me and my skills?

. . .

A few hours later everyone gathered at the police headquarters to look over the pictures from the crime scene. As JJ is flicking through all the pictures, I can feel someone’s gaze on me. I look around the room to see Aaron Hotchner, staring so hard at me that I was sure he could see straight through me. I decide to ignore it for the time being, but putting a mental note in my head to tell him to stop acting like I’m going to fall apart. I look back at the TV to see the living room of the house, which looked like a whole other house compared to the kitchen. Everything in the room was pristine like it had never been used, almost like nobody even lived in the house.

“So Hotch, did y’all find anything at the house?” Morgan asked.

“We did find a few fingerprints, Garcia is running them through the database as we speak.” He said, yet still looking at me. I’m so tired of him. He’s not my dad, and he needs to stop acting like he is. I never got the joy of having one of those. I’ve had enough.

“Well, we could have missed something since Hotch decided not to let me even look at the scene.” I told the group, but staring right at Aaron with boiling anger. I hadn’t even noticed my fists clenched at my sides until I could feel my fingernails digging into my palms.

“Why not?” Reid questioned, looking back and forth between me and Hotch. I’d love to see what he comes up with as a good excuse.

“Not that it’s anyone’s business, but she wasn’t needed. There were plenty of deputies there and I needed her here working on the geographical profile.” He told everyone. “It will take a few hours to get the results back from Garcia on those fingerprints, so everyone go home and rest, we will meet back here first thing in the morning.” I am exhausted and ready to be home so I can just sit in the silence. I need to be alone. I gathered all my stuff off the table and headed towards the door, but of course, it’s not that simple.

“Agent, a word please,” Hotchner says looking at me. Of course, I’m in trouble. And the group must have heard because they all turn and give me a sympathetic look before walking out and shutting the door behind them. I take a seat back at the table while Hotch continues to stand.

“What the hell was that?!” He inquires, with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh like you have no idea. You completely invalidated my skills today and made me feel like I wasn’t good enough to be on the team, Aaron” I spit back at him, sure to add his first name there at the end to make sure he gets the point. He starts walking in my direction and takes a seat directly next to me.

“I will not tell you again, do not call me Aaron.” He tells me through gritted teeth.

“Hotch I need to know why. Why did you send me back? I know I’m one of the best profilers in the BAU. I want to be treated as so, not like a five-year-old girl who needs her daddy.” I ask desperate to know the answer. I hate feeling like I’m not good enough, I’ve felt like that my whole life and things finally got better when I started working for the FBI.

“You want to know why?!” Hotch yells, standing again. He starts to pace around the room like he’s begging to get something off his chest. Something he’s been holding in since we got to Florida last week.

“Something is off about this case with you, I can feel it. And your face when you saw the crime scene, it was something I’d never seen in you before. I wasn’t going to sacrifice your well-being over this case.” He says, his pacing paused to gauge my reaction.

“Well that’s not your decision to make sir, I can figure that out myself. I am perfectly capable.” I tell him, swiftly standing from my chair to match him.

“What’s wrong, honestly?” He asks me, searching my eyes like they have the answer. But they don’t, I do.

“That’s none of your business, Aaron.” I spit as I grab my things and walk out, slamming the door behind me.

Part 1 to my series, writing part 2 now!! My first time writing, by the way, give me suggestions please on where I could take this story! Thank you! ❤️❤️

[di-in-al]

~Drifting into Desire~ PART IV

>Warnings: Profanity. Smoking.

>Word Count: 8.8k

>Tags: 18+ future smut + MDNI + all characters over age 21 + 1990s themed + no quirks + reader insert

>A/N: heyyyyyyy! we finally got us some Bakugo action in this chappy. if you're interested, I highly encourage listening to the initial d soundtrack during the race scenes. also, if you have any feedback on anything, I would love to hear (: I hope you enjoy!

p.s. Get a look at Y/N's car with an official piece of artwork for the story! -> Parked.

>taglist: @simp-plague

part III masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.~~~

The sun had dipped below the jagged horizon, painting the sky in a breathtaking palette of amber and crimson that bathed the mountain pass in an ethereal golden glow. You eased your car to a halt at the starting line, the engine's low purr reverberating through the valley. The crisp evening air crackled with electric anticipation, sending shivers down your spine. Bakugo leaned against his gleaming orange RX-7, its polished surface reflecting the fading light like liquid fire. His piercing crimson eyes locked onto you, burning with an intensity that could melt steel, his lips curled into a predatory smirk that promised no mercy on the winding road ahead.

"You ready, Rookie?" His deep voice carried a note of mockery, a challenge in his steady gaze.

You smirked, the engine of your Mazda purring in response. Your fingers drummed against the steering wheel, adrenaline already coursing through your veins.

"Born ready," you drawled, a cocky grin spreading across your face. "This baby and I have been itching for a challenge. You sure you can keep up?" The playful taunt in your voice masked the undercurrent of excitement and nerves. This was more than just a race; it was a chance to prove yourself, to feel truly alive. Bakugo chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, like the rumble of an approaching storm.

"You think I’m afraid of some little girl in a Miata? You know who I am, right?" He pushed off from his car, swaggering towards you, his every step confident and deliberate.

“Yeah, the self-proclaimed King of Musutafu Pass.” You leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms with a casual air that belied the determination simmering within. “Let’s see if your throne survives the night.”

Bakugo’s eyes gleamed, a wicked satisfaction flickering across his features. “You talk a big game for someone who barely scraped by against Kirishima. Did you really think that was enough to impress me?”

“That was a warm-up,” you shot back, uncaging a smirk that felt like a flame ignited between you. “Kirishima's a good driver, but he doesn’t have what it takes to match me. Let's see if you're different, huh?"

He glared, fists clenching at his sides. “You’ll regret saying that when I blow past you on the uphill and leave you eating my dust."

"Once we hit the downhill, we'll see who's the one left behind." You leaned forward, eyes narrowing in challenge, thrill dancing on the edge of your words. 

With a scoff, he pushed off of his car and paced toward the starting line, the ground trembling slightly beneath his steps. “Enough talk. Let’s settle this on the track.”

The crowd buzzed with anticipation, a cacophony of voices mingling with the distant thump of bass from nearby cars. You glanced behind you, seeing Momo and Shinso among the gathering of eager spectators, their faces filled with uneasiness. Momo stood with her hands on her hips, while Shinso shrugged, a smirk creeping onto his face.

You focused ahead, your mind a turbulent sea of conflicting emotions. The growing hum of the crowd soon faded, replaced by the rhythmic thump of your heart, each beat a reminder of the weight of expectations pressing down on you. Just you, the road, and your car—a trinity that both comforted and terrified. You took a deep breath, trying to quell the doubt that gnawed at your insides. Visualizing each corner and stretch of asphalt, you saw not just a race course, but a metaphor for your life's journey—full of sharp hairpin turns that tested your resolve and straightaways that begged for the speed you both craved and feared. It all beckoned, promising glory and threatening disaster in equal measure, leaving you torn between the thrill of the challenge and the paralyzing fear of failure.

“You ready?” Bakugo’s voice snapped you back to the moment, his impatient tone cutting through the crowd's roar.

“Let’s do this,” you replied, fire igniting in your chest as the world fell away.

The countdown began, echoing like a gunshot in your mind.

“Three!”

You slid your hands firmly onto the wheel, feeling the familiar texture of the leather grip anchor you.

“Two!"

Your foot hovered above the gas pedal, heart racing at the approach of the finish line. You glanced at Bakugo, his fierce expression promising a fight to the bitter end.

“One!” A deep breath filled your lungs, having just enough time to release before the call of destiny rang out like a thunderclap.

“GO!”

The crowd erupted as you both slammed down on your gas pedals, launching your cars forward like two bullets released from a chamber.

In an instant, the world blurred; the roar of engines and the shouts of the crowd faded into a singular roar in your ears. You felt the familiar rush as you pressed the accelerator down, feeling the force of the engine as your Mazda surged through the shifting landscape. The asphalt stretched out ahead, a ribbon of black winding through the mountains like a serpent ready to strike.

Ding!

The sound came from the dash, the indicator for the RPM climbing ever higher. You shifted into second gear, unleashing the MX-5's power as the car hugged the first curve. You gripped the wheel tighter, feeling the tires bite into the asphalt as you leaned into the turn. 

Bakugo shot ahead of you, his RX-7 cutting through the mountains like a bullet. The spin of his tires kicked up gravel, shooting it back like cannon fire. You gritted your teeth, not letting his head start intimidate you. As the road twisted into a series of sharp corners, you remembered Shota's words: "Control the car, don’t let it control you."

You downshifted, your Mazda responding with an eager growl, ready for the challenge. With the tires gripping the asphalt, you navigated the second turn, feeling the familiar kiss of the tires against the road. You focused on the apex, keeping your vision sharp and your instincts honed. The world outside the windshield swirled into a blur of green and gray, but within your car, everything felt clear, controlled.

Ding!

Bakugo’s car pitched into the next corner, the RX-7's rear tires skidding slightly as he deftly maneuvered around the curve. The thrill of speed blended with the rush of adrenaline, and you continued to press on, determined to keep him within reach. Each turn presented its own set of challenges, but you wove through them with practiced grace, a silent dance with the mountain that felt as natural as breathing. The sky darkened, and the headlights cast beams of illumination that sliced through the gloom, illuminating the lane ahead.

As you surged into the next straightaway, you caught a glimpse of Bakugo ahead, the orange glow of his taillights flickering like a beacon of challenge. You pressed harder on the accelerator, feeling the rush of speed as you closed the distance between you. The roar of your engine matched the pounding in your chest—the thrill both intoxicating and consuming. Yet, the uphill loomed ahead, and in that moment, you knew focus was paramount . Your heart raced, echoing the rhythm of the winding road, and you dug deep, drawing on the lessons Shota drilled into you during those relentless training sessions.

"Stay steady... keep your focus," you muttered under your breath, as Bakugo’s car continued to pull ahead on the incline. Your heart pounded in your chest, racing alongside the revving engine of the Mazda. The incline steepened; the road tightened its grip around the mountainside, each twist demanding unwavering control. You felt the pressure of Bakugo’s looming lead—a smirk had settled on his face as he glanced back at you, his confidence radiating like heat waves. The taunting glimmer in his eyes only fueled the fire within you.

“Not so cocky now, are ya?” Bakugo shot you a challenging glance, his face twisted into a smirk that dared you to concede. You watched as he slowly created more distance between the two of you , the gap widening under the weight of your racing hearts.

Internal thoughts clashed within you, a battle of self-doubt and raw determination. Was this it? Had the thrill of victory against Kirishima been nothing more than a fluke? No. You refused to admit defeat. The mountain whispered its secrets, and you were determined to unlock them.

With a skin-tight grip on the wheel, you recalled the advice from your uncle that pulled you back from the brink of doubt. "Be a ghost on the road," he'd once said, his voice echoing in your mind. "Let the car vanish into the wind."

As you focused on his words , a sense of calm washed over you, grounding your racing heart. You summoned every ounce of skill and confidence accumulated from countless hours on the road. The world around you faded, leaving only the climb and the rhythmic roar of the engine.

You angled your car as you approached the final steep ascent, each muscle in your body tensed with resolve. The RX-7’s taillights had disappeared, starting the downhill with a huge lead. You bit down hard on your lower lip, a wellspring of determination bubbling up inside. There wasn’t time to second-guess your capabilities. You unleashed the full power of your engine, feeling the Mazda respond, a wild spirit finally tapped. With every bump and rise in the pavement, awareness sharp as a blade, you maneuvered with unwavering precision, carving through every corner.

"That's what I thought," Bakugo snarled, a twisted grin spreading across his face as he watched your headlights fade into the inky darkness behind him. The thrill of victory coursed through his veins, his heart pounding with savage satisfaction as he left you in his dust.

Now it was your turn to shine. As you approached the cusp of the downhill, the world shifted into sharp focus. Your heartbeat synced with the pulsating roar of your engine, the rush surging through your veins like a current. The taillights of Bakugo's RX-7 glowed dimly in the distance, but they flickered with a melting glow that seemed to beckon you forward.

You had to come up with a way to catch up, at this rate you were going to lose. As you crested the uphill and began the exhilarating descent, the air shifted. The corners came alive, and so did you. Shadows danced in the light of your headlights, drawing you into the rhythm of the road.

Ding!

Just then, a distant memory invaded your thoughts. The echo of Shota’s voice replayed in your mind, each word igniting a spark of clarity. “Use the curves, Y/N. Let the road guide you. Slip into it like water to a riverbed."

With renewed focus, you positioned your car for the first downhill turn, envisioning yourself as fluid, confident. The first corner beckoned like an invitation, its curves promising freedom. You turned the wheel, steering into the arch, grateful for the years of practice smoothing your technique until it felt almost instinctual.

Giving the steering wheel an extra push, you felt your tire fall off of the asphault. Your tires grabbed onto the edge, keeping you tight on the inside. The momentum of this change caused you to fly around the curve like a bullet. The centrifugal force pressed you into the seat as you navigated the turn, the sharp edge of the asphalt kissing your tires. The thrill surged through you like electricity as you whipped around the curve, the car responding beautifully to your movements with a satisfying hum. You felt invincible. With every corner you mastered, your confidence grew. You pulled the steering wheel back, transitioning smoothly into the next curve, as the shrill sound of Bakugo’s engine became more clear with each graceful bend. He took the downhill with brute force, but you wielded finesse.

The jagged outline of Bakugo's taillights grew closer, flickering like a candle desperately trying to stay alight in a storm. The exhilarating rush of adrenaline surged through your veins, fueling your determination as you mirrored his movements, but with precision and finesse.

As you maneuvered through the next curve, the RX-7's taillights pulsed and danced, a rhythmic challenge that mocked your efforts. You knew the downhill was coming to an end, with only the consecutive hairpins standing in your way of the finish line. You had caught up with Bakugo, the nose of your car trailing behind him closely. 

Bakugou's eyes widened in disbelief as he caught sight of your sleek, cherry-red Miata in his rearview mirror. The compact sports car roared up behind him, its polished chrome gleaming in the moonlight, closing the distance at an alarming rate. 

"What the fuck?" he spat, his voice a mixture of panic and incredulity, as the Miata's aggressive approach sent a shiver down his spine. Your heart raced as you rounded another hairpin, the world outside the windshield blurring into a haze of darkness and light. Bakugo’s car was mere feet ahead, and his agitated body language seeped into his driving. With each attempt you made to pass him, he would agressively whip his car in front of you. 

You flicked the steering wheel, adjusting your trajectory as Bakugo cut you off once more, a furious scowl set on his face. This race had turned into a brutal game of cat and mouse as you both danced on the edge of speed and control. 

“Why won’t you just stay behind?” Bakugo shouted, his voice laced with frustration as he threw his car into the next turn, the tires squealing under the pressure of his aggressive maneuver. 

"C'mon girl. Just a little faster!" You spoke to your car, the familiar warmth of confidence filling your chest. You hugged the next turn tighter, anticipating Bakugo's movements with a precision born from countless hours of practice. The taillights of his RX-7 sliced through the darkness, two angry embers flickering against the black canvas of the mountain. As he veered left, you did the same, but with a different intent—where he sought to block your path, you focused on slipping past him like a shadow. The hairpin loomed ahead, a perfect potential for an inside maneuver. 

"Why so tense, Bakugo?" you challenged, your voice cutting through the rush of wind and engine roar. 

Bakugo scowled, muscles taut as he gripped the steering wheel, his focus ignited by your taunting maneuvers behind him. He slammed the accelerator, the RX-7 lurching forward as he attempted to shake you off his tail , the engine roaring defiantly against the night air. The RX-7 surged ahead, but you refused to yield. 

With every ounce of skill coursing through your veins, you steadied your grip, eyes locking onto the line ahead. As the final corner loomed, the road opened up, urging you onward with an inviting space that felt like a portal leading to victory. Your heart thundered against your chest as you braced for the last corner, the final opportunity to seize the lead. The air around you thickened with tension, but the mesmerizing pull of the asphalt felt like a siren's call, urging you to bend the rules of physics itself.

You inched closer to Bakugo, his aggressive demeanor only spurring you on. “You think you can keep me in your shadow?” 

He shot you a fierce glare, the intensity of his focus unwavering as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I’ll eat you alive, Rookie! Just watch me.”

The final turn loomed ahead, a sharp left that would determine everything. You couldn’t allow yourself to falter now, couldn’t give Bakugo the satisfaction of knowing he intimidated you . You pushed the accelerator to the metal, feeling the shudder of the engine beneath you. The sound of the roaring RX-7 faded into the background, overtaken by the surge of adrenaline course through your veins. The final turn loomed, your wheels screaming in protest. 

Ding!

You remembered Shota's words:

"Be a ghost on the road." 

In that fleeting moment, clarity washed over you, as if the world had zoomed in on just one spot—the curve that would decide your fate. You were not merely a driver; you were a master of the elements hurtling toward you. You shifted your weight, lowered your profile, and with a final burst of determination, you flicked off the headlights, plunging into darkness as you approached the tight corner. The silhouette of Bakugo's RX-7 loomed just ahead, illuminated solely by the faint glow of its taillights, a beacon guiding you forward in a world of shadows. 

You were invisible.

Bakugo lifted his gaze, curious about how you had navigated that challenging turn. Only darkness greeted him in the rearview mirror. Scanning each reflection, he found no trace of your pursuing vehicle.

Huh, must've lost her. Hmph. A slight chuckle escaped Bakugo’s lips, laced with the heady thrill of victory brewing in his chest. He leaned back in his seat, confidence swelling. 

Suddenly, the slightest flicker of movement caught his eye. A shadow darted past him, an apparition gliding through the corner where his headlights failed to reach. The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. 

“Shit!” Bakugo hissed, a wave of disbelief crashing over him as you whispered past his side, the Miata's sleek frame barely breaking the plane of vision. Your headlights popped back up, illuminating the road ahead just as you surged into the lead. The momentum from your turn sent a shockwave of adrenaline coursing through your veins, propelling you forward with a reckless abandon. The moment the headlights flickered back to life, you felt the exhilaration seep into every fiber of your being. You’d done it—you gained the lead. As you rocketed down the final stretch, you could see a large group of people waiting. 

Panic rose in Bakugo's chest, watching as your small car lurched in front of his. He didn't let this drive away his aggression, instead letting it fuel him. 

"Get back here!" he howled, slamming down on the gas as he bore down on the compact frame of your Mazda. The RX-7’s engine roared with newfound ferocity, the sound slicing through the night like a serrated knife. He was determined to reclaim his lead, to show you that your moment of triumph was nothing but a fleeting apparition.

The RX-7’s roar grew louder, drowning out the sound of your own heartbeat as Bakugo launched his car forward in a desperate attempt to overtake you. You couldn’t look back now; the streak of headlights behind you pulsed like a heartbeat, an ominous reminder that he was right on your tail. Every nerve in your body tingled with focus, laser-like as you navigated the final stretch of road, feeling the ready adrenaline surge through you. The double yellow lines blurred by in a frantic rush, a reminder of the stakes that sat heavy on your shoulders. 

“C’mon! Almost there!” you muttered, pushing the Mazda to its limits as the finish line loomed ahead, the crowds of people rushing out of the way when neither you nor Bakugo were slowing down. The crowd erupted into a frenzy, faces twisting in shock as your Mazda surged forward, leaving a trail of burning rubber in your wake. 

You crossed over the imaginary line. A split second later, Bakugo’s RX-7 thundered across the line just behind you, barely a heartbeat behind, his frustrated roar echoing through the mountain pass like a thunderclap. 

You fucking did it, Y/N. 

The moment you crossed that imaginary line, a wash of exhilaration flooded through you, an electric current igniting your every nerve ending. You fought to contain your grin, knowing that behind you lay a pissed-off Katsuki Bakugo, his frustration palpable even from the distance that separated you. You drove ahead, whipping the car around to face the direction of your competitor. He was climbing out of his car, eyes lit like a roaring inferno. 

“I can’t believe she pulled that shit on me!” Bakugo shouted, storming towards you with tension crackling in the air like static electricity. Without waiting on him to catch up, you lit a cigarette and took a slow drag, letting the smoke curl into the night. He approached quickly, and you couldn't help the shit eating grin that spread across your face, the thrill of victory still coursing through your veins. You put the car into first, letting the engine sputter with playful defiance, almost as if it shared your smug satisfaction. You could feel the victorious energy pulsing in your bones as Bakugo halted just in front of your Mazda's path, trying to keep you from leaving the Pass.

You didn't want to bother with the temper tantrum that was incoming. “You little—” Bakugo thrust an accusatory finger toward you, the flames of anger flickering dangerously in his eyes. “You think you can just—”

You leaned back against your seat, taking a long drag from your cigarette, letting the smoke curl into the night air. 

"—cheat your way to a win?" He took a step closer, nostrils flaring in indignation as he glared down at you, his expression as blazing as ever.

“Cheating?” You laughed lightly, inhaling the smoke before letting it drift lazily from your lips. “You must not have watched closely enough.” You leaned casually against the interior of your Mazda, exuding a confidence that belied the adrenaline still thrumming in your veins. The crowd gathered behind you, buzzing with energy, their excitement crackling as they awaited the aftermath of your fierce showdown. 

Bakugo's eyes narrowed dangerously, his jaw clenched so tightly that you could practically see the tension radiating off of him like heat from an unforgiving flame. 

"What's wrong, Bakugo? Didn't expect a Miata to give your precious RX-7 a run for its money?" Your voice dripped with playful arrogance, the adrenaline still buzzing wildly in your veins as you leaned back in your seat, watching him struggle to contain his rage and disbelief. Bakugo's jaw worked silently, clenched muscles taut with frustration. “You know that wasn’t racing! You just—”

“I just what?” you interrupted, feigning innocence as you exhal ed a cloud of smoke toward him, a defiant smirk playing on your lips. “Used the tricks I’ve learned from the best. Isn’t that what racing is all about, Bakugo ?” He scowled, the heat of his anger bubbling beneath a facade of cool confidence. 

"Fuck you. I want a rematch. No tricky shit." You chuckled, the sound mocking in the cool night air. 

“Oh, so now you want to make the rules? How convenient.” You leaned forward, looking him straight in the eyes, the taunting gleam in your gaze unyielding as you locked onto his fiery stare. 

“Quit whining and admit it, you lost fair and square,” you shot back, letting the smoke filter between your lips like a swirling ghost of rebellion, taunting his frustration further. The crowd behind you murmured in approval, the thick tension weaving through the air like a live wire.

"Now, if you don't mind, I have other shit to do. Plus my feet are fucking killing me." Your nonchalance only fanned the flames of Bakugo's fury. He stepped closer, fists clenched at his sides as if he could physically restrain the words not yet spoken.

“Don't think you can just walk away after that. You’re on my turf now, and I want a rematch. Right here, right now,” Bakugo demanded, his voice a low growl that echoed through the silence. 

You rolled your eyes dramatically, your foot pressing down on the accelerator. The engine roared to life, matching the intensity in your chest. Turning to Bakugo, you gave him a mischievous wink and pulled the cigarette from your lips, smoke curling around your words.

"Goodnight, Bakugo," you purred, your voice a mix of amusement and challenge. 

With that, you were off, tires screeching against the pavement. The world became a blur as you sped through the streets, the crowds on either side erupting into wild cheers as you passed. Their excitement fueled your own, a grin spreading across your face as you embraced the thrill of the moment and the open road ahead.

```````````````

The next morning greeted you with a sharp chill that hung in the air, almost as if the mountains were still buzzing with the lingering energy of last night's race. You rolled out of bed, the soft glow of dawn filtering through the window, illuminating your room with a warm embrace that contrasted sharply with the coolness outside. You made your way to the kitchen, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee beckoning you like a siren’s call. Momo stood by the counter, her back turned as she stirred a steaming mug, the faint clattering of ceramic echoing softly in the quiet kitchen.

"Morning, sleepyhead," she chimed, glancing over her shoulder with a bright smile. "You were quite the spectacle last night." You smirked, pouring a cup of coffee with a practiced ease that felt almost instinctive. The rich, dark liquid swirled within the mug, releasing its inviting aroma. 

“Spectacle or troublemaker?” you replied, taking a long sip from the steaming cup, the warmth spreading through you like magic. A hint of playful mischief danced in your gaze as you leaned against the counter. 

The race last night had you riding on a high. Momo raised an eyebrow, her lips twisting into a teasing smile.

“A bit of both, I’d say. Did you see Bakugo’s face? I've never seen anyone look so... enraged."You laughed, recalling the fiery glare Bakugo had thrown your way as you sped off into the night. 

“You know, I didn’t think you had that in you," Momo leaned against the counter, her dark hair cascading over one shoulder as she watched you with a mix of admiration and concern. “You really surprised everyone last night.”

You shrugged, a sly grin tugging at the corner of your lips. 

“Just doing what I had to do,” you replied, your heart still humming with the excitement from the previous night. Momo set her mug down, crossing her arms with a knowing look.

“It was more than that, Y/N. You took on Bakugo. He’s not just any racer; he’s a legend around here. You’ve stirred up the whole community, whether you realize it or not. People are talking, and you’re suddenly the talk of the town.” 

You smirked, taking another sip of coffee, the warmth igniting your confidence even more.

“Let them talk,” you replied, leaning back against the counter with casual defiance. “I’m not here to please anyone but myself. This is my path, and I’m just getting started.”

Momo tilted her head, amusement playing on her lips. "And where does that path lead? Right into Bakugo’s fiery glare? Because he sure doesn’t take losing lightly.”

Your smile faded, the reality of last night settling into your bones. “I know,” you admitted, glancing down at your coffee as if the warm liquid could ground you. 

Momo laughed, her warm eyes gleaming with delight. “It was like watching a lion try to catch a clever little fox,” she continued, crossing her arms as if the mere thought gave her glee. You chuckled, imagining the scene as you took another sip of your coffee. 

"More like a lion with anger management issues," you replied, shaking your head. You snorted, stirring the coffee for a moment before taking a sip, letting the bold flavor dance on your tongue. “But still, you’ve got to admit, he puts on quite a show.”

Momo’s laughter rang out, brightening the morning gloom. “He does, and I’m sure he’ll be looking for a rematch sooner rather than later.” Her expression turned serious, eyebrows knitting together. 

“Just be careful, Y/N. He’s fierce, and he doesn’t like losing.”

“Trust me , I know.” You took another sip of your coffee, letting the heat seep into your bones as you glanced out the window, watching the first rays of sunlight spill over the mountain. “But I’m not backing down. This is my race now.”

Despite the lightheartedness of your exchange, a knot of excitement twisted within you. You knew the real challenge awaited you—the rivalry with Bakugo was far from over. Your mind danced with the possibilities of what could unfold in the coming days—a relentless pursuit of victory, each encounter bound to sting just a little more, and push you further into the heart of the racing world. 

“You’ve always been good at staying level-headed,” Momo continued, her voice gentle yet firm. “But this is different. Bakugo won’t just challenge your skills; he’ll attack your confidence.”

You took another sip of coffee, appreciating the bold flavor that settled deep in your chest, steeling your resolve against her words. 

“I appreciate the concern,” you replied, placing the cup down on the counter with a determined clink. "But worry isn't going to help me win races. I’ve fought through worse. I can handle him.”

And with that sentence, the absent dark thoughts came crawling back to the forefront of your mind. They hadn't pestered your mind since before the races last night, but now they were clawing their way back, relentless and suffocating. Deep down, the memories of your past threatened to bubble up, a tide of grief and loss barely contained beneath the surface of your resolve. You could feel it, just waiting for that moment of weakness, hoping to pull you under. 

You inhaled sharply, forcing the memories to recede, but Momo’s watchful gaze caught the slight tremor in your hand as you placed your coffee mug down. The comforting warmth of the ceramic cup turned heavy, the weight of unspoken feelings pressing down on your chest like a stone. Momo's eyes softened, her expression shifting as if she could sense the shadows creeping in. 

"You sure you’re alright?" she asked gently, her tone laced with concern. You locked eyes with her and gave a nonchalant shrug. 

"Yes mom. But I think I'm gonna go for a drive." It was the only solution for driving away the thoughts. Momo studied you for a moment, concern flickering across her features, but she nodded slowly as if understanding the weight you needed to shed. 

“Just don’t push yourself too hard today. And if you run into Bakugo again...”

“I’ll keep my distance,” you promised, waving a dismissive hand. But deep down, you both knew that wouldn’t happen. The tension between you and Bakugo felt electric, as if the universe itself demanded a collision of the two forces. A part of you craved the thrill—not just the speed, but the challenge he posed. 

Momo watched you with a knowing smile, your determination radiating off you like an aura. “Alright, just... be careful. And call me if things get out of hand,” she said, her concern evident in her voice.

"Yeah, yeah, I will." You pushed away from the counter and strolled toward the your bedroom to get changed. Once you found suitable clothes, you made your way out. You made sure to layer up, the autumn chill biting at exposed skin as you pulled on a black leather jacket over your fitted long-sleeve shirt. With high-waisted cargo pants hugging your legs, you felt a renewed sense of confidence rise within you.

You decided to take it slow up the mountain this morning, watching as the leaves danced around you in shades of crimson and gold, rustling gently in the wind like whispers of encouragement. With each curve of the mountain pass, you let the serenity of the morning sink into your bones, each bend inviting you to embrace the thrill of the road. The Mazda purred beneath you, a soft hum that melded seamlessly with the harmony of nature. 

As you passed a small lot, your gaze was drawn to a parked car. Unexpectedly, you found yourself locking eyes with a pair of furious vermillion orbs. There, leaning against his RX-7 with arms crossed over his broad chest, stood Bakugo, radiating anger.

The moment your eyes met, a thick tension crackled in the air between you, a charged atmosphere woven from rivalry and adrenaline. Bakugo pushed himself off the car, a predatory smile creeping across his lips, sharp and dangerous.

You immediately amped it up, not having the energy to deal with him so soon. You slammed the gas pedal, the purr of your Mazda morphing into a defiant roar as you prepared to leave him in the dust. 

You darted away excitedly, enticing Bakugo to chase after you like a predator stalking its prey. His car roared to life, screeching as his pulled out of the lot. 

Has he been waiting on you? What the fuck??

It didn't take long for Bakugo to catch up as you sped along the winding mountain road. The rev of his RX-7 echoed like a thunderclap behind you, each roar igniting the thrill deep within your chest. You navigated the uphill as best you could, but he was undeniably better and more suited to take it on. The incline steepened, and you pressed harder on the accelerator, the engine's growl matching the intensity simmering beneath your skin. Reds, browns, and greens blurred together like a rushing watercolor, but it wasn't enough to distract you from the impending doom of Bakugo's furious pace. 

Pulling up next to you, he rolled his window down. He had a mischievous look on his face, pointing to the side of the road. 

"Pull over," Bakugo shouted over the roar of the engines, his voice cutting through the wind like a blade. 

You shot him a glare, your fingers tightening around the wheel. 

“Not a chance,” you shouted back, adrenaline fueling your defiance. You leaned into the next curve, your car hugging the asphalt tightly as you pushed the Mazda to its limits. Bakugo wasn’t going to give up so easily. He surged ahead, pulling in front of you just enough to cut off your path. He twisted his car to come to a hard stop, leaving you no choice but to decelerate. You slammed your brakes, the tires screeching in protest as you managed to bring the Mazda to a halt mere inches from his rear bumper. The moment your car came to a stop, you glared at Bakugo, heart racing, chest heaving as you fought to contain

You ripped your car door open, stepping out and giving him a glare.

"Are you fucking crazy?!" Your eyes met his, and the fury in them burned as fiercely as the colors of the setting sun around you. 

Bakugo smirked, leaning back against his car with a casual confidence that only fueled your indignation. 

"You haven't seen half of the crazy I got in me." His smug grin widened, a flash of teeth that dared you to challenge him further. 

“Is that supposed to intimidate me?” you shot back, crossing your arms defiantly. “You’re just playing games, Bakugo. I've got better things to do than chase after you.” 

His eyes narrowed, and the smirk transformed into a scowl. “Playing games? You think I ’m here to play? I want a rematch, and I want it now.” His voice was low and intense, a storm brewing just beneath the surface. 

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes but couldn't suppress a slight smirk. "So just because you lost one race, you think you can force me into another? Cute."

Bakugo’s expression morphed into a blend of anger and determination, his lips curling into a fierce snarl. “You think this is a joke, Y/N? I don’t lose to anyone, especially not some rookie in a piece of junk." 

"Is that so?" You tilted your head, a challenge glimmering in your eyes. "Maybe you just weren’t prepared for an actual race, Bakugo. You might want to watch your mouth next time." Bakugo's expression darkened, his fists clenching at his sides, but you could see the flicker of respect beneath the anger—the undeniable recognition of your growing prowess. 

"You really think you can just brush me off like that?" His gaze bore into you, fierce and unwavering. “You think this is over?” 

You studied him, the tension crackling in the air between you like a live wire, pulsing with anticipation. 

“Look, it wasn’t just luck that got me through last night,” you shot back, your heart racing with both defiance and resolve. “ I’ve put in the work, and if you think I’m going to let you waltz in here and intimidate me, you've got another thing coming.”

Bakugo's eyes glinted with intensity, a smoldering fire that challenged you to rise to his level. “Is that right? Then show me. Prove it wasn’t just some one-time fluke.”

Without breaking your composure, you took a step closer, the crisp mountain air thick with tension. The words hung in the silence, a dare wrapped in defiance.

"Alright, you want to race?" Bakugo’s smirk returned, sharp and predatory as he stepped forward, his eyes gleaming in the sunlight that spilled over the mountains. 

"Thought you'd never ask." 

He slid back into his RX-7 with a confident flourish, the door slamming shut as he revved the engine, the low growl echoing ominously off the mountainside. 

"You ready to lose?" Bakugo taunted. You chuckled, the sound laced with a fearless challenge as you slid back into your Mazda. 

“You really think you can take me down twice?” Your fingers danced across the steering wheel, excitement coursing through your veins like wildfire. 

"Just watch me," Bakugo fired back, the growl of his RX-7 revving in protest. The tension in the air hung thick, a taut string waiting for that one decisive cut.

You shifted your gear into position, feeling the familiar hum of your Mazda beneath you. Bakugo counted down, intensity etched into his features.

“Three! Two! One! GO!” 

His RX-7 shot forward, not realizing that you hadn't moved. Quickly as he tore ahead, you smirked, letting him believe he held the lead. As the roar of the RX-7 faded into the background, you revved your engine, a low growl as you whipped your car around and took off in the opposite direction. The sound of your Mazda’s engine echoed off the mountains, a triumphant roar that blended with the gentle rustle of the leaves in the wind. Bakugo’s confident smirk faltered slightly as he realized his mistake. He whipped his head around, eyes wide with disbelief as he registered your sudden maneuver. “You think you can just—”

Before he could finish, you floored the pedal, your car surging forward with a ferocity that sent the adrenaline racing through your veins. The Mazda MX-5 responded instantly, the engine’s roars echoing against the mountainsides, as you forced the gears through the sweet spot, the engine screaming as you carved your own path through the winding road. 

Bakugo’s RX-7 thundered to life behind you, but you had already embraced the thrill of the chase. 

Behind you, Bakugo was feeling the same. An excited growl ripped through his chest. The RX-7’s engine snarled as he pushed the gas pedal, determined to reclaim control. He surged forward, tires squealing as he barreled around the corner, his car following closely behind like a predator in hot pursuit. 

He pursued you down the mountainside, finally catching up as you reached the bottom. Both of you parked your vehicles, and he strode towards you.

“Did you really think you could just trick me like that?” Bakugo barked, irritation etched into his features as he closed the distance, his glinting eyes narrowed into slits of fury. “Why are you treating this like a game?”

You lit up a cigarette, taking your time with responding. You leaned against the cool metal of your Mazda, the haze of cigarette smoke swirling around you like a shield against his ire. Taking a slow drag, you let the tension build, enjoying the furious gl are of his eyes as you exhaled a plume of smoke into the air, feeling the burn of the nicotine rush through your veins alongside the high of the chase.

“Game? No,” you said, leveling your gaze at him as the smoke curled and vanished into the cool air. “This isn’t a game, Bakugo. It’s a challenge.” 

His nostrils flared with indignation, the fire in his eyes intensifying. “You think you can outsmart me just by playing dirty? You won’t get away with that trash.”

You took another drag from your cigarette, the ember glowing fiercely against the darkening sky. 

“Outsmart you? No, I just knew you'd underestimate me. That’s your problem, Bakugo. You always think you can bulldoze your way to victory, while I prefer to slip through the cracks." 

Bakugo’s jaw clenched, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. He stepped closer, his presence towering over you, his fierce intensity palpable. 

“You think because you pulled that stunt, you’ve won something special? You can’t rely on tricks forever, Rookie.”

You inhaled sharply, staring him down, the challenge hanging thick in the air between you like a thundercloud ready to burst. 

“Maybe not,” you replied, your tone steady, the smoke curling away from your lips as you held his gaze, unyielding under the weight of his intensity. “But relying on pure skill isn’t the only way to win. It’s about knowing your opponent, playing to their weaknesses.”

You were starting to sound more and more like your uncle. Bakugo’s intensity flickered for a brief moment, the fire in his eyes wavering as he processed your words. A flicker of respect gleamed behind that ever-present irritation; you recognized it as a testament to your growing prowess in this cutthroat world of racing.

For a heartbeat, the tension hung between you, a delicate balance of fierce rivalry and unexpected respect. Bakugo's eyes narrowed, his expression fluctuating between indignation and a grudging recognition of your skill. He stepped back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied you, the intensity of his gaze piercing.

You both paused as you heard an interesting sounding engine approaching. The throaty growl of another car echoed around the bend, slicing through the charged atmosphere hanging between you and Bakugo. You both turned, instinctively shifting your focus from one another to the approaching vehicle. The sound of tires crunching against gravel filled the air, heralding the arrival of another competitor. As the sleek silhouette of the car came into view, you recognized the unmistakable profile of a modified Nissan Skyline GTR, its metallic black paint glimmering under the fading sun. The engine roared as it approached, and you could hear the turbo spooling up. The driver, a tall figure dressed in a black racing jacket with a striking logo emblazoned across the back, eased the Nissan to a stop beside you and Bakugo. He swung the door open, stepping out with an air of confidence that radiated from him like an aura. Dark sunglasses perched on his nose, his hair tousled and rebellious as he surveyed the scene. 

“Did I miss the party ?” he called, a lazy smirk spreading across his face as he casually leaned against his car. His voice was booming around you. The sunglasses masked his eyes, but you could sense the energy radiating from him, a charged drawl that suggested he thrived on the excitement of competition. 

“Just an impromptu showdown,” you shot back, chuckling as you waved the smoke from your cigarette into the air, watching as it mingled with the crisp mountain breeze. 

Bakugo scowled, narrowing his eyes at the newcomer. 

“Great, just what I need: another clown to distract me from what actually matters,” he retorted, his voice dripping with irritation as he crossed his arms tighter over his chest, muscles tense with barely contained frustration.

The newcomer chuckled, not fazed by Bakugo's hostility. 

“Well, it looks like I stumbled into a territory dispute.” He pushed his sunglasses up, revealing a pair of sharp, beaty eyes that sparkled with mischief.

"Hope I didn't ruin your little rendezvous, but a rumor swirling around has kind of piqued my interest," he continued, tilting his head with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Rumor?” Bakugo growled, irritation still clinging to his voice as he glanced between you and the new arrival with a level of contempt that could only be likened to a smoldering fire.

"Yeah, the one that says that you, Bakugo, were beat by a newbie in a Miata," the newcomer laughed, tilting his head back as if the very notion of a 'newbie' outpacing Bakugo was the most amusing thing he'd heard all week.

Bakugo's scowl deepened, his fists clenched at his sides, barely containing the anger that surged beneath the surface. 

“Who the hell are you?” he spat, eyes blazing. 

“Name’s Inasa Yoarashi. Leader of the Shiketsu Suns.” He leaned back against his Nissan, a relaxed grin spreading across his face as if he hadn’t just provoked a shark. Bakugo glared at Inasa, his irritation palpable, as if he were trying to will the other racer into submission with sheer force. 

“Great, another hotshot,” Bakugo muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. The tension thickened, a palpable current curling around the three of you like a tempest, each characteristic pulled taut by pride and the fiery competition that bound you in this silent standoff.

Inasa chuckled, unabashed by Bakugo's hostility.

"Aren't you just a ball of sunshine?" He shot a playful grin your way and nodded his head towards your car. “I'm gonna take a very educated guess and say you're the newbie, huh?" 

You raised an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth twitching up in bemusement. 

“Is that supposed to be an insult? I’m pretty sure I just outpaced the self-proclaimed King of Musutafu Pass,” you replied, crossing your arms with a grin that challenged his playful tease.

Inasa’s eyes sparkled with intrigue. 

“Looks like I’m in good company, then. You’ve certainly stirred things up, haven’t you?” Inasa said, his tone casual, like they were discussing the weather rather than racing egos. “You don’t mind if I take a good look at your driving skills, do you?”

You raised an eyebrow, the sudden challenge sparking a flicker of excitement within you. “You want to race me? Here and now?”

In Inasa’s grin widened, enthusiasm radiating off him like a beacon. "Yes, but unfortunately not today, I only had enough time to come to check out the competition. My crew's got a race coming up, and I was curious if you’d be interested in challenging a couple of us,” he offered casually, shooting a glance at Bakugo. “You know, if you’re brave enough to take on a real team.”

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed further, his jaw tightening at Inasa’s words.

“What makes them real? Their flashy shirts and tricked -out cars?” Bakugo scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. The corner of Inasa's mouth quirked up, unbothered by the jibe. 

“Flashy colors and big mouths will only take you so far, but at the end of the day, it's skill behind the wheel that truly counts,” he shot back, unwavering as he leaned casually against his Nissan , the sleek car gleaming under the fading sunlight. The tension thickened as Bakugo opened his mouth to retort, but you interrupted, sensing an opportunity to escalate the rivalry in the air. 

“Why don’t we settle this then?” You stepped forward, a determined glint in your eye as you looked between Bakugo and Inasa. “If you think your crew’s got what it takes, let’s race them. Two against two, just like the last time." 

Inasa’s grin widened, his enthusiasm bubbling over as he nodded, unfazed by the intensity brewing around you . 

“Sounds like a plan!” Inasa replied, his voice laced with excitement. He stepped away from his Nissan, extending a hand toward you with an infectious grin. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” 

You eyed his outstretched hand for a brief moment, weighing the challenge and the consequences. You could feel Bakugo’s searing gaze boring into you, a silent demand for dominance beneath the surface. Ignoring the tension simmering in the air, you clasped Inasa’s hand, the gesture sending a thrill of excitement through you.

“Let’s do this,” you declared, releasing his grip and stepping back, heart racing with the prospect of a new challenge. Bakugo’s fiery gaze smoldered beside you, the tension between the three of you still palpable as if the air itself pulsed with anticipation. Inasa's easy smile contrasted starkly with Bakugo’s barely contained frustration, the temperature dropping several degrees in the wake of silent competition.

"How about this Saturday? We’ll set up here, on Musutafu Pass," Inasa suggested, his demeanor unyieldingly confident as he turned his head slightly, gauging your response to the proposition. 

“Saturday it is,” you replied, adrenaline surging within you at the thought of a race against Inasa and his crew. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this would be a turning point. This wasn't just about racing anymore; it was about proving who you were in this cutthroat world. Thrilling anticipation bubbled within your chest, igniting a fire that propelled you forward. Bakugo stood beside you, his tension palpable as if he were a coiled spring ready to snap at any moment.

Inasa's grin widened further, his enthusiasm infectious.

"I expect to see you there as well, former King Bakugo." His teasing tone cut through the tension, the words ringing like church bells in an empty square. Bakugo’s expression twisted, a storm brewing behind his fiery eyes. 

“Cut the games, Inasa,” Bakugo snapped, his jaw tense, frustration spilling over in a rush. 

Inasa held his hands up in mock surrender, his smirk refusing to waver under Bakugo’s fiery glare. 

“Hey, just here to have some fun. Racing is all about pushing the limits, after all, right?” He chuckled, looking between you and Bakugo, seemingly unfazed by the brewing storm. 

"Well it's been lovely, but I really must go now. See the two of you on Saturday!" Inasa turned on his heel with a confident swagger, the corners of his mouth still lifting in that infuriatingly charming smile. He slid into his Nissan, revving the engine as he glanced over at you and Bakugo one last time. 

"Don't keep me waiting!" With that, Inasa pulled away, the roar of his Nissan echoing down the mountainside like thunder, leaving you and Bakugo standing on the asphalt, tension thick enough to slice. The sound of the Nissan faded into the distance, leaving a haunting silence in its wake. 

Bakugo’s expression morphed into a scowl as the silence settled between you two, heavy with unmet expectations and unspoken challenges. He pivoted to face you, annoyance radiating off him like heat waves rising from scorched asphalt. Your heart raced as you met his eyes, the air thick with unresolved tension.

"Nice going, Rookie," he snapped, stepping closer. "You think you can just run around proving yourself against anyone that walks in? You’re gonna get buried under all the hype.” His voice dripped with irritation, and you could see the frustration simmering in his eyes, a storm threatening to break loose. 

“Maybe I’ll get buried,” you shot back, your voice steady as you squared your shoulders, refusing to let him intimidate you. “But I’m not backing down. You have no idea how much I’ve worked to get here.” 

Bakugo’s expression hardened, something between annoyance and begrudging respect flashing in his eyes. 

"Tch. Whatever. I'm gone." He turned, fists still clenched, and headed toward his RX-7, the tension in his shoulders radiating like a heatwave. You watched him for a moment, heart racing with a mix of admiration and irritation spiraling within you. There was an undeniable thrill in facing him, a fierce intensity that drew you closer, yet pushed you away all at once. You took a breath, steeling your resolve, feeling the embers from last night reignite within you. 

“Bakugo!” you called after him, the words escaping before you could think them through. He paused, turning to face you, his expression a tense mixture of surprise and annoyance. 

"What?" He crossed his arms, leaning against his RX-7 with an impatient scowl. 

You approached cautiously, adrenaline thumping in rhythm with your heartbeat. The air between you felt charged, electric, as if the very mountains surrounding you buzzed with anticipation. You locked eyes, willing the vulnerability to stay hidden behind the armor of confidence you carefully crafted.

“Just... remember what I said,” you ventured, voice steady despite the rush of emotions swirling inside. “This rivalry, it’s only the beginning.”

Bakugo’s expression flickered, something beneath his hardened exterior shifting as he studied you, a flash of consideration sparkling in the depths of his fiery gaze. He narrowed his eyes, the tension momentarily easing as curiosity mixed with bitterness.

Without a word, he got into his rumbling car and took off. You watched as the RX-7 rocketed down the mountain pass, the vibrant glow of its taillights fading into the distance until they vanished altogether. Once it was gone, you had a moment to catch your breath, the sharp chill of the mountain air filling your lungs. The adrenaline began to ebb, leaving behind a lingering exhilaration that left you buzzing.

You exhaled slowly, the events that just transpired playing on repeat in your head. 

Momo is gonna kill you.

[skoulsons]

Don’t talk to me about romantic relationships. Don’t talk to me about enemies to lovers. Don’t talk to me about some romantic slow burn. Don’t talk to me about star-crossed lovers. Don’t talk to me about some characters finally sleeping together. I don’t care.

Enemies to family? Yes. Slow burn father-daughter relationship where they slowly grow into the much needed role in the others life? Absolutely. Star-crossed found family cringy fluffy stuff? Sign me up. A platonic relationship where two people who very clearly care about each other but would never really acknowledge it finally having a moment to hug or share vulnerability with each other? I’m there. Found family where these people who would’ve passed each other on the street make a little team and risk their lives for each other constantly? Signed, paid, sent. Platonic physical touch? Hugs? Dinners together as a group? Moments of laughter together? Hospital scenes? Visiting the other just to visit and check up? An incredibly deep and profound love that can be never be looked into or analyzed enough because it is so strong and incredible it’s breathtaking? Saying I love you? Platonic soulmates? Best friends? yup, that’s me. I’m there, middle of the street. eating hot asphalt.

GIMME IT ALL

[unclewaynemunson]

And suddenly we're Thelma and Louise

Yaaayy my fic for Lex's Spicy Six Summer Challenge is finished, time for some lesbian romcom roadtrip summer vibes 💖

The sun is shining, Blondie is blasting from the speakers and Robin is riding a sugar high from the overdose of M&M's she's been eating. She looks to her left, where Nancy is sitting behind the wheel, and is struck for the millionth time by what a gorgeous sight she is to behold: her usually perfectly styled hair is blown all messy by the breeze coming in through the open windows and the tip of her nose is just a little bit sunburnt. Her pale, thin fingers are loosely resting on the steering wheel, absentmindedly drumming along to the music. And her eyes – those goddamn enchanting eyes – have that bright twinkle in them while they both sing along to Go through it at the top of their lungs.

As the trees and the rolling hills flash by, and more miles of asphalt disappear underneath the wheels of the car, Robin ponders how different Nancy looks compared to her graduation night a few weeks ago.

🚙

It was a perfect evening in the way everything about Nancy's life was to the outside world. But after having known her for more than six years, Robin knew better. She was one of the few people who got to see the Nancy behind the scenes; behind the robes and the valedictorian speech and the brightly shining sun and the big party with all her family and friends and fancy appetizers. She had seen Nancy's fake smile faltering and witnessed her tears while the two of them were hidden from view near the end of the party.

'I accomplished nothing,' Nancy had told her with wet cheeks and trembling hands.

Robin didn't remind her of her diploma solely consisting straight A's, or her internship at the New Yorker, or the job offers she received from at least three big players on the journalism market. She knew that that wasn't what Nancy meant.

'I wanted to see the world, remember? And here I am, with a degree and literally nothing else.'

Everything Robin could tell her felt like the wrong thing for this particular conversation. She knew how incredibly hard Nancy had worked, how much she dreamed of a career and success. But there was no room for what she had accomplished in her post-graduation doom spiral, which was merely built of the things she had not done over the past six years. The things she'd had to give up to get where she was now. The things Robin did get to do: parties and hookups and the stupid mistakes everyone makes when they're in their twenties; random jobs she enjoyed instead of jobs that looked good on her resume; trips to different states, even to different countries sometimes.

'You still got time to do that,' was what Robin settled on saying. And when Nancy shot her a look filled with disbelief, she decided to double down on it. 'I'm serious, Nance, it's not like your life is over after graduating. You still got years ahead of you to see the world! You know what? This is actually the perfect moment: for once in your life, you have zero obligations – you have the ultimate freedom right now! You'll find your dream job literally whenever with that perfect resume of yours, you still have tons of shady hush money sensibly saved away... There's literally nothing stopping you, right?'

It was illustrative of Nancy's determined nature when her tears made place for a small smile right after Robin finished talking.

She sniffled and wiped her fingers over the wet skin underneath her eyes, with careful precision in order not to spread her mascara all over her cheeks.

'I mean, I'd probably need to find someone to come with me,' she said.

'Really? That's the only thing holding you back?'

Nancy nodded.

'Okay, in that case, I'm sure we can arrange something,' said Robin. 'Aren't more of your journalism friends finishing up right about now? Or maybe Max wants to spend her holiday going –'

'I was talking about you, you idiot,' Nancy cut her off, her smile widening. 'You wanna go on a roadtrip with me?'

It was a proposal that knocked Robin's breath out of her lungs.

'You wanna go see the world – with me?'

'Yes, of course,' said Nancy. She let a hand trail over Robin's arm. 'I can't think of anyone I'd rather share an adventure with.'

And how could Robin ever say no to that?

Read the rest on ao3

[endternal]

WHERE: outside sweet cheeks cabaret WHEN: 1st may WHO: anyone! ( @anchoragestarters ) CAP: none for now

Perhaps it went without saying that events like these were, well, not exactly Karam's scene. He'd likely have garnered himself a reputation for avoiding them were it not for the fact that he was, by his own design, too elusive to even cross anybody's mind. Yet, the only force in Karam's life stronger than the burning desire to be left alone at all costs was his morbid curiosity – he'd noticed the sordid pattern of town events ending in strange, often tragic, ways and had been keeping a watchful eye on things. Yet, despite these noble goals, he'd barely spent much time inside the building before a stranger made brief eye contact with him and he was so rattled that all he could think to do was abruptly march away from them (although not without swiping a plateful of chicken from the buffet first). Now, instead, he was squatting outside, just by the entryway, and tearing chunks out of a chicken wing with his teeth.

Or, at the very least, he was trying to. The regular comings and goings of bodies through the doorway made things a little trickier than he might have liked. One of these bodies brushed past him, grazing his arm with just enough force that he lost his grip on the wing he'd been eating and dropped it. On the ground. In the dirty old asphalt. He lifted his head to shoot this stranger a withering look, only to discover it was the same person he'd already escaped indoors. "You," he said, his irritation barely restrained, "are a nightmare."

[slasherhoe87]

The Gift

Peepaw Michael Myers x GN Ghostface OC

MDNI

Warnings: Gore, Death, Murder etc

Note: Set during Halloween Kills - only difference is that the Johns do not live in Michael's childhood house. So all HK scenes in Michael's home plays out in another house owned by the Johns.

Blood soaked the ground of Haddonfield once more on this Halloween night.

It seeped into the asphalt of the roads, melted into the wood of aged floorboards, crept into the tiny crevices of tile and concrete, nourished the damp soil of the grass.

Michael stared down at the vacant eyes of his aggressors who littered the road around him - the ever hungry voices within his mind sated. Fat, full and quiet from the bountiful feast he had provided.

Fools the lot of them.

They should have known better.

Rage welled up within The Shape of Haddonfield knowing that he had only slaughtered one instigator of tonight's 'Kill Michael Club'.

Laurie Strode and her kin were still out there. Alive. Unacceptable.

Taking in a shaky and pain-filled breath, Michael took a wobbly step forward and gripped his knife tightly. The anger and frustration vibrating throughout his entire being.

Laurie still being alive was downright mockery at this point. How did she manage to evade death every time Michael finally had her in his clutches?

Michael grunted in both pain and frustration. Laurie can take a dive off a building, get hit by a car or eat his blade - he didn't care, he just wanted that bitch to stop breathing once and for all.

Well, if he couldn't end her ridiculous existence yet, he would hurt her so terribly that he'd break her spirit and heart, hopefully irreparably.

With a limp to his gait and wheezing breaths Michael stalked off towards the house where he had left Karen's daughter with a broken leg. Laurie Strode would die this night, not physically. But he would shatter her.

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Michael's eyes fluttered open. They felt heavy as if he had been drugged. He knew that feeling all too well after been locked up in an asylum for 40 years.

He looked around the room he was in, groggy and confused. He was in his parents' bedroom in his old house. The double bed he laid atop was dusty and moth eaten. The room was dark and smelled stale - it naturally would, after decades of decay and dormancy.

Had he dragged himself to his old home after killing Karen and Allyson? It concerned him that he couldn't remember.

Michael looked at the window which was slightly ajar, letting a breeze in to freshen and cool the room.

It was night - stars glittering and sky as inky black as ever. Yet when he stepped out of the house where Karen and Allyson's lifeless bodies lay the sky was tinged a pale orange and pink, indicating dawn was fast approaching.

Michael then noticed the next strange thing... his jumpsuit was pooled around his waist, his injuries bandaged and seen to. He looked to the old nightstand beside the bed and saw a glass of water and a bottle of Tramadol sitting there, along with a juice box, a store bought pre-packaged sandwich and a bag of mixed candies.

Now he knew why his injuries felt dulled, his head fuzzy and eyes heavy - he had been given pain medication.

Anger rose within him again. Who did this and why? And why couldn't he remember anything?

Who would want to aid the Boogeyman of Haddonfield? Curiosity swam around his mind as he sat up, wincing at the slight pull on a stitch from a particularly deep stab wound.

Hundreds of thoughts ran through Michael's mind as he reached for the candies.

Satisfaction was the leading feeling coursing through his veins. He had taken away the two most precious things in Laurie's life and for once, she could not stop it. Surely this would lead to her letting her guard down? Her motivation to carry on will have been quelled... perhaps she'd off herself and be done with it?

Michael would lay low for a while and then strike. He would not fail this time.

Just as Michael popped a candy corn into his mouth he heard a thud from downstairs which immediately caused him to stand and grab his knife which was also placed on the nightstand.

He perked his ears and tried to listen for any other sounds but all was quiet again - the house once again its ghostly self.

Slowly he crept out of his parents' bedroom and into the dark hallway. Seeing and hearing nothing out of the ordinary he made for the stairs intent on ending the life of whoever was in his home. He didn't care if it was his "savior", he didn't ask for or need any help and they would die just the same as all of his other victims.

As he stepped into the moonlit kitchen he spotted his mask, washed and sitting on the counter beside the sink. Michael made a beeline for his second skin. As he grabbed his mask and placed it over his head he let out a barely audible sigh of relief.

He had nearly lost his mask once already the previous night when Karen had stolen it and if it was truly lost to him he wasn't sure what he would do. The mask is as much a part of him as he is to it. Losing it would be losing a very substantial part of himself.

Something large and black catches his eye and he turns to face a body shaped thing in the middle of the kitchen floor wrapped in black giftwrap with red heart prints all over it. A big red bow sat atop its middle, practically begging to be undone.

Michael tilted his head to the side, studying the.... gift.

This must have been the thud he heard. Someone had deposited the body here and left as soon as it touched the floor.

He cautiously stepped forward and crouched down, sighing irritatedly at the popping sounds his aged knees produced.

Placing his knife beside him on the tiled floor he reached for the large obnoxious bow and began untying the ribbons. The more he handled the thing that was wrapped up the more he came to realize that yes, this was indeed an actual body.

Michael's body practically vibrated with curiosity and intrigue.

Clearly this was a gift for him. And again his mind ran with who and why.

With the bow and ribbons now off and chucked to the side he tentatively reached towards the clear strips of tape holding the giftwrap together along the center of the body and started ripping.

The first thing he saw was a blood soaked black blouse, a few buttons missing - having been ripped. Stab wounds gaped from the holes in the blouse and they looked very deep. The stabbings were clearly performed with a lot of force and emotion.

Michael began to pull the wrapping apart again higher towards the face and stopped dead in his ministrations as he came face to face with a now very dead Laurie Strode. His breath hitched and his eyes widened, he fell back onto his backside and took in deep labored breaths at the sight before him.

Thousands of thoughts and emotions ran through him like a freight train.

Laurie was dead.

Laurie Strode was dead.

Her lifeless eyes and bloodied and bruised face stared up at the kitchen ceiling and--- Michael did a double take... not eyes. Eye. He leaned forward and saw one eye was missing, entirely pulled out from its socket. He wondered if it was coincidence that it was her left eye that was missing - as she had damaged his own left eye so many years back.

Who had done this... for him. And why?

This person had succeeded where Michael had failed time and time again.

Michael didn't know whether to be impressed or pissed off.

He didn't care how Laurie died, he just wanted her gone. And now she was. But he had to admit he was ever so slightly peeved that he was not the one to witness the life being snuffed out of her eyes.

He rolled his shoulders and felt as though a weight had been lifted. The thorn in his side had finally been removed.

The woman with supernatural-like luck on her side was finally dead and soon to be buried.

For once in his life, Michael could say that he was feeling something pretty close to happy.

Before more thoughts pushed to the front of his mind the ringing of a phone rang out somewhere in the kitchen.

Swiftly standing, Michael spied a cellular phone lit up and buzzing on one of the counters in the kitchen.

He picked the black device up and squinted at the screen, just like with Karen's cellular phone when Laurie had called her after he had killed her, he didn't quite know how to use it. Did something as simple as a phone have to become so complicated?

Finally he managed to swipe the green button in the correct direction and brought the little piece of plastic hell to his mask covered ear. He didn't speak, but let his deep breathing indicate he was there and listening.

After a few beats of silence a distorted voice greeted Michael from the other end.

"Hello Michael"

Michael looked down at the gift that was Laurie's corpse before he focused back on the mysterious caller.

"Do you like my gift?" the distorted voice asked him in eager anticipation

With Michael feeling such elation at Laurie's death he decided to gift the killer on the other end of the line with using his voice. Something Michael had not done in years.

"Yes" came Michael's soft and raspy reply

The voice on the end's breath hitched and their breathing became noticeably heavier.

tap tap tap

Somewhat startled, Michael spun to face the direction the tapping had come from - the kitchen window.

"Boo!"

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Hope ya'll like.

Part 2? Yes/No?

[wikiangela]

get to know your fic writer

tagged by @spotsandsocks @thewolvesof1998 💖

When did you post your first ever fanfic?

ever? well, like in 2013 maybe? back on google's blogger lmao that was the first thing I was using (before switching to wattpad and then finally ao3) haha when it comes to ao3 it was like 2017 but those fics aren't there anymore from the current posted ones - 2019 lol

First character(s) you wrote for:

well, first ever fics were rpf so let's ignore that lol first when it comes to fictional characters - destiel

Main character(s) you’re currently writing for:

Buck and Eddie

Character(s) you haven’t written about before but plan on writing about soon:

maybe Madney? idk, they've been in my fics kinda in the background but I want to put more focus on them in the coffee shop au and I have a fun first meeting scene already outlined, and I really need to get back to it haha

Fandom(s) you’re currently writing for:

911

Platonic pairing(s) you currently write for:

there's a few, among the firefam, but I think mainly Maddie and Eddie, which I will squeeze into any of my fics bc they deserve to be besties lol

Romantic pairing(s) you currently write for:

Buddie

Your top 3 tags on AO3 (if you post your works on AO3):

fluff, first kiss, getting together (well, actually third one is fictober bc i did all 31 prompts last year, but let's ignore this one haha)

Your current platform where you post your works:

Ao3

Snippet of the wip you’re currently working on:

I wanted to share phone sex fic but saving it for tidbit tuesday lol so here's a random snippet of ch1 of alive shannon

“Buck!” Christopher exclaims, only a little less enthusiastically than usual, untangling himself from Eddie’s arms to rush to give Buck a hug.

“Hey, buddy. How are you doing?” Buck asks carefully, kneeling down to be at Chris’ eye level.

“My mom’s at the hospital.” Chris answers, his tone so sad and defeated, and on the verge of tears, it breaks Eddie’s heart.

“I know. That’s awful.” Buck gives him another hug, and Chris melts into it. “Everything’s gonna be fine.” he whispers, then looks at Eddie above Chris’ head. “Dinner’s warmed up. Please, eat something.” he adds, probably noticing how Eddie’s about to say he’s not hungry. He’s not. When he closes his eyes, he still sees his wife splayed on the bloody asphalt, and later in the ambulance with a tube down her throat. How can he eat with those images replaying in his mind constantly? Buck’s right, though, he needs strength.

___

no pressure tags: @callaplums @forthewolves @fortheloveofbuddie @eddiebabygirldiaz @eddiediaztho @giddyupbuck @911onabc @watchyourbuck @hoodie-buck @lover-of-mine @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @theotherbuckley @honestlydarkprincess @monsterrae1 @hippolotamus @wildlife4life