#there's scattered pockets on the box that are numbered

[toon-link-plush-daily]

He found a teeny tiny advent calendar at a holiday market. Perfectly him-sized ☺️

Todays toon link is going to wait until you leave the room before eating all the chocolates at once, as fast as he can

[lxvsiick]

CUTE PIZZA DELIVERY BOY | KIM LEEHAN X READER

PAIRING: pizza delivery boy! kim leehan x fem! reader

SUMMARY: To thank her friends for helping her move in, Y/n orders them a pizza, not expecting the pizza delivery boy to be super cute -- or in which Leehan fights with his coworker to deliver pizza to Y/n.

GENRE: imagine, fluff

WORDCOUNT: 2.3k

A/N: honestly this isn't my best work :( i wanted to write more but my head is kinda killing me right now and i have to study for 2 midterms :/ anyways, i know nothing about RIIZE but i like anton so is this a sign to get into RIIZE ??

Boxes scattered across the floor, bubble wrap littering every surface, and the scent of new beginnings filled the air in Y/n’s brand-new apartment. Her friends bustled about, helping her organize and unpack her things. Laughter echoed through the space as they joked about where things should go and reminisced about their last get-together. To thank them for their help, she had ordered pizza—a classic move when no one had the energy left to cook.

“Should be here soon,” she said, checking the time on her phone. “Thirty minutes, they said.”

As time ticked closer, the doorbell rang, startling her from where she was stacking dishes in the cupboard. She glanced at her friends. "I'll get it!"

She hurried to the door, wiping her hands on her jeans before opening it. The moment the door swung open, her breath caught. Standing there was the delivery boy—blonde hair tousled perfectly, big brown doe eyes, and a casual, friendly smile playing on his lips. He wore the typical pizza uniform, but something about him felt... different. He was absolutely beautiful.

For a moment, she just stood there, staring at him, her mind drawing a blank. Was this real? Was a guy this cute really delivering her pizza?

“Uh… the total comes to $25.50,” the delivery boy said, his voice snapping her back to reality.

“Oh! Right. Sorry!” she stammered, fumbling into her pocket to grab the money. Her fingers shook slightly as she counted the bills, still thrown off by how utterly gorgeous he was. After what felt like an eternity, she handed him the money.

He smiled warmly, clearly amused by her nervousness but in a sweet, nonjudgmental way. “Thanks for ordering with us! Hope you enjoy it,” he said, his voice kind and light. His smile widened just a bit, giving her a cute, almost shy wave as he turned to leave.

She couldn’t help but watch as he walked away, disappearing around the corner of the hallway. It was only once the door clicked shut behind her that she realized she had been holding her breath. She stood there for a second, pizza in hand, feeling her heart beat just a little faster.

“Everything okay?” Yoon called from the living room.

With a shake of her head, she snapped out of it and walked back to the group, setting the pizza boxes down on the coffee table.

“So…” she started, her voice still a little flustered. “The delivery guy was really cute.”

Her friends immediately perked up, eyes widening. “Wait, what? Cute how? Like, movie star cute or cute cute?” J asked.

“Like, blonde-haired, brown doe eyes, I-thought-I-was-dreaming cute,” she replied, her cheeks flushing slightly as she thought back to his smile.

They burst out laughing, teasing her as they grabbed slices of pizza. “You should’ve gotten his number,” Wonyoung teased.

She shrugged, but the blush on her face gave away that the thought had crossed her mind. Maybe next time, if she was lucky, the same delivery boy would show up.

For now, she tried to focus on her friends and their excitement over the pizza, but her mind kept wandering back to the way the boy had smiled at her—like maybe he had noticed her staring but hadn’t minded at all.

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡

The soft hum of her phone filled the cozy living room as Y/n scrolled aimlessly through social media. The low lighting from the nearby lamp cast a warm glow on the walls, and the sound of faint music played in the background, but her mind wasn’t really on any of it.

Instead, she kept thinking about him. The cute pizza delivery guy from a few days ago. His tousled blonde hair, the way he’d smiled at her—it kept replaying in her mind. It was silly, really. She had only seen him for a few minutes, but there was something about that moment that stuck with her. Maybe it was the way he had caught her off guard with his unexpected charm. Or maybe it was just the fact that he seemed so sweet.

Her stomach suddenly growled, breaking through her thoughts. With a sigh, she glanced at the time. It was getting late, and she had no energy to cook. A smirk crossed her face as an idea popped into her head. Pizza. Again. And maybe, just maybe, she’d get lucky.

Without hesitating, she picked up her phone and ordered a pizza from the same place as last time. She felt a small rush of excitement—though she wouldn’t admit it—as she tapped ‘confirm order’ and set the phone aside.

Time passed slowly as she lounged on the couch, trying not to get her hopes up. He probably won’t be the one delivering it, she thought, trying to keep herself grounded. It could be anyone.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Her heart skipped a beat, and she jumped off the couch, quickly making her way to the door. She paused for a second, taking a deep breath before swinging it open.

There he was. Leehan, the blonde pizza delivery guy, stood there, holding the pizza box with the same charming smile that had left her flustered last time.

“Hey,” he said, his voice light and familiar. “Good to see you again.”

Her heart fluttered. She suddenly felt shy, her cheeks heating up as she met his gaze. Why am I acting like this? she thought, trying to compose herself. “H-hi,” she stammered, trying to smile back. “It’s good to see you too.”

He handed her the pizza, and she handed him the money. Their fingers brushed slightly, and she couldn’t help but feel a little spark. She quickly pulled her hand away, pretending to look at the pizza box so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes.

“So, ordering pizza again, huh?” he teased lightly, his tone playful.

She laughed nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah… I guess I’m just too lazy to cook.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” he said with a grin. “Pizza’s always a good choice.”

They stood there for a moment, the silence between them stretching, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. She wanted to say more, ask him something, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she just smiled, feeling her heart race in her chest.

“Well,” he said, breaking the silence, “I better get going. Enjoy your pizza.” He hesitated for a second, his eyes lingering on her before he turned to leave. “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she replied softly, watching him as he walked down the hallway.

As the door closed behind her, she leaned against it, letting out a deep breath. She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face as she headed back to the couch, pizza in hand. Something told her this wasn’t the last time they’d cross paths.

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡

It had been a few days since Y/n had ordered pizza, and once again, her laziness got the best of her. She scrolled through her phone, contemplating what to eat, and in the end, her craving won. She ordered pizza from the same place, as she secretly hoped Leehan would be the one delivering it again.

As she waited, her mind wandered back to their last interaction. The way he smiled at her, how casual but sweet their conversation was. Her heart fluttered just thinking about it. Could he really be interested in me? she wondered, though she didn’t want to get ahead of herself.

A knock on the door jolted her out of her thoughts. Her heart raced with excitement, and she practically jumped off the couch. But as she approached the door, she noticed something odd—there were multiple hushed voices behind it. She raised an eyebrow in confusion, curiosity piqued. What’s going on?

She opened the door, and to her surprise, there stood Leehan holding a pizza box with a nervous smile on his face. Behind him, five of his coworkers—who clearly weren’t trying hard to hide their grins—stood bunched together like they were witnessing the most exciting thing to ever happen. The whole scene was unexpected, to say the least.

"Uh… hey," he said, laughing nervously. "So... this is a bit awkward."

Her eyes widened in surprise, still taking in the sight of him and his grinning entourage. "What's... going on?"

With a sheepish chuckle, Leehan lifted the pizza box and slowly opened it, revealing a pizza in the shape of a rose. The crust curled up in delicate petals, and she couldn’t help but smile at the creativity. It was adorable, and it was then that she realized this wasn’t just any pizza delivery.

"I, uh... I thought you were cute the first time I delivered to your place," he admitted, looking more and more embarrassed as he went on. "I was planning to ask you out tonight, but while I was making the pizza, these five idiots," he gestured toward his coworkers, "got nosy and insisted on coming along. So, here we are."

His friends gave an encouraging thumbs-up from behind him, clearly enjoying the whole situation.

She laughed, the tension in the air dissolving. "Are you serious? You made a pizza rose?" She couldn't stop the grin spreading across her face. "And brought your entire fan club with you?"

Leehan rubbed the back of his neck, his smile growing. "Yeah... I guess I did. But, uh, if you think it's too weird, you can just pretend this never happened."

Still smiling, she glanced at the pizza and then back at him, warmth spreading through her chest. "No, I don’t think it’s weird at all. In fact, it’s kind of cute."

He exhaled, clearly relieved by her response. "So... does that mean you'll accept my pizza rose and, uh, maybe my confession too?"

She giggled, the sweetness of the moment overwhelming her. "How could I say no to a pizza rose?"

His friends erupted into quiet cheers behind him, and he gave her a genuine smile, stepping closer to hand over the pizza box.

“Then... maybe we can go out sometime? Without the peanut gallery?” he asked, shooting a playful glare at his friends, who were still buzzing with excitement.

"I’d love that," she said, taking the pizza rose from him. "But seriously, next time, lose the backup dancers."

They both laughed, and as she stood there with the pizza in her hands and a flutter in her heart, she couldn’t help but feel like this was the start of something wonderful.

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡

FLASHBACK 

The pizza place was bustling, as usual, with orders coming in left and right. Leehan was wiping down the counter when one of his friends and coworkers, Taesan, glanced at the screen and smirked.

"Yo, another order from Y/n’s place," Taesan said, casually pointing to the order ticket.

Immediately, Leehan’s head snapped up, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of her name. He’d been waiting for this. It was the same excitement he felt every time she ordered pizza, knowing he might get the chance to see her again. Before he could react, though, Jaehyun chimed in.

"I’ll take this one," Jaehyun said, stepping forward as if he was already claiming the delivery. "Might as well give her a little variety, y'know?"

Leehan immediately stood up from the counter, frowning. "Whoa, hold on. What do you mean you’ll take it?"

Jaehyun grinned, enjoying this far too much. "She sees your face all the time, Leehannie. Maybe she needs a break from the usual."

Leehan shot him a glare, stepping closer. "No way. I’m delivering this one."

Taesan leaned against the counter, clearly entertained. "What’s the big deal? It’s just a delivery."

Leehan felt the heat rising in his cheeks but kept his cool. "Yeah, but—"

Jaehyun cut him off with a smirk. "Oh, come on. Admit it, man. You just want to see that cute girl again. What’s her name? Y/n, right?"

The rest of their coworkers nearby started to perk up, sensing the brewing argument. Riwoo let out a low whistle, fully aware of the crush Leehan had developed on the pizza-loving girl.

Leehan crossed his arms. "And what if I do?"

Jaehyun’s smirk widened. "Then maybe I should deliver it and, y'know, ask her out for you. Save you the trouble."

"Oh, no way." Leehan narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn’t."

"Try me." Jaehyun grabbed the delivery bag, making a move toward the door.

Without thinking, Leehan lunged forward, blocking him. "Over my dead body."

Taesan, now thoroughly enjoying the show, chuckled. "Wow, this is really happening, huh? Fighting over a pizza delivery. I’ve seen it all now."

At this point, half the staff was watching, holding back laughter as the two friends faced off like it was the battle of the century.

"Seriously, man. I got this," Leehan insisted, his voice rising in intensity. "I’ve been delivering to her every time. She knows me. I can't break the streak."

Jaehyun folded his arms, tilting his head. "Or maybe you’re just chicken."

That did it.

"Chicken?!" Leehan exclaimed. "You know what? Fine. Let’s settle this." He motioned dramatically to the pizza oven. "Rock, paper, scissors. Best two out of three."

Jaehyun raised an eyebrow but couldn’t help grinning. "You’re on."

The crowd of employees grew, forming a loose circle around them, eager to witness the showdown.

"On three," Leehan said, both of them raising their fists.

"One, two, three—" they called out in unison.

The first round went to Leehan with rock over scissors. The second round went to Jaehyun with paper over rock. By the third round, the tension was palpable, coworkers holding their breath.

"One, two, three—"

Leehan threw scissors.

Jaehyun threw paper.

The room erupted in cheers and groans as Leehan pumped his fist in the air, triumphant. "Yes!"

Jaehyun let out a defeated sigh but couldn’t help laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. "Fine, fine. The pizza’s yours, Romeo."

Leehan grabbed the delivery bag with a grin, already imagining seeing Y/n again. "You bet it is."

As he headed toward the door, he heard Taesan call after him, "Good luck, man. Don’t screw it up!"

With a final glance over his shoulder, Leehan smirked. "I got this."

And with that, he walked out the door, ready for his next chance with the girl who unknowingly had him wrapped around her finger.

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡

MASTERLIST

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, lxvsiick, 2024

[jpnriikicore]

── tan lines and light eyes

paring paul aron x fem!reader, word count 467, genre fluff, ( masterlist )

he leaned against the doorway of the balcony gazing at the spectacular view with the orange in the sunrise standing in only his boxers with his blond hair disheveled. ocean crashing against the shoreline. seagulls flying in the morning sky.

clothes lying on the floor from the bed to the front door. your faded rogue lipstick on the collar of his white button-up shirt that was discarded on the hardwood floor he wore last night. a diamond ring hidden in a small velvet box in his pant pocket that he wore last night and that he’s carried around since their fifth date waiting for the right moment.

you snap a photograph of him in that moment with an old fuji camera you brought along with you. you bend your knee upwards and lean your head forward to rest your chin against your knee as you admire the view of him in front of you. finally, at the realization that you indeed awake from your deep slumber. he didn’t want to wake you earlier this morning with how cute and peaceful you looked with your cheek squished up against the pillowcase and hair sprawled out. he walks over towards you tilting your head up to press a chaste kiss on your lips. he’s head dips down to press gentle kisses on the side of your neck. love marks already scattered across your neck that are going to be almost impossible to cover up. a freshly done tattoo of his number '17' on your shoulder blade.

your arm extended out for a piece of bacon on the food tray that was sent up earlier this morning. his hand follows your arm as he clasps your forearm and presses a gentle kiss on your wrist. he eyes flickering up to gaze at you as you feel him smile against your skin.

“morning, kallis." ( dear )

his accent was sleepy and thicker, as it always was in the morning, his watercolor eyes looked down at you as he lowered himself down onto the edge of the bed settling himself next to you.

“morning.”

you’re both still young and full of ambition to get to your dream. you’ve worked too damn hard to give it up now. a future red bull and mercedes driver. a secret little rendezvous that is hidden in the shadows. nobody else knows about your relationship besides your teammates.

after, finishing your piece of bacon. a giggle escaped from you as he pulled you down on top of him laying on the plush mattress. your cuddled up by his side sharing a chaste kiss. his dominant hand gently grazing her spine underneath one of his shirts. his nondominant hand tangled in your unruly hair. your head resting on his chest intently focusing on the patter of his heartbeat.

© JPNRIIKICORE, 2024

[tevanavernus]

how about some angst for established bucktommy? i only got vibes for you: held at gunpoint on a call, one of them gets in between the gun and the other, wanting to shield them 👀❤️

[Thanks for the request! I see your angst and raise you: they're both idiots trying to protect each other. Hope you like this! Also, they're still...technically on call right? ❤️]

In hindsight, Tommy should have known the other shoe would eventually drop. He should have prepared himself for it, should have anticipated that the universe wouldn't let happiness linger around him for too long. But it was easy to forget, wrapped up in Evan's orbit, with his blinding grins and the way he wore his heart so openly on his sleeve. It made Tommy drop his guard, lulled him into a sense of security.

That's not to say it was all sunshine and smiles. They had their bad days—days when they got snappy with each other or when an argument dragged on for longer than it should. There were cold shoulders, fueled by pride or stubbornness, but those days never lasted long. One of them always caved, and they'd find their way back to each other, realizing that whatever it was just wasn't worth staying mad over. It had taken Evan a while to truly believe that Tommy wasn't going anywhere, but eventually, even he came to accept it.

So now, a year after their failed first date, Tommy's old house was cluttered with moving boxes and scattered belongings, as they tried to find permanent spots for Evan's things. The chaos drove Tommy a little insane, having to step over things and deal with the mess of combining their lives. But if it meant Evan was in his bed every night? It was more than worth it in Tommy's opinion.

The morning, though, should have been the first clue that the day was about to turn to shit.

Evan had an early shift, so by the time Tommy woke up, his side of the bed was cold—a sure deduction of points right off the bat. Then came the next blow: apparently, Evan had left in a rush and, in doing so, had used up the last of the oat milk. Which meant Tommy was now doomed to drink black coffee. He'd sighed in resignation as he spotted the sticky note attached to the fridge that read, "Sorry babe, I'll buy more after shift! Ily <3"—but pocketed it for safekeeping despite the frustration. Sure, it was a small inconvenience. But still, it set the tone, didn't it? Little things tend to pile up.

The biggest clue? The storm. It was meant to be stormy all day, and in Tommy's experience—other than meeting Evan—storms never led to anything good, especially for Harbour. People tended to get careless, acting like they weren't facing weather they were completely unprepared for.

Tommy's instincts were proven right when, not even halfway through his shift, they were called out to a massive pileup on the highway. Multiple vehicles were involved, and dozens of people needed transport to hospitals. So, as always, Tommy did what he did best: jumped into a helicopter and flew out to the scene with his team.

From the bird's-eye view, he hissed in sympathy at the sight. The wreckage was bad—mangled metal, cars overturned, and scattered debris everywhere. It wasn't pretty. But there wasn't time to dwell on that. As soon as they touched down, his team sprang into action.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the familiar 118 number at the scene. Over the past year, he and Evan had crossed paths at work more often than either had probably anticipated, but never for anything small. When Harbour and the 118 were both on-site, it usually meant there was no time to spare, not even for a quick hello.

Tommy knew how this went. Most of the time, he didn't even leave the cockpit while his team prepped patients for transport. And today wasn't any different. He stayed put, eyes scanning the scene, focusing on his job. He sighed, knowing he'd have to wait until they were home to talk to Evan. Though, for a brief moment, he thought he saw a familiar pair of wet curls rushing through the chaos, the saw in hand.

It wasn't until the fourth round trip that the storm really began to pick up, and Tommy found himself battling the wind and gusts of rain to safely land on the hospital's helipad. The helicopter shook slightly as the weather worsened, and Tommy had to grip the controls a little tighter, to guide the aircraft down through the increasingly erratic winds.

Just as they touched down, the call came in over his headset to ground them. The storm had escalated to the point where it wasn't safe to fly anymore. Tommy let out a frustrated sigh, knowing that even though it was the right call, it meant he wouldn't be able to get back to the scene. Grounded meant he would be stuck in the hospital, waiting out the weather.

His thoughts drifted back to Evan—out there in the middle of it. So, when Tommy was the last one in the helicopter, he took a moment to pull out his phone, hoping for a text or update. But the screen was empty. No messages, no missed calls. He knew he shouldn't worry—Evan had handled worse, and a storm was just another part of the job. But despite that knowledge, his stomach clenched uncomfortably.

Tommy pocketed the phone, feeling a bit ridiculous for worrying so much. He exited the helicopter, and even in the quick dash to the hangar door, the rain managed to half-drench him. His pilot suit clung uncomfortably to his skin, the chill seeping in. He grimaced, brushing a hand through his damp hair.

"Great," he muttered to himself, shivering slightly as he pushed open the door and stepped inside. From there, he navigated the labyrinth of hallways, heading down toward the ED. After years on the job, Tommy had learned a few secrets from some of the nurses—like the fact that the coffee in the cafeteria near the ED was much better than what they had in other wings of the hospital.

It seemed like luck was on his side when Tommy noticed the familiar set of curls hunched over the nurse's station as he entered the ED. Evan hadn't noticed him yet, which gave Tommy a moment to take in the sight—completely drenched, looking like a wet rat after being caught in the storm. Tommy had to bite back a laugh at how disheveled he looked.

"Hey, handsome," Tommy grinned as he slunk up to where Evan stood.

Evan jumped slightly, glancing up from his notes. His expression softened into a tired but genuine smile, water still dripping from his curls.

"Hey yourself," he said, brushing his wet hair out of his eyes. "What are you still doing here?

"Dropped off the last patient. We're grounded for now, thanks to the weather," Tommy replied with a shrug.

"You've got time?" Evan asked, his voice a little too eager as his eyes darted around the busy ED. "I could probably make up some excuse with Bobby... We could grab coffee?"

Tommy raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Is my coffee going to have some milk this time?"

Evan gave him a sheepish grin, stepping closer until their shoulders nearly brushed. Without hesitation, he reached out and laced his fingers through Tommy's. "I promise, I'll grab some on the way home."

Home. Tommy felt that familiar flutter in his chest at the word again. Evan had started to throw it around more casually lately, and each time it hit Tommy in a way he wasn't quite used to. It made everything feel more real—not just some wishful daydream Tommy conjured up when his place felt too lonely with only him in it.

"Mhm, I have that in writing too," Tommy reminded him playfully, squeezing Evan's hand. "But, yeah, I've got time."

Just overhead, a loud roar of thunder echoed through the hospital, followed by a sharp crack of lightning that struck somewhere nearby. A moment later, the lights began to flicker and dim, casting the hall in an eerie, unstable glow. Instinctively, Tommy looked up at the ceiling, his grip on Evan's hand tightening ever so slightly.

"Great," Evan muttered, his gaze following Tommy's, as the lights struggled to stabilize. "Just what we needed—a power outage in the middle of all this."

"The generators should kick in any moment now," Tommy mumbled, more to himself than to Evan, his eyes still fixed on the flickering lights above. They stopped flickering.

When Tommy would look back at that moment, guilt-ridden as he replayed the events over and over in his mind, he would think of all the things he should have done. He should have grabbed Evan's hand and dragged him right out of the hospital, ignoring every instinct as a firefighter and instead said, "Screw it". He should have known, sensed it—should have put Evan first, before everything went sideways.

Except, he didn't.

When the shouts and screams erupted from a room somewhere to the side, Tommy didn't do any of those things. Instead, he frowned, shared a look with Evan, and stayed put by the nurse's station.

His mind went into a familiar mode: assess, analyze, act. The screams grew louder, panicked voices echoing off the sterile walls, but neither of them moved just yet. They were waiting, watching, gauging the situation. And then, there was no more time.

The next second, a commotion erupted from a nearby room. A shuffle broke out as one man pushed another through the door. Chaos spilled into the hallway. Tommy vaguely heard a nurse's voice shout, urgent:

"Security! Code silver! Active threat in the ED!"

And then a bang.

Tommy blinked against the brief, blinding flash of light that followed, and before he could process what was happening, a body hit the ground with a sickening thud.

Tommy froze. For a split second, everything around him blurred—the gunshots, the chaos, the sound of bodies hitting the ground. It was a moment he'd never fully forgive himself for. His feet were rooted to the floor as security rushed past them, but it didn't matter. The gun was still raised, and another shot rang out.

Another body hit the ground.

The shattering of glass, splintering into a million pieces, finally snapped him back to reality.

Evan was already moving, ripping his hand from Tommy's grip and dropping to the ground to check on the security guard who had fallen. Tommy's heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself into action, his mind racing to catch up as adrenaline surged through his veins.

A scuffle broke out, the chaos intensifying as some people scrambled to evacuate while few of the staff rushed to help the injured.

For a moment, Tommy lost sight of Evan, the blur of bodies clouding his vision. His heart lurched painfully in his chest, panic clawing at him as he scanned the area frantically, searching for that familiar figure amid the chaos.

He didn't see as the shooter grabbed someone in a choke-hold, with a gun raised to their head. His attention was set somewhere else.

"Evan!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the noise as he finally spotted him crouched. Relief surged through him, but it was short-lived. Just as Tommy moved to get to him, the shooter's attention snapped toward them.

The man's gaze locked onto Evan, and in that split second, Tommy's blood ran cold.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Evan exclaimed, raising his arms slowly, palms open. "We're firefighters! We can help!"

"No, no. Only one of you," he said finally, his voice shaky but determined as he waved the gun between the woman he was holding and their general direction.

Tommy's stomach dropped, a sense of dread settling in like ice in his veins. The shooter was barely in control, panicked and irrational, and every movement felt like it could tip things into disaster. This was spiraling, fast, and Tommy knew it was only going to get worse.

He was no stranger to guns. He'd grown up seeing them in his father's hands, the man recklessly firing off rounds in their backyard when temper mixed with alcohol took over. He'd seen guns in the military, had been trained with them, witnessed firsthand what they could do. He saw it almost daily in the gunshot victims he transported at the back of the chopper - too many lives torn apart by bullets. He had become desensitized to it, to the violence they brought.

If it was pointed at him, his pulse likely wouldn't even spike. His hands wouldn't shake.

But this was different.

Now, his pulse thundered in his ears, and his hands trembled with an intensity that terrified him, because the gun wasn't aimed at him. Instead it was dangerously close to pointing at the one person who meant everything to him— Evan.

The love of his life.

"Okay," Tommy finally managed to force out, though his voice wasn't quite steady. "What do you want?"

The man growled, his eyes wild and darting around the room. "How do I lock the doors?"

A nurse, her hands trembling, hurriedly pulled out a pair of keys from a drawer and held them out, showing them to the man. Tommy's heart sank; it meant their only exit was about to be cut off. The situation was rapidly closing in on them, both figuratively and literally.

But as the shooter's focus shifted toward the nurse, instructing her to do it, Tommy saw it—an opening, a brief moment of distraction.

Without thinking twice, he moved closer to Evan, subtly shifting his stance so he was positioned just enough to shield Evan from a clear shot, should the man spiral even further and snap.

He wasn't sure if Evan noticed the shift, and he didn't care. If something went wrong, he wasn't going to let Evan be the one in the line of fire. If he had to, he'd gladly take the hit first.

There was no universe, no reality in which he'd allow himself to be standing with his hands covered in Evan's blood today. Not ever.

"Tommy," Evan hissed quietly beside him.

Ah, so he did notice. But Tommy didn't dare glance at him, didn't risk looking into Evan's eyes and seeing the concern—or worse, the fear—there. There was too much at stake to get distracted, and Evan was his weak spot. Seeing those emotions would break his focus, distract him—and distractions could get them both killed.

"Hey, they can see where I... They're going to shoot me!" the shooter yelled, panic creeping into his voice.

'Yeah, no shit,' Tommy thought briefly, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. But he stayed silent.

"Hey, you!" The shooter's focus snapped back to them, and Tommy's shoulders tensed, his body instinctively shifting just a little more in front of Evan. "I have to cover the windows! What do I use?"

"I don't know." Tommy replied curtly, his voice clipped.

"How about- how about the sheets?" Tommy took a glance where he gestured toward one of the rooms "Alright, they have lots of those, right? Do it. Now."

Tommy's stomach twisted. He didn't have much choice, but still, he hesitated. His eyes flickered to Evan, who was still on the ground, kneeling next to the security guard as he tried to put pressure on the wound in the shoulder. Moving now would leave Evan completely exposed, utterly vulnerable.

If anything went wrong, if the shooter spiraled even further, Evan wouldn't stand a chance. Not even if he had the fastest reflexes in the world.

It would be an execution.

For a split second, Tommy's world shrunk, zeroing in on that one horrifying thought, the fear tightening its grip on his heart.

But the thought of that combined with Evan—his Evan—didn't compute in Tommy's mind. His brain outright refused to entertain the idea and his body locked up as if physically rejecting the command.

Whether the shooter noticed Tommy's hesitation or simply felt the walls closing in on him, he made a sudden move, shoving the woman he was holding toward Tommy and ordered her to help him.

Fuck.

Tommy finally moved, with a heavy heart, every step feeling like he was walking through a minefield that he might set off with one wrong step. His every instinct screamed at him to stay, to protect Evan, but he had no choice

It felt like betrayal, stepping away from Evan.

Almost like an out-of-body experience, Tommy moved mechanically, helping the woman as they covered the windows, sealing off any visibility into the room and sucking out all the oxygen.

The doctor with the first victim started to talk with the shooter, pulling his attention away. Tommy crept back to Evan, without taking his eyes off the shooter, Tommy squatted down beside Evan. His hand found Evan's instinctively—like it always did—and he squeezed it tightly. Whether it was to reassure Evan or to ground himself, he couldn't tell. Maybe both.

"Listen, I just want to get my girlfriend out of here. I don't want to hurt anybody else, but I will if you get in my way." The shooter's voice wavered as he spun around, his eyes wild and desperate. His gaze locked back onto them, and Tommy felt his muscles tense.

"Hey, you. Back where you were," the man barked, gesturing toward Tommy.

Tommy hesitated, his grip on Evan's hand tightening.

"It's okay. Go," Evan mumbled softly, when Tommy made no move. Tommy glanced down, eyes locking with Evan's for a brief moment, silently pleading for something. To tell him to stay? Maybe?

"Go," Evan repeated, more firmly this time, giving Tommy's hand a squeeze before letting go.

Tommy swallowed hard, his throat tight as he slowly stood, feeling the warmth of Evan's hand slip away. Taking a breath that felt too shallow, he stepped away, forcing his feet to move back to where the shooter had pointed.

Tommy's blood ran cold as the gun swung in Evan's direction, the finger on the trigger making his heart lurch painfully in his chest. The air in the room seemed to freeze.

"You!" the shooter barked, voice harsh and desperate. "Get those cuffs. Now."

Tommy's pulse roared in his ears, panic clawing at him, but he forced himself to stay still, forced himself to swallow the instinct to rush forward.

"Take it easy," Evan said, his voice steady despite the danger. He reached for the cuffs, holding them up for the shooter to see. "I'm getting them. Just... take it easy."

"Cuff him to that desk."

Tommy flinched as the cold metal of the cuff locked around his wrist. He glanced down, frowning in confusion. The metal bit into his skin, his arm instinctively tugging against it, testing for any give. But before he could react further, another click echoed in the air—Evan securing the second cuff to the desk.

Tommy's heart dropped.

And then he felt it—Evan's hand briefly wrapping around his forearm. The words that followed were barely a whisper, soft but devastating.

"I love you," Evan murmured, his voice filled with emotion.

A wave of panic and dread crashed over Tommy, his throat tightening painfully. He shook his head, eyes burning as he met Evan's gaze.

"Don't," Tommy choked out, his voice strained. Don't say it like that. Please.

Suddenly, a commotion broke out from one of the nearby rooms—the same one where the shooter had come from originally. The noise set the man off. He jerked in response, taking several threatening steps closer to them, his movements frantic and unpredictable.

And Tommy couldn't do a damn thing. He couldn't move, couldn't act—his wrist still cuffed to the desk, helpless to stop what was about to happen. He could only watch Evan, without hesitation, moved in front of him, his arm stretching out protectively, shielding Tommy with his own body.

Of course Evan did. Evan, who always wore his heart on his sleeve, who rushed headfirst into things without thinking it through. Evan, who seemed to believe it was his responsibility to protect everyone.

Tommy loved him.

Tommy would never forgive him for this. For being so fucking reckless. As if Tommy needed his protection more than he need him. As if he wasn't Tommy's entire world.

But then the shooter spun around, distracted, pacing erratically as he moved in and out of the room. He could feel Evan tense beside him, could see the wheels turning in his head. His hart seized with paralyzing fear.

"Evan," Tommy hissed, grabbing at his arm, his grip tight with desperation. "Don't. Don't do anything stupid."

Tommy would plead if he needed to. He'd drop to his knees and beg if it meant Evan would stand down. Because he knew Evan. Knew how his mind worked, how he was wired. Evan wasn't the type of man to stand by and do nothing. He wasn't someone who waited for the danger to pass; he ran into it.

And Tommy couldn't lose him. Not like this. Not now, not when they had just really started building their lives together. Not ever.

His grip tightened on Evan's arm, his fingers digging into his skin, until Evan had no choice but to look at him. Evan's jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything. Didn't move. Not yet.

And Tommy clung to that sliver of hope like a lifeline. Even if he knew, deep down, that it was false.

For a fleeting moment, it was nice. Almost comforting.

It last all of a few minutes.

Because the next time the shooter passed by them, Evan, honest to God, lunged at the man.

Tommy's heart stopped.

"No!" Tommy's shout ripped from his throat before he even realized it.

The time stood still.

Tommy's eyes were wide open, unblinking, but it was as if he couldn't see. Maybe it was because Evan's back was turned to him, as he wrestled with the shooter for the gun. Maybe it was because Tommy's mind was too busy processing the raw sound of his own voice—hoarse and desperate—screaming as he pulled against the cuffs with every ounce of strength he had. Or maybe, he did see everything but his brain, in its cruel mercy, refused to let him process it.

It was too much. Too loud. Too fast.

Another bang erupted, deafening in the enclosed space, and Tommy's world stopped.

A body dropped to the floor.

The world tilted on its axis, and Tommy's breath hitched. His heart stopped for one agonizing second.

No. No.

Hands were suddenly on his face, trying to steady him, trying to make him focus. But Tommy couldn't. He flinched at the touch, his body trembling violently, too overwhelmed to respond. He shook his head, refusing to let the scene before him solidify into anything real.

He couldn't look. Couldn't force himself to look.

"Breathe, baby, breathe." Evan's voice cut through the haze, repeating the words like a mantra. "Breathe."

Tommy choked in a ragged breath, his chest tight and painful as the words slowly registered. He blinked, and slowly, too slowly, the world began to come back into focus. Evan was there, right in front of him, alive and breathing, with his hands still cupping Tommy's face, trying to steady him.

Tommy's hands instinctively reached out to touch him, to make sure he was real, even though there were specks of blood splattered across Evan's skin. But the cuffs yanked him back, cutting his reach short. A pitiful sound escaped him, more like a wounded animal than a man.

Evan did it for him, closing the gap, he wrapped himself around Tommy and buried his face in Tommy's neck. It took Tommy longer than it should have to wrap his free arm around Evan, to actually feel his warmth, his solid presence. To know he was really there.

"You're okay," Evan murmured into his neck, his breath warm against Tommy's skin. Soft lips pressed into his neck, bringing a flicker of warmth back into his cold, numb body. "We're okay."

"I hate you," Tommy whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking.

"No, you don't," Evan hummed back, his tone matter-of-fact.

Tommy let out a trembling choked out laugh, his body sagging. "No, I don't," he admitted quietly, finally squeezing Evan tighter.

There were so many things he wanted to say, things he needed to say. He will tell Evan how much he loved him. He will berate him for doing something so stupid, so dangerous. He will make sure Evan didn't leave his sight for days, maybe weeks.

But all that would come later. After his heart stopped racing like it was about to leap out of his chest. After his mind could fully register that Evan was here, alive, and okay.

Because there was an after.

[ ps: This was heavily inspired by an episode of Chicago Med, credit is where it's due]

[bunnybubae]

(M)🚦Red Light: The Allure | Ch3 [JJK]

👉🏻[Series Masterpost]

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (GymOwner!JK/MotoRacer!JK/Biker!JK-TattoArtist!OC)

Genre: S2L - Smut - Fluff - Angst

Summary: Jeon Jungkook never lets any distraction take him away from his motorcycle or his gym for more than one night. He just wants to speed around the track and feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins, the sex he gets thanks to his charm, is just a side dish to his life. A tough past brought him on that Ducati that he learned to love, a past  you’ll uncover, as you slowly seep in under his skin. It’s a hell of a ride, in all senses, as you try to escape your own hell in the meanwhile.  Where will this ride bring you? Will it be worth it in the end?

Chapter Warnings: mention of the toxic ex (again, unfortunately), still a lot of teasing and heavy flirting, JK in black CK undies yes, it is a warning, brief mention of weed,  alcohol consumption, brief thigh riding, rubbing in public environment, dry humping, oral sex (M/F receiving), praise kink, protected sex, one (1) slap on the ass, rough sex.

Wc: 11.7k

A/N: Hello there! I hope you guys still want to read this story, cause CH3 is finally out! As always, I'm sorry if there are some grammatical mistakes, english isn't my first language and I don't have a beta, so pls bear with me! 🫶🏻 Let me know what are your thoughts about the story, my box is always open! - Joy 🐰

December 8th, Friday

You're glad it didn't pour down all day.

The night sky is clear and the smell of rain permeates in the air. You look through the car window covered in droplets as Hani chats with the driver.

You're too busy looking at scattered puddles on the asphalt reflecting the surrounding lights to pay attention to whatever the uber driver is saying.

The only thing troubling your mind right now is the last message you received. You had already blocked Ray's number a long time ago, but no one else would ever dream of sending you a similar message. The scumbag must have changed it.

You check your phone screen once again, almost hopeful that the content of the message is now different or even better, gone.

Unknown Number:- Have fun tn.

You tighten the coat you're wearing around your figure, as if that would be enough to make you feel safe.

Three words were enough to disgust you to the core. Well done Ray.

His intent is clear: he hopes to ruin your evening with this message, he wants you to feel out of place and you know pretty well that behind those seemingly innocent words there is much more hidden. His passive aggressive stalking exudes from every pixel of the screen. 

You wonder how he knows your plans for the evening, you hoped he had finally stopped spying on you, but clearly, this dude is unweary.

A hand suddenly rests on your shoulder, drawing your attention and making you flinch at the unexpected contact. Your thoughts must have poisoned your features judging by Hani's tone of voice, gentle and concerned.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You mechanically put your phone back in your pocket and look at her with a hint of a smile, hoping that she doesn't notice the tornado of thoughts that swirl behind your eyes.

You don't want your worries to ruin your evening, that's exactly what that asshole would want.

Much less, you want Hani to decide it's best to take you home. It would be a defeat on all fronts.

You're going to go to this damn party and have fun. Ray has no power over you, not anymore. To let this message get under your skin would mean allowing him to manipulate you once again. You have to use it instead to do the exact opposite, to free yourself tonight and allow your wounded soul to dance.

Your face softens a little more as you manage to regain control of your thoughts.

"Yeah, it's all good. How long will it take to get there?"

Hani tells you that you'll arrive in a few minutes. She doesn't seem entirely convinced by your attempt to reassure her but you're glad she doesn't ask anything more when you start a barrage of questions about this kind of parties and the moto races.

Tae and Jungkook are waiting for you inside, she says, apparently they had to deal with some organizational issues related to tomorrow's qualifications, that's why they went earlier.

Hani is particularly thrilled, you can tell by the way she describes in as much detail as possible all the competitions and parties she's already attended. A little of her enthusiasm makes its way through you and you find yourself smiling genuinely as you listen to her.

A few minutes later, your driver parks next to the curb and once you get out of the car, you are amazed to notice the huge group of motorbikes parked in the lot next to the venue.

They're all well parked, resting under the light of the street lamps which highlights all their beautiful colors and shapes.

You reach the entrance guarded by a guy who looks like he could fold a motorbike in two. His menacing presence actually calms you further. You sigh without realizing it as your chest feels a little lighter.

Hani greets the big boy, who reciprocates, while maintaining a serious demeanor. He lets you in without even asking for documents or such, Hani is really well known by now.

The interior of the place has been well decorated for the occasion and the music is not excessively loud, the atmosphere is pleasant. You were expecting something more frenetic considering the adrenaline that motorcyclists are used to, everyone seems to be having fun but with ease instead. Which doesn't bother you at all.

Hani leads you to a small room filled with some sort of lockers to take off your coat before you could finally start your night.

It doesn't take long to find Tae, sitting at the bar, right next to the dance floor.

As you get closer, you notice that he's with a dark-haired guy and that they both seem deep in conversation.

"Here you are finally! Hoseok, Y/N, Y/N, Hoseok"

Tae gestures with his hands between you and the guy next to him. 

"You can call me Hobi!"

He says with a beautiful smile and holding out his hand.

The handshake was a bit embarrassing for you, you're no longer used to this type of introduction. Usually, the customers who come to the shop know you through Instagram or through friends, and it is easier to establish relationships which, in that circumstance, are limited to work.

"Nice to meet you, Hobi."

Tae offers everyone a round and the alcohol seems to loosen your nerves a little more.

Despite the initial awkwardness, the conversation between the four of you continues smoothly. You laugh out loud when Hobi tells an anecdote about Tae and Jungkook, you find him funny, both his way of storytelling and the emphasis he puts on details. He is definitely a sunny and extroverted guy who is able to drag anyone into conversation and put a smile on their face with his energetic ways.

Speaking of Jungkook,  you wonder where he could be, considering he was not here with them when you arrived.

Hobi continues his tell tales while Hani chuckles and Tae intervenes every now and then

"That guy over there," Hobi points behind you, "That one over there has been the champion for two years in a row!"

You turn to see where his finger is pointing only to realize that the champion he's talking about is Jungkook himself.

Tae laughs mockingly, determined to annoy you today as well, clearly. "Oh, they know each other very well!" and he exaggerates a wink.

Luckily enough, Hani seems to be on your side tonight. She elbows him on the side to shut him up but that only elicits a half-laugh from Tae.

"Yes, because I joined his gym." You respond casually, purposely ignoring Tae's innuendos.

Hobi starts waving his arm in the air trying to get Jungkook's attention from across the room.

Jungkook is talking to a couple of people, you look at him as he smiles and nods at something his interlocutors said, then he notices Hobi's attempts to call him.

He waves back and seems to want to return to the conversation with whoever is in front of him, when he notices you next to his friends.

A small smile forms on his face and his gaze remains fixed on you, almost as if he were challenging you to a staring contest. 

You decide to playfully stick your tongue out at him to which he, in response, reacts with a damn wink.

You turn around and try to douse the heat you feel by taking a large sip of your drink. The alcohol helps, but the warmth in your cheeks becomes noticeable.

Your friends continue to chat peacefully, you're relieved to see that no one has noticed this little exchange with Jungkook, with the exception of Hani of course, her smile speaks clearly.

You try to focus on Tae and Hobi's talk, but they're talking about some modifications their mechanics made to their bikes for the race, details too mechanical for your alcohol-clouded mind.

Hani's smile is different now when you look at her, and the tilt of her head confuses you further.

"Here he is, the champion graces us with his presence!"

Hobi says all of a sudden.

You realize that Hani was trying to let you know that Jungkook was on his way.

He stops next to you and it's strange to meet him in a context other than the gym. You felt more or less the same feeling when he gave you that lift that evening, but now you have the opportunity to see another aspect of his person and the way he is dressed is proof of that.

Jungkook seems like an outgoing and sociable guy when it comes to training his members at the gym. As you watch him now though, he seems slightly embarrassed, keeping his hands inside the pockets of his baggy jeans.

Tae takes Jungkook's arm as he responds to Hobi's statement "Technically, I'm not the champion yet."

“Will you let us win any races this year?” Tae asks in a teasing tone.

Jungkook tries to free himself from Tae's grip by pinching his side. "Ouch." Tae chuckles, placing a hand on the pinched spot, while Jungkook rearranges his hair, moving it away from his face.

"It's not my fault that Ducky is the fastest bike on the track."

"Ducky?"

You ask out of curiosity, before you even realize.

Tae and Hobi start giggling in the background as Jungkook's gaze falls on you. He appears surprised by the question, as if he thought you knew. Then, he seems to remember that he never spoke about his bike nor his races with you and his expression changes.

"My Ducati." he replies, playing with his piercing, a habit you think comes when he's pondering or embarrassed.

"Did you give your bike a name?"

Jungkook tells you that many people give their bikes a nickname, explaining that the reason he chose Ducky it's due to the similar sound with Ducati.

You smile in recognition that Jungkook definitely looks like an intimidating and strong guy, but that you became aware of a more thoughtful and playful part of him starting from the night he brought you home on his motorbike. Even this small detail about the moto's name fits perfectly with the Jungkook that you got to know till now.

An interesting mix that is also reflected in the ducati he rides.

“It's cute, I think it suits her!” You chuckle softly.

You notice something in Jungkook's eyes, but it doesn't last long due to Tae's comment.

"No please, don't tell me that you also think it's a suitable name for a motorbike!"

Tae babbles distraught, while Hobi laughs loudly, shaking his head.

"Look who's talkin, the one who called his bike Sonic!"

Jungkook huffs mockingly, rolling his eyes. 

The bickering that takes place in front of you makes you laugh lightly, Hani and Hobi join you as Tae fiercely retorts.

"At least it's related! And it's blue like Sonic! Your bike is not even yellow!"

“Wow bro, so original!”

Jungkook pretends to be overly impressed by his friend's explanation. Tae gulps down the last sip of beer while he wraps his arm around Hani.

"And by the way, have you ever seen a duck run? Those tiny little things are pretty fast!" Jungkook concludes.

At this, even Tae bursts out laughing, almost spitting out the beer from his nose. Everyone has seen at least once in their lifetime a video about little ducks chasing their mother or caregiver. Jungkook evidently emerges victorious from the argument, he chuckles along with all of you and the moment couldn't be more wholesome than this, you think.

The evening unfolds like this, next to the bar, with laughter and some small bickering between the three guys. You notice from time to time that Jungkook's eyes wander towards you while he speaks and he catches you looking at him sometimes as well.

The alcohol in your system definitely doesn't help make it any less evident.

"Another round? It's on me this time." Hobi shakes his empty beer, starting to move towards the bar when Jungkook stops him by placing a hand on his shoulder

"Just a coke for me, please."

Hobi nods as he appears to reply something like, "I know" before smiling tight-lipped at him.

You watch Jungkook's profile the entire time as he smiles back at Hobi before letting him walk towards the bar.

He looks like one of those smiles that takes over his lips when you catch his mind wandering, back at the gym.

A light smile that seems to hide something more.

When Jungkook turns back to bring his attention back to the conversation in progress, your eyes meet for the umpteenth time and his weak smile widens into a smirk.

He leans towards you slightly, while Tae and Hani continue to discuss something you don't quite listen to and his face gets dangerously close to yours.

“Are you going to keep looking at me all night?”

Jungkook speaks close to your ear, he doesn't whisper but he still makes sure you're the only one to hear him.

The sudden closeness of his body allows your nostrils to immediately capture his scent, the one you've had on you thanks to his motorcycle jacket and as the memory of that evening returns to your slightly alcohol-influenced mind, you smile mischievously.

“How can you say I'm looking at you all the time?”

Jungkook shifts his head slightly so he can look at you better as he says

"Because every time I look at you your eyes are already looking at me,"

You sigh, his voice far too calm to cause such turmoil within you. You try to ignore his usual attempt to make you blush, failing miserably when he continues, “You look like you want something.”

This man right here, damn. He knows, you know he knows the effect he has on you. It's clear.

You feel hotter but you manage to retort.

"And what about you? Why are you looking at me so often?"

The liquid courage you have in your body is enough to make you ask straight away, basking in the feeling of his body so close to yours.

Jungkook's eyes watch you intently and a gleam of amusement adorns his deep irises.

He moistens his lips and the movement of his tongue doesn't escape your gaze, but right as he is about to answer your question, Hobi returns, but empty-handed.

“Sorry guys,” Hobi interjects, his face darkened with worry compared to earlier. "Some problem came up with the registration documents and they asked me to help check." He says hastily as he apologizes once again.

Tae offers to go with him and solve the problem at hand but Hobi shakes his head,

"There is no need, I don't want you to ruin your night with bureaucratic bullshit. See you on the track tomorrow! It was nice meeting you Y/N!

"Pleasure is mine Hobi!"

You reply, giving him a smile.

As you watch him go, you realize that you have just met this boy, and yet you feel that you have made the acquaintance of a genuinely beautiful person.

It's so rare nowadays.

“So guys,” Hani exclaims loudly, catching everyone's attention.

"Tae and I are planning a relaxing ride next Sunday."

Jungkook nods.

"Where were you guys thinking of going?"

You watch your friends discuss the details of the itinerary and realize that you're actually considered part of the trip only when you notice that at the idea of the four of you going on a ride together, Jungkook seems relaxed, almost as if it were obvious to take you around on his beloved Ducky. Maybe your mind is wandering a little too much, but it makes you blush a little.

“It can be done, as long as Y/N agrees.”

The pronunciation of your name draws your attention, refocusing you on the group.

"Mh?

"I said if you feel like getting the necessary moto gear, we can go."

Jungkook repeats, Hani and Tae are looking at you as you try to seriously focus on organizing the aforementioned ride.

"Yes, no problem, but I don't know where to buy what I need."

"I'll take you to the store where I bought mine!"

Hani exclaims with a smile.

“I can get you some gloves but as far as helmet and jacket, make sure you get stuff that's the right size for you.”

You shake your head, saying that you will take care of getting everything you need with Hani.

"Oh, yeah I forgot how small your hands are, it's definitely better if you try them on at the store."

Jungkook evidently can never stop himself from teasing you.

His comment causes a mischievous smile on Tae's face and a very satisfied one on Jungkook's.

Hani purses her lips, trying to hold back a laugh, or whatever she was about to say.

Your eyes roll in mock annoyance as you playfully push Jungkook.

"Okay, it's decided then!"

States Hani, who sports a satisfied smile as she continues, “Oh, I forgot something in the car! Come on Tae.”

She grabs Tae's hand and before you can even point it out, he anticipates you by saying, "But you came in an Uber!"

Hani glares at him, "Just come."

Jungkook laughs, shaking his head at the obvious attempt to leave you two alone, while you watch them go in disbelief and slight embarrassment. You want to curse her, but you know it's what you really want too. You want time alone with him, you want to take advantage of the courage you feel inside this evening to understand a little more this tattooed and lip-pierced mystery.

The dance floor is full and you can no longer see the bartender behind the bar due to how many people are waiting to receive their drinks.

You don't even remember the last time you attended a party like this, the only thing that comes to mind when you think about it is Ray almost causing a fight with a guy who mistook you for his friend, the fight that came of it once you left the party and the tears you shed because of his sharp words, is the only memory of that last party you attended.

You return your gaze to Jungkook as anger and sadness from past events threaten to make their way onto your face.

There is no need to dwell on the past, past parties are in the past, Ray is not here and nothing stops you from enjoying the evening and putting off your worries about your ex and his passive aggressive messages until tomorrow.

Jungkook watches the dancing crowd, moving his head to the beat of the music as he's leaning against the wall.

You admire him so much, he always seems to have everything under control, no matter the shadow that darkens his face every now and then, he seems to always manage to return to reality and enjoy the little things.

"Want to dance?" You don't give your shyness time to reconsider the invitation that the words have already left your mouth. You hold out your hand as you invite him to join you. 

He looks at your hand briefly before replying with a soft smile, “Why not.” and join his hand to yours.

You clasp your hand around his and lead him through the crowd.

You feel boldness fill you, you hadn't even considered the possibility that he might refuse and happy that he didn't, you reach a spot that isn't too crowded, the volume of the music is louder here and you feel the effect on your skin as your heart follows its own rhythm.

Thanks to what you drank and the need to let yourself go at least for tonight, you let your body feel the music.

His movements are loose and yours adapt to his almost immediately. Jungkook watches you the entire time, paying attention to every movement of your body, as if he wants to imprint them in his mind for later.

When you look up and meet his gaze, this time you hold it, smiling mischievously before turning your back on him.

You continue to dance filled with a wave of audacity, your every movement is seductive for him, who can't take his eyes off of you.

The line of your back is far too attractive to keep at a distance so, all of a sudden, you feel Jungkook's body move closer to yours.

The closeness causes a leap in your chest, but what he says is the cause of the heightened blush on your face.

You feel like your cheeks are perpetually burning because of him.

"What happened to the super shy girl who showed up at the gym a while ago?"

His voice is almost a whisper as you feel his face close to your ear.

You tilt your head back, resting it on his shoulder before answering confidently.

"She has learned to dare more." and with that, you decide to lean against his body completely.

Fuck shyness, fuck fears and comfort zones. If tomorrow you have to deal with the consequences of Ray's reappearance, you want to enjoy this one night to the fullest.

You hear Jungkook chuckle softly as a tentative hand finds its place on your hip.

He caresses you flat and softly from your hip up, his palm just grazing the edge of your bra as you wonder what it might be like without your clothes in between.

"It's clear that you're not that shy tonight, either."

You retort as you roll your hips against his. You feel his hand get slightly heavier on your hip as he presses you gently until your body is completely attached to his.

His other hand reaches for your shoulder and brushes your hair away to reveal your neck.

The gesture causes heat in your lower abdomen, you swallow unconsciously at the unexpected reaction of your body. Maybe it's been too long since someone touched you like this or maybe it's the power that Jeon Jungkook has over your body now, but you feel that at this rate you run the risk of melting in his arms.

“What makes you say that, princess?”

His breath tickles you as he whispers the words directly into your skin. His lips don't even touch you once and you wish they would.

You push your hips against his a little more as you continue to move languidly. His fingers mindlessly caress the curve of your neck and you close your eyes as you enjoy the feeling.

“The way you're touching me now.”

You reply in a small voice as your hand reaches for the one resting on your hip,

you hold it as if it might disappear if you don't.

You shiver slightly when his hot breath teases the thin skin of your exposed neck again and the grip of his hand under yours grows more and more.

“I can do more and better, wouldn't you like that?”

You feel the effect of your movements directly against your butt and it gives you even more confidence.

You feel completely intoxicated by his touch, nothing to do with the alcohol that undoubtedly contributed to you finding yourself in this situation, everything you are feeling now is the work of his touch, of his body against yours and of his words.

You're dying to fuck him, to feel his hands all over your naked body as he whispers dirty things in your ear. But at the same time you don't want this to ruin your friendship, you don't want there to be misunderstandings between you. You can always enjoy the pleasures of sex without unnecessary feelings being involved, right?

You don't feel ready yet and you hope Jungkook is of the same opinion as you, that he also wants to have sex with you without strings attached.

You spin around and your hands rest on his broad shoulders. You look at him for a moment, his eyes dark and full of longing as you whisper in his ear, "As long as it's the only thing you want too."

When you look back at him to decipher his reaction, you notice that Jungkook initially seems surprised by your statement, then a pleased smile forms on his plump lips and his hands suddenly become bolder, moving down from your hips to the small of your back. You barely hold back a moan when you feel the hardness of his member and the firmness of his hands on you.

Jungkook holds you close and you don't know when exactly your bodies stopped following the rhythm of the music. He firmly squeezes one of your buttock while you caress the locks of his nape.

You watch him move closer to your neck once again and this time, you feel his wet lips brush against you just below your ear.

"Are you really the first girl I don't have to give the usual speech to? Am I dreaming?"

His deep voice reaches the parts of your body that you never thought would be affected by a simple voice.

"What speech?" You sigh when you feel his hands move up your back.

"The one that makes my intentions clear."

Jungkook looks back at you, as if wanting to make sure he hasn't misunderstood anything.

"It seems we want the same thing, then."

You state in a rush, feeling the places he touches completely on fire.

"Do we?"

Jungkook tilts his head slightly as he holds you impossibly tighter. You feel completely enveloped by the warmth of his body when his thigh slides and finds its place between your legs.

A soft moan escapes your lips and it seems to trigger something in him, you hear him breathe deeply before asking in a low voice.

“What do you want, Y/N?”

From the tone of his voice it is clear that he knows what you want, he simply wants you to confess it freely.

His thigh twitches between your legs, rubbing just right against the place you want it the most.

You follow its movements, completely enraptured by the sensations you are experiencing.

There is no room for shame right now in your mind clouded by the burning desire for him.

The only thing you can think about is his leg repeatedly teasing your clit and the caresses of his hands along your back.

Your hands tremble slightly with pleasure as they involuntarily grasp the strands falling at the nape of his neck.

Jungkook hisses through his teeth but doesn't resist, in fact he seems to like this little gesture from you.

You look at him for a moment and his adam's apple is so inviting that you can't resist the temptation.

You move his head to the side to get more access and lick the surface up to his jaw.

You would continue to enjoy this lewd moment as long as it lasted.

You thought you would tease each other for a while and then go back to your friends, but no.

Jungkook is just as involved as you are.

The groan that vibrates in his throat reached a part of your brain that is now completely short-circuited.

"I want to fuck you."

The words come out with frightening ease and are enough to make Jungkook look back at you through lidded eyes.

“And I don't want anything more than that.”

You know you're not ready to take that leap, but the uncertainty hidden in your voice reaches somewhere in your chest.

It hurts something when you watch him smile widely at your latest statement.

A fleeting pain, overtaken by the strong desire caused by the hardness of his member, throbbing against your thigh.

“Yeah, we definitely want the exact same thing.”

It was already quite clear, but hearing you say it is something else.

Jungkook moves away from you, leaving your body to the cold void his hands left. 

Then, he grabs your hand, leading you past the crowd and towards the other side of the place.

You look around, convinced he wants to take you to the bathrooms, but you realize that with every step you take, you are getting closer to the locker's room.

"Where are we going?"

You ask loudly, as Jungkook continues his zig zag through the people holding your hand.

"At my place." he answers.

“I thought you wanted to do it in the bathroom, haven't you been drinking?”

You know that driving under the influence of alcohol is a terrible idea.

Jungkook stops in his tracks for a moment noticing your hesitation in continuing and you hear him chuckle before answering.

"I shared a joint before," he looks into your eyes, as you inspect them, "And then, you saw me drinking a cola, I don't drink alcohol."

Jungkook continues to look at you, though his eyes avoid yours now, lingering on your lips.

You want to ask him more but before you can, he leans in close to you to whisper, making your legs tremble in anticipation.

“Besides, why would I take you to a public bathroom when I can make you scream in the comfort of my own bed?”

He knows all too well that he has the upper hand and is taking advantage of it.

Damn Jeon Jungkook and the effect he has on you.

The heat spreads again in your belly and when you look at him you just want to bite that plump lip, tease his piercing and let that mocking smile get lost in moans of pleasure.

“Or maybe you feel more comfortable doing it at yours?”

His tone of voice lacks malice this time, after all, you have now understood that Jungkook is a caring person and therefore he wants to avoid making you feel uncomfortable.

You nod and smile at his consideration.

"At mine."

Jungkook tightens his hand around yours again, smirking.

You quickly reach the exit after collecting your things from the lockers.

And there she is, Ducky.

You will climb on her for the second time, soon there will even be a third, you can't help but smile at the thought.

Strange how different reasons are leading you to get on a motorbike so often, not that this is a complaint, far from it.

You tremble at the thought of experiencing certain sensations once again, this time even, with the prospect of sleeping with Jungkook.

He invites you to wear his gear once again, but you strenuously refuse to deprive him of his jacket this time. Even though he was annoyed at first, Jungkook had to give in to your determination.

December cold is unforgiving.

In order to compromise, you wear his helmet, unable to argue with its importance.

You reach your apartment complex after a while, Jungkook was driving the entire time at a speed well under the legal limit, allowing you to hug his body to shield yourself from the cold as much as possible.

Once you reach the building's underground parking lot, you get off Ducky and take off the helmet to hand it to him. You smile brightly and hear Jungkook chuckle to himself as he shakes his head.

"You really like to ride, huh?"

You look at him while he's fixing his disheveled hair and it's a vision that you didn't think could affect you so much.

You think Jungkook would look sexy even wearing a battered potato sack, but seeing him in these clothes, you think, will always turn you on.

“Oh trust me, I love riding Ducky, but I can't wait to ride you.”

You haven't felt this lustful for someone in a while.

Surely the drinks you had before are not supporting you to keep certain thoughts to yourself.

Jungkook sighs visibly impressed by your bluntness and you could swear you heard him curse.

"Can't wait for you to show me."

Seeing Jungkook now, in the flesh, inside your apartment is something.

You watch as he places his helmet near the entrance door and places his jacket on top of it before taking off his shoes.

As you do the same, taking off your coat and shoes to put them away, he looks around, taking in the appearance of your apartment. 

The foyer is small but well arranged, with a large mirror and a shoe rack right beside it.

You lead the way to reach your couch in the living room and as you walk, his eyes land on some of your latest sketches scattered around on a counter, one of it appears to be a pair of boxing gloves and he finds himself chuckling like an idiot.

As you do the same, taking off your coat and shoes to put them away, he looks around, taking in the appearance of your apartment. 

The foyer is small but well arranged, with a large mirror and a shoe rack right beside it and the little hallway that connects your entrance to your living area is decorated with pictures, plants and some of your favorite sketches.

You lead the way to reach your couch in the living room and as he walks behind you, his eyes land on some of your latest sketches scattered around on the counter of your kitchen, one of it appears to be a pair of boxing gloves and he finds himself chuckling like an idiot.

"Why are you laughing?"

You're puzzled by his sudden reaction. 

"I like your apartment, it fits your vibe."

He answers quietly and you smile shyly in appreciation, suggesting him to make himself comfortable on the couch.

"Want something to drink?

 You ask him, walking behind the counter to reach your fridge.

"Just water, thanks." 

He replies as he sits comfortably. You get some fresh water and when you get back you offer him the glass.

Jungkook sips from it and you join him on the couch.

Your heart always beats so fast in his presence that by now you're almost getting used to the constant hustle and bustle in your chest.

"You really don't like alcohol."

You say lightheartedly as you gather your legs up on the couch and turn to face him.

You curse your damn mouth when you realize that your comment made Jungkook tense up.

You just wanted to make him feel comfortable but before you can think of something to recover, Jungkook takes another sip of water before replying in a low voice.

"Yeah. I prefer weed, even though I rarely smoke anymore."

His eyes look at you for a brief moment, dark as pitch or a moonless sky.

They then move to the coffee table in front of you to put the glass down.

"I'd say you don't need it anyway. You don't need it to boost your confidence, like me."

Something moves in his eyes when you say this. His hand on your thigh pulls your attention away.

You watch it as it lays on your thigh softly. 

The tone of his voice, his firm aversion to alcohol and his troubled eyes makes you ponder, but you can't formulate any sentence that doesn't risk making him even more gloomy.

Jungkook taught you many things in the gym, undoubtedly to throw good punches, but also to have courage in general, to dare and not to let fears stop you.

He was able to free that part of you that you have always adored, the one that made you achieve your most ambitious goals, despite having to sacrifice a healthy relationship with your family.

And he was able to get you there, easily, without even having to tell you openly what to do.

Despite his tacit support helped you regain a little confidence, you feel like he doesn't need the same. Like he needs you to voice your thoughts with him, even if it's not always as easy as after a few drinks on your system. 

You've always sensed that something keeps him anchored to a remote island in the back of his mind and you don't want him to take refuge there right now.

"You are right,"

Your voice is sweet, it matches his from earlier and with one movement you lift yourself, moving one leg to take it beyond his.

You sit on his thighs and place your hands gently on his shoulders.

Jungkook looks at you smugly and pleasantly surprised and you're happy to notice that island receding in the mirror of his eyes.

They slowly fill with lust for you, as they observe your body so close to his.

“Even though I drank a little, I'm sober enough to say that everything I did tonight, I've always wanted to do.”

Jungkook feels the weight of your body and the weight of your words right on his.

You're sitting directly on his growing member and his hands find their place on your hips as he pulls you closer.

“Wait until you see what I've always wanted to do to you.”

With that, his mouth takes over your neck.

He tastes your skin like he's finally testing a drop of water after a walk in the desert and you're the only source he wants to put his mouth on.

You moan as you tilt your head to let him taste you as he pleases.

Jungkook takes the opportunity to bite you a little, leaving a small blush on your skin and licking it to soothe the stinging spot.

You try to control yourself as his hands venture up your back.

“You have a condom on you?” You whisper all of a sudden.

Jungkook keeps kissing your neck, hesitantly moving one hand from your body only to pull a condom out of his back pocket.

He hands it to you and then grabs the hem of your sweater, stopping his assault to help you take it off. A shiver runs up your spine, realizing you're now in your bra in front of him, the cool air of the room brushes against your hot skin and his hands promptly return to your hips and back.

You squeeze the little silver package between your fingers as he pulls your body against him, your hips move almost automatically as you feel his member getting harder and harder. And in return you get wetter and wetter.

You're a complete mess in his arms as you buck your hips, panting slightly at every movement.

When his hands press you more against him, a loud moan leaves your lips and with it, the last bit of restraint you had.

You grab the hem of his sweatshirt, urgently undressing him.

"Someone is impatient." He chuckles breathlessly as he lets you undress him.

"Your fault." You reply as you move to undo his jeans.

"Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?"

The aroused expression on your face is something he hopes to keep in mind for as long as possible.

You drop down to help him take off his jeans completely and Jungkook remains in his black Calvin Klein briefs. The outline of his hard member held with difficulty in the confines of the fabric, making you salivate at its sight.

You stand up and take the opportunity to remove your pants in front of him, while his gaze is glued to you.

If his eyes could touch, you would feel their stroke everywhere right now, like a dry brush on a virgin canvas.

They eagerly study every single curve, every movement you do is carefully followed as you reveal your panties and legs to him.

“You're so hot Y/N…”

You hear him breathing heavily and only after adding your pants to the pile of clothes do you turn back to look him in the eyes.

He's touching himself through his underwear at the sight of your body and despite everything that already happened, you're still blushing.

You are engulfed in the flames of pleasure, yet the blush on your cheeks is caused by something deeper.

You ignore this thought immediately, setting aside that thing that tries to push to make itself some space and focus on the need that screams between your legs instead.

You climb on top of him again, leaning on his shoulders.

"Jungkook,"

You whisper in his ear, looking him in the eyes right now would mean exposing yourself too much, paradoxically.

What a strange contradiction though.

You're already almost completely naked in front of him, but the idea of letting him look you in the eyes while you say the next words makes you feel too vulnerable.

"If we do this, I want us to agree on a few things."

As you try to regain your courage, you lick his neck, moving down towards his collarbone to reach his pectorals.

"I'm listening."

He sighs as he lets his head go back, as if wanting to give you total access to him, basking in the feelings your tongue is giving.

Jungkook is completely engrossed, he seems to enjoy every little thing without thinking too much while you're struggling to let yourself go completely.

The friendship that has developed between you over these months is something you care about and you wouldn't want to ruin it for simple sex.

Even if you're dying to enjoy these moments you've been craving, you're afraid of ruining everything.

"We're just friends who are going to fuck, right?"

You ask tentatively as you continue to leave a trail of saliva with your tongue and lips across his toned chest.

"No awkwardness after."

You're not sure why you're saying this when you can't even look him in the eyes right now, but at the same time you're saying it precisely to not let your fear stop you.

Maybe you're just trying to convince yourself that nothing will change and that you can let yourself go, or just to make sure you both are still on the same page, but Jungkook doesn't seem to notice your inner conflict right now, too distracted by your ministrations probably.

"This is not going to ruin our friendship if that's what you're worried about."

He states between breaths as he wraps a hand in the middle of your hair.

“The fact that we both know what we want from each other and what we don't, won't cause any problems, don't you think?”

He pulls your hair slightly to expose your neck, and you close your eyes unconsciously when you feel his lips on your skin once again.

"No awkwardness after."

His whisper makes you shiver with pleasure and almost as if you needed to have this confirmation from him, you open your eyes and move to finally be able to lower his underwear.

His penis rises free from the confines and you are a little surprised at the size. He throbs in front of you with the tip red and moist as you observe the succulent veins adorning its surface.

"So we're gonna be ride buddies and friends who fucked once."

Jungkook holds his legs open as you get on your knees in front of him to pull his briefs completely off.

"Let's see if you still want it to be once after I fuck you just right."

You smile sensing Jungkook's usual way of doing things, his classic way of provoking you while he smiles with confidence.

"Bold are we?"

You snicker as you pump your little fist around his shaft a couple of times.

He hisses.

"You've got the lead for now, wait and see when it's my turn."

He says through gritted teeth as he clearly tries not to give in to your touch too shamefully.

"We'll see."

You move closer, gently placing your lips on the side of his cock as you continue to move your hand slowly.

The intense teasing served to make him super responsive.

Jungkook squirms a little when you carefully spread his precum on the sensitive tip.

You hear as he tries to limit his sounds.

You look up momentarily when your mouth finally settles around his moistened tip, only to see his reaction.

Jungkook instinctively brings his head back and his mouth opens in a silent moan of pleasure.

He sighs heavily as his hands grip the fabric of the couch he's sitting on.

The vision of his naked body exposed to your will causes a shiver down your spine and with your free hand you move down until you reach the most sensitive part of your body.

You give yourself pleasure as you move your mouth and hand finding a rhythm that could be pleasant for him.

You listen carefully for any reaction that might let you know that you are doing the right thing as you keep your eyes closed, completely letting yourself go to the small sounds he makes.

When you twist your wrist slightly and let go of his cock with a pop to catch your breath, Jungkook lets out a throaty moan and he is breathing noticeably faster now.

You're so wet now that you think he could fit inside you without too much effort, you continue to tease your clit while jerking him off at the same speed.

You leave a trail of little kisses along his member, from the tip to the balls.

You look at him again and unexpectedly meet his gaze.

You feel your confidence waver for the briefest of moments when you notice his eyes looking at you intently.

His pierced lip is caught between his teeth as he breathes deeply through his nose.

He's trying in every way possible to block any sound that might come from his mouth and it's almost annoying to notice the effort he puts into it.

"Let me hear."

You say softly between small kisses.

“I want to know if I'm doing well or not.”

You tickle with your wet tongue from bottom to top, once again reaching the sensitive tip.

His cock throbs in your hand and you smirk satisfied.

You don't need to hear his moans to know that he's completely into it, but you still want to hear them because of you, it's almost a visceral need at this point.

"You're doing great,"

He responds in a deep voice.

He moves the hair that has fallen in front of your eyes with a finger as he tries to steady his breathing.

A soft gesture that makes your heart skip a beat, but you keep your focus on your movements.

Your hands continue to move in unison as you moan, kissing and licking his cock. You purposely avoid taking him fully into your mouth, teasing him every now and then when you feel the sounds getting stuck in his throat.

You feel pervaded by the power that these circumstances can give.

Jungkook watches you the whole time as you work on him and yourself.

He evidently noticed the effect his words had on you, his little praise gave you more confidence, allowing you to let go a little more.

Jungkook suddenly stops you by placing a hand on your shoulder just when you thought he was enjoying it a lot, or at least it seemed like that from his persistent and muffled groaning.

“Y/N, let me taste you please..”

You hear the desperation in his voice and you can see it in his face when you lean up to look at him, a little bit of saliva wetting your chin.

His eyes are completely dark, full of the longing that you know he can see in your eyes too.

He moves to stand up, forcing you back onto your feet before picking you up.

You yelp at the sudden motion, holding onto his neck for support as he helps you wrap your legs around his hips.

“Where is your bedroom?”

Jungkook asks as he latches onto your already battered neck.

"Down the hallway, second door on the right."

In no time, Jungkook transports you following your directions. He pushes the door open with his foot before entering and letting you lie on your soft bed.

He watches you bounce once on it, then looks you up and down with an unreadable look.

Being in your apartment, on your bed, almost completely naked in front of him, definitely makes you bolder, feeling more comfortable.

You just realized how far you've gone with him, that you can't go back now.

Not that you want to, honestly.

You observe him, majestic in front of you, the faint glow of the moon that leaks into the room illuminates his skin deliciously, accentuating every muscle of his toned body.

Your eyes do their best to capture every detail and imprint it in your memory.

Jungkook bends over you, caging your legs with his powerful arms.

You remain propped up on your forearms as your breathing becomes increasingly labored.

His hands rest at your sides and with a firm but delicate movement, he pulls you towards him.

He bends down to let his tongue leave a wet trail across your belly, to the edge of your panties.

The passage of his mouth so close to your core, feeds the fire in your belly.

"Can I?"

He asks softly as his thumbs hook your panties on both sides.

He looks at you, patiently waiting for your permission.

Or your refusal.

You see a hint of hesitation in his gaze, as if he doesn't want to go any further against your will.

You can feel this small detail slowly infiltrating under your skin. You feel it brings to the light something that you would have preferred to remain in the dark, especially in this moment.

Ray.

Why did he always assumed he could take everything without ever asking?

Why doesn't Jungkook take without asking?

These are questions you can't answer. Deep down you know you don't want them, that answers would only cause you more pain.

You swallow, trying to shut off the bitter taste of the past.

"Please…"

You can't say anything else, you whisper this simple word that encompasses everything you're feeling right now.

Please do it.

Please make me forget all the bad things for tonight.

Please take me.

His eyes light up and his skilled hands easily remove the fabric that covered your most intimate part.

Only now you do realize how uncomfortable and annoying the wet fabric you were wearing was.

You feel the cool air hit the moist and hot skin of your pussy and you sigh when his hands return to you after leaving the newly removed garment somewhere on the floor.

He gently places his hands on your thighs, spreading them just enough so he can observe your dripping wet pussy.

Seeing the glisten of your juices makes his blood burn in his veins.

You gasp when his soft lips lay on your clit.

Jungkook is humming delightedly, then he starts to kiss it with delicacy, allowing you to adapt to the stimulus while he lets his tongue tease you slowly.

You close your eyes and try to relax your legs.

His lips are more insistent, until he ends up making out with your soft wet pussy.

You can't hold back your moans and you lie down completely on the bed as you let him eat you out.

Just as you had done earlier, he maintains a slow but precise pace, as if he wants to take revenge for all the teasing and savor your flavor at the same time.

Unlike his, your moans follow one another and you can't stop yourself.

They gradually become stronger and more intense as Jungkook continues to make out with your pussy.

He holds your hips, soothing the skin right beneath his thumbs with circular motions.

It's a sensation you've never felt before, you feel your orgasm building slowly, so slowly that you almost think you'll lose it at any moment, only to change your mind when with precise movements you feel the pleasure accumulating, like waves that add to each other. One after another, before reaching the coast in one large, powerful wave.

He moves his tongue with a constant rhythm and when with a faint voice you warn him that you are about to come, surprisingly enough, Jungkook maintains the same rhythm, he doesn't speed up, he doesn't press his tongue more forcefully against your already very sensitive clit.

With pleasant surprise, you notice that he keeps this pace and it is clear that he knows what he is doing.

He doesn't go crazy trying to catch it, when he already knows where and how to find it.

The only difference is the intensity with which he makes out with your pussy, kissing and licking it passionately, drunk on your juices.

You moan louder as your body tenses more and more like a violin string, until with a delicate but firm movement of his tongue, your orgasm hits you violently.

With his gentle and precise gestures, you didn't expect such an intense and violent orgasm, your body writhes in ecstasy while a string of profanities and panting breaths leave your lips.

Your legs try to close as they tremble from the stimulation, but Jungkook firmly separates them again, enjoying the taste of you for a little longer. You hear him groan and at a quick glance you notice his frowning expression.

You whine from the overstimulation and it's the only signal that seems to stop him.

He pulls off while still remaining in front of your throbbing and swollen pussy and his labored breathing tickles you gently.

“Sorry,” he states, licking his shiny lips for a moment. “You taste so sweet I couldn't stop.”

You look at him while you feel a constant pounding in your chest and your breathing doesn't want to calm down.

His hair is disheveled, his cheeks are flushed and his eyebrows are still a little furrowed.

You prop yourself up on your elbows again, one hand reaching for his hair, letting it sink into its messy locks, as if wanting to tidy them up a bit.

"I wanna ride you now."

You state decisively and perhaps a little too pretentious, you add,

"Can I?"

Jungkook looks at you as he stands up, offers you a hand while you observe him in all his beauty, naked and with his erect member that you can't wait to welcome inside you.

Tonight you got to immortalize every detail of his body in your memory.

His totally tattooed arm, his sculpted body and his face, at times so sweet that you couldn't believe it is capable of contorting into those expressions of pleasure that you saw earlier.

You accept his hand and let him pull you onto him while he says "How can I say no when you ask it so nicely."

You smile mischievously and take the opportunity to accompany him, pushing him by the shoulders onto your bed.

Jungkook takes place where you were laying, he sinks into your sheets as he settles in.

You reach him with your legs still shaking and climb up until you're almost sitting on his thighs.

You pick up the condom that you had previously abandoned on the bed next to you, but before you can open it to let him put it on, you can't resist the temptation to put your mouth back on his inviting cock.

You give a provocative lick, spreading your saliva all over the surface you trace and you understand how much he too wants to finally be able to feel you when his hips suddenly move upwards.

"Fuck-"

You continue to lick slowly for a few moments while you stimulate him a little with your hand.

When you look at him, he's already looking at you and it doesn't surprise you, his mouth is slightly open as he tries to regulate his breathing.

He looks so sexy right now, you can see in his expression the immense heat burning in his irises. The need he feels to possess you.

"Stop teasing me."

His voice is strained and his face speaks clearly: if you continue like this he won't resist much longer, he can't wait to see you jump on his cock.

The mere look in his eyes makes you clench your walls in anticipation and with a little effort you finally get him to wear the condom.

You move to finally be able to position yourself on his erect member and begin to lower yourself. A shiver runs through your limbs, the small tingling you feel as he penetrates you is almost immediately replaced by pleasure.

Jungkook is big, but you're so wet that he can slide inside you with ease.

You support yourself with your hands on his chest as you close your eyes to fully enjoy the sensations you're feeling. You continue to move down until you are completely seated on him. You feel full, his hands resting on your hips and squeezing you lightly.

When you reopen your eyes, you look at him and get lost for an infinite moment in front of what you see.

Jungkook looks at you through eyes half closed in pleasure, he's been looking at you the entire time, as if the scene in front of him is the key to understanding the entire movie.

If memory had any capacity, this moment would take up most of the space in Jungkook's mind for a long time to come.

After a few moments, you feel like you've gotten used to his girth and can finally move up and down.

Despite your legs still shaking from your previous orgasm, you manage to move at an increasing pace.

You moan without caring about the sounds you make, music to Jungkook's ears as he lets you do what you want with him, accompanying your movements with his hands.

You move messily as your legs start losing strength. You alternate your motions by rubbing your clit on him, moaning loudly when you feel your little sensitive nub stimulated like this and the squelching sound of your pussy fills the room. 

Jungkook hastily moves his hands behind your back, pulling at your bra to unclasp it. He doesn't take it off of you completely though, finding it more sexy the way he jumps up and down following your movements. 

"Fuck yes.."

He groans as he watches hypnotized your breasts bouncing out of your bra.

Then he tilts his head back onto your pillow as his arms flex with the motions of your body.

You bounce on his cock the best you can, tracing the side of his throat with your thumb, right above a little red spot you sucked on his skin.

The vision is enchanting.

The sounds he makes, addicting.

You're breathless, the muscles of your legs are burning from the effort but you keep bouncing and humping as you feel you're close to the second orgasm of the night.

"I-I'm clo-"

You're so close to the point of no return but suddenly, your legs are failing you and just like that, you tiredly collapse on his body.

Jungkook is quick to react, grabbing your hips tight enough to support you and adjust his position under you as he starts to thrust up.

Your moans are broken by every thrust as he diligently hammers your pussy up just right.

"You're so hot Y/N. So fucking hot."

He groans softly, pulling you impossibly closer.

You feel strange, like you're burning alive and flying at the same time.

You comfortably lay on his body as you let him lead you to the peak of your pleasure, licking and kissing his neck and ear lobe in the meantime.

"Fuck yes- yes!"

You moan his name as the fire explodes all of a sudden and the extreme pleasure you've built till now, crushes hard on you. And just like that, you feel your legs shake and your head light like a leaf blown by a gentle breeze.

Jungkook's thrusts slow down a little, milking your orgasm slowly till the very end. He only stops when you start whimpering, knowing you're probably super sensitive right now.

He pulls out and you whine to the feeling of emptiness, your walls slightly pulsing as you already miss the sensation of his cock deep inside of you.

"Are you ok?"

He asks you as he tries to stabilize his breathing.

Your body is still glued to his, your breathing is as ragged as his and you let the beating sound of his heart soothe you for a moment longer before you nod.

You slowly get up hissing a little and you look at him.

"Cum on me."

There's no longer space for filters and your brain is so fucked out that it doesn't even care how needy you sound right now. Even after your two orgasms. 

You're craving his touch, his sinful sounds, and you wanna know what it feels like to have his cum on your skin.

He smiles amused, chuckling a little.

"Yeah? And where do you want me to cum?"

His voice is husky and you feel your body reacting to that.

You buck your hips on his cock, blocking it between you and his stomach. 

Are you even sane right now? Did he fuck you out of your own brain?

"On my ass."

Yes, you're totally gone.

You're totally gone for this man.

You watch him as you keep moving on him, you see he swallows a moan as your wet pussy keeps rubbing on his member.

"Aren't you sensitive right now?"

He asks lowly.

"I can handle it."

You sit up, your battered pussy is still recovering from two orgasms but you know you can take it and you just want to show him how badly you still want him inside of you.

He laughs mischievously, looking at your fucked out beautiful face with pride.

"Lie on your belly for me, then."

You willingly obey, throwing your bra out of the way completely and resting your figure on your belly, just as he asked.

You can't see him from this position, you only feel his hand reach for your leg, bending it so that you're able to turn a little to the side.

He now has the possibility to keep looking at your body from this perspective. He has your ass, the side of your breast and your face at his mercy and he can't wait to enjoy your every expression from here.

"Stop me if it's too much."

You feel the weight of his firm body lay on you as he whispers, and when you turn your head to nod you meet his face, dangerously close to yours that you can feel his hot breath caressing you.

You're spread under him, fresh out from the two orgasms he just gave you and totally naked, yet there it is, the look you wanted to avoid earlier, the one you knew would make you feel really, really vulnerable. 

The mixture of his cares, his soft voice and his piercing dark eyes are sending danger signals to your brain as it feeds something deep in your chest.

You try to escape, diverting your eyes from the magnetism of his by nodding.

Jungkook pulls a little away, positioning himself right at your entrance.

You can hear him spit and the next thing you feel is his lubricated cock slowly pushing in.

You never felt like this, never had multiple orgasms and still wanted to fuck. The sensitivity is still there, you feel the heat spreading to your nerves as he slowly but surely bottoms up.

It's only when he starts moving that you feel a peak in your pleasure, like he is able to touch all the right spots at once.

He finds a rhythm, grabbing the flesh of your ass and pulling you to meet his hips.

Your breath is irregular, just like his, and you start pushing your palm on the sheets as every thrust is pushing you up the bed.

Jungkook has a better idea though.

He lets go of your ass completely as he swiftly grabs your arm and blocks it behind your back.

Feeling restrained like this by him causes a moan to escape your throat, followed by another one when he uses your arm as a grip instead of your ass to keep you in place.

"You like that huh"

He says through gritted teeth, the angle allows him to see the profile of your face as he fucks you hard and steady. 

Your sweet innocent face, contorted in pleasure is an ethereal vision to his eyes.

And the fact that it's him causing you to feel this good, makes him feral.

You say yes a couple of times between your moans and heavy breaths.

He speeds up his pace a little more, always cautious of your reactions, not wanting you to feel any discomfort.

But what he hears from you next is what makes his balls tighten dangerously.

"Slap my ass, please-"

Your voice is broken but firm as you say it and something about it makes him go completely insane.

Perhaps the "please" part, or the way in which you're voicing your desire right now, mixed with your sweet moans and submissiveness.

He slaps his free hand onto your buttock hard enough to sting, and listens to the smacking sound and the throaty moan you let out resonate in his ears.

"Oh fuck-"

He lets out, pure ecstasy laced in his raspy voice as he soothes your skin.

His thrusts are becoming sloppier, more erratic, and he's louder than before as he's chasing his own orgasm now.

You're addicted to the sounds he makes during sex, that's clear by now. Every time a throaty moan escapes his lips, you wish you could record it and use it when you'll be alone.

Suddenly, he frees your arm and pulls out. You assume he's taking off the condom as you try to regain some strength to push your hair away and look at him over your shoulder. 

You watch him pumping fast his cock as his free hand strokes the reddened skin of your ass.

His eyes are shut tightly and you keep watching him moan loudly as spurs of his hot cum land on your ass.

He keeps pumping till the last drop then he slaps his cock on your cum covered skin and you've never seen something hotter than what just happened.

When he comes down from his orgasm, he smirks at you, tired and satisfied.

You chuckle softly, covering your face with your arm without even noticing.

“Fuck, that was-”

"Amazing. Yes"

It was, it was indeed amazing.

He finishes your sentence in a small voice as he tries to steady his ragged breathing, still remaining where he is.

You feel his hot seed slowly dripping down your skin and when your breath is stable enough you move to the side of the bed to get up.

“I'm gonna take a quick shower, if you don't mind.”

you say, moving to get to your bathroom.

“Not at all, go ahead.”

When your shower is over and you feel refreshed and relaxed, you return to your room with only a robe covering you, your skin still a little damp under the fabric of the robe.

Surprisingly you find him fully dressed, you sure didn't expect him to stay longer but you at least wanted him to take a shower before leaving.

"Are you sure you don't wanna take a shower too?"

You ask him as you approach.

"Yeah don't worry." you watch him as he brushes his hair out of his face and fixes his clothes.

You remain silent after that, it feels strange and a little heavy.

Should you ask him to stay? 

Will it be awkward from now on? 

Was it a mistake from the beginning?

You don't want him to think you're kind of kicking him out. The unhealthy overthinking starts pestering you and you don't even notice you've walked with him to the door of your apartment.

He gathers his helmet and jacket from the floor and turns to you with a little smile.

"I better go. Don't want Ducky to get jealous."

It makes you laugh lightly and you can't keep yourself from playfully rolling your eyes at him.

It's still him, the Jungkook that loves to tease you and makes silly jokes.

You probably needed this to get back on earth and realize that you should stop overthinking.

"Oh! Of course we don't want that!"

You emphasize and your fake concern makes him chuckle. 

It won't be awkward from now on after all.

You open the door for him and when he comes out he zips up his jacket, ready to leave.

"Let me know when you're going to the shop to get your gear."

He smiles, one of those smiles that make the drums go crazy in your chest.

"I will. Drive safe."

And for a moment you smile at each other, probably knowing that from this exact moment, it won't be easy to keep your hands away from each other.

Tonight marked an important step for you, not only the boost of confidence that you sported, but you can tell with certainty that your past is still bothering you, from time to time, but it doesn't have your present in its claws.

The decisions you made tonight could bring you to another disappointment, to another loss. Especially when this sensation on your chest keeps going off almost as a reminder, telling you 'Hey, in case you didn't notice, I'm right here!'

It will probably pass if you just ignore it…

It will go away as fast as it came… Right?

◀ [Prev. Chapter] | [Next Chapter] ▶

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 15 Coming On 11/20/2024

Just A Little Something 😉

*One Week Later*

One of the vines on the opposing wall of your living room flicks the light switch on, bathing the room in artificial light. You pause, your hand frozen on Bean's back as you look over the living room and kitchen.

The apartment is spotless. There's no empty bottles of scotch or whiskey, no half smoked blunts in the ashtray on the coffee table, no empty pizza boxes stacked next to your couch, and no dirty clothes and socks strewn around the room. In fact, there aren't any clothes at all or shoes.

Everything that belongs to Ben that was once scattered over your small living room is gone, leaving the room almost uncomfortably bare.

Is he doing laundry?

You strain your ears to hear the tell tale sound of the sink or the shower in the bathroom, but don't hear anything.

Maybe he cleaned up because I was gone?

It seems a little out in left field, but you reason to yourself that Ben had tried to clean up while you were gone, just like he did when you got back from the hospital two weeks ago.

But as you walk down the small hallway towards your bedroom you notice that the hall closet when Ben keeps his other things is empty. Every article of clothing, every shoe, every sock, and the small box of personal items that Ben had never let you see into was gone.

Something inside your chest begins to crack, you're not sure what, but all you know is that it doesn't feel good. There's an odd foreboding feeling that sends alarm bells off in your head.

Did he leave?

The thought is like a punch in the gut and your chest tightens, making it difficult to breathe.

Why would he leave without telling me?

You pull your phone out of your back pocket and scroll through to find Ben's number. This time you don't hesitate to hit the call button.

Each time it rings you can feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper into something that you can't describe. You didn't understand why he left, and why, if he did leave, he didn't tell you.

Was it because I didn't pick up the phone when he called? Was it because he finally figured that I wasn't going to sleep with him and he decided to leave?

Ben doesn't answer the phone, but this time you leave him a voicemail.

"Hey Ben, it's me. I just got back to the apartment and all your stuff is gone, which means either we got robbed or you got kidnapped by your evil brother." You laugh awkwardly. "But I'm back in town so you should call me and let me know if your stuff should be here or whatever-um-" You clear your throat trying to keep your voice from shaking a little. "Just call me back okay?"

A/N: Hey guys! I know I've been kinda awol all week, but honestly I am not feeling the greatest at the moment. Hopefully it'll pass, but I am really excited about this next chapter! 🥰

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[wileys-russo]

First time calling Alessia ‘baby’?

short n sweet.

baby II a.russo

"but i like it better when you make it!" the blonde smiled as she rested her chin on her fist, looking back at you adoringly as you rolled your eyes playfully.

"correct me if i'm wrong here less but i think when you invite someone over for dinner its generally not so that they cook it for you!" you teased, but regardless began to grab out the necessary ingredients already knowing where everything was, comfortable and familiar in alessia's small flat.

only living the floor above her in the block, there was seldom a day that passed where either one of you didn't spend some amount of time in the others home.

you had first encountered one another the day she moved in. you were returning home from a rather stressful work shift, rummaging around in your pocket for your house key when you heard a rather loud crash from downstairs.

racing down you found the then unfamiliar blonde laying on the floor with a defeated sigh, boxes scattered around her where she had obviously tripped over something and sent them flying.

"hi, do you need a hand?" you bit your lip to refrain from laughing at the scene in front of you, alessia's head darting toward you with a mortified expression, cheeks tinted a rosy pink with embarrassment.

"she needs more than a hand she needs an entirely new body. less you're such a clumsy idiot!" a shorter brunette had then stuck her head out of the girls front door, rolling her eyes and bending down to collect a box before venturing back inside.

"i'm y/n. you just moving in?" you asked with a friendly smile, hopping down the last two stairs and offering her a hand up. "i'm alessia, and yeah. sorry for the bother! i was basically unofficially born with two left feet." the taller girl joked, rubbing the back of her neck nervously, admittedly a little more stunned at your beauty than the fall she'd just had.

"less man you gonna stand around flirting all day or get her number and come and help me?" the brunette returned, sending alessia's cheeks an even darker shade of red at the comment. "tooney!" the girl hissed as the shorter of the two shot you a wink and grabbed another box.

"she's very single." the girl notified you bluntly as alessia looked back in horror at her best friend who quickly made herself scarce. "sorry about her." alessia mumbled in embarrassment, unsure how else to really continue on after the interruption.

"she seems fun." you grinned, eyeing a pen on the floor and feeling a sudden unfamiliar wave of confidence roll through you. "give me your hand." you motioned as alessia looked at you with confusion but did so anyway, you quickly scribbled your number down on her wrist and placed the pen in her palm.

"oh, thanks!" alessia perked up, twisting her wrist to read the numbers as you headed back upstairs, hearing her friend call out for her to hurry up from inside.

"oh and for the record, i am also very single." you smiled shyly before disappearing out of view, only letting out a breath after you'd closed your own apartment door.

it had been several weeks since then, and with a very insistent ella urging her on alessia had asked you out for coffee that very next day, and then you'd asked her to the movies, and your ongoing back and forth of dates had commenced.

though nothing yet had been made official, the two of yet to properly talk out how you were feeling, there was a strong connection building.

"hey i invited you over purely for the pleasure of your company, the cooking for me is just an added bonus." alessia winked cheekily as you shook your head with a smile, flicking on her stove top. "well then the least you can do is be my sous chef." you placed a chopping board, a knife and a variety of different vegetables in front of the striker.

"if you can manage that without injury." you teased as the blonde now rolled her own eyes, mocking you under her breath. "can you do the carrots first please baby." you'd asked casually before turning back to the stove, not even at first registering what you said.

"what did you just say?" alessia breathed out, she having most definitely registered the new term of endearment. "i said can you do the carrots first please baby." you repeated, your eyes widening as you heard yourself, unable to force yourself to turn around to see her reaction.

"sorry, i didn't mean to-sorry." you shook your head, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks as you busied yourself filling the pot with water. "you don't need to be...baby." alessia replied, a rosy pink glow coating her own cheeks as she also refused to look toward you to see your reaction.

unknowingly you both smiled shyly to yourselves, butterflies erupting in your stomachs. a few beats of silence passed before you quickly changed the topic, asking her how training had been.

even though neither of you had discussed it, it seemed you had both just confirmed that in fact the connection was mutual, and you were both excited to keep exploring it.

[joemama-2]

A SPRINKLE OF CURIOSITY

a/n: part two to “made with love”.

word count: 1859

toji x reader

tags/warning: angst, fluff

find part one here: made with love

toji wakes up with a pounding headache, like always. he really doesn’t want to get up but he knows he has to. rubbing his bleary eyes, he can faintly make out what room he is in. not his.

he can tell by the cleaner walls, the faint scent of something floral and a woman he doesn’t even remember the name of passed out to his right. from the view of her bare back on display, he can piece together that he had maybe a little too much to drink last night.

toji never stays long enough for them to wake up, so like routine, he finds his scattered pieces of clothing, putting them back on. it feels uncomfortable, dried semen making the boxers feel a little too tight. and like the stealthy man he is, he slips out the bedroom and apartment without much noise.

he doesn't even remember what city he's in, but he can only assume it's not close. having picked up a small job shiu assigned to him yesterday in the hokkaido prefecture, he hasn't been in the comfort of his own place for a couple days now.

he slowly walked to the nearest ATM, pulling out his card to check his balance. and would you look at that? still 0. now he’s pissed. he’s stranded in some city he doesn’t know with no money to get back and the job he was there for in the first place didn’t even pay him. those motherfuckers.

he huffs and pulls out his phone, calling his handler's number. without even waiting, as soon as he picks up, toji is quick to express his annoyance. "where's my damn deposit?"

shiu's tired chuckle sounds through the receiver. "relax, it's a weekend. won't come in until tomorrow."

of course. "then how the hell am i supposed to get back?"

"like you have a home?"

toji's eye twitches, grip tightening around the small cellular device. "keep talking, i'll rip that tongue out your mouth."

with a sigh, the other man responds. "jesus christ, you can't go one day without bitching. i left some cash in your pocket."

"how much?" toji's hand feels for the money, reaching in to grab it out and count it, balancing the phone between his shoulder and ear. "is this enough for a train ticket?"

"if you didn't use it already, then yeah."

and another huff before toji closes the screen of his phone, effectively ending the call.

so this was basically the lead up to where toji currently finds himself. after hours of a stiff chair that hurt his ass, stiff air, and the smell of elderly all around him, he practically throws himself into his small, run-down apartment and onto the mattress. there's no bed frame, hell there's barely anything inside, but it's enough for him. the tiny sheet crumples underneath his large form as he gets comfy, a small sigh escaping him.

everything is just as he left it, dishes in the sink, an old takeout box and the counter and the TV playing some who knows what show. damn it, was that on the whole time he was gone? now his bill will be even higher. there's never a moment of peace with toji, even after days and days of where he honestly deserves it.

his eye peak open, hand reaching for the remote to shut the TV off. just as the screen blanks, something instantly catches his attention. one that makes him sit up, despite his fatigue. it looks so out of place, like it doesn't belong. and quite frankly, it doesn't.

the pink box is vibrant against the cold surface of his kitchen counter, standing out like it directly has a light shone on it. it's almost taunting him, enticing him to come closer. and toji has never been one to show a lot of self-restraint. when it comes to you though, he didn't think he could try harder.

but he finds himself standing up and walking to the box. the heart drawn on top causes an eyebrow to raise as he opens it. there's nothing inside. after having got home from the encounter with you, he was hesitant to bite into the first cookie. but he's glad that he did. they tasted better than any other sweet he had tasted. the powder littered his lips and the soft jelly exploded into his mouth like fireworks. before he knew it, all five treats were gone in the matter of minutes.

but the box is still here for some reason. why he kept it and now threw it out as soon as he finished is questionable, but toji chalks it up to being lazy. because why else would he keep it? he sighs and closes the box again.

he falls back onto the mattress, eyes glued to the ceiling that has cracks and some mold growing. he really needs to move out. that thought is quickly thrown out when something else invades his brain. you.

your voice, your face, your stupid smile, and the words you told him. "love." the oh so holy pastries were made with your love. you were obviously joking, but an idiotic part of his mind entertains the idea that you weren't.

his head shakes. what are you doing? why is he acting this way about you? he barely knows you, you just own the bakery he knows. you're nothing more than a simple person who has no business getting involved with him. no, he has no business getting involved with you.

you're too kind, too sweet for him. he can't even see himself with another woman right now, not after his wife. at least, that's what he thinks. either way, there's no way someone like you would be interested in him. you probably have a loving family, a loving boyfriend. all in all, you have something going for you. you have things to lose. he doesn't. oh and of course, the main part of it all,

you're a complete normie.

you probably don't even know about curses, let alone sorcerers. you're probably one of those people who blame it on life's obstacles, the unwarranted negativity. but maybe you're just so damn positive all the time that you do literally the opposite of attracting curses. curses are formed from negative emotions, and you don't seem like you have those. that's what he thinks.

you see, toji has a very bad habit of assuming things. he's here having this entire dilemma on the kind of person you are when he knows jack shit about you. that's wrong, he knows. but toji....toji does a lot of wrong things. a very shitty justification, but toji is a shitty person.

would you think so too?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------——

it's been about a week, give or take, since he last saw you. but no matter where he goes or who he's killing, it's like the simplest things remind him of you. this is unhealthy, honestly. growing attached way too quick and way too easily, he has a lot of things to fix up on.

pink reminds him of you. puppies remind him of you. rainbows remind him of you. sweets remind him of you. and the sun reminds him of you.

so as you can see, you're everywhere he goes. following him when he wants nothing more than to get away. you must be a witch.

he just wants to gouge his own eyes out at this point, anything will save him from the restraints of adoring someone. he likes to think he's strong. wait no, he knows he's strong. but for some reason, you make him weak. and toji hates being weak. he confronts those who try to make him seem like he's anything but the terrifying killer he is and makes them beg for mercy.

which is why, he's currently back in the god forsaken place that started it all.

and what are you doing? greeting him like he's an old friend, like you've known each other for years. it makes him sick.

"you're back." you say, almost sounding relieved. do you always greet customers like this? or is it just him? "did you like my love?"

he wishes you would just stop referring to your treats as your damn love, it makes him want to hate you even more. "yeah." is all he says, a small scowl present with his arms crossed over his chest.

"tooooold you." you chuckle.

he wants to scoff at your cockiness, at your playfulness. can you just stop being so damn cute? silence follows as he stares you down, but you don't look the slightest bit bothered by it. why aren't you? do you think you're better than him?

"i'm assuming you came back for more." he didn't, but you're already completing the same routine as last time, picking a box and filling it. "we have some new ones this week, so i'll give you some of those. unless you really liked the ones from last time, we still have the custard ones, so i can give you that to--"

"what's your name?" he cuts you off, firmly.

you momentarily still, eyes flicking back up to his over the counter, he's still looking at you. as you stand back to your full height, you're slightly confused. however, you tell him. "y/n."

he knows he's in deep shit when just your name gives him butterflies. and hearing you say it? he just wants to grab you from over the counter and kiss you until you can't even rem--

he clears his throat. god, he's too horny.

"y/n what?"

"y/n l/n."

"are you lying?"

you snort a laugh. "who lies about their name?"

you're right, who does do that? "suspicious people."

"am i suspicious?" your head tilts in an frustratingly adorable manner.

no, he thinks. you're anything but. you seem like you wear your heart on your sleeve and you just seriously might be the most genuine person he's met. but then again, he doesn't know you, so this might all be a facade. you might actually be a two-faced bitch. "a little."

you hum softly and nod. with a small look to the ceiling, in thought, you say the most ridiculous thing ever. "well, how about we change that?"

a scoff breaks through. "how?"

and he supposes this entire time, you were filling the box and closing it back with the same sticker and heart from before. "you can get to know me." scratch that, that was the most ridiculous thing he ever heard you say.

"no." is his automatic response.

"why not?"

"i'm not looking for friends."

"we don't have to be friends." you say, sliding the box over to him. "but we can know each other's name at least. and since you already know mine......" you trail off as he gets the hint to what you're saying.

hesitation floods him because you really could be a spy or a fake. telling you his name could be dangerous and what if you try to report him to some authorities or something.

he's overthinking if you couldn't already tell.

but, he's getting older and probably won't have much more time left with what his occupation is. he's taken risks before, so what's one more? and again, you're right. how can he assume you're not really who you say you are if he doesn't find out himself.

so, with a deep exhale, his fingers twitching against his arm, he tells you. "toji fushiguro."

[thegildedbee]

Secret: May 11 Prompt from @calaisreno

Martha Hudson has a secret.

Well, she is a keeper of many secrets – those of others, as well as her own. She’s logged quite a number of years on the planet, after all, lived amongst “colorful” people, and experienced an event-filled life. It would be rather odd if she had no secrets.

This secret is neither earth-shaking nor weighty; it is a secret because she would quite prefer that others not think her to be a maudlin old lady, a somewhat pitiful headcase, as she fears they might if they knew.

The secret occurs on the 20th of each month: the 20ths are the only time when she goes upstairs to 221B, to spend some time in a solitary visit. The flat is empty, John not coming home in the days after the Fall, and then moving in with his sister after the funeral. She's not clear whether or not he is still there; all she knows is that this is where he is not. He had been reluctant to drop by, and it would be several months before she saw him again. Nearly all of Sherlock’s possessions are still in place as they were the last time he was present (minus the Stradivarius that Lord Stick Your Umbrella Up Your Arse had seized near the end of November). In the flat, it is as if Sherlock’s life is suspended in time; no one seems concerned with boxing up his things (perhaps it is because his disappearance from their lives was so unexpected and abrupt; perhaps it is just that the idea needs time to settle amongst those he left behind). The rent money is still being deposited in her account each month, which she supposes is Mycroft's doing. Perhaps the flat represents, at least in part, all of them being somewhat suspended in time.

Her visits had begun in December; at the cemetary she hadn't felt Sherlock to be near at all when she went to lay flowers at his headstone. The flat, on the other hand, feels comforting to visit, and when she's there she does feel touched by his presence.

December That first post-Fall 20th had arrived in December, on a day and an evening in which lackluster swirls of snow were dispersed erratically by the cold breezes. On a whim, she had brought up a small Christmas tree from below and set it on the table. She hadn’t been able to decide if it made the room feel more lonely, or less so; she liked it nonetheless. She had pulled a few votive candles from her apron pocket and set them on the table, and rummaged about in the kitchen until she found a box of matches (from Angelo’s, of course), and the bottle of Lagavulin a client had sent to the boys the year before, and that she guessed would still be there, inside the second shelf of the cupboard next to the fridge, likely more than half full – and yes, there it had been. 

She had poured a measure of whisky into a small glass, and brought it back with her to the main room, where she had turned off the overhead light and lit the candles. She'd begun a ritual that reoccurred on each of the 20ths: she allowed fond memories from years past to surface; turned over events from recent history in her mind, recalling what details she could; and engaged in idle speculation about alternative futures that might have been. January The next month she had visited in the afternoon, bringing her duster with her. She had fluttered silently about the sitting room as she feathered the surfaces of various objects and curios: the skull on the mantel, and the skull on the wall with the headphones; the microscope and a box of nicotine patches; a closed laptop. As she made a circuit around the room the physical sense of briefly touching each item as she scattered the dust felt something like the motion of prayer beads being turned about in one’s hands. She was strangely reluctant to dust where Sherlock’s violin case had been, its contours still clearly visible; she felt a bit silly about leaving it there, but she carried on. 

There were also some random items scattered about – the last person to have touched them being Sherlock himself, she thought, when he had set them down. She lightly touched the stereo record album covers near the turntable, wondering if they would spark memories for her of Sherlock's violin playing. But these were unfamiliar – one was a musical called Into the Woods, and one had an extremely disquieting picture on its cover, of a mirrored head on the floor, with the title in tiny type in the upper corner, Trouble Will Find Me. She shook her head, wistful -- that was certainly the truth, wasn’t it?

Underneath the two was a surprising find – an old book, authored by Groucho Marx, of all people, a cartoon picture of him on the dust jacket. She’d actually met the comic actor, back in her theatrical days; in between his bouts of wise-cracking, she’d found him to be a bit moody, and rather shy. She didn’t know if being in the flat was causing everything to remind her of Sherlock, but it occurred to her that he was very much like the funny man had been – gleefully firing off insults at the stuffy and the self-important. She was amused to see that it was a book of humor about paying taxes -- an exercise in showing he could make people laugh about the dullest of topics? -- and thought briefly about bringing it -- Many Happy Returns: An Unoffical Guide to Your Income-Tax Problems -- downstairs to read, but she left it where she had found it. She finished up with her task by dusting the coffee table, where there was a dvd case for The Day of the Jackal – with a rather distressing image of Charles de Gaulle with a bulls-eye target circle over his face – which lay on top of the soundtrack to The Princess Bride. That boy was nothing if not a bundle of contradictions, she reflected fondly.

February In February, she brought up some red paper poppies she'd found in a drawer when she'd been cleaning her flat, and she placed them in a tea cup as an ersatz arrangement. She made herself a cuppa and sat in a chair near the window, watching as the sunbeams filtered through the lace curtains, the patterns of light and dark shifting as time passed. After she rinsed out her cup, she had picked up the duster she’d left behind the last time she’d been there, and opened up the door to Sherlock’s room, lingering briefly in the door frame, letting the sadness flow gently through her chest.

Her gaze took in the neatly made bed and the nearly empty spareness of the floorspace, so unlike the sitting room -- and yet each room seemed to fit Sherlock’s personality equally well. She dusted off the dresser and then smoothed out the pillows, and then had moved to the bedside tables, picking up a set of books on the one nearest the door, and placing it on the bed while she cleaned the surface. More books, more very old books, starting to age into being antiques – such a wide range of topics caught Sherlock’s fancy! There was Tricks of the Master and Sensational Tales of Mystery Men by a Will Goldston, who apparently had been a stage performer, according to the back of the dust jacket; and M.R. James, A Warning to the Curious and Other Ghost Stories, which she herself would not consider to be bedtime reading, but then Sherlock was quite used to the macabre -- perhaps he had found it soothing.

She gave the silk dressing gown hanging from the back of the door a couple of pats, and then left, closing the door behind her, an odd feeling coming over that she was missing something, or had left something undone. She stood for a few moments, searching her mind, but nothing occurred to her, and she left to go downstairs and start making supper.

March John finally visited after she had sent him a text letting him know that quite a bit of mail with his name on it had collected; she hadn’t wanted to throw any of it away, and the accumulated items were rather bulky to post. She had been of two minds about mentioning the 20th as a possibility for him to drop by, but she decided if the date was significant in any way to him, and he’d like best to avoid Baker Street that day, that he was perfectly capable of suggesting an alternate. But he had said yes, and had, in fact, remarked that it would be something of commemorating an anniversary, and she had ageed, letting him have a glimpse of her secret.

They mounted the stairs together and gave each other conflicted smiles as they passed through the door to the flat. She had brought up a half dozen tulips -- two pairs of red and pink and one stem of yellow and one of orange. She explained about her monthly ritual, and how she preferred that to going to the cemetary; John had seemed to be pleased. He drifted along behind her as she moved about the flat, opening up the windows to air out the sitting room and the bedroom, and she chattered cheerfully about nonsense as best she could, to try and put him at his ease. Out of the corner of her eye she could see him slide his fingers across some of the items scattered about, and when they passed by the spot where the violin outline still remained, he gave her a smile conspiratorial smile.

He hadn't wanted to stay long, which was easy to see -- his posture was stiff, and when he stood in one place he shifted from foot to foot, and he'd begged off actually sitting down; that was fine, she understood.

She gave him his bundle of mail and teased him about the catalog picturing motorcycles barreling across rough terrain and snowboarders in mid-flight from a company named D30 that had arrived the week before, asking him if he was going to be taking up competitive motorsports anytime soon. She'd managed to wrangle the truest smile yet out of him, and he said, no, only cycling of the regular sort, as was manageable for stodgy middle aged men. She had hugged him tightly as he said good-bye at the top of the landing, and she had hoped it would not be so long as it had been previously, before she would see him again.

April On April 20th she brought up a bunch of dried lavender stems and set them up in a beaker, and then retrieved the tulips to toss into the bin and wash out the vase. As she held the expired flowers in her hand, she had a thought flit across her mind that something was not quite right; she shrugged, and threw them away, but then when she glanced at them before shutting the lid, it came to her -- yes, that was it, there was no yellow flower. She didn't think anyone had been upstairs; John and Mycroft would both have let her know if they were coming by, she was sure of it, although apparently one of them must have done so. Or she could just be misremembering the composition of the small bouquet; her memory wasn't what it once was, of course.

Putting the washed and dried vase back into the cupboard reminded her about the bottle of Lagavulin; today she thought she could do with a drink, and she brought it down from the other cupboard, and sat it on the counter. When she went to pour some into a glass, she was struck once more about something being odd -- was it that the level of the liquid in the bottle was lower than she had expected it to be? Had she had a larger portion than she remembered from her visit last December? It could be a memory lapse, of course; perhaps it was time to visit the doctor, although she really didn't want to be told that yes, her memory was going. Of course it had been near Christmas, and the first month after Sherlock's death -- perhaps she had imbibed more than she would customarily, because of the circumstances. Or perhaps John or Mycroft actually had been by. She decided it was nothing to fuss over.

When she walked back into the sitting room, she noticed that the door to Sherlock's room was open; she was certain she had closed it behind her the day of John's visit. She walked over and took a few steps inside; everything seemed as it had been the last time she was there. As she turned to leave, she thought she did catch a scent that hadn't been there in the months prior -- a woody scent she associated with Sherlock. Perhaps her moving about had set free some lingering molecules trapped inside some bit of fabric.

Or, perhaps her visits to the flat were becoming a bit too much for her, and her mind was having trouble letting Sherlock go. She decided it might be best to take a break, and skip her visits for the next month or so.

........................................................ @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @friday411 @peanitbear @original-welovethebeekeeper @helloliriels @a-victorian-girl @keirgreeneyes @starrla89 @naefelldaurk

@topsyturvy-turtely @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @jobooksncoffee @meetinginsamarra @solarmama-plantsareneat @bluebellofbakerstreet @dragonnan @safedistancefrombeingsmart @jolieblack

@msladysmith @ninasnakie @riversong912

.............................................................................

[thenighthekate]

He had a cigarette with his number on it ( t.k. )

My lips hold back the lava in my chest. The burning, consuming, encroaching destruction is hardening my resolve more than you could have guessed.

The cool Berlin's air outside the packed club seemed to calm her nerves, skin slightly glistening under the street lights as she leaned against the brick wall. Her head was spinning, brain dancing from the amount of alcohol now permanent in her system.

Multiple people scattered the alley's grounds for a smoke. Some tripping over their own feet as their friends tried to hold them up, others being babysitters and sober drivers for their drunk buddies. Her own girlfriends somewhere inside with guys they have found throughout the night.

As her mind slowly started to clear she rummaged through her purse to find the package she was looking for. Swiftly pulling out the box and placing the last cigarette between her lips. Her fingers let go of the plastic covered cardboard on a mission to find a lighter, matches, fire. Anything at this moment would work. But as her hand ran through the inside leather of her bag she was met with only a couple crumbled bills and her lipstick.

" Need a light?" After a few grunts and annoyed sighs she turned to the voice who called out for her, a slim hand stretched in front of her face with a lighter between its fingers. The girl's eyes ran from the person's palm to their bicep, neck and finally meeting their face.

He was attractive to say the least. Hair neatly done and braided, eyes swirling with deep chocolate and coffee, skin slightly tan under the yellow street lights, his lips pulled into a small smirk with a piercing on the right corner of his mouth.

" Thank you." She leaned down to meet him, his finger swiftly flicking the click making a flame appear in front of her face. Dragging in a breath she let the smoke swirl inside her lungs and intoxicate her brain before blowing it right out. The gray clouds traveling with wind and swirling around the man's head.

" So you around here?" One oh his hands were placed in the pocket of his baggy jeans, the other pulling his own joint back and forth.

" No. Just moved here, decided to celebrate tonight." She slightly nodded her head as she looked him in the eye, her voice was smooth. Soft satin against the rough whistles of the wind. He couldn't tear his gaze away from her lips, the soft pillows painted a crimson red, glistening each time she licked them and staining the end of her cigarette. The girl could tell he wanted to say more, indulge in a further conversation not just small talk, but a yell suddenly sounded over the forming crowd making the man in front of her turn his head.

" Those are my friends, they are waiting for me." He slowly turned to gaze at the girl once again, his fingers doing their own and finding the packet that held the nicotine he so much craved for. " I noticed you ran out," he lifted a cigarette to her eyesight, placing it in her open hand and watched her palm it, " it's for rainy days."

" It got your number on it?" She looked at him with a smirk, slightly not even believing her own eyes. " You give this to every girl?"

" Only for special occasions." He sent a flying smile her way before turning on his heel, his feet carrying him away before he looked back, caught her smirk and suddenly stopped. " Tom by the way!"

[skelliko]

kazutora hanemiya |°- identify discovered

๑- plot summary: y/n is in a different gang (wilder lands, (i made it up) ) but tries to hide her identity as a girl with a mask and ect, but then gets found out

a/n- [this is the first part of a fanfic I'm currently writing just out of boredom] nvm its on haitus

°- Kazutora hanemiya (Walhalla)

a little run-in was certainly not what they both expected, but it was something that the other wanted. upon seeing the person in front of kazutora with a black mask covering half of his face and a gang's jacket having the name 'wilder land' written downwards the left sleeve, it's made clear that he's the one that has infiltrated Walhalla's territory.

• the jacket is black all over and has the gangs symbol of a white rat from behind and as well as the name of the gang written downwards on one sleeve

• wears a mask to cover up her identity, for her daily life and so other members don't recognise her to be a girl

"you rat!" Kazutora immediately called out making y/n to get a little frightened due to her not needing this run-in so soon after some recent events that she previously had to deal with, she's not fully recovered enough to deal with this right now.

"shit" y/n whispered to herself before trying to sprint away from him, she knows her limits and doesn't dare to overstep them in case she misses a step, so running right now instead of getting into a 1V1 fight is the best option. but even then, stamina is still pretty low.

"oi don't run away you wuss!" kazutora yells from behind but soon enough the large gap they had when they first noticed each other was caught up and it was a close goose chase.

the mask that y/n wore didn't exactly help with her breathing so for a short moment she lowered it down below her chin so she could breathe properly, kazutora was behind so the only way he could see her was if he moved to the front.

turning corner to corner, and risking herself by running across roads hoping to not get hit by a car, it was getting exhausting and her legs were starting to get strained, even a stitch has developed on the side of y/n's stomach from running too much.

y/n ended up running into an abandoned warehouse with the first doors already wide open. old, broken crates and boxes sat by the sides and litter scattered around the floor such as empty bottles and wrapping, there's a high chance that it's probably someone's hideout but a good risk to take nevertheless if it means possible escape. y/n put the mask back on over her mouth and nose and stopped in her tracks to look past the doorway to see if the Walhalla's number 3 is still lingering by or not,

bending down a little to rest her hands above her knees to catch her breath while staring down the doorway without blinking, for a moment it seemed like she had managed to get away but that thought didn't relax her since anticipation floated around instead, and exactly then kazutora's shoes skit the gravel underneath him and stopped In front of the open doors where y/n's eyes were locked in at, "I'll snap your legs in half so you stop running!" he exclaims almost scarily enthusiastically, potential adrenaline kicking inside of him

panic flooded y/n making her jump slightly and upon instinct she whipped out a small blade from her pocket in case she had to engage in a fight, the silver blade glistened from the light and kazutora stopped in his tracks for a split second before he continued to keep moving, he both found this chase aggravating and entertaining. he certainly was the tiger and her being the rat.

her body trembled slightly from the strain that she had to endure and her mind was close to becoming foggy so she tried to run despite if doing so she wouldn't get anywhere far and instead just collapse on the ground, but it's still an option to take.

either run till you pass out or pass out getting beaten.

hurriedly running towards the other end of the warehouse where the two back doors are shut, upon reaching the two doors and almost painfully smashing the side of her shoulder against the door and wobbling the handle to try and open it but all it did was make the doors rattle, they were locked.

before she could do anything else a hard wack crossed the side of her face and a forceful arm took hold of her, as if a large snake had curled up and begun to choke her neck. kazutora had hit y/n and had placed her in a chokehold.

Kazutora won't admit but he had noticed an off feeling about the guy who he chased down, something such as a feminine feel but if questioned kazutora wouldn't be able to answer why, other than 'smaller than most'. but the thought immediately went away when he noticed the previous blade in the 'rats' hand was nearing Kazu's arm so with the other hand kazutora loosened the choke hold to grab hold of the blade resulting in Y/n being in no shape or position in having the higher advantage. other than her having propper airway now,

in this very moment she was weak, before the chase she was weak, maybe if caught at another time she wouldn't have been the rat.

kazutora inspected the blade that was now in his hands for a second or two before waving it around next to the side of y/n's face out of humour, nausea grew over her and almost nothing made sense to her anymore, was it the sprinting in the cold weather making her temperature jump from hot to cold?

"shouldn't play with knives" he mocks and a smile crosses over his lips, his eyes then fell onto the black mask and curiosity flooded his mind, "firstly, let's see what's under the mask ey? gotta know who's the one trying to sneak out information" kazutora then pinched the middle of the mask and forced it off from her with the straps sliding over her ears.

y/n's warm body from when she started to feel sick then fell back down into a normal temperature as cool air flowed through her mouth. she's aware of what's happening, and is aware that if she tried to move she'd only struggle, so the only option she had was to face it, deal with it and just suck it up.

in kazutora's mind, who was known to be a 'boy' is actually a girl. he stared at her not him for what felt like both a long and short moment. he didn't know what to do, he couldn't tell if his eyes were even working, maybe this person in front of him is actually a guy but just looks like a girl??

"you gonna keep staring or what?" y/n finally spoke, a bit of a worn out, raspy voice was heard but her voice was certainly one a girl would have. at that moment kazutora realised it was his first time hearing the person talk but also at that moment realising that person is a girl.

"you..." he let go of her and took two quick steps backwards but gripped the blade that he had previously taken off from her. he didn't know what to think, the whole time that's a girl? his eyes darted all across her, from head to toe and was unsure if he should still try to attack or not. despite being an enemy of Toman, old habits and rules still stick by him, to not harm girls. but nevertheless, if she were to lunge forwards he wouldn't hesitate to fight back.

y/n also took a few steps backwards and turned around to face him while bringing up a hand up to where she previously got hit, a hint of awkwardness lingered between the two as any clear direction of what to do next was pretty much out of the window

y/n hesitated briefly upon speaking up, biting her lower lip as her eyes darted around kazutora not daring to take her eyes off him, pain from when he had hit her previously rose up on the side of her temple making her endure the pressure, she cleared her throat briefly before finally speaking up "will you... rat me out?"

though right after this words were spoken she cringed, why wouldn't he tell her secret out? she's been lying about being a guy for quite some time and even then she's the one that infiltrated his hideout to evedrop and be a secret nuisance

"why shouldn't I?" he straightened himself up a bit but still had his guard up and shifted the knife in his grasp. 'not a bad looker' he briefly thought but that wasn't his main thought at all,

"don't know. forget I asked" she replied almost immediately after,

"...I'm gonna quickly ignore the reveal and cut to the main part for now, the fuck were to doing spying on us and what do you know?" he firmly spoke up,

"what if I don't say anything?" knowing that playing around and testing the waters isn't the best option but considering how he reacted when realising that y/n is a girl and chose to let go of her that couldn't be ignored and instead used as an advantage

"you-! I would have punched you so hard if you were a guy!"

"no please do, I know I fucked up so I'll take a hit, i can put back on my male persona so it's easier for you, just please hit me" she sounded desperate with the thought of feeling physical pain other than being pained that she will soon enough have nowhere to belong if this secret gets out, what else is there for her?

a lot actually, but she doesn't want that.

"the hells wrong with you now? just what kind of secrets are you hiding?" he took a singular and small step forwards but all y/n did was shuffle her footing only going back by an inch.

"okay maybe that came out a little unexpected but I have all the reasons but none to give" she admitted

"stop trying to say smart things and just spit the information out would you! I don't have the time and I won't make time" he's clearly growing impatient

"I fucked up, that's all! I thought I was doing the right thing cause you can't keep your guys in control and their prowling around our turf so why couldn't I?" she busted the word out

"stupidity is all I hear, I can't even tell if that's a lie or the truth seeing its coming out from you..."

"...I'm still conflicted about you being a girl, how do you get away with that so easily?" he was starting to get cautious now and pry interest into the topic "and most of all why?"

"wasn't and isn't easy for various reasons but the reason for why i did all this in the first place is something that i cant and simply won't share, i aint one to just give out personal information like that"

"oh? so you can sneak into our hideout, pry around when we're not looking and listen in into our conversations and run around freely but cant say why you pretended to be a guy? why a girl like you chose to live the lifestyle of gangs and violence?" kazutora became a bit more intimidating and if not that, then definitely a lot more forward and critical while walking closer to her,

"tell me, why does a girl like you think that you have what it takes? why do you carry around a knife but can't use? all you can do is run around and act like you know what you're doing but you don't" he brought the knife up and pointed it at her chin before speaking up again, "quit playing pretend and actually become useful for something, delinquency or harsh reality isn't meant for you"

whilst still pointing the knife at her he took a step backwards and let go of it letting it hit the smooth, yet worn out and jagged concrete with a clang, he looked at y/n as if he was searching some sort of reaction from her but all he could find was nothing, just dull eyes and an expression that can't be explained which he considered to be strange but without sparing another second he started to walk away in the direction of the first entrance to the warehouse.

in his mind he thought of y/n to be like any other girl, weak-minded and secretly has a perfect life, a little spoiled and has a functioning family. but that's far from the reality that he's unaware of, he can't help but think that she was trying to prove something that she can't prove and never will be. maybe to what y/n had heard kazutora say to be mean but to himself he considers that to be a teaching for her to try and not get involved in places where she knows she doesn't belong in.

though he barely knows her and doesn't even know her name, which thinking of that now made him slow down his walking and debate on going back, but what would he gain from a name of a random girl? so he just kept on walking.

even with hearing footsteps hitting the gravel from behind him he kept walking away not expecting much from the girl, though that was mistaken cause his steady balance was taken away and he fell flat forwards and heavy pressure was placed on his back, his chest pressed against the sharp graven was like laying down on bent screws.

the side of kazutora's head was laid down on the ground and his eyes looking up at y/n,

he could have easily tried and pushed her off to the side and gotten up however one thing that did fully register in his mind was a sharp, metal point underneath his jaw. the previous knife.

"I expect you to keep it a secret, I didn't gain shit from walking into your turf so there's no need for you to gain anything from this" she spoke quite harshly but never rose her voice,

one knee pressed against the upper center of kazutora's back and with one hand she took hold of one of his wrists and forced his arm down to the gravel while with her other hand she dug in the blade into his skin, she only dug a little, enough for it to cause discomfort as the very tip of the blade is hidden from skin being pressed inwards.

"your not gonna do anything" kazutora spoke through his teeth

"no I won't, but that doesn't mean I don't have an advantage, I mean I could probably give you a neat scar... or better yet ruin that tattoo"

"don't try and speak all highly, the hell is it with you?" he spoke back, barely reacting to the situation

"I'm sure it's quite obvious what I want, I don't need you running your mouth around and ruining what I have, i-"

and just then it seemed like y/n's strength wasn't able to pin kazutora down for long, that must have been obvious when pressing a knee down to his back since his stiff back could be felt, and also the hand size comparison when she took hold of his wrist.

y/n was now on her back and it was a painful pin due to the gravel and the different-sized rocks scattered around outside the warehouse, how she knows how he felt around the ribs

kazutora is now sat on top of her with one hand holding both of her wrists together and with the other hand he pointed the blade that he took away by twisting her wrist, the blade under her chin quite similar to before but now touching her skin how she did to him.

"you bitch" y/n whispered but it was clear enough for anyone to hear that so happen to be as close as kazutora is

"I wanna know why your so keen on being kept in a gang? do you hate baking cupcakes? do you not have any friend's? why don't you go home and watch some sappy romcom"

"your just thinking of a stereotypical girl" this is getting awfully annoying for her but same goes for him having to deal with this,

but just then a thought appeared, why not try and pester him a little. "what happened to you being in toman? I thought they were all about keeping a girl safe" she then tried to move her wrists away since he was holding them up and not pinned down but that was useless because it did more bad than good cause it made her shoulderblades to dig deeper into the gravel and him just pulling her hands back like a leash to an eager dog

"the fuck you say?" clear anger and almost confusion filled his expression, even his grip around her wrists increased and he began to dig his short nails into her skin making her to hold her breath

he leaned down just a little "Mention toman again and ill make sure you understand how much things are different from then to now" his whole mood has switched up, sure previously he was already quite annoyed but this is completely different

"don't mention anything about me then, and I won't tell anyone about there's a spy working for you"

he lowered his chin a little as his mind began to think of what she meant but then it finally clicked, kisaki. 

he couldn't help but stay silent for a brief moment, 'so she does know something after all, if she knows that much then certainly she knows everything else' he avoided eye contact with her and looked off to the side, he stopped digging his nails into her skin and relaxed a little causing the knife that he was holding to loosen a little away from her skin, but didn't let go.

after a few seconds y/n spoke up but then got cut off,

"so what does that-?"

"Why don't you shut up! should have kept the mask on so I really could've punched you"

his mood is currently all over the place, jumping from line to line between being angry and annoyed to needing to admit defeat and sort things out quickly. he can't stay here forever.

being a girl really does have its advantages, but that doesn't mean it'd work for everyone or simply anyone, just got lucky that it was at least kazutora who used to be in toman that was learnt not to harm girls, if it were any other walhalla member then y/n would have definitely had a few broken fingers so that she would never be able to pick up a knife or let alone a fork.

after another short moment of silence and tension kazutora made a move and drew back the blade as well as slowly let go of her wrists, he got off from her but couldn't help but feel a little humiliated by the whole situation and the position.

"I'm keeping the blade" is all he said as he took a few steps away and turned back to look at her

"on cmon don't be a prick" she protested and sat up from the ground, wincing a little as the gravel fell down from the back but the relief quickly flooded over her upon him being off of her,

kazutora turned back around briefly, "me being a prick would be telling everyone just who you are and nailing you inside of one of those empty crates-" he pointed at the open door to the warehouse that had some crates inside "-and me being stupid would be to give it back the second time"

he did have a fair point, not so long ago he was being threatened with it. she scoffed and stood up from the ground and brushed down any dust and dirt that stuck to her clothes, "fair enough" she mumbled not exactly wanting to admit it

"What's your name?" he wants to at least know something more. clogs are still turning in his head as he's still trying to process it all, the rival gang member that is occasionally seen around Walhalla's territory as if he's searching for something... has always been a girl,

she thought about it a little before replying, though the name that she gave was her fake name. the name she uses in the life of delinquency.

"f/n"

"only giving one name? fine by me" kazutora knew it was a fake, but trying to interrogate something small as a name would be pointless, he'd seen her around before and would definitely see her again. except with some change, still an enemy though.

"Okay f/n... tell me how much you know about Walhalla and what you've heard and I won't say a thing about you" he took a step forward prepared to grab hold of her if she tried to run, even though there was no good in running

she shuffled her footing a little and thought of a good response before replying,

"enough to know that 'wilder lands' and 'tokyo manji' could be potential allies, if not, then be on mutual terms. enough information to make your plans fail"

she spoke confidently but inside her mind, she wasn't even sure, and one thing that did come out of kazutora was clear annoyance and even disgust as she spoke about allying with Toman, so freely too.

Walhalla is just a mix of Tokyo manji haters with past grudges and unresolved fights.

"just cut the crap and spit it out, I don't need to keep asking"

"no one's asking you to do that. you already know what I know and I know what you know about me. let's just leave it at that, you wouldn't want anyone to see us having a little chit-chat making suspicions, would you?"

she tried to get him to lay it off but also make his nerves flame up.

he was practically looking down on her, girl or not she's still a rival, a pest that won't go away that thinks they're in a clear just cause no one noticed them, or maybe they have noticed but can't do anything about it due to other, bigger concerns.

which in his case would be to firstly take down Tokyo manji.

'Wilder Lands' and 'Walhalla' can barely be called enemies but also nowhere near being mutual. They're not at each other's throats, digging daggers into their ribs but instead throwing little pins at the back of their necks back and forth,

fights sometimes tend to break out both day and night between the two different members, using punches and kicks and even to play dirty with bats and pipes on some good days. but then go to not even bat an eye at each other the second they've gone 5cm past.

a lot of the time it's always the same people though, at this point it's like a constant rematch but no one's counting points.

how did all that even start? from an over arrogant Walhalla member bickering with a 'wilder lands' and constant words being spat at each other, from that point onwards it just grew to be a moment to waste time from both sides and have an excuse to hate.

sometimes it gets out of hand though, it's not always pathetic bickering but also some broken bones and jaws if not stopped quickly. currently not all fun and games.

--

kazutora dropped the topic and watched as y/n took out a new black mask from her trouser pocket. her previous one was taken off and dropped on the floor back in the warehouse just a few steps away from them, it's probably all dusty and filthy.

"now that I look at you, you sure don't seem all that of a guy" he connected a few dots from before and now and compared her to any other guy. even with the baggy uniform more points clicked in his mind.

"just shut up and leave" she rolled her eyes at his comment but didn't ignore it, 'i should probably try and do more work on my disguise, probably try using make-up or something' even though that's not exactly the main problem.

but he still hadn't left, kazutora still lingered by with more questions. "how long have you been part of the whole thing? and can you even fight?- how are you even still alive?" thought he was more or so mocking her rather than being curious

"long enough, I'm leaving" is all she had to say before turning around and walking off, occasionally would turn her head back to see if he was still there but by the second turn she saw his back walking away in the opposite direction.

she wasn't there to have a little chat, though neither was kazutora, he just wanted to see if he could get something out of her, though y/n was sure not to give too much Information about herself even though the questions he asked weren't all that personal but trust issue always poked at her brain and told her to shut up.

they'll definitely meet again but under different circumstances than before.

 ♡----

[safeturnip]

acorn-cerning surprise

words: 1.8k

characters: the snails. GeminiTay, Grian, Joel Smallishbeans. (ish. Gem and Grian and Joel are here in spirit)

summary: snail shenanigans!! featuring acorns and Joel's cyberpunk city

AO3 link

***

It was a lovely day on Hermitcraft, and there was a pair of horrible snails. 

The intricate machinery of the airship they had been left in rattled and clanked, the heat exuded from the engines warming the polished wood of the room the snails had taken over with their series of challenges. It had been weeks since their latest target had participated in their game, winning back some of his items with a confident promise to return for the rest. He’d never returned, and the snails were bored out of their limited number of brain cells. They weren’t meant for this feeling of idleness, of sitting in place and waiting. The blue snail twitched an eye at its pink companion, who responded by dropping down from the ceiling and making its slimy way towards the door. The snails abandoned their commandeered airship, dropping off the edge and tucking their bodies into their shells to bounce safely off the ground, setting out to find another source of entertainment. 

The noontime sun was high in the sky and the snails were sluggish—or snailish, as the case may be—as they sloped their way across the terrain towards the cherry tree–covered plateau in the distance. The landscape unfolded before them, almost overwhelming to such small creatures: Waves of rippling grass, a river that wound its way toward the sea, a giant stone pyramid constructed from shades of black and grey and white. They passed through a small village with palm trees scattered here and there amidst the nondescript brown buildings, where, in the distance, a metal satellite dish on the top of a repurposed fortress caught and reflected the sun. 

(They did not go near the ocean that skimmed this village’s edge. There was something about the hidden depths that caused an instinctive, primal dread, even in this pair of molluscs who never felt emotions like fear.)

It was at the area where cyan and red and brown buildings had been built into the side of the mountain behind them, where soil transitioned to salt-crusted wood beneath their feet, that the snails’ journey came to a stop. 

Before them was a pile of acorns—not the sort made by squirrels storing food for the winter, more like the sort made by squirrels storing food for several winters, and also the apocalypse. Acorns of all shapes and sizes and colours were all stacked on top of each other: Golden acorns with a proud, glossy sheen; large, dark brown acorns with dull and scratched surfaces; small acorns that were an unripe green, their rough, bristly caps pulled low over their heads. They were piled so precariously atop each other that even the lightest gust of briney wind would cause a cascade of acorns to tumble down and roll across the wooden ground. 

As the pair of mischief-seeking snails regarded this shifting pile of acorns, they experienced something truly remarkable: Their shared two brain cells drifting close enough to form a synapse of coherent thought, an extremely rare occurrence for these gastropods. They had a brilliant idea for what to do with this surprise gift they'd happened upon. In unison, two pairs of glassy black eyes rotated towards the nearby cyber-city, with its neon lights and bright colours and skyscrapers that strove determinedly upwards as if they wanted to touch the sun. Perfect.

These snails did not have the means or equipment to move the acorns, did not possess pockets or bags or even shulker boxes, never mind the sheer amount of acorns that had to be moved. And what an amount it was! The acorns must have numbered in the thousands. If the snails could do maths, they would've counted 10,758 precisely; unfortunately they did not have the brain convolutions needed to count that high. All they needed to know—and all that they did know—was that it was truly a staggering amount of acorns, perfect for the mischief they had planned.  Yet despite this lack of any form of transport, somehow these clever snails managed to drag their soon-to-be prank all the way around the circumference of the hollowed out mountain to the base of the colourful, cramped city.

(If these snails had a working memory, they would have thought back wistfully to their getaway helicopter that they’d used to steal someone’s diamonds ages ago. Unfortunately, they had the memory of a river stone: nonexistent.) 

Like the snails, the city was a nocturnal organism, slowly shaking itself to life as the sun dipped below the horizon. Lights blinked open and flickered on in the dark, heat emanated from buildings and caused the cool evening air to shimmer, electricity raced and tumbled over itself through the glass tubing of neon signs. The quiet of the night made the ceaseless sounds of the city even more apparent; the murmur of pipes that spanned both the height and width of buildings, the whisper of curtains being whisked shut in penthouses at the top of the tallest skyscrapers, the low creak of window shutters drifting open and shut. The city was built in a fashion where—because it had no space to expand outward—it was forced to instead extend upward like a tree whose roots had split open the rock face of a mountain after finding no more room to grow. Buildings were nestled so close together that they seemed to merge into one huge mass of concrete and metal, until you looked closer and spotted the narrow, winding alleyways that separated them. 

Once the sun had fully set, the snails got to work. 

They went about their task silently and wordlessly—there was no other way a snail could do a task, after all, owing to the absence of vocal cords or teeth or a palate. Knowing that its wormy companion was still very new, the blue snail took the lead, demonstrating where best to deposit acorns in places that would be the most annoying. Acorns scattered in the middle of footpaths to catch unsuspecting feet, stuffed between wooden planks of building walls directly at eye level so that they would be impossible to miss, handfuls placed precariously on narrow railings so that they would tumble to the ground in a cheerful clatter if someone brushed close by them. The pink snail caught on quickly. 

The snails were in no rush. They knew the creator of this city was occupied by the game far away in the shopping district of water and ravagers, lily pads and the tranquil glow of froglights. It was highly likely that they would have the entire night to lay out this prank, and maybe even part of the morning too, if they needed. 

Underneath the glow of neon lights, the snails glided over this ecosystem of concrete and metal and glass and stone, depositing acorns as they went. Trails of slime were left everywhere in their wake, less so incriminating evidence forgotten behind by an amateur and more of a calling card placed deliberately at the scene of a crime. Acorns were stuck in the canvas banners that hung along the sides of storefronts, tucked into the dress folds of a statue of an ancient ocean goddess, dropped into the pools of the bath house and the ponds in the gardens dotted around the city. Acorns were placed in the eye sockets and mouths of the horse heads that decorated a fountain built before a glowing purple portal, hidden in the many, many chests scattered in the streets and buildings. The blue snail even left an acorn in a beehive located in the honey farm, and was almost stung by a very angry bee in the process. The snails stayed away from the beehives after that. 

Despite having no hands or fingers, the snails were still able to place acorns in the most dexterous of places, like between books placed tightly together in bookshelves and along the tops of door frames. What talented molluscs! Anyone watching them work would be impressed. 

About halfway through the night, the blue snail began crawling up the gate that separated this cyber-city from its neighboring cyber-city, its pink friend following closely behind. The gate was a towering giant of deep red wood and dark stone, with ends that curved upwards toward the sky like the fingers of a cupped hand. At the top of the gate, the blue snail began to lay out a line of acorns—not the smartest idea, seeing as how a strong wind would immediately blow all the acorns off the gate. If snails could roll their eyes, that was what the pink snail would be doing right now. But, due to the lack of eye sockets and extraocular muscles, the most it could do was wiggle its eye stalks around. Its friend continued to deposit acorns along the topmost part of the gate, unbothered, moisturized, happy, in its lane, focused, and flourishing. 

(As this liberal distribution of acorns went on, the wormy snail began to do the dastardly thing of wedging everything that could be wedged open with an acorn, sticking acorns into the hinges of doors and windows in a way that let them close only halfway. The blue snail was so proud.)

The pesky snails were beginning to run out of both acorns and places to hide said acorns. They crammed the mailbox full to the brim with acorns, popped acorns into the pockets of the workers in the industrial buildings, who merely side-eyed the snails and hummed in disgruntlement, and—oh no, they’d managed to get an acorn wedged in the mechanism of the glow berry farm. Oh well. No one ever bought glow berries anyways. 

The moon continued its journey across the sky, and the stock of acorns continued to dwindle down into nothing, signaling the completion of this snail acorn prank. This snailcorn prank. 

Finally, as the sun began to drift upwards and the sky lightened to shades of peach and lavender and pink, the job was done. Nestled in the hand of the giant gorilla armour stand perched at the top of a skyscraper, the two snails took a brief moment to admire their work: Hundreds and hundreds of acorns scattered and littered and tucked away in every imaginable nook and cranny of this towering electric city. Even with their limited intelligence, the snails knew that this prank didn’t seem especially impressive or aggravating right now. No, the fun will start when the owner of this city finds the acorns. When he will continue to find the acorns. And it seemed for a brief moment that they wished—well, not wished, exactly, they didn’t have the mental capacity for that—they had a flicker, beginning, suggestion of thought about having a set of lungs and a diaphragm like a human in order to laugh themselves to stitches over their job well done. 

Through a bob of a pink head and an answering downward tilt of a blue shell, the two gastropods seemed to come to an understanding. It was time to return to their snaily airship for a well-deserved nap. 

And in the distance, there and gone so fast that it could be dismissed as a trick of the light, was a flutter of wings and a flash of bright orange hair.

[the-kr8tor]

Okay listen the reason I made R throw hands is cus I was salty at one of my friends (who I kinda...maybe...have a tiny itty bitty little crush on) kept complimenting my smile and I can't handle affection well so I had to self project ALSO THE NEW CHAPTER? I NEED TO READ IT BUT I GOTTA STUDY (I read like half and I am speechless istg i love ur writing katy- it's insane how much you've improved from ur first fanfic to now) Daily Hobie HC! Love languages time- personally, I think he's all of them (+teasing), both giving and receiving. Hobie likes to know that you're there with him, whether it's holding onto the pinkie of your hand with his or looping a finger into your belt loops. Subtle, nonchalant clinginess, basically. Unless he feels like being an ass. He'll sometimes come up behind you and lightly tap your hips, letting you know he's there as he just unwinds silently, leaning against your back with his face buried into your hair. His arms are usually wrapped around your waist, resting lazily there as he calms his mind with your presence. (Or perhaps, if you're like my sona and wear layered necklaces, he'll gently attempt to untangle them) In large crowds, in order not to lose you, Hobie will silently loop a finger through your beltloops, or slip his hand onto your pocket, or even just grip the edges of your pocket. Whatever gets him to be able to at least hold you, in a way, he's happy. With gift-giving, no doubt he'll be leaving little trinkets with notes attached to them. Sometimes, it's something from his inter-dimensional travels, or just a nice smelling candle he nicked that he thought you might've liked. The notes he leaves with these little gifts always manage to make you smile, with a tiny doodle of you and him, a few scribbly love hearts around both of you as well. No doubt you have a little box dedicated to these sticky notes, always bein sure to put them in immediately after receiving them. Unbeknownst to him, you pull that box out and look over the doodles whenever you feel a bit too worried about him, and it calms your nerves easy. Quality time with Hobie is always amusing one way or another. Whether it's a sleepover leading to you waking up to him DIY-ing another leather jacket on the floor with silver studs scattered every where, or both of you just have a relaxing time painting each other's nails, or even allowing you to colour in his tattoos as he dozes off. If you're currently struggling to overcome something, he's your number one supporter, and always by your side. He'll always make sure you know how much he's proud of you, planting little kisses on your shoulder and muttering how well you're going. He'll murmur how much he loves you against your lips as you kiss a hundred times if he needed to. Hobie is always up for doing something for you if you're dealing with something, cue the multiple times he's helped you through stress or periods or just overall with life. Although he isn't really the best therapist, he'll still let you rant to him while he focuses on making some snacks for you, simply just making you 'sit there and look pretty', while in reality you're watching him carefully to make sure he doesn't try to blow anything up. Istg I'm getting jumped rn it aint letting me do these daily hobie hcs >:( -🐦‍⬛

🐦‍⬛ anon is actually Y/N bc you're having a friends to lovers arc innit?

Study first! You can read it after like a lil treat! Thank you so much 🥹 I think my writing has stagnated a bit but I'm glad to hear that it hasn't! Ly muah i needed that ❤️

DAILY HOBIE HC!! 🎉

Oh i forever stand by the fact that he loooooveesss pulling you in by your belt loops 🥴 highkey my favourite trope ever

AS SOMEONE WHO WEARS LAYERED NECKLACES I LOVE THAT YES PLSS I NEED HIM TO UNTANGLE MY NECKLACES!!!

The little doodles with the notes oh im dying that's so sweet i want that 😍🥹🥹🥹 (when will it be my turn?)

Colouring in his tattoos!!!!! So cute! Until you accidentally use permanent marker 😂😂😂

Who's jumping you? Imma throw hands real quick!

[acotrash]

Roadtrip -Cassian

Cassian head canons

For Cassian, summer meant one thing and one thing only- road trips.

He loved road trips, the summer he turned 16 he convinced his two brothers to squeeze into that beat up cherry red truck and just start driving the day after school let out

That lasted for only a few hours before their mother noticed them missing, but Cassian loved that adventure, windows down, music blaring, the open road. They did it every summer since

You had to learn to love and accept the road trips, you were the exact opposite of Cassian in almost every way. He was carefree and you were careful and guarded. He liked to go where life took him, and you planned out everything.

The first roadtrip you and Cassian went on was a challenge for you. You stood in your bedroom, clothes scattered around your room with an empty suitcase on your bed. "Cass, just please tell me a general location so I know what to pack." Cass had barely even looked up from his phone "No can do (y/n)"

You let out a huff as you looked at your boyfriend of almost a year "And why is that?" he shrugged "because I don't know where we're going, we're just going to see where the road takes us"

You hated that sentence, you blinked hoping Cass would peek up and laugh at your expression. He did no such thing

The next day you were sitting shotgun, and there was still no destination. You didn't like not knowing where you were headed, the first hour you hated the drive, by the second you wished Cassian would stop asking to pick a number exit to get off at, or which way to turn and to just pick a place; beach, woods, city, small town, something.

By the end of the first day you were ready to ask him to drive back home, that maybe this was something for him and his brothers but not you. It was only the end of the second day during sunset that Cassian pulled up next to some beach that you didn't hate it.

The windows were down, Cass had his hair tucked in a baseball hat that was backwards and your hair was in a messy knot at the top of your head. There was some country song playing on the radio.

Cassian asked you if you wanted to stop for the night, take a walk on the beach.

On that beach, you saw how happy this trip made Cass. You stayed a few days at the beach in a shitty motel room and hated the room but loved seeing Cass so happy.

So every year, you sucked it up for a few days just to see the smile on his face.

You still got annoyed that he couldn't pick a place, he claims that it took the magic out of it. It also drove you nuts how there was little to no warning about when you two would leave for the roadtrip. Sometimes his brothers would join, sometimes they wouldn't. It was very much thrown together and that drove you nuts how you had so little time to plan.

But this time, Cassian surprised you as he walked into the room you shared with him, carrying your suitcase. He placed it on the bed. "We're going to the beach"

That was all that he would tell you

You were confused as to why he suddenly told you where you were going but you still wanted more. What beach, how long, how much time do I have to pack

He was silent the entire drive, a ghost of a smile on his lips with the radio playing and you badgering him the entire time about what his plans were

You two got to the beach around sunset, Cassian looked over at you. "Walk on the beach?"

He was silent as you two walked on the beach, the tide coming to your ankles and he kept toying with your fingers as he held your hand before he finally tugged you to face him

He raked his fingers through his hair, breathing out a short breath and you were concerned. "You okay?"

Instead of answering your question he looked at you asking if you remember this beach and your first trip together, you snorted because how could you forget? You were dead set on hating the entire thing until you got to the beach. You nodded

Cassian produced a small box from his pocket, kneeling right in the water, "that's why I brought you here, to where it all started, promise me many more roadtrips and many more years? Marry me (y/n)?"

And you jumped on him, both of you in the water as you said yes

[luluwquidprocrow]

like a row of captured ghosts

kit snicket

teen

2,568 words

Kit Snicket visits a house in the city.

for @asouefanworkevent's woevember day 2, the baudelaire mansion! featuring my enduring headcanon that the baudelaire mansion was previously the snicket mansion, and b+b get it when they marry lemony. i am 100% willing to admit it is Unlikely, however let us not forget kit saying “our families have always been close”, so, yknow

title from welcome home by radical face

Kit could get in if she wanted. She’d been given lockpicks expressly for the purpose, because the locks on the house were special, but she didn’t need them. She knew the statue in the back of the garden had a hairline crack in one of the hands – she didn’t remember which one, but it wasn’t as if there were many options – that, when pressure was applied, opened a brick in the patio. Under the brick was a lever. If one were to pull the lever, the little window in the hidden attic opened, roof shingles shifting out of the way, and one could wiggle themselves in, with enough effort. Her grandfather had put a number of clever little secrets in the house, and Kit had gone looking for them when she was very, very young, so she knew a decent amount of them. Few others did. 

(The lockpicks confirmed that. If they thought that was the only way someone could get into the house, Kit was not going to correct them. And there were worse things, weren’t there, than simple theft, things for which no real defense existed.) 

Night air bit at her ankles, her fingers, her neck. She wasn’t dressed nearly warm enough for November, having grabbed her blue spring jacket in her hurry, but the cold was of little concern to her. The mansion stood across the street, set back from the road, with that winding brick path up to the front doors, the maple trees scattering their leaves around the yard. It was in the heart of the city but in a place one would never know unless explicitly looked for – a turn off an erroneously marked dead end, then another, to an old avenue along a river with more trees than houses. Her grandparents had picked it on purpose. Presumably safe, but close enough. 

They had added to the windows. Neat, decorative ironwork, curled into hearts and vines. 

Kit put her hands in her pockets and crossed the street, her footsteps the only noise. 

The fence out front had been replaced as well. Kit’s grandmother had done most of the architecture, and Bernadette Snicket had favored a simplistic, practical style in her work, but the new fence matched the intricacy of the window grates. That just-too-big space in the bars a person could slide themselves through if they desired, that Kit had, years ago, when she’d – that was gone. Kit walked the length of the fence twice, considering. She couldn’t linger long. There was a light on in a downstairs window, glowing soft behind the drawn curtains. Kit could not put it past them to eventually see her. She walked down the sidewalk one more time, picking up her pace. There was no way around the fence. Climbing over it didn’t seem like an option. The points at the top of each iron bar looked sharp, glinting in a stray hit of light from the streetlamp over near Kit’s car. 

(Kit wondered how much was a choice – how much was a needed decision – how much was meant to erase. She couldn’t judge Beatrice and Bertrand for that. Not without damning herself, which Kit was not, overall, in the habit of doing.) 

Of course there was a sewer grate nearby, and of course Kit pushed it up soundlessly and slipped down inside. 

Her grandfather had three boxes – one Kit had already taken some years ago and given to Bertrand, for reasons better left unsaid. One had been given to Lemony. The third was still in the house and held a very specific map of the city. Headquarters wanted it, among other things. And if Kit came across one of those other things, she was at her liberty to take them. 

(She and Beatrice had argued, Kit remembered. The sewer was dark and icy, and Kit shivered hard, grinding her teeth together. They’d argued about those other things, and Kit had not been able to give Beatrice, or herself, a satisfactory answer. It was one of the last conversations they had, if not the last. Most likely the last, if Kit was honest. Beatrice had made it clear where she and Bertrand stood, and where Kit stood, and that it was no longer in the same place. And it never would be. 

Kit told herself over and over that she would never do it. There would always be another option, as long as Beatrice and Bertrand were alive to emphatically refuse. Right now, there was this option – Kit was going into the house. She was taking the box back. Nothing else. And the box wasn’t even going to headquarters. There were other plans for that box.) 

The box would be in the downstairs office, under a floorboard. Probably Bertrand’s office. The windows were one of the ones her grandmother had put the stained glass in, and shards of blue fell over the green floor when the sun sat just right in the sky. It was a good room for thinking, and Bertrand likely did a great deal of it there. Kit swallowed and hurried further through the sewers, past the names that didn’t matter, and started scanning the curved ceiling. If one knew where to look, there was a sloped hatch up there that led up into the passage between the house and 667 Dark Avenue. Kit would open the hatch, get inside, go into the house, and then leave the same way. And there it was. Tucked in a shadow, just waiting for her. Kit reached up for the wheel, ready to heave the door open. It was going to stick with so little use. 

The wheel turned easy under her hands. 

Kit jerked back, her whole body seizing up. Someone had been here. Someone who was not her. Someone who wasn’t just checking. Kit spun the wheel frantically and the hatch fell open. 

(She’d brought Olaf here. Her grandparents hadn’t cared who knew the location of their house, but their generation had been different, and Kit’s parents had stressed, when they could, the importance of keeping this secret. Her associates thought it was a safehouse, one they could never quite find the location of, and wrote off as another ruse. She’d driven Olaf, pointing out landmarks the whole way, because she’d thought – 

Kit was not foolish enough to think she’d get married. But Olaf was important to her, and she was foolish enough to think he’d stay important, and that when Lemony inevitably married Beatrice and they took the house, Olaf would be there too.

They crept in through the fence. Olaf chased her around the maple trees. Kit took him into the house through the font doors and showed him what her grandparents built. And he understood what the Snicket mansion meant, in the way he had to understand what the Count’s mansion meant. Some time later, Kit realized he had not. 

Olaf’s memory was shit, except where it mattered. Except in the things she wanted him to forget. He’d remember where this house was and it was only a matter of time before he – before anyone – got their hands on the Baudelaires.)

Kit hoisted herself up into the passageway. She tugged the hatch closed behind her, then felt around in the black for the dip in the center. Her fingers kept slipping, shaking, pushing into metal that wasn’t right, nicking her nails, her heart thudding faster and faster in her chest and rising to a crash in her ears – where was it? There. She found the button and jammed her thumb into it. The metal hissed as it sealed from the inside. It wasn’t enough, Kit knew. Nothing would ever be enough now. But it would have to do. 

She ran along the passageway, keeping one hand on the wall. It came to an abrupt end, and Kit had her hand ready to pull open the trap door into the office when her mouth went dry. She swallowed, and then did it again. Once more. She let the trap door fall open and climbed into the Baudelaire mansion. 

The office was dark, as expected. Bertrand kept his desk by the windows, because of course he would. Not because Kit’s grandfather had, but because Bertrand would obviously like the view. The bookcases still lined the walls, but the books must surely be different. Kit wondered what he kept there, but there was no time to get into it. She could see the strip of light hovering under the door. It was poetry, probably. He probably kept poetry. Fairy tales he read to his children. The chair at his desk was different than the one her grandfather had there, perfect for sitting in and telling stories. She turned and faced the wall.

The floorboard was in the far left corner, at the front of the room. Kit moved slowly, quietly, barely breathing. Bertrand had covered the whole floor with a thick, heavy carpet, so at least that was in her favor. She bent down, tugging the corner of the carpet up, and lifted the single loose floorboard. 

(She always wound up doing this, she thought, in a voice that sounded stunningly like Lemony’s, wry as he ever was. Sneaking into someplace to steal something important. At least now she had experience.) 

There it was. Just as it had always been, another secret waiting for its time. The small, jeweled box with the complicated lock with the code her grandfather had taught all three of them. Kit tucked it inside her jacket and replaced the floorboard. 

It hit her like a shot, her breath catching in her throat. The sewer hatch locked only from the inside. She couldn’t go back that way. She whirled around, clutching the lump in her jacket to her chest. The best way to leave – the closest way out – that was through the library, two rooms down, through the passageway in the wall and up to the hidden attic. But that meant leaving the room. Standing in the hallway. Walking to the library, unseen. 

(She did not have experience. That voice sounded like Jacques, if Jacques had ever been so straightforward in his disappointment. She had to get out of this house before she kept thinking.)

Kit waited. Listened. She couldn’t hear anything from here in the office. She went through the map of the ground floor in her head, the foyer at the front, into the parlor, the living room to the left, the kitchen to the back, the dining room to the right – the hallway behind the kitchen, with the office, the billiard room, the library. The left wall in the library, where the hidden door was. Conceivably, it was easy. Wasn’t it? 

She turned the door handle and left the office. 

The hallway was half-lit from the living room at the end of the hall. Now she could hear the phonograph, playing a jazz record she didn’t recognize. Beatrice and Bertrand had to be in there, and it was right across from the library. Unless they were in the library. Unless they were – Kit gave herself a shake. She wouldn’t know anything until she moved. She just had to move. She just had to move. Kit just had to move. 

She couldn’t see the green floors. Beatrice and Bertrand had rugs everywhere, in elegant red and ivory. Kit tiptoed over it, hesitating. Paintings hung in groups down the hallway, flowers and little portraits and framed children’s drawings, scribbles of the garden hung with the same care as the art. They must be Violet’s. The jazz record kept going. Kit’s grandmother had liked oil paintings of flowers. She’d had a few in the hallway herself in her time. 

(Katherine, Bernadette Snicket had said. 

No, Kit insisted. How old was she then? Four? Just Kit. And her grandmother had looked pleased, like Kit had passed a test. Everything was a test and always had been, tests she’d completed perfectly, and why did it hurt? How far had Kit gone down the hall? The box sat against her ribs like another heart, heavy. Everything ached, especially her jaw, clenched shut like her life depended on it. And it did. This life around her she wasn’t a part of anymore, this family, this safety, Kit’s life existing outside of this place, everything depended on Kit, on her walking out of here alone, back to her apartment. The whole series of events spooled out in front of her as a nightmare unraveling. Was she crying? Why was she crying?)

Kit took another step, then another. The library was one foot away on the right, a mile away, mere inches, an eternity. The passthrough to the living room on her left gaped open.

Bertrand hummed a bar of the jazz record. And then – 

“What’ve you got there?”

Kit froze.

“I knew I left it somewhere in here – ha! That book I was looking for, for Violet and Klaus.”

“You really want to do the cob, don’t you?” The smile was clear in his voice, and Kit pictured Bertrand leaning forward in his chair, his hand on his chin, gazing at Beatrice and bursting with delight. 

“I absolutely do! I get to do a fake death scene and everything. How many kids books are going to give me that kind of opportunity, Bertrand?” 

They were alone. Their voices were far enough into the room that they shouldn’t see her at the doorway. They joked like she remembered, exactly like she remembered. Did they joke like that with their children? Would they have joked like that with Lemony, here, like they used to? With her? Would Olaf have – would her grandparents – wasn’t Kit supposed to be here too, not because it was hers, that wasn’t what mattered, what mattered was – 

Kit held her breath and didn’t let it out until she’d slipped into the library, until she’d rushed to the wall, until she’d nearly slammed her hand into the door hidden in the dark wallpaper, until she was safe in the narrow passageway. She wanted to run, to keep running. But they’d hear her in the wall. She took it step by step with her chest burning, traveling up two floors to the hidden attic. There was the little window in the roof, waiting for Kit to wiggle her way out. She did. The climb over the roof and down the trellis was harder, with her whole body trembling, but she made it. 

She stumbled through the garden, racing over the brick path back to the road, to the fence – she shoved her heels into the ironwork, scrambling over it, the tip of a bar slicing into her calf and her palms. She slipped on the way down the other side and her hip met the sidewalk, pain skittering through her leg and up her side. Get up. Get up, Kit. And Kit did, back to her car across the street, into the driver’s side. 

Kit took long and deep breaths. In and out, until her head was back on straight, with the plan set right in her thoughts, as it was supposed to be. Everything was as it should be. She set the box down gently on the passenger seat. She did not look at the Baudelaire mansion. She would patch herself up later, when she had time. She took another breath and put the key in the ignition. 

She had to go back home.

[conchiferrous]

art fight reference sheet adventure

[IMAGE ID, IMAGE 1: Reference sheet of an OC named Toby Miller, an anthropomorphic white fox. Their bio reads: The agender symbol, they/them, 15, 6 foot, fox, low energy, often spaces out, and nonverbal. They wear a blue chullo hat with yellow lightning bolts and swirls for a pattern. The fluff on the top and tips of the hat are yellow as well. They're also wearing a brown sweater with a lighter brown zigzag stripe across the middle and swirls above and below the zigzag, as well as green pants. The pants are drawn as if they're pantyhose with no lines between where the pants stop and shoes begin. Their tail is huge and is almost as tall as their torso. The main drawing shows them just standing there, looking off to the side. They have big eyes, thick black eyebrows, a long snout with a round brown nose at the end, and no visible mouth. Around the main drawing are smaller drawings such as: Toby sitting on the floor with no shoes on, showing that they have paw pads on the bottom of their feet. Toby punching a brick wall so hard the bricks fall out from the other side. Underneath is blue meter that says: attack 180. This is cropped from pokemondb.com. A drawing of Toby carrying a huge cardboard box and they have to look around the box from the side to see. A head shot of Toby angry with a scribble over their head. A drawing of Toby screaming, the only drawing where their mouth is visible and shows off their blue mouth and light blue tongue. A drawing where Toby holds a bug on their finger, their eyebrows raised to show excitement. The final drawing is of Toby wearing a tank top with an ant graphic and shorts with no shoes. This shows off Toby's short triangular ears. There's a few design notes scattered around the sheet, and they read. Mouth is almost never visible, but it exists. Mostly expresses with eyes. And powerful but pure of heart.

IMAGE 2: Reference sheet for an OC named Amber Lloyd. She's a short human with four arms and two bug antennae sticking out from the hole in her backwards baseball cap. She has pale skin and giant square shaped eyes with green irises. Her nose is pink and triangular, similar to a cat's, and has a large birthmark under her right eye. Her hair is long, spiky, and brown, growing down to the middle of her back. She's wearing a backwards baseball cap that's green in the back, yellow in the front, and navy on the brim. A pink bandana around her neck. A dark pink sweater with thin purple stripes. Navy overalls with gold buttons with heart shapes in the middle of the buttons and a pink pocket with a navy heart in the middle. And large brown shoes. Her bio shows the female symbol, 14, 4 foot, tiny, high energy, and aggressive. The main drawing is surrounded by smaller drawings which are: A front view of Amber with her arms sticking out. A headshot of Amber yelling. A drawing of Amber walking. A drawing of Amber without her shoes and a tank top with an ant graphic on it. A drawing of Amber hammering nails onto a wooden board. A drawing of Amber panicked with big round eyes. And lastly, a drawing of Amber without her hat, showing her messy hat hair. Various notes reads: Big stupid feet. Super short legs. Eyes don't have to be squared. And the builder.

IMAGE 3: Reference sheet for an OC named Trixie. It shows both her human and werewolf form. In her human form, she's a short tan woman with a cartoonishly large bulbous nose and thick magenta hair that covers her left eye. She's wearing a green shirt with the NPFA diamond for a graphic, where instead of numbers, the top quadrant is the letter Y, the left is X, the bottom is B, and the right is A. She's also wearing a long blue skirt with white, yellow, and green strips and blue bottlenose dolphin slippers. She's also holding up a dull green smart phone with a sea horse logo on the back. Her werewolf form is three times her size and looks like a large dopey pink poodle. Her werewolf form is drawn only wearing a dark purple short skirt. She has a wide purple nose, some small fangs sticking out from her lips, and one big yellow eye. Her bio reads: the female symbol, 28, five foot one for human, and roughly ten feet for werewolf but that it doesn't super matter, she's just comically big. There are several smaller drawings around the main drawing that are: Werewolf Trixie with an arm sticking out and shaved, showing off both her paw pads, and that her arm fur is really thick. Drawings showing that in both forms, the inside of Trixie's mouth is purple with a light purple tongue. A headshot of human Trixie looking to the side, annoyed with a long drip of mucus coming from her nose. A drawing of human Trixie sitting on the floor with no shoes and 1 big eye. Even in human form, she has paw pads on the bottom of her square feet. A front view drawing of wolf Trixie's head with her eye floating off of it. And a headshot of human Trixie with her hair in a ponytail, showing off her second eye and tiny ears. The notes read: Nose+top lip are one entity. Eye floats depending on angle, but should always anchor here. And secret 2 eyes+ears out version. END ID]