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#just rebloging myself real quick

wizardofgoodfortune · 6 months

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Gonna go ahead and ask you #58 on your Spotify wrapped while I'm thinking about it

#58 on my top songs is mirrorball by taylor swift! this is definitely one of my fav songs from her, if not The Favorite; a vivid music video plays out in my head every time i listen to it. here's my favorite part from it, which can definitely lend itself to particular dreamling scenarios... like 1989.

And they called off the circus, burned the disco down When they sent home the horses and the rodeo clowns I'm still on that tightrope I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me I'm still a believer but I don't know why I've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try I'm still on that trapeze I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me

---

When his stranger didn't show up in 1989, Hob spent the whole day waiting for him. The whole night, too. He heard the last call but stayed long after, until the bartender—Ian was his name, Hob learned at one point—had to kick him out so they could lock up. To Ian's credit, he did it with his most apologetic face.

"Sorry, Hob," Ian said as he locked up the front door of the tavern. "Feel free to come back 'round tomorrow. Promise the place'll still be here by then."

Hob, who was hovering listlessly beside him, gave him a smile. "You'll regret you said that."

Ian laughed. "I'll never regret having more regulars. God knows we need it."

Hob frowned. Right. He nearly forgot about that.

"Need a lift?" Ian offered, fishing out a different set of keys from inside his pockets. "You've drunk quite a lot."

"I'm fine, I just need to—" Hob took a deep breath, "—I need to walk it off."

Ian narrowed his eyes. "Sure? I better not read about you in the papers tomorrow."

Hob snorted. "Trust me, you won't."

With that, Hob stood in front of the tavern and watched Ian drive off, until the old man rounded a corner and disappeared.

Now that he was alone, Hob slumped down on the damp ground and leaned against the front door. They've probably replaced this door more times than he could count, along with the rest of the tavern. Century after century, Hob saw less and less of what used to be here 600 years ago: the chairs, the tables, the mugs, the godawful drinks. The closest thing to permanence this tavern had was its name, and, up until tonight, his stranger. And soon, it wouldn't even have itself.

Hob reached into his coat pocket and took out his lighter and a carton of cigarettes. As he watched London's everchanging skyline glitter above the Thames, he lit a cigarette, the orange of it glowing in the dark. He sat there, waiting, waiting, waiting. He was good at that, at waiting. All you had to have for waiting was time, and Hob had it in abundance. So he waited until the sun rose, until the streets came alive with cars and people, until Ian came back to open up.

"Oi, what happened to walking it off?!" Ian exclaimed, standing over Hob, shielding him from the noon sun. "Bloody hell. C'mon now. Up you go."

Hob let himself be corralled into the tavern's small office and be sat at the small couch that was probably meant for interviews and terminations. He drank the water and aspirin placed in front of him, and he wore the spare shirt lent to him, but he left Ian's questions unanswered.

"Y'know," Hob started as soon as Ian came back in from the bar, "I reckon I could do a good job running a tavern."

"You should be asleep," Ian said accusatorily.

Maybe he should've been. But instead, Hob was sitting upright, wide awake. "I've been in countless taverns, just like this," he continued, "and I reckon I could make a great one. It would be so great that people from all over the world would come to eat and drink there, and say, 'Hey look, it's Hob's tavern, the greatest one around!' And d'you know what the best part about it would be?"

Ian sighed and leaned on his desk. "What?"

"It would be so great that they'd never close it down. They wouldn't be able to. Everyone would rally around it, even the council. And it'd be there for, for centuries. No, millennia. No, forever."

Ian shook his head, smiling. "A beautiful dream."

"A dream?" Hob scrunched his eyebrows. "You don't believe me?"

"Hob, this tavern has been here for centuries. That's a pretty good run, I'd say. Before that, it might've been something else, like a house, or a barn, or something. And before that, it was probably an empty plot of land, or maybe it was full of trees. Maybe bloody dinosaurs lived and died here. Or maybe it was underwater, I dunno. But I'm getting away from the point," Ian said, scratching his scraggly beard. "The point is: things change. That's life."

Suddenly, Hob was reminded of that night a hundred years ago, how his stranger detested the implication that he changed, that he grew to be lonely, lonely enough to seek out companionship. Hob's companionship. Obviously he detested the implication enough to not show up yesterday. But maybe, just maybe, his stranger will show up again today or the next day, just to prove a point, just to say he didn't need him to be his friend, and to say goodbye for the last time. Surely his stranger's not cruel enough to not show up at all, right?

"I, I know, but I can't let this place change, at least not yet," Hob said. His desperation must've plain on his face from the way Ian smiled sadly at him.

"And why's that?"

"My friend and I," Hob paused, thinking about what to say, "this place is important to us."

"You can always find another place."

"He won't," Hob said, voice breaking, "he won't be able to find me."

"How sure are you that he won't?"

Hob put his head into his hands. "I'm sure."

"You don't have his number?"

Hob shook his head.

Ian sighed. "Well, like I said last night, you'll need a lot of money to—"

"I have the money," Hob blurted out.

"What's that?"

"I," Hob repeated, raising his head in realization, "I have the money."

Ian only looked at him.

"I can, I can keep this place alive until he comes back."

Ian regarded him wordlessly for a few more seconds, then said, "I appreciate the thought, I do, but I reckon you can just establish a new one and it'll be less expensive. You can always, I dunno, put up some signs. 'This way to the new tavern' or something. Then when your friend comes around, they'll just read your sign and go to the new tavern."

Hob stared at Ian, mouth hanging open. Then he laughed, feeling a sleep-deprived lightness in his chest. He stood up and held Ian by his shoulders, still smiling. "Ian, you're a genius."

Ian chuckled heartily. "I try."

"And you're a hired genius."

"Pardon?"

"I'll need a bartender for the new tavern," Hob said, grinning.

Ian scoffed in disbelief, but he was smiling. "And what'll you name it?"

Hob thought for a second, then settled on: "The New Tavern."

Ian chortled. "You need sleep. Dearly."

---

send me a number and i'll write something based on the corresponding song in my spotify wrapped!

#dreamling #*#*my fic #warning i did not proofread this so uh... sorry in advance. i just realized it's 3:46 am and i probs need to go sleep #btw the bartender doesn't actually have a name so i used his actor's name LMFAOOO #thank you for sending in a number even before i reblogged the post TJ!!!#AND for finding the post in the first place!!! i hope this is a good enough offering in return for the beautiful folktale you wrote #EVERYONE GO TO TJ'S BLOG AND FIND THAT FOLKTALE IT'S A WORK OF ART!!!!#this could be more but i reminded myself that i'm doing this For Fun (tm) and not for it to be structurally good #because that can get real stressful real quick...#(pointedly looking away from my sad dads au which is 60k words and counting...)

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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Follow You Anywhere 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You're online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: I couldn't help myself.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"So... this is what it looks like today?" You aim your camera at the sky outside your window, "sorry, the screen is kinda in the way."

You let out a nervous chuckle and flip the camera to yourself. You make a silly face. You were never overly fond of your image on the screen but the vlogs help. Like a little diary, mostly for yourself. You and your seven followers on Insta.

You bat your lashes and fix the clip in your hair, "oh, I got this free. Yeah, I bought a new hair oil and they threw this in the bag." You let your thoughts run wild from your tongue. You found a journal too daunting, the blank lines leaving you just as empty. This is easier. "Anyway, I shouldn't have spent the money to begin with."

You give another splintered laugh. The one you let out when you're anxious, or scared, or happy, or even mad. You bite your lip and catch yourself in your digitized reflection. You stop and turn your camera to your bedroom.

"Today, I'm gonna clean this mess. Me and you guys together."

You scour the room with the lens. Your laundry is piled on the floor and you have a stack of books you need to put on the shelf. It isn't the worst it's been but it's getting cluttered.

"But first, we'll have breakfast, can't start the stream on an empty stomach," you chirp and nearly drop the phone, "oops, uh..." You fix your grip and check the number in the corner. You have one viewer; on a good day, it's three, most days, it's just you talking to the void.

You go into the kitchen, just down the short hall from your bedroom, opening into your living room. You go to the counter and prop up the phone so the camera is on you again. You tap your fingers and hum.

"What should we have for breakfast?" You ask. You don't feel as crazy talking to yourself even if there's really no one watching. "Oo, French toast. Gotta use up the eggs."

You go to the fridge and pull out the eggs and the milk. You bring them back to the counter, shuffling around for a bowl, a whisk, and the cinnamon.

You mix up your ingredients and dip the bread, one piece at a time. You put on a skillet and fry up the slices, presenting a stack of three to the camera. You smile and dust some icing sugar over the top.

“Probably shouldn't have all this sugar for breakfast,” you shrug at the camera, “alright, quick break…”

You put the stream onto the ‘back soon’ page and take your plate to the small foldout table against the wall. You're not a fan of eating on camera. You finish and rinse up before snatching your phone up again.

You return to your bedroom and put the phone on a middle shelf and flip the stream back to live. Still that one viewer…

“Anyway, I'm back,” you wave at the lens.

You hesitate, looking around as you stand straight and spin. Cleaning, right. Before you can set to work, the phone dings.

A message?

You go back to your phone and squint at the chat bubble floating up.

‘Looked delicious too.’

“It was,” you agree with a grin, “thanks.”

‘Don't mean the toast.’

The next message has you blinking. Your nape burns. They can't mean… you clear your throat and giggle.

“Well, let's get started,” you back up and clap your hands, “you know, I've been so carried away with work. This place is a pigsty.”

You sit on the floor and sort through the clothes. You toss them into the basket as you sit in silence. You stop yourself and glance at the phone.

“How about some tunes?”

You walk on your knees to your bedside and turn on your bluetooth speaker. You go to your phone and find a playlist before pulling the stream back to full screen. As you do, you hear a noise you've never heard before.

‘BourbonBear has tipped.’ Huh? Really?

“Oh, thanks, er, BourbonBear,” you giggle around the name, “how nice. Maybe one day I can afford a proper camera for this, huh?”

You smile and go back to the dirty clothes. You quickly ball up a pair of panties and shove them in the basket. You carry on until they're all untangled.

You move on and tidy your desk, bending underneath to gather up a few loose pens. You make your way around the bedroom, putting away books, fixing the blankets on the bed, and straightening the little figurines on the shelf above the bed.

You grab the stick vacuum and suck up the dirt and proclaim your task done. It took a lot longer than you thought. It's after eleven. The one viewer is still there.

“Whew, okay, I'm gonna get myself washed up and go to the park. Maybe I'll post that later,” you give a thumbs up next to your head as you talk to the phone, “thank you.”

You end the stream and let out a sigh. Your videos aren't much and you doubt they're very interesting but it's like venting for you. Almost like having an invisible friend. You think you will take some pictures of the flowers to share.

🧸

You take your usual path through the park. The walks help you unwind your worries. You try to come after work at least a couple days during the week and both days on the weekend. You find the mindlessness of the routine to be calming.

The deeper you get into the wooded length of the path, you slow to admire the birds in the branches and the critters crawling in the brush. You take out your phone and snap a few photos of a blue jay before it wings away shyly. You smile and flip the cam, smiling as you take a goofy selfie. You can add that to your post.

The path winds ahead and you follow it in the din, listening to the river just down the incline to your left and the tweeting from the sky. You lift your face and inhale the woodsy scent. The sudden crack of a twig startles you and you spin to face the noise. There's no one there. Sometimes you forget other people are free to just walk on through.

You chuckle at yourself and continue on. The path leads out to a suburban street where you like to look at the houses. They're much more spacious and pretty than your grimy brick apartment building.

You come out from the shade of the trees and wander along the avenue. There's a mailbox painted to look like the house it stands before and a little nook for second hand children's books to be borrowed through the neighbourhood. Sometimes you picture yourself living in one of those houses though you don't think it could ever truly be.

As you crane your head, you sense a shadow in your peripheral. You're walking a bit slow. You sidle to the side to get out of the way of the other pedestrian. When no one passes, you look back. No one.

You must be imagining things. You shrug and plod along. You're already thinking of what kind of tea you'll have when you get in.

🧸

You sit down with your mug of ginger citrus tea and set to editing your post. You add a light filter to the photos as you shuffle through them on your laptop. The process is slow as the computer is nearly five years old now and chuffing on its 4GB drive. You get to the selfie you snapped, a stop.

You lean in to get a better glimpse of the background. It's fuzzy but there's a figure just over your shoulder. How could that be? You looked and there was no one there. That's so strange.

You stare as a chill courses through you. You're thankful you hadn't put your earphones in. You wouldn't have heard whoever it was and they may have even snuck up on you. Or maybe it's just a trick of the light.

You hit ‘post’ and try to shake off the foreboding. It's nothing. You're being silly. Besides, you're home and safe now. Next time, you'll be more alert.

A message pops up. You stare at the dot over the chat bubble. You tap with your thumb and bring up the DMs.

'Stream tonight?' BourbonBear asks.

You tilt your head. You already did some today. You're tired and want to lie down and enjoy your time off. You type back 'sorry, not tonight. tomorrow <3' and another notification vibrates. A comment on your latest post.

'Pretty sweater', also from BourbonBear. You heart their comment and leave a thanks below.

You flip back to the selfie. You can't really see your sweater in the picture, just the scalloped knitting of the collar. Well, you suppose it does look cute. You put your phone down and leave it on your desk. That's enough Insta for today.

🧸

You time your shopping trip for the least busy hour. It's early and the store is almost empty except for employees stacking bread on shelves or wandering listlessly around the deli. You have your phone in the basket of the cart, aimed at you as you roll it along slowly and check your list.

The stream is just as empty. It's only just started but you don't expect too many people to be up at this hour. You stop and grab a loaf of sourdough, checking the date before showing it to the lens and putting it in the cart. You smile and announce the next item.

"Strawberries... you know I was thinking I might get raspberries instead," you say, catching the eye of one of the yawning employees. You must seem like a weirdo. It's why you typically don't film in public.

As you roll around to the fruit, you notice the count change. One viewer. You choose a basket of raspberries and show those. You see a message float up; morning.

You smile and return the greeting softly and place the berries down carefully beside your phone. You need yogurt to go with the berries.

You work down the list, making some substitutes as you tick off each item. You linger in the ice cream section a bit too long and talk yourself out of a gallon of rocky road. You lean on the handle of the cart and smile down at the lens.

"Going to check out," you say, "see you all later."

All? There's still just the one. You end the stream and take your phone out of the basket.

You wheel around to checkout and line up at the only open till. You put your items up as you greet the cashier with a smile. She seems tired as she gives a dull response.

As you put the yogurt on the belt, you sense someone join the queue behind you. You glance over as a large man stands only feet away. He's tall and burly and staring at you. Maybe he heard you talking to your audience, or he would think, yourself. You continue to unload your groceries.

"Never tried those," he comments as you take out a box of strawberry Pocky.

You pause and hold them up, chuckling nervously, as you do.

"Pretty good," you answer, "I eat way too many."

You notice the man doesn't have a basket or a cart. That realisation needles under your skin. Maybe he's just getting lotto or smokes?

"You like sweet stuff."

"Too much," you squeak even though it doesn't sound like a question.

He just stares, not saying a word. You swallow tightly and pull the last few items out of the cart and get behind it to wheel it through the lane. As you do, he looms closely, adding to the sweat gathering on your lower back.

You roll along and wait for the cashier to ring through the rest of your things. She bags them up neatly in two large paper bags. You pay with your card and thank her as you lift the first into your cart. The man behind you moves forward and grabs the second, startling you.

"Got it," he says as he places it with the other, squeezing by you, crowding you.

"Oh, excuse me, sir," you stammer, "oh," you lean on the cart to roll it to the end of the lane as you make space between you and the stranger. "Thanks, er, uh... thanks."

You turn and grab the handle, jittering. He's really weirding you out. Especially as you realise he's walked right by the cashier. He's following you.

"I can help get ‘em in your car," he offers in a drawl.

"Oh, that's alright, I... bus," you cringe as you realise you've said too much.

"I could drive you. I have a truck."

"No thank you," you walk faster, the cart rattling with your pace.

"Why not?"

"I don't know you, erm, sorry--"

"You don't?" He catches up and shoves his phone in your face, your Insta profile glaring back at you, "I paid for the milk, maybe the berries..."

"What?" You stop, just by the door and turn to him. "I don't--"

"You haven't eaten, have you? I'll take you for French toast. That's your favourite."

"Um," you blink at him as your eyes tinge, "I don't..."

"You got me through a hard campaign, just wanna say thank you," he adjusts his cap and you notice the pin on it. He's a veteran. Oh, 'campaign'.

“Just got back home," he shifts on his feet, a meek gesture for such a large man, "and... your videos helped me remember it. Helped me hold onto it in the sh-- in the stuff."

"I... wow, okay, that's... I'm glad I could do that."

"I really don't mind giving you a ride. Lots of weirdos on the bus," he insists.

"That's nice but--"

"Please," he softens his tone, "been a while since I sat down and had breakfast without worrying about the sky falling."

You shudder and grip the cart tight. You don't know how to say no. You didn't think about who was watching. You always just assumed they were bots. Then you think of the chaching noise and the amount flashing on the screen.

"BourbonBear?" You ask.

"Yeah," he cracks a crooked smile and smooths his hand over his thick beard. "Everyone calls me Syv.”

#dark!captain syverson #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #follow you anywhere #sandcastle #captain syverson #dark captain syverson #captain syverson x reader

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cosmicsully · 9 months

Text

OBSESSED WITH YOU

aged up!Neteyamx aged up!human(f)!reader

Summary: In which…. Neteyam crosses paths with a human, but what is that sudden obsession with her, where did that need to protect her come from?

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: fluff, Y/N’s personal space is quite literally violated by Neteyam, Y/N is the first Human Neteyam has ever seen, Neteyam barely speaks/understands English, kissing, slight make out, lowkey unrealistic storyline lmao

My Masterlist <3.

What are you called? = fyape syaw fko ngar Stay calm = mawey beautiful: (of people) = sevin take it off = kämunge tsal I want to see = Oe new ne kame hurry up = win säpi nefä so soft = nìftxan 'ango

I hope you enjoy! If you do, feel free to reblog, I might consider writing more parts to this :) <3

I can still remember how it happened. The day that I met Neteyam still lingers in my mind, the young Na´vi boy consuming my attention at all times.

About a week ago, I can still feel the soft breeze of air flushing against my legs, I remember smelling the green plants that had just been drowned in the heavy rain the previous night. The loving light of the warm sun embraces my figure as I walk across a muddy path, trying not to step on any kind of animal. I was outside although I was not allowed to leave the lab. Secretly slipping out of the back door, the mask that is pumping oxygen into my lungs well secured on my face, as I made it my new goal to explore Pandora further.

It is a memory I cherish. The adrenaline that runs through my veins as I took one step after the other, putting as much space as possible between me and the lab.

With the feeling of well-secured safety and no one having caught me fleeing from my home, I slowed my steps, taking in my beautiful surroundings. All kinds of exotic colorful plants surround my form, my eyes darting to one and then another, trying to see everything all at once. My ragged breathing slowed down as I sprinted across the mud, my feet now slightly covered in it.

I can’t help but feel joy consume me whole.

The beauty of Pandora yet again swallowed me, pulling me in. I let my feet work on their own, deciding on taking a small walk to find new interesting and unexplored corners. My fingertips glide against a pulsating bluish plant, as it vibrates against my hand in return, letting myself smile at the uncommon feeling.

This world is so alive.

It is beautiful, I hope its owners treat it well, with respect and cherish it just as I do. Although from the stories I have been told, Na’vi are very spiritual species who inhabit these forests. And now that I think of it, I have never truly seen a real Na’vi.

Dreamwalkers don’t count.

Not letting my mind linger on the thought of facing a real Na’vi, I continued my exploration, It felt like mere minutes, but because it was slowly becoming darker around me it must have been at least a few hours. The only sound that reaches my ears is my breathing from behind the thin glass that is covering my entire face, and the nature that I’m currently moving in. Deciding that I have seen enough for today and that Norm is most likely worrying about my well-being, I take a turn and walk to the path I have been walking all along and slowly but surely make my way back to the lab.

Just as I took a few steps, I heard a quiet huff and leaves moving behind a tree a few feet away from me.

Midway through me turning my head, a blue figure emerges from the bushes. There he stands. A tall male Na’vi. His stripes-covered skin glows underneath the small amount of light that is still falling on Pandora.

He is beautiful.

So beautiful the nature around me is no longer on my mind. All my focus and attention is now drawn to him as I see his fist tightening around a weapon that is firm in his right hand.

With quick movements, he is pointing an arrow at me.

“Wait- Wait- Wait-“ I start as his face wears an angry expression, his frown-covered face facing my direction. I can see his ears perk up at the words that left my mouth. The foreign language fills his head as he decides on killing or spearing me.

“fyape syaw fko ngar?” he hisses, flashing his fangs at me. His white teeth sparkle in the sun as he takes a big step closer to me. His sudden movement made me trip over, my backside making contact with the now slightly dried ground. Him now towering over me even more, his height is scary.

“I- I’m sorry I don’t understand you, please talk slower,” I say, trying to speak slowly, he probably doesn’t understand my words. He tilts his head in confusion, his eyes widening as he takes in my form. Here I am, halfway sitting up in the slightly muddy forest of Pandora. My eyes are fixated on the Na’vi that is towering above me.

“fyape. syaw. fko. ngar?” he repeats, now trying to talk as slow as I did. His pronunciation is now much clearer, his eyes squinting close as if he can see the wheels whirring behind my eyes. This situation throws me back multiple years, remembering the Na’vi lessons we were put through at the mere age of ten. He must have said something about me. Asking about my age? No that would not add up to the situation I’m currently in. Maybe he asked what my name is. That makes way more sense, him emerging from the forest, probably taking me in as a threat.

Slowly, I raise my hands on either side of my head a little, to show that I have no weapons on me, and don’t mean any harm to anyone. At my gesture his ears stand up, their previous position flattened against his head long gone. While doing so, his curiosity must have grown, he lowers his weapon, no meaning to harm me for now. The unknown Na’vi male lowers himself into a crouching position, as he fixates his bow on his back and secures the arrow back in its holder. With me still staying put on the ground, he starts to crawl over my much smaller form to take in my face.

His expression is still confused, but the curiosity must be getting a hold of him. He slowly makes his way above me, his face getting closer to mine, I can feel his warm breath hitting my cheek, his sparkly yellow eyes boring into my own. Pupils now grown bigger and bigger with each second that passes.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, my questioning tone must have shown him that I asked a question. He shakes his head in a way to tell me that he has no idea what I just said, but he doesn’t leave his current position, instead, he’s only inching closer to my body. His face slowly moved to the left side of my face, flattened nose touching my cheek and slowly moving down to my neck. His way of moving and actions remind me of an animal, I can feel him take a deep breath through his nose when it hits my pulse point. It’s like he’s taking in my scent, trying to burn it into his brain to never lose the smell of me.

His actions makes a shudder run down my spine, a shaky breath leaving my mouth only now realizing that I have been holding my lungs oxygen-free for the past minute, them now aching and burning for more.

He breathes me in again, this time with eyes closed, my scent filling his nostrils. My breathing stays unsteady, his presence making my heart quicken in my chest, he seems to notice that, his eyes now fixated on my chest, watching it rise and fall again. When my eyes caught his never leaving my chest, a frown forms on my face, my mouth gaping at him and my arms moving to cover my chest. Slightly uncomfortable under his stare that is on one of my most intimate parts.

He quickly shakes his head and uses one of his three-fingered hands -that is at least twice as big as mine- to move them away, his now gained free access to my chest making him move his head closer, the side of his face making contact with me, his ear hovering above my heart. My heartbeat echoes in his head, its beating pumping hot blood through my veins. Although he does not seem to have the intention to hurt me in any way, my heart doesn’t slow its fast beats. His heavy head makes contact with my chest, I can feel him resting his head completely.

He stays put for a few seconds, the sound of soft breaths leaving his nose hit my ears. My heart still hammers in my chest, continuing to reveal my unsure feelings about the moment and this stranger who is quite literally breaking the definition of personal space. He stirrers up removing his ear from my chest, now much softer yellow eyes meeting mine.

“Mawey.” he whispers. His soothing voice makes it seem like a sweet gesture, the way he talks, the way his eyes move from me to my chest, no, to my heart, its like he wants to tell me to relax. The next thing that catches his attention is the oxygen mask that covers my slightly blushing face. With one of his fingers he taps against the glass, the tap rather harsh as it shoots through the glass and right to my ears echoing softly.

"Neteyam." he speaks up, the pronunciation lingering in my mind. As he speaks, he points the finger that just tapped my mask to his chest, gesturing to himself, it seems to be his way of introducing himself to me.

"Y/N." I say telling him my name. His ears perk up as my voice hits him.

"Y/N…" he tries to pronounce my name just like I did, but fails miserably. I can´t help myself but let a giggle slip past my lips at his terrible attempt at pronouncing my name, squinting my eyes closed in the process. He doesn´t exactly laugh at my reaction, but what seems to be a small smile makes its way across Neteyams face. I like the way my name sounds when he speaks.

"Sevin." he whispers pointing at me again. His hand glides downwards to my own and he takes a look at it, his eyes fixated on my little finger. He slowly but surely wraps two of his fingers around it, completely engulfing my pinky with his. His hand is huge compared to mine. If he wanted to, he could cover my entire hand with his and nothing of my hand would be visible.

"Sevin?" I ask, questioning his last words, why did I barely pay attention when we were told simple words that are commonly used by Na´vi?

"Beautiful?" he now repeats, his accent thick as he tries to translate his words.

"You mean me?" I ask a little unsure, it is not unknown in the lab that Na´vi and humans don´t usually interact with one another, let alone find any interest in each other. He points his finger against my chest again, still trying to get me to understand that he thinks I´m pretty.

I can´t help but blush at his actions, not quite used to being complimented by someone.

"You´re beautiful too" I answer, already aware of the fact that he probably doesn´t understand what I just told him. So I point my finger at his chest just like he did to me and say

"Sevin."

His eyes fall to my pointer finger that is currently resting against his chest, his hands now following his eyes, a blue hand yet again engulfing my own. I feel a certain warmth spread through my chest.

Am I supposed to feel like this?

Probably not.

No, definitely not.

Then why does his presence feel so good? Why do I feel this special security with him? When his warm eyes meet mine?

His attention is now back on my face, the way he is now directly in front of me, allows me to take a closer look at his facial features. His yellow, big, cat-like eyes are pulsating with warmth and softness, his slightly flattened nose wrinkling when he senses new smell. He seems to be studying me just as I do him.

"kämunge tsal" he whispers, now again tapping against my oxygen mask.

Although I could not exactly translate his spoken words in my head, it must have been something about my mask. I shake my head hastily, if his intentions are about me taking it off he can forget it.

"Oe new ne kame" he urges me on, his eyes filled with curiosity and desperate pleading.

"Off," he says quickly his demanding tone fitting to his accent, his hand already finding the bottom of the mask and lifting it off of my face. His sudden actions make me gasp and quickly breathe in, to catch another wave of oxygen.

The mask is now all the way off, Neteyam places it on one of his muscular tights, but his vibrant eyes are darting across every moving muscle on my face. He studies me carefully as if he is afraid of breaking me with a grip that might be too firm for my body.

His left-hand moves to the right side of my head, the warm palm of his softly meeting me. His palm swallows half of my skull, it’s like a puzzle fitting, his piece connecting with mine. A few seconds later I have a sort of ticklish feeling against my upper thigh, his strong tail curling twice around it. The movement makes me blush, I feel my cheeks and half of my neck warming. It’s like Neteyam is trying to be as close as possible, though I can not really tell why.

His face inches closer to mine, he’s so close again that I can feel his breath on my lips, his eyes dare to look at them for a quick moment but just as he meets them he averts his gaze again. I can’t help it but copy his movement, my eyes darting down to his lips.

I can feel the atmosphere between us get turned upside down within one quick glance at his lips, a sort of tension building up.

What I’m doing here is insane.

I should be home by now.

Just as I can feel him getting even closer, the need for oxygen is growing and growing, my lungs aching for relief. My eyes shoot down to his leg hastily grabbing the mask that my body so desperately seeks. The moment it hits my face I take a deep breath, my heart beating at a quickening speed. Neteyam groans in response his hand falling from my head, instead both of his hands land on either side of my waist. As I try to steady my breathing, he pulls my smaller form into his lap.

"win säpi nefä" he lowly whines, making my eyebrows raise in confusion at his whining. He waits a few seconds for my chest to raise at a normal speed again, his eyes boring through mine as if he is asking for permission, although I can not quite tell for what.

"Enough" he orders now quite needy ripping the mask off my face, but before I can respond in annoyance, warm lips are pressed against my very own. My eyes widen at his sudden actions, I can`t hold back the quiet unexpected sigh that sounds like a soft moan leaving my lips.

Neteyam responds eagerly, his tongue now parting my lips ready to claim my mouth, the taste of me lingering on his tastebuds, he pulls me closer by my hips, the close proximity making him groan. The kiss quickly becomes feverish and passionate as his desire for more keeps growing. His hand moves to the back of my head keeping me in place to continue his almost assault on my lips. His rough palms skim down my waist to hook around my hips, pulling me flush against his chest.

It is something I have never felt before, the adrenaline coursing through my veins making my head dizzy. Or maybe it was the lack of oxygen that was making me feel lightheaded.

I can´t help but try to pull away from him, his much stronger grip on me only tightening in response, in order to gain focus again I let my fingers tangle into his braids, softly tugging his lips away from mine. Neteyam growls in protest, chasing my lips with his but I lean back and reach down to put the mask that dangles down my body back on my face. As I keep filling my lungs with air, I look up through the thing glass with heavy-lidded eyes, my chest still heaving and my heart thrumming in my chest.

Neteyam pants softly, just as breathless as I am.

Behind Neteyam I can see his tail swaying with excitement from side to side, his own heavy eyes now focused on a part of my neck. He quickly connects his lips with my neck, softly coating it with open-mouth kisses. With his other hand, he gently tugs on my hair to expose my neck to his mouth. Not caring about the noises that could slip out of my mouth, I let a soft moan leave my lips at the feeling. That seems to urge him on further, his lips traveling from my neck, to my collarbone and lastly to my pulse point. It is the place he breathed me in earlier, he growls at the memory, lips quickly working at sucking on my delicate skin.

I close my eyes at the feeling of his soft but rough lips as they work against my sensitive skin, my mouth slightly agape at the pleasure that is shooting through every inch of my body.

"nìftxan 'ango" the Na´vi male moans against my neck, at the sound of a twig breaking somewhere in the distance, Neteyam quickly breaks away from my sensitive skin. His tail tightened around my thigh in a protective manner.

"Come" he hushes at me, now raising to his feet and full height, With one swift movement he claims my wrist in his hand sneaking around it in a soft grip. He pulls me up in no time as if I weigh nothing to him. I can feel myself hovering over the ground for a split second before he lets go of my wrist now fully placing me back on the ground I was laying on only minutes ago.

#neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #avatar #neytiri #avatar twow #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x human reader #loak sully #cosmicsully #fanfiction #imagines #avatar x reader #jake sully

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coinandcandle · 5 months

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Witchy New Year Refresh

It’s the new year soon and I wanted to share what I plan to do to invite 2024 in with vim and vigor!

I plan to do this over a few weeks as doing it all at once would be exhausting and just isn’t possible for me. Do what works for you and listen to your mind and body!

Clean and Cleanse

Not just spiritually, but I plan to physically clean my space. Any time I am inviting something new into my home—be it the new year, new energy, or a new way of thinking—I clean and cleanse my space.

I’m not one for spiritual sterility, though. I tend to deep clean or organize my spaces and then I will move on to spiritually cleaning my space! Here are some ways you can do this:

Smoke cleansing - a common one but it’s a good one! Not a great option if you have asthma or pets.

Open windows - It’s pretty cold where I am right now but I still like to open the windows for a little bit to let the air flow through the space and carry out any stagnant air and energy.

Sound cleansing - Not always the best option for folks who live with others or have thin walls but I like to blast music and fill my space with sound. When doing this I prefer to use a playlist that invokes the energy I want to bring with me into the new year!

Spray incense - If smoke isn’t possible for you try using a sprayable incense! Just be careful since this will still distribute a substance across your space and if you have children or pets it’s best to use non-toxic plants for this.

Simmer pot - I love to throw together a simmer pot for cleansing my space. I find it works best in the room you’re in which is likely the kitchen but if you have a wax warmer or mug warmer then you can make a mini simmer pot by placing a heat-safe container of water on it and putting in whatever herbs and oils you want!

Connect and Reconnect

I have ADHD and if something is out of sight, it’s out of mind. To this point, I tend to forget about my oracle/tarot decks, offering vessels, and spell vessels. Here’s a few ways I plan to try to connect and reconnect with the spirits and energy around me.

Clean and organize altars or offering spaces - Self-explanatory but this means dusting, wiping down, and moving things around. It could also mean adding new things and tossing old things that have served their purpose.

Set out new offerings - I plan to try and truly connect to my house spirit(s) this year so I want to find a space in the home where I feel like I can best feel its energy and I will leave an offering. This also means refreshing offerings for deities.

Check-in with spell vessels - I’m a very physical witch, I tend to prefer having a real-world anchor for my spells. This adds up, though, and I’m stuck with a bunch of jars, bowls, pouches, or whatever else. Check-in and see if they’re still active or if you still need to maintain the physical aspect of the spell. If not, dispose of them appropriately.

New Year’s meditation - Practicing mindfulness and doing a meditation session to help me connect with myself going into the new year.

Shadow work or self-care - Shadow work is a form of self-care to me, though some of it can be intense and that’s not how I want to start my new year. Instead, I’ll be doing either some very gentle shadow work or I will be otherwise practicing simply self-care.

Misc

Other things you can do for the new year that I don’t have a category for!

Make a hearty and satisfying breakfast on New Year's Day to welcome in the new year--or at least a satisfying cup of coffee!

Drink tea that invokes the energy you’d like to follow you into the new year.

Make a list of things you would like to learn or try in the new year as far as your practice goes.

Here are some posts to look through for the coming year!

2024 Witchy Calendar by @breelandwalker

Witchy Self-Care post by @ts-witchy-archive

Witchy Quick Tip - Mini simmer pot by me

Celebrating the New Year by @thevirginwitch

Please feel free to add any in either a reblog or comment! <:

Enjoy my posts? Consider leaving me a tip on my ko-fi!~

#witchcraft #witchblr #pagan #witch tips #witchery

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belovedvenom · 3 months

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fight fire with fire.

when i said you don’t take any of rafe’s shit i meant it

pairing: dark!crybaby!rafe cameron x reader

synopsis: your boyfriend accuses you of flirting with someone at a party causing an argument to ensue. what happens when he snaps and you snap back..

warnings: slight domestic violence (reader hits his ass back), swearing, dark!reader (kinda? sorta?) dark!crybaby!rafe but lets be real……thats just rafe lmao

a/n: the synopsis isn’t the best i’m sorry, my brain malfunctioned. this idea has been eating at me and i’ve changed the scenario like 3 times. the ending wasn’t what i planned originally but i hope you enjoy! pls comment, reblog, like! feedback is always appreciated <33

“bet you won’t disrespect me like that again, hmm?”

you held your breath, hand pressed against your cheek. the stinging in your face and the throbbing in your throat from his where his grip had been confirming what you already knew. brain going a mile a minute as your kept your gaze on the ground and that infuriated rafe even more.

grabbing both sides of your face to force your attention back to him.

“hmm?! don’t- dont you ever raise you voice at me like that again. don’t you ever fix your lips to fucking swear at me like that.” he sneered, shaking you violently causing you to squeeze your eyes shut. “do i make myself clear?”

“look at me when i’m talking to you!” you snap them open— wide eyes staring into his. “now i asked you a question. do i make myself clear?”

he removes his hands from your face when you let out a yes. nodding his head, stepping back to run a hand across his mouth with a huff.

all this because someone had flirted with you at a house party. rafe didn’t like how another guy, a pogue at that, had the nerve to walk up and talk to you. he especially didn’t like that you “entertained” him. you weren’t, you were making nice, friendly conversation while you got a drink. but rafe didn’t see that, he saw you smiling at another dude that wasn’t him and already planted the idea in his head that you wanted that "dirty pogues" attention instead of his.

so he charged over to you and dragged you to his truck, no words spoken. ignoring all your concerned questions.

when you got home is when he snapped. chastising you for flirting with someone else. pacing back and forth, voice getting loud. “the fuck is wrong with you? flirting with that pogue. humiliating me like that.” confused and hurt is all you felt as he accused you of wanting someone else so you defended yourself. he wasn’t hearing any of it tho. so your voice raised a bit, wanting to get it thru to him but to rafe it was af it you screamed at him. saying how this is ridiculous and “you’re being a fucking asshole.”

that was the last thing you got out before his hand was on your throat and your head whipped violently to the side.

you let out a shaky breath as you stare at him with wrath that was hidden by faux fear.

he looks back at you, letting out a long sigh. “look baby..” voice now calm, and quiet as he walked back into your space. “listen i- i know i shouldn’t take my anger out on you like that, okay. but… you- you can’t talk back to me like that, a’ight. i know you can be a good girl, you just need a little discipline s’all.” he eyed you, focusing at your cheek. “cause cussing at me like? tsk, you’ll have bigger problems than a little sl-“

he wasn’t able to get out the rest of his words before you delivered a swift slap to his face. catching him off guard causing his head to whip to the side. he recovers quickly, looking back at you with a look that would make anyone else cower in a corner and tremble but before he can retaliate you strike him again. your nails scratching him in the mix making him step back with a hiss— pressing a hand to his cheek he pulls it back it to see his fingers stained crimson. three cuts adorning his face. eyes filled with tears.

your quick to walk up to him, grabbing his jaw tight. nails pressing into his skin— digging deeper when he grabs your wrist.

“don’t…” you start, licking your lips. “don’t you ever…. lay your hands on me like that again.” you spoke lowly, bringing his face closer to yours. eyes locked on his tear filled ones. “i will fucking bury you, you understand me?” you shake his head bit, making him wince from your nails going deeper. "let g-" you squeeze his lips together. “don’t think that just because i love you i won’t throw back what you give me times 10.” you other hand wipes a tear that falls from his eye. “my love, i’d do anything for you but..” your eyes narrow. “hit me again and you’ll have bigger problems than a couple of claw marks. do i make myself clear?” you mock and don’t let go until he croaks out “okay” releasing his face with a little shove. blood seeping through the indents from your grip. you ignore the whimper he lets out and head towards the bathroom. “sit on the couch” not checking to make sure he does. you know he will.

coming back with the first aid kit, you sit on his lap and begin cleaning his cuts in silence. thumb softly rubbing against his cheek when he lets out a hiss from the alcohol. placing a bandage on the cuts, you place a kiss on top.

“baby look at me”

he lifts his eyes to meet yours— red from irritation making you frown, leaning forward to press a kiss to his eyelids. he sighs softly, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. you comb your fingers through his hair, feeling his grip tighten. “we okay?” he bites his bottom lip, hand reaching up to caress the cheek he made contact with. you close your eyes with a soft sigh. feeling his lips press to your skin, he mutters against it, “yeah. we’re okay”. it's quiet for a while before he breaks it. "i- i'm gonna get my shit together, ya know. 'm gonna do better. be a better man for you. i promise. i j... you- don't leave me a'ight." his eyes start to well up with tears again. "please- you can't- just don't leave, okay. you.. you gotta see." repeatedly pointing to his chest as his voice cracks. "gonna show you how 'm a be someone you deserve. you just gotta stick with me baby. i promise. i promise you."

you grab his hand, pressing kisses to his knuckles to quiet his babbles. "hey. hey." his body jolted from your voice snapping a bit but he still uttered on causing you to sigh and grab his throat. tight. forcing his head up to pay attention to you. he sniffed loudly, wide eyes staring back in to yours. “i love you, you know that, yeah?” he nodded his head. “okay.” you circled your thumb softly over his skin, a show of affection. “show me then”

you leaned your forehead against his. "and don’t try that shit again."

#rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe cameron fic #outer banks #dark!reader #drew starkey

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nobody-nexus · 6 days

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Finally... It's Here...

After being silent for a bit, I've got enough art to properly show off this AU that I've been DEEPLY working on...

I give you... The Amazing Digital Dance Rush AU.

Or- just Dance Rush for short

Dance Rush is an AU where the TADC cast is thrusted into a rhythm game instead of a sandbox game- this game making humans step into the shoes of performing idols, all working both against and with one another in order to get to the VERY top. Pomni is the newest idol for the game, and she now is determined to drop the whole pyramid of overworked misery while trying to figure out how the inner mechanisms of this place work, even if the truth is more horrid then one might believe....

================================================

This AU uses a lineless style as a way to make it feel almost cell shaded in a sense, but also as a new way to keep this AU fresh. The setting is neon Vocaliod and sci-fi esc in nature, giving off a feeling of futuristic but simple all the same

Now let's-

MEET THE IDOLS!

Pomni is our protagonist and the last to join the game. Inspired by DDR, her performances are based on dancing choreography by using her flexibility and quickness to adapt to her advantage

Ragatha is one of the six idols that Pomni meets as she tries to get more used to the world. Inspired by Project Diva, Rags is all about audience participation- her lovely optimism and charm making chants, encores, and singing along a breeze

Jax is the 'top' of the leaderboard, and another idol for Pomni to meet. Inspired by Just Dance, Jax's main this is... well... thirst trapping. He uses his body, dance moves, and other various body motions to make the crowd to wild

Gangle is one of the more unhinged members of the idol life. Inspired by Crypt of the Necrodancer, Gangle uses music to tell her stories. Her fans adore every moment (with her comedy mask of course)

Zooble is another idol, and the one that came before Pomni. Inspired by Beat Saber of all things, they're most known for their transitions and transformations, leaving their fans amazed by the grungier singing voice mixed with the eye catching transitions

Kinger is the idol who has been here the longest yet is the second to last on the leaderboard. Inspired by oddly enough Rhythm Heaven, he has the best singing voice out of the cast. This results in his medium fanbase adoring him

Caine. The real top of the leaderboard, and the most powerful idol in the game. Inspired by OSU- his perception of how performances should feel and hear is truly unmatched. How could one compare?

================================================

Because I love this AU so much to the point where I have FAR too much information on it, I made myself an askblog ALL about this AU in perticular, and one I'll be reblogging every answer for

The askblog is @theamazingdigitaldancerush and I hope you go ask your questions for it there instead of in my main blog as to not clog up TOO many things

I hope the wait was worth it cause lineless is difficult to do all together. Plus I haven't even touched the NPCs yet- however that's a post for another day

I can't wait for you to see what I do next ^^

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

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Submissive! König Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, Consensual Non-Con/Dub-Con, Pegging, Edging, Teasing, Overstimulation, Gagging, Riding, Praise Kink (receiving), Slight Bondage, Cock Ring, Mention of Blood, Mild Painplay, Dirty Talk, Petnames, Submissive König, Dominant Reader, Mentions of Pain, Crying, No Pronouns used for Reader Except 'You', Profanity, etc.

Submissive König lives for your praise.

When you ride him, he goes absolutely feral, completely at your mercy.

When you sink down on him, he throws his head back into the pillows and moans.

He's a moaner - a loud one at that.

If you slap your hand over his mouth and tell him to "Be a good boy, be quiet for me,"--

He's nutting. Immediately.

He's secretly a massive fan of teasing and edging.

Though, when you carry on to the point that his cock is aching and red and weeping, he'll desperately slam his hips up into you, trying to get some sort of friction - release.

Man's fast af, and he's got a lot of stamina. He can go for hours.

Definitely a quick finisher, though if you demand ask him to hold out for you, he'll try his best.

And if he doesn't...well, he gets extremely whiny.

You overstimulate him , punish him to the point he's crying and sobbing, begging you to stop keep going.

And that's just when you're sucking him dry; if you're feeling particularly cruel, you'll usually wear a long, thick strap-on.

"You're not walking for the next week since you're being such a brat," you say, gripping his hair by the roots and lifting his head so he can hear the venom in your voice.

There's nothing he can do except take an absolute pounding from you, moaning your name into the pillows while his hands are cuffed to the bedposts.

All the while, you're calling him your "Good boy," praising him.

"You're taking me so well, Köni. Making it real easy for me to slip inside your tight little hole."

He'll beg you to stop, plead with you to pull out because he can't take any more, but you ignore him, stretching him out on the thick base of your strap-on.

"You should've thought about this before acting the way you did," you hiss. "I'm not gonna stop until you bleed."

If you feel that he's misbehaved in a way that's invoked your unrelenting discipline, you'll put on this one strap-on that makes König's face break out into fear like a rash.

It's long and fat enough that you can see it bulging in König's stomach when you're fucking him, reducing him to a whimpering, sobbing shell of a man.

Whenever he can tell you're going to break it out, he tries to talk you out of it, tries being democratic and barter with you, but your mind's made up.

By the time you're satisfied, he's passed out, breathing heavily, coated in sweat and cum and completely dead to the world.

You also enjoy using a cock ring on him to make sure he gets absolutely no release, not if he's undeserving of it.

You can practically see the base of his cock swell whenever he's close, ready to burst like a pipe.

But you don't let him cum. Not until you say so.

Gag him. Oh my god, GAG HIM.

König gets off on being completely helpless when he's with you, so if you make sure he can't talk or make a sound, his eyes will be rolling into the back of his head.

"You can try to scream and cry as much as you like; nobody's coming to save you."

But be gentle with him during aftercare :-(; he's very fragile after sex and he just wants you to praise him and tell him he did well.

Bathe with him, stroke his hair, press kisses to his temples and his face will just light up like ☺️.

He feels loved and accepted when he can be his true, genuine self with you, different from the other König he becomes on the battlefield.

And it's the thought of you that keeps him going every day, regardless of how grueling or death-defying the mission is.

He's your "Big guy," your "Teddy bear," and nothing will ever take that away from him.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

#konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #könig x reader #konig headcanons #konig smut #konig modern warfare #konig cod #mw2 #mw2 fanfic #mw2 x reader #mw2 smut

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itsjunear · 3 months

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"Hidden Feelings" Part 2

Note: Hi everyone! I apologize for the delay with this second part. I had some issues and I've just been able to finish it. Again, I appreciate the time you take to read me. English is not my first language, and I apologize if this is terrible. Love you! ❤❤❤

Psdt: I want to thank everyone for all the reblogs, likes, and comments on the previous post 😭😭😭 It really brightened my week, I adore you all.

The tags are located at the end. If you want me to tag you for the third and final part, let me know.

Part 1

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Demons, I had forgotten how much I struggled with getting up early.

Especially after staying up late after dinner. I was sure I had passed out on the couch, but I had woken up in one of the rooms I used when I stayed over. I had a slight suspicion of who had brought me there, but for my own good, I decided not to dwell on it.

I forced my body to wake up and get out of the comfortable sheets. I took a quick shower, and the house already had the Ilyrios leathers ready when I stepped out, so I left a grateful remark aloud before getting dressed.

I figured most people had stayed over, so I tried to make as little noise as possible as I sneaked into the kitchen to have some leftovers from the night before. It was really delicious, so if I was going to say goodbye to good food for the time I was away, I would make sure to enjoy these last bites. I couldn't stay at the Ilyrios camps; it would be very suspicious if I did after Rhys was asking what had happened to those females. And if I wanted to get answers, real answers, I'd have to make sure to be careful. They would guess my motives for being in the camp as soon as I set foot in it. So, ruled out.

However, there was a tavern a bit further away, nothing a few minutes' walk wouldn't solve, with rooms upstairs. The Ilyrios frequented it for drinks. Therefore, that would be my biggest advantage.

A hand on my shoulder brought me back to reality, and I let out a startled shriek before turning around.

"What the hell…"

Oh...

When I noticed the hazel eyes and the shadows in tendrils spreading around the room, I relaxed.

"You scared me to death," I whispered slowly. Az smiled slightly, and for a moment, I held my breath. "I made some noise so you'd hear me, but you were committed to the mission" he pointed at my half-eaten food. I shook my head while suppressing a smile and hurried to clean up what I had messed up.

"Leave it, I'll do it" his voice interrupted me again, as his scent enveloped me, and he gently took things out of my hands. I glanced for a moment at the action, at his scarred hands moving, beautiful as anything I had seen, yet I couldn't ignore the fact that he was making an effort not to touch me, as if consciously avoiding brushing against me. A pang of pain shot through my chest, and I raised my guard again.

How foolish I was being, a complete and damn fool.

"It's okay, Azriel. I can handle it" I tried to say firmly but quietly, unaware that he was looking at me, studying me, searching for something. His wings fluttered softly, and shadows roamed freely around the room, around us.

"Why do you call me that?" he asked slowly, and I looked at him slightly confused, while tendrils of shadows wrapped around my fingers, tickling me a little with their cold touch, but managing to make me smile affectionately at them.

"Call you what?" I replied back, distracted by his shadows.

"Azriel," he said flatly. "You stopped saying my full name shortly after we met, and you've gone back to that for several weeks now."

I didn't respond. Obviously, if there was anyone in the world who could notice those things, it would be him. But I couldn't answer him, not honestly, at least. I couldn't tell him that I couldn't call him Az without it hurting, because it made me think of him with love, and I couldn't allow myself to continue that, not when I saw him with the beautiful Archeron sister. So I continued playing with his shadows, avoiding answering, but I felt his attentive gaze on me until the tendrils returned to him, and I had no choice but to lift my head to find him a short distance away from me.

"Did you take me to bed last night?" I asked, changing the subject. Az simply nodded. "Thank you" I whispered, not knowing what else to say. I swallowed hard and stepped away, ready to leave once and for all, before I did or said something I would regret later.

"Y/N" he called, "Is everything okay?"

I tensed in my place, of course, he had also noticed that. "Yes" I lied without looking at him as I moved to put some snacks in the small backpack that, oh surprise, he had given me in a past solstice and I always carried with me.

"If it's about dinner, I'm sorry…"

"It's okay, it's forgotten" I interrupted, because if he said anything more, my heart would warm completely, and I would end up lowering the walls. "No" he said firmly, "questioning you like that made it seem like I thought you weren't capable. It's not about that" he looked at me confidently, his hazel eyes fixed on me, almost making me shiver.

I didn't want to know what else it was about because that would hurt my already wounded heart more, so I sent the curiosity to the deepest place in my mind and gagged it with all my might.

"It's okay, Azriel" I smiled slightly, "Apologies accepted" I took my backpack, ready to leave this house once and for all and sink into self-pity while freezing to death in the Ilyrian mountains.

"I still think it's a bad idea for you to go alone" he blurted out once I had turned my back, causing me to freeze in place.

"We've talked about this, you know I can do it." I took one more step before his voice sounded again, "I'm not saying no, just maybe…"

"Azriel, I really don't want to have this discussion again, please" I interrupted quickly. I didn't want him to offer. I couldn't let him, because then I wouldn't know what my reaction would be, and it would give me away.

"You're being irrational, you know?" he shook his head in a resigned tone.

Well, thank Mother he didn't insist further. I released the breath I was holding, and I supposed he realized that I wouldn't give in this time. Not even for him, despite the fact that, in the last few centuries, the word 'no' was never in my vocabulary when it came to Az.

"Maybe" I waved my hand without turning, "See you later, shadow singer."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That same afternoon, I was already settled in the rundown room of the tavern. I had to persuade the owner to give me the most decent place possible, and honestly, if this was the best he could offer, I'd take it. It was either this or sleeping on the outskirts of the camp freezing my butt off.

I wrinkled my nose as the smell of mold burned my nostrils. By the Cauldron, Rhys had made me too spoiled.

"Y/N" I heard a voice in my mind.

Speaking of being spoiled…

"I can hear that" the voice spoke again.

I smiled softly. "Of course. Oh mighty High Lord" I replied mockingly.

"I'm glad to see you're in better spirits, Y/N" he responded, also teasing, and my smile faltered. A hint of humor seeped into my mind, and I realized that's what he wanted: to mess with me.

"Don't you have a mate to attend to, Rhys? Instead of bothering me?" I retorted sharply.

"Feyre is very well taken care of by me, thank you for your concern. And to answer your other question, you promised a nightly report" he remarked in that tone of superiority.

Right. "Well, there's not much to update. I'll be staying in that tavern near the camp, a bit off the beaten path to avoid suspicion. And most people here don't know me, so everything should be fine. Tomorrow I'll inquire more about the deaths of those females. A curious outsider at first, and by nightfall, I'll have answers. It shouldn't take more than three days" a touch of approval filled my mind, and I smiled slowly.

"Let me know if you encounter any problems, Y/N" Rhys paused before asking, "Is everything okay?"

I knew what he meant, and I knew I could tell him because Rhys wouldn't say a word. But opening that little crack would make everything come to light, would make me collapse, and this wasn't the time or place. So I responded with a joke instead, "No, Rhys, this room smells terrible, and the food is tasteless."

His laughter filled my head. "I didn't know you had become so spoiled aside from lazy," he said in a soft tone, and I understood… I understood that Rhys knew I was lying, but he was letting it go to avoid pressuring me. He had noticed my mood at dinner the night before, my need for space, and yet, he had decided not to comment on it.

My heart warmed; I would give my life for him, for my entire family in general.

"Thank you, Rhys" I tried to pour all my gratitude into that simple phrase, but I knew it wouldn't be enough. "For everything" I paused. "Now, go to your neglected mate before I go kick your butt myself."

His laughter filled my head again before disappearing completely, leaving me alone with the thoughts swirling in my mind.

What was that earlier with Az? When I left, he seemed concerned. I understood his position; he didn't want me to come alone in case something went wrong, especially knowing how much I detested the Ilryos for their harsh customs.

Maybe that's all it is. What else could it be? After all, I was almost as well-trained as the three of them. However, Az was the one who had been most reluctant to let me go alone. And what if…

No. I forced myself not to consider any other possibility that gave me hope. Because I had seen it, I had seen how comfortable he was with Elain, and how today, before I left, he made an effort not to touch me even a single inch.

A familiar pain filled my chest, so strong that it forced me to hug myself tightly as I wrapped myself in the blankets of the bed.

Perhaps, this was how it was meant to be. Three brothers with three sisters. There was no place for me in that equation.

And yet, I couldn't help but think of the times his eyes softened at my poor attempts at baking, even though it tasted like crap and not even Cassian could stomach it, Az would eat the entire portion. Or when in training, my muscles were so stiff that I just wanted to drop to the ground, and he provoked me, knowing what to say to touch the competitive fibers within me, forcing me to get up because he wouldn't let my pride be trampled upon. Even the times he played dirty to make me lose a fight, he knew what to do to distract me.

But none of that mattered. Not when he was with Elain.

It hurt, of course it hurt. It's not like I had been displaced from my place beside him. It's just that seeing him with the Archeron sister made me realize that I wasn't indispensable, he could be fine without me. That's why I had distanced myself, for my own good, for the sake of my feelings, of the unrequited love, and for… their sake.

That I couldn't have Az didn't mean I wouldn't let him be happy with someone else.

And by distancing myself, I supposed I had unintentionally done the same with the others. That's why I had missed some training sessions, why I had stopped going to some family dinners, because it hurt to see him. I knew Cassian was worried, I had seen it in his eyes, and for Rhys, it would be as easy as delving into my mind to know, but he would never do that.

I knew they would let me deal with whatever was happening in my own way, that's why they didn't pressure me, none of them, not even Mor, until I was ready to talk.

And that thought made me realize that I wasn't trying hard enough. I had felt lonely because I had unjustly pushed them away. When I got back home, I would make sure to do my part, I would try to be happy for Az and Elain, I would stop skipping training sessions and dinners to avoid crossing paths with him.

I loved him, and seeing him with someone else hurt me, yet I wouldn't let that affect my relationship with my family. I would pay attention to conversations during meals, I would no longer be a ghost. I had finished with self-pity.

However, I still felt glad to have volunteered to participate in this mission; they deserved all the peace they had, and if I could provide them with more time of tranquility by doing these things, I would. I would postpone everything for as long as possible and offer to go anywhere. And with that last thought in mind, I let sleep take over me and slept peacefully for the first time in months.

@going-through-shit @isa1b2h3 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @willowpains @mariahoedt @charlotteintumbleland

#acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #bat boys #i dont know what im doing

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1000sunnygo · 6 months

Text

One Piece Academy chapter 40: Cora san part 2 (Quick translation)

source | part 1 | index

Sanji: Huh..? Aren't you...?

Luffy: Who?

Nami: Luffy! We've just seen this guy in a photo a while ago!

He's Corazon!!

Cora: Guh..!

*tap tap*

Nami: Ah, he's running!

*wham*

Nami: Ah, he fell ;;

Cora: Law, what's the meaning of this? How did this place get busted?!

Law: I'm in a state of shock myself... I swear I wasn't being tailed by anyone.

You guys, how did you...?

Robin: Underestimated our skill of gaining intel, haven't you?

Sanji: You did a good job hiding your tracks, but...

[flashback]

Luffy: Traffy... he's totally gone, huh.

Bart: Ah, Luffy senpai! It's been a while beh!

Luffy: Oh? Isn't that Romeo!

Do y'all know Traffy's place?

Bart: Naa I don't.. Gambia, do you?

Gambia: I dunno. Lemme ask my granma at home.

Gambia: Helloo, granma! Do you know where Trafalgar Law lives?.. Hmm, hmm... oh?

*pulls up a map*

Gambia: She says he lives here! Even gave us details on how to enter!

Bart: Granma really has all the wisdom beh~!

Luffy: COOL!! Thanks!!

Cora: THIS IS WAYY BEYOND THE REALM OF WISDOM THOUGH!!

Usopp: She also said, "if you're worried about the doorknob's prickly static shock, just touch the wall with your palm first."

Law: So she shared some real wisdom too? That damned Bartolomeo!

Zoro: A man believed to be missing is here, 'hiding' so nobody can find him - so it seems.

Corazon:...!

Since I got busted already, I guess there's no going back.

*cracks knuckles*

I'll make sure to make you feel at home.

Coby: Woah!

Law: DON'T START A RICEBALL PARTY!!

Luffy: What flavor is that one, Corao?

Cora: That's umeboshi! Law hates it.

Law: Cora san... ;

Cora: It's okay, Law..

Cora: After all, the only visitors we get in this home far from the town are Bepo and team. And that's just Law's pals.

Law: They're... not exactly pals...

Cora: That said, it's not like someone is expected to live here. The entrance is far down some secret underground passage. We buy our groceries from the neighboring Swallow city.

*clang*

Nami: Why all these secrecy?

Coby: Where are you going?

Cora: Follow me! I'll show you.

Luffy: Traffy's place seems fun!

Law: Make sure not to ravage it.

Cora: This is.. The Doflamingo countermeasure Headquarters.

Nami: The Doflamingo countermeasure Headquarters?

Luffy: That's a lot of Mingo!

Cora: You get the gist of a secret opposing faction, don't you?

In short, we call it "Vs Doff.." "Quarters.." well, something.

And not just Doflamingo, we collect information about the Family executives.. Even about the Onigashima middle school.

I investigate here everyday.. *tapping some keys*

And think of countermeasures.

Coby: YOU JUST SHUT IT DOWN!

Cora: Crap, I blew it up again...

Nami: Cora chan, might you be a bit clumsy?

Cora: I have always been a clutz. It doesn't get better.

Vivi: We know that Doflamingo is a bad guy who needs to be stopped.. But do you, as his brother, have any specific reason for your action?

Cora: As his younger brother, my goal is...to prevent my older brother Doffy from falling into the dark world.

Brook: Dark..

Chopper:... World?

Cora: Do you know what they call Doffy in the town?

Coby : I'm pretty sure it's Joker, "The Town's Charisma"....

Cora: He's a regular hot topic among young admirers, my brother's got that talent in him. But..

He's being approached by the people from the dark world - meaning the Bad adults, as they observed those qualities.

To be honest, brother does have the predisposition and ideas for 'evil.' He's already a bad guy, you can't call him good even as a flattery.

Zoro: Will he remain as the Town's Charisma, or become a Charismatic Evil?

If it's the latter, that'd be way more serious that being just a bad, flawed person...

CONTINUES IN REBLOG ⬇️

#one piece academy #one piece gakuen #one piece #donquixote rosinante #donquixote doflamingo #donquixote corazon #trafalgar d. water law #one piece luffy #monkey d. luffy #one piece translations #one piece bartolomeo #one piece manga #trafalgar law

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hwaightme · 1 year

Text

This world

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR BIKER!HWA'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist) (join taglist)

🏍️ pairing: biker!seonghwa x f!reader 🏍️ genre: romance, fluff, action, smut, strangers to lovers, slight enemies to lovers, smidgen of angst, sprinkles of comedy 🏍️ summary: caught between the past and present, you search for a new beginning in night city as a mechanic at outlaw customs. how will a fateful encounter with seonghwa, the leader of the blue birds, help you feel alive? 🏍️ wordcount: 16.2k 🏍️ warnings/tags: biker!hwa, quick edit, likely inaccuracies in mechanics and motorcycles, mechanic!yunho, businessman!jongho, biker!yeosang, mechanic!reader, tattooed!reader, gang life/activity, misuse of lore terminology, language, food, wounds/injuries, pain, bike chases and dangerous tricks, talk of death/rebirth, identity searching, imagery and setting inspired by outlaw trailers, lmk if anything else 🏍️ a/n: i gave myself a one day break, listened to a dream i had... and this happened. totally was not spooked today and rushed to edit in a feverish state... always, any notes, reblogs and comments are appreciated, much love~

🏍️ a/n pt2: biker!hwa supremacy also spreads to the exchange event hosted by @kflixnet for @qqtxt (and thank you @alohajun for organising!) - hope you enjoy!!

🏍️ perma-taglist: @doom-fics @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @yunbug

🏍️ cannot be tagged: @mystar1024

🏍️ nsfw tags: condom used, slow, a dom!leaning reader with a soft!hwa, handjob, slight edging, praise, save a bike - ride a biker, focus on intimacy and emotional experience, some mutual masturbation, f!masturbation, literally just two people in love with each other, cuddling and implied aftercare

The artificial suns of Night City shone bright in a palette of neon hues, so vivid and vibrant that one could almost forget that there had ever been a real star in the first place. Kids wished on blinking lightbulbs and travellers followed endless expanses of darkness, more accustomed to uncertainty than the belief that there was a veritable ally in the form of a celestial sign or a constellation. Everyone wore the same perfume: an acrid concoction of smog, grease and disgust that lingered whenever a visitor from another district came by, blending to form a hatred for all things that existed outside of the palace of neon. This was the palace that you had willingly made your home, and found that if you were to shut your eyes and then dare to peek through your lashes at the kaleidoscopic landscape, it took on the shape of an eloquent illusion of divinity. A rudimentary vision, a utopia carved out in impermanence, commanded by wishful thinking and a desire for anything except what you had known. This was your new home, and you were going to try as you might to cling to it, and find peace amidst the suffocating starless expanse.

You had arrived without a particular plan in mind, with only a rucksack and the tattoos decorating your skin to keep you company on your journey. The only persistent parasite that gnawed at your flesh and jolted you awake like a scalding whip when the roads seemed to be endless, was a burning desire to erase anything, everything that served as a reminder. While you were a believer in growing from the past, and reflecting on it, treating each memory and learned skill as a stepping stone towards a better future, the weight of each step was overwhelming, the gaps between them unbearable, and soon enough, you found yourself to be stretched too thin over your own existence, to the point where you had gained an alarming transparency, one tiny step away from disappearing into the lack of self that you had wholly succumbed to until your sudden evaporation and accidental escape to Night City.

At the same time, you were not entirely ungrateful for the ‘you’ you had become. The miscellaneous arsenal of know-how and street smarts landed you a job, had you settled into a group of people who did not seem too bad and most importantly did not ask too many questions, gave you a roof over your head and had you working long hours in the garage from the get-go. That, from your experience, was the best way to forget and to start anew. So long as you did not speak to your clients more than necessary, instead focusing on their priceless metal steeds that you had the pleasure of tinkering with for hours on end. In this way, you got to see your clients at their most vulnerable, scrutinising you but so helpless that it nearly made you laugh, comparing the scene to a child watching their mother patch up a toy that they had torn after playing a little too roughly.

This approach turned out to be the one that won the big bucks in the city. Less talk, more trust. And resulted in the previously sceptical owners of the mechanic shop you had strolled into on your first day in town, passively protecting the shell of the self that you carried, uncaring for what fate had in store, to finally begin to warm up to you and treat you less like a pest, and more like a colleague. Only took them a couple of months. Though it would be foolish to hope for anything else, so you had simply settled into the rhythm of waking up, heading downstairs from the crammed studio that they had offered you - a stuffy dark corner, definitely the humblest abode but more than enough to crash in and more than generous for a person who had been a total stranger, and going to a different open cave in the garage and workshop, this time one dedicated to all things motorcycle. Since Outlaw Customs, a name which you had found incredibly comedic and ironic considering a high percentage of the clientele fit the shop description, was primarily for automobiles, there was not much dedicated to the untameable beauties that you loved so much. The head of the shop, a young man by the name of Jeong Yunho who you swore spent more time under cars than under those neon lights outside, did motorcycle repairs mainly out of necessity, following the recipes for replacement, so to speak. The locals knew that to see his craftsmanship, mastery and artistry at work, they needed to let him get his hands on a car. Of course, it did not mean that he could not fix bikes, far from that, in fact, over the years and especially after another mechanic shop was busted by the forces and forced to close for something or other - no one could ever guess what new crime was added to the list on any given day, Yunho was proud to say that he did not need to consult his hefty stack of manuals for when the most regular clients came by. But it did still mean that when he found out that he could pass off the task to a new hire, he did it in a split second, without sparing it a single thought.

As such, it was you, your beloved corner in the workshop, and a tranquillity under those buzzing fluorescent bulbs lined up on the ceiling. Not talking much, mainly business, occasionally sharing a laugh with your coworkers. They were easy to like, that much you had gathered over the months of being paid in shelter, food, water, and whatever else you needed so long as you kept on working to keep the brutes of Night City happy and the engines roaring. While the other guy in charge, Choi Jongho, an initially unreadable, unpredictable man who appeared in the store at random and mainly handled the ‘financials’, whatever it meant and you sure as all things bad were not about to get your nose in that side of the business, was somewhat less cordial with you, your nonchalance when it came to social interaction had put him at ease, along with, how he had it, your hands that told your story. Interesting what he could spot under the machine grease and fading ink.

It was another timeless day where Jongho was out for what he called ‘negotiations’ - again you did not need to know what it meant so long as the parts kept coming, Yunho was messing about with an old mustang that the customer said could be changed according to the mechanic’s own tastes, and you were idle, having just completed a re-flash of an engine control unit for a rider who apparently had nothing to lose and let you fully reconfigure his precious in the hopes of improving rideability. Same old for you, but nevertheless exciting when a new person gets so vulnerable so as to give their bike up with only faith in their hands, and in yours.

Wheeling the bike away from the main platform, you parked it right at the empty section by the brick wall lining the inner part of the garage, the aftermath of a miniature spring clean you had carried out to prep the workspace for a higher volume of bikes coming through. After patting the seat, as if lulling the machine into a slumber, you covered it with a tarp to protect it from any other dust or sparks - and subconsciously, from curious eyes if there were any that would peek into the shop. You stood up straight, taking the towel from your shoulder and attempting to wipe off the remains of your work, though much like your boss, who was now humming some random tune that he probably heard at one of the underground clubs, took pride in each stain, each streak of dirt. It was a reminder that you were here, you were present and alive, and that you were doing what others could never do exactly like you could. If anything, it was a breath of fresh air, the only one that could be ever taken in any Sector, in any City that existed in this nation, and you were almost convinced that this spread to the whole world.

Finding the stool on wheels that apparently used to belong to a nearby barbershop until that closed down, you sat down and sighed, rocking side to side by repeatedly pushing yourself with your feet before getting tired of the motion and rolling across to a workbench that you and Yunho had managed to craft out of a multi-shelved storage unit abandoned on the street, clearly another Sector’s kind donation to the local community, and you were not too proud nor picky. Picking up a brake pedal - a part off a ruined Kawasaki Ninja 2H/R that the universe threw into your arms after the wreck and helped you salvage, somewhat out of respect for the beast that it had been in its heyday, somewhat because you wondered if you could make it work on a horrific Frankenstein’s monster hybrid someday, or another bike of the same make, you twisted it, metal glinting white. The weight of memories, the feeling of it pressing against the foot despite the thick layers of rubber on the boot. Everything about that bike was as hypnotising as a dancing open flame, stunning, an engineering masterpiece, and one that you were praying to revisit, re-experience even if it was the last thing you were to ever do. Perhaps in a distant dream. Replacing the component in a top drawer of the bench, you got to work on signing off on the work completed, not that anyone even had a legal signature anymore, it was more of a quick doodle to hint at the work completed, just in case if the rider were to find themselves too far away, and had no method of fixing faults and could not recall the mods made. As if that would ever happen; you exhaled sharply, finishing the swift sketch and folding the paper in half, then into quarters and dropping the pen to let it hit the back wall. It was suspiciously peaceful at the OC, you concluded, unsettling. Only Yunho going about his business, the artificial cylindrical suns, and the neon climbing from the outside and coating the front entrance to the garage in shades of blue, purple and magenta.

You waited in suspense, having caught the echoes of an engine in the far distance - still a few too many blocks away from you to determine what the source of it was exactly, but nevertheless, your instincts and the obvious approach of the sound was telling you that you were soon going to find out. Shutting your eyes, you made out an odd stuttering, reminiscent of a coughing fit in a human, as if the air system was out of tune, totally whack on the poor vehicle. The heart ached. Who could possibly mistreat a bike in such a way? Clutching onto the fabric of your black cargo trousers that you had decided would be something of a uniform for you, you listened on, confused. The rumble was familiar, albeit torn up and in need of a fix. Nonetheless, this was a powerful steed, a respectable monster that you could not wait to dissect and reassemble. Hands beginning to burn with excitement, heart starting to race, you stared off into the wall, waiting for the customer to arrive and made your guesses as to what the motorcycle could be like any mechanic in need of a fun pastime would. If you guessed correctly, you were in for an exhilarating time.

Soon enough, you heard the bike grind to a halt outside of the shop, and the thump of feet hitting the concrete. Not yet looking up, you waited for the figure to approach and cross the line that marked the end of the driveway and the beginning of the garage. Hearing Yunho make a move to roll out from under the car, evidently after having seen the boots form below and recognising them, you began your own sign of common courtesy and moved to turn and stand from the stool.

“Good time of day, welcome to Outlaw Customs how may I-”

“Rear wheel is busted and the mudguard’s wrecked on the right edge, and the spark plugs need replacing - totally fouling. Can you do that in two hours? I’m on a tight schedule.

You froze, the politeness caught in your throat and fizzling out to be replaced with an astonishment at the crudeness. Raising your head to let yourself inspect the man before you fully, you found that he looked every bit like the arrogance that had oozed from the first words he spoke to you. The flashy black and orange outfit, the glimmering belt buckle, the damn chains… the usual lowlife from a gang who had nothing better to do than to be the pretty boy. Slowly, your hope for the particular bike you had placed mental bets on dissipated, to be replaced by a wish that this hoodlum had a standard no-name, beat up and totally not worth the money ride that you could half-ass and let him disappear.

With a sigh, you heaved yourself forward, approaching the biker with a cold resolve and purposefully taking your time with every movement, seeing as the less you had to speak, the higher were the chances that you were not going to cuss this man out and focus on the work you had set out for you. Knowing the bikers from these parts, either they were too knowledgeable and could diagnose correctly enough, or they were so utterly wrong that you wanted to bash their head in. Time would tell which one of the two this guy was. Before you could get a word in, much to your fortune, Yunho was by your side and wiping his hands to give the black-haired man a firm handshake. You noted that the visitor was shorter than your boss, giving you a slight inner satisfaction for an unknown reason, but you bit any remarks back and remained stone faced, seeing as you were not sure just how hostile this man was going to be towards you.

“Seonghwa, long time no see!” your boss greeted the man who now had a name, very animated, amiable. You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head in a silent question.

“I see you have a new hire. Business doing well?” being addressed in third person was unsettling, but it was better than attempting to hold eye contact with the biker who gave you the urge to forget professionalism and throw a punch at lightning speed. It was hilarious how quickly your instincts returned to you in such circumstances.

“Guess you could say that, thanks to her, mainly.” with a playful smugness Yunho responded, placing a hand on your shoulder. If you did not know better, you would think that he was showing off, but his glance at you, a quick check, and his gestures made you think of your brother. Bittersweet, but still a fond series of chapters.

“Oh?” it was impossible to tell whether Seonghwa was mocking you or just taking the piss of the tenseness that he brought with him, but the bugger dared to pretend to be pleased with your presence, nearly making you scowl. But you were too good at treating people with an unnerving neutrality, so an unperturbed mechanic ready to inspect the ride you remained, much to the biker’s dissatisfaction.

You could tell that he put up a front of sorts, an attention-seeking, egoistic and merciless front, the presentation of the mentality of a murderer on the road, the man who would not hesitate to lead you into a ruin just for laughs. It was always fun to dismantle the nerve cells of such bastards; all you needed was his bike. His eyes found yours quickly enough, confident, unwavering, and your lips curled into a close-mouthed smile as if you were not just pondering the destruction of his ego. A flash of what could only be described as curiosity passed over his irises, and you swore you saw his pupils adjust as if they were a camera lens ready to capture you. His gaze travelled down your body and back up again, studying you, taking you in, settling on the tattoos that adorned your forearms and were revealed by you having pushed up the sleeves of the black turtleneck you were wearing. What was he searching for, you asked yourself before you noticed the solitary, dangling earring on his left ear discovering a single silver feather on its end. Of course he had to be a Blue Bird. Of course he had to be a so-called peace keeper of the city. No wonder he was so full of himself, at least upon first meeting. Now you really wanted to see his bike.

“Motor master, I tell you. Can sort out your beauty in no time.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Seonghwa squinted, earning an eye roll from your boss.

“Got you, yeah. Anyways, meet Y/N,” the man turned to you once again, seeing how your expression remained unchanged, “she’ll be finding common ground with your bike from now on. “Noticing how neither of you spoke nor made a move to greet, Yunho raised his hands and continued while ambling back to the car, “Now, now, don’t talk over one another, you will have plenty of time to chat.”

“So,” you began, not wishing to remain unproductive any longer and wanting to rid yourself of this client as soon as possible, “Seongh-”

“Mars.”

“Mars?”

“You address me as Mars.” he commanded, crossing his arms, the corner of his lip curling up as you searched for the right response, but quickly falling as you suppressed the desire to sneer and merely adjusted yourself to the pesky, petty demands. You had met worse, much worse than the urban chic version of hierarchy and names. Mars was something you could deal with easily enough, and gave you a lot more insight than Seonghwa could imagine.

“Mars, care to show me your bike?”

“Mm. Follow me, Y/N.” he emphasised your name, as if the fact that you did not have a title nor a nickname gave him some odd power trip - to be frank, it would not be surprising if this actually was the case.

As you followed him out to the front, you noticed his gait was ever so slightly out of balance, a miniscule limp, likely following an injury. Again, something so common with your customers, but made you soften up the tiniest bit - in some senses Seonghwa reminded you of a wild animal that was pretending to be strong. Frustrating, yes, but he was out there trying his best to survive in the way that he knew and could. Much like everybody else, including yourself. You kept your gaze trained on the man’s back as you walked on until you very quickly found yourself right in front of the beast whose roar you had heard from all that distance away. You broke into a full grin, making Seonghwa’s brows knit together as he became perplexed. As it turned out, your prediction was more than right, and before you was a gorgeous, sleek, though having seen some battles, Suzuki Hayabusa. Customised, adored and kept pristine from what you could see. The damage that the motorised excellence had sustained looked to be new, perhaps even acquired a mere couple of hours ago, but other than that the steed was the closest you had seen to true love in Night City. It was clear that despite Seonghwa offering not the best impression, the bike told a different story, and as you crouched down to briefly inspect it at proximity, you nearly gasped. Each valve, each tiny detail was treated with kindness and affection, as if this man spent every spare moment only caring for it. The paint did made you want to giggle, however. Aside from the signature hanja for peregrine falcon, purposefully highlighted with neat strokes of paint to highlight the engineering finesse and power contained in the supreme machine, the motorcycle was completed in a dual tone, with the majority of the body done in a midnight black, and the detailing and smaller body components being done in a copper orange - stunning complement to the outfit of the rider, a full unit of owner and two-wheeler. One body, one mind. If you could start your first impression here, your thoughts of Seonghwa would be a lot more friendly, you determined. But that was the beauty of being a mechanic, you got to know people a lot closer, in secret, unknown to them. This man had a soul on fire. A soul he was attempting to hide, a soul that manifested itself in one of the fastest production motorcycles. And a soul that most certainly knew what was wrong with its metal body - the diagnoses were pleasantly accurate.

“What are you smiling for?”

“Hm, let’s get this beauty in the garage, yeah?”

He obliged, but still did not let you touch the vehicle as he pushed it along until you told him where to leave it. Occupying an old armchair right by the platform where you fixed the bike in place, Seonghwa watched your every move, scrutinised you as you started your work on the Busa, impatient. It was customary for the bikers that came to OC to remain here like a spouse waiting for their loved one to come out of surgery, but his predator-like focus was beginning to get unsettling and ruined your concentration. You could not speak to the bike in front of you, you could not gain its trust while its owner was staring you down like you were about to tear everything apart and turn the motorcycle into scraps. Letting a tool fall onto the mat that you had rolled down on the floor, you raised your head an deadpanned to the man, catching him off-guard:

“It’ll be three hours since I expect you want the guard done up all pretty. Get me jjajangmyeon from the place down the street and I might speed it up to your optimistic two.”

Yunho’s guffaw resonated across the shop as he heard your statement and imagined the shocked look on Seonghwa’s face upon receiving the daring request. Indeed, the man was more than taken aback, curious as to how important you deemed yourself to talk to him in such style. But at the same time, it was beyond amusing. The cheek, the attitude behind a cold and monotone sentence was alluring. There was something more to you than what Yunho had proposed, and that was reassuring. Perhaps you did have the right energy to find common ground with his priceless Suzuki. Still, the first word to escape him as he recoiled from the jab was an airy question of:

“What?” quickly countered with:

“They do late night deals. Half price. If you get there within the next half hour that is. Get Yunho and yourself a bowl while you’re at it and I’ll get the job done to fit your busy schedule and be enviable.”

“Boss, are you hungry?” you called out to Yunho, who was still giggling from under the vehicle, making it appear as if the car itself was caught in a comedy.

“Aye.”

“Done then, Mars, would you be a dear and do an orbit there and back?” you could not stop yourself from bringing his chosen, given or acquired through a brutal climb name into the mix. The opportunity was just too much of a low hanging fruit to not take it.

You were playing with fire, that much was certain. You could tell that he was contemplating putting you on a hitlist; not something that you were not used to, seeing as you were still in a client-facing role even if a lot of your time was spent with silent steely beauties. But you took a risk with Seonghwa, you ceased to be careful, spurred on by the euphoric prospect of treating the customised, souped up and customised Hayabusa, and took a shot in the dark with your forwardness. As the blood that was pumping in your ears got louder with every passing moment, and you began to doubt whether this was the right call to make to get some along time with the steed, Seonghwa stirred after his ponderings. Rising from the armchair, the chains that adorned his neck glinting under the lights, he stretched more for show than for comfort and exhaled through his nose, suppressing a chuckle.

“Ask for jjamppong on top of that and I will snap your arms in half.”

“You are too kind.” catching him mid turn, you responded, making him look back, and give you a playful, mischievous glance over his shoulder, almost boyish, as if the two of you were good friends that were used to the banter.

Releasing a breath that you did not realise you had been holding after the man disappeared from view, you returned to the Suzuki that was gracing your vision. Yunho’s laughter had subsided, and once again the buzz of the lights was the only thing that was between you and total silence. Diving into your work, you read the story etched into the curves, the miniscule dents, the scratches that were invisible to the naked eye but still there, hinting at just how much the bike and, evidently, the rider went through. The fixes were going to be complicated, but nothing that you could not do with what you had in the shop. You rested a hand on the engine, thinking of your next move, and of the dark glimmering orbs of the biker whose soul was still right here with you, watching, inspecting, but attempting, bit by bit, to trust that you would do the mechanical masterpiece justice. Of course you would, you were getting a late dinner for it after all. Besides, it was easy to love such a stunning bike, especially when you could see that it was truly loved by its owner. A soft smile on your face, you leaned forward and got back to dismantling a broken detail from the main body, already excited for the inner workings you would see behind it; the closest thing to true light that one could get in the sadistic, somnolent city of neon and night.

After the first appointment came another, and another, and more after that. The Busa almost became your personal project as what had previously been menial tasks carried out by an amateur mechanic and devilish rider, now fell to you. You knew this motorcycle better than you knew all of your tattoos, that much you were sure of. From the piping to the seating to the turbocharger you had installed, it was clear enough that Seonghwa was more than willing to let you tinker with the bike as much as he wanted you too, which with every unscheduled drop in became longer and longer. At times, Yunho would be there to participate in some idle chatter, other times, it was merely you and him on your own, either in a perfect stillness, with only the bike making the music and talking for you both, or with the occasional question thrown in either direction.

You had found out bit by bit that Seonghwa was, as you had assumed, a member of the Blue Birds - the local crew of vigilantes, from what your boss and your ghost of a boss had told you. Brutal and unforgiving, they had taken it upon themselves to maintain something of an order in the district, though you never asked for the details on how exactly they did it. You had learned over your lifetime to ask less, unless it was about mechanics; that was always a safe bet, and a point that you would always return to if you felt the conversation going into a direction that you did not wish to explore. All other inquiries normally answered themselves from what you noticed - for instance, the limp was now gone, to be replaced by rather grim looking knuckles. But again, no comment from you. It was above your pay grade. Seonghwa, at some point, had also caught onto your avoidance and tendency to cling onto bikes for conversation, but had taken it upon himself to probe further and further through what you considered to be a strong enough barrier, to figure out why exactly was one of your tattoos on the right forearm a mark that he had avoided at all costs when he was still a youngster back in the place he used to go home, many kilometres away, now reachable through highways to hell. He could not ask directly, not when you could clog up his air filters or ruin the braking system right then and there, but curiosity was getting the better of him as the weeks turned into months, and you were doing your regular check up on the Busa.

“What’s your favourite bike, Y/N?”

“Why the sudden question?”

“Why answer a question with a question?”

“Hm… yours is pretty good.” you tried to brush his inquiry away, even though your mind instantly went to the answer, and remained stuck. You could hear the engine resonate in your chest, and could feel the handles in your palms, as you gripped onto them, tighter, tighter and turned. The feeling of a machine coming to life right beneath you, ready to race into the darkness and obey your every instruction. Turn after turn after turn. Somewhere along that race, you lost your soul, and longed for it. Blinking slowly, you hoped that Seonghwa would leave the conversation where it was, but knew that he was going to do everything except that.

“No but really. Every mechanic, every biker has their favourites. Hell, even Yunho has one and he doesn’t really work on them anymore.” leaning forward to rest his head in the palm of his hand as his elbow positioned itself on his right thigh, he focused on your response, down to the body language and each one of your cells could feel it.

“Hard to pick.” Again, vague, but you wanted to get away, hide yourself. The sensation of the brakes, how the loyal companion to your every conquest could glide across the streets and halt just when you wanted it to, make impossible turns and let you caress the ground through thick gloves that have seen the wildest tricks and fastest getaways… it was all far too vivid. Too much for you to bring up while you were trying to work. Swallowing your spit, you shook your head slightly as Seonghwa commented that you were not responding to him.

“What do you want me to say?”

“What you are thinking about.”

“And what am I thinking about?” abandoning the Busa, you gave the body a wipe with towel and dropped it to the floor, raising yourself up you fell onto the spinny stool, and eyed Seonghwa right back, despising the smirk that was threatening to break out on his lips that were far to soft and lush for a damn outlaw.

“The bike. Your bike. You used to ride, didn’t you?”

“...Hm.”

“I can feel it. No need to pretend.” he had already formed his suspicions. In fact, he had put two and two together a long enough time ago. All he needed was a confirmation, a mention of that same bike that he had heard of, a name to a face that had haunted him for as long as he was leading the Blue Birds.

“Yeah. I did. Not anymore though.” your voice grew colder, dismissive as you turned to look out at the neon lights. A flicker caught your attention - the sign for the Japanese restaurant that opened and closed only when the owner wanted to was caught in a starlike sparkling, the fluctuating light making it seem as though the luminescence was alive. Alive. Curious choice of words.

“What was it?”

“It?”

“Let’s start with the bike.”

“Is this an interrogation?”

“Just curious, no biggie.”

Afraid of what you could say if you were to dive into elaborating your memories and sentimentality, you stood up and walked to the work bench, retrieving the component that you had brought with you to the city, and kept it with you at all times. Giving it one last look, you strode over to an expectant and enthusiastic Seonghwa, motioning for him to stretch out his hands. As you watched him inspect the item, turning it and checking each nook and cranny, your heart felt heavy. Was it really that long since the brake pedal was attached to the swift stunner? A glorious ink black, with piping of the skeleton completed in a vibrant poisonous green. A nightmare. Your love, your priceless dream.

“A Kawasaki?” he whispered half to himself. So it was how he had indeed attempted to predict.

“Kawasaki Ninja H2R.”

“Two hundred and twenty-eight kilowatts without ram-air?”

“I played around with that.”

“Sure you did. Wow. Really that’s pretty.”

“Mhm.” you took the brake pedal from Seonghwa’s hands, returning it back to the drawer.

Suddenly, it all felt too real. The last moments raw, the feeling that the motorcycle was still with you, still outside, parked and patiently waiting for you, was too clear in your head that you had attempted to train to believe that that stage in your life was over. Done. Finished. You had crossed the metaphorical finish line and that was all there was to it. But Seonghwa was not letting up, instead choosing to dig into the wound and watch as blood began to trickle.

“Now that explains it.”

“What?” you knew you were going to regret asking, but did so still.

“The tattoo.”

“What tattoo?” your eyes narrowed as you propped yourself against the bench and crossed your arms.

“The one on your arm. The right one.” he pointed as if he just won a game of spot the difference, leaving you irritated.

“What of it? I have many.”

“Not one that belongs to the Black Pirates. I am no fool, Y/N. I’ve seen the mark before and truthfully, I am surprised you are still alive.”

“I am too.” you huffed, finding your boots to be awfully interesting.

“Sacrificed the bike?”

You did not answer. You did not want to answer because it was clear that Seonghwa could answer the question for you. And for that, you loathed him in that given moment, despite overall finding his company to be almost comforting in recent weeks. In reality, the Kawasaki saved you from utter demise. Sliding on its side across the highway at record speed, sparks flying in the air and the screeching penetrating through your helmet to embed itself into your bones, the bike made it seem as though you were truly done for when, as luck would have it, you had gotten away with only a few scratches and a lot of foliage clinging to the torn up leather you had worn. As you had made your leap off the out of control beauty, the hero fighting its last battle it collided with cement to split and crumble into smithereens, the fuel tank pierced and beginning to seep out the fluid. A couple of gunshots later, and the bike was caught aflame, and all you could see from the group below where you had fallen, was the occasional licks, smoke and more sparks, your soul departing the metal body. The brake pedal, by some odd circumstance, had flown off and landed in your direction, nearly crashing into your visor. You had cradled it in your hands, sliding down on your back further and further to the moist earth beneath the highway until you were totally concealed from all viewpoints, hidden by pillars and rusted armature. When you were sure that those who you had called family, called friends, called comrades sped away, confident that you were there splattered on the cement and roasting, thanks to the bag that had been left on the seats serving practically as a dummy, you had begun to weep, never knowing for what, but certain that you were not yourself anymore. You had died.

Unbeknownst to you, as your vision blurred and mist settled to accompany the rising melancholia, Seonghwa had risen from the armchair and cautiously stepped closer and closer to you, until he was barely an arm’s reach away. Gaze drifting, you only took notice of the change when the knuckles came into view. Those bruised, bloodied knuckles, obviously treated by a person who knew nothing about caring for themselves. Silly man. A silly, silly man who wanted to put up a front; a front that might just have been yours, and your family’s ruin.

“Hey, are you-”

“No.” you retorted before he could accentuate what you deemed to be your weakness. Pushing yourself off the bench you were about to make a beeline for somewhere, anywhere, make up and excuse, but felt a gentle hand wrap around your wrist. Shocked, you stilled yourself and attempted to tug, only feeling the grip getting stronger until Seonghwa pulled you towards him, so that you would be face to face.

“I-... I’m sorry. I know how much this hurts and-”

“Do you?” cold, you hissed.

“...I can see it. I am sorry for your loss. And I am sorry for making you relive it.”

A smile, ones that graced those who had little to lose and little to wish for except perhaps a restart as another person, in another body, in another time and life, melted over you as you tested the strength of Seonghwa’s hold another time. Not budging. You did not dare to check his expression, for you knew that it would make you crack.

“Do you need any-”

“One more word and I will snap your arms in half.” recalling your first meeting, you muttered the empty threat.

“You are too kind.” he echoed, deliberating whether to give himself up to the urge and pull you closer.

So it was you who he had heard about after all. The demon on the roads, Icarus who had gotten too close to the sun of power, and was violently shoved from the pedestal of grace and familial leadership into the torment, into the abyss, stripped of all you knew and had. He had learned about you through fable-like gossip that his childhood friend, who caught up with the wrong crowd and became a member of the Black Pirates had shared over a couple of drinks when Seonghwa had visited. Same night he had shared that he wanted to leave, but as it had turned out, he was someone not quite lucky to make an escape and someone who Seonghwa was meant to forget. But besides the passing of another, someone who he could not save even though he tried, never did he think that the beast on the Kawasaki would be you. The you that he had come to know. The sensitive, albeit snarky and strong-headed you. The you who was a gifted mechanic, a woman who breathed the craft, the art, the science, the life that was that of a biker. Never before did he see anyone treat the Busa with such respect, nor make such accurate guesses about the fights and chases that it had participated in. Looking back, it should have been obvious that you had a history. You knew more than you ever let on. Perhaps you knew Seonghwa like he knew the streets of Night City, and now, your true past.

“The… yeah the Hayabusa’s done. By the way.” you tried to veer the conversation away, and fortunately this time, Seonghwa agreed.

“Thank you.”

“Standard rate.”

“Yep.”

“Everything is sort-”

“May I-”

You shot him an aggressive, piercing gaze, threatened by the change in tone. Far from his usual upbeat lilt, it was deeper, slower, sticky and sweet like molasses and you did not want to get pulled in. You clambered for air, for any relief away from his man, the man who had so openly shared his soul with you. He stammered and cleared his throat, finally letting go of your wrist. The sharp change in temperature was nearly unwelcome as the ghost of his soft fingers remained, caressing your flesh.

“Would you want to join a patrol now?” the inquiry, hanging in the air, dangling like a treat as the adrenaline rushed across your body. You had to feel guilty, surely, after having mourned the loss of your beloved Kawasaki and just revisited its final minutes, you had no right to be looking forward to another rush. You did not need it. You should not need it nor want it. And yet, you found yourself nodding almost immediately, much to Seonghwa’s delight. A reassuring warm hand on your upper arm, a lean forward letting Seonghwa catch your glossy eyes, him asking when you can close up shop and you mumbling that you were done for the day, or night. It was alway nighttime. The soothing blanket of navy blue, sleepy over the streets that you were about to explore under Seonghwa’s guidance.

As the dark haired man settle on the bike and appeared to adjust his wristwatch, holding his helmet while you found a spare displayed on one of the shelves - showed marks of wear and tear but good enough for a couple rides more, he felt his heartbeat turn erratic, and what was normally a bearable thrum turn into an erratic, unbelievable pace that only amplified in his skull and quickened once your arms were wrapped around his torso, holding onto him, your body pressed against his. If there was ever a hazard on the road for him, it was this. Your intoxicating closeness that made him want to ride forever more, never stopping if that meant that you could stay exactly where you were. How you were. It was surreal that the rider, the legend that he had grown to respect from the tales, was the woman that he had now grown to love.

As he sped down the streets, the neon had shone down on you in different colours, a bolder, more optimistic palette that made you beam right back. You clutched onto Seonghwa’s leather jacket, seeking more support as the exhilaration began to overwhelm you. It had been far too long since the last time you felt the wind hit you in this way, you felt the engine rushing you on between the trees of the concrete jungle, the windows and doors, the stray passers-by zooming right past you as the bike accelerated. It was not the same, of course, nothing could ever be, but the feeling, that distant feeling and warm memory was enough to remind you that you indeed were alive and you had the future to look to. A future that Seonghwa wanted to help you find. Hugging him tighter, you let yourself be carried away from the shop you closed up, away from the pleasant routine you had aimed to settle into all the way towards a moment of freedom and that familiar rush.

When you arrived at the destination, which turned out to be an abandoned parking lot under an equally barren road, illuminated only by a single streetlight with two bulbs, you noticed that there were a few people already gathered, including some familiar faces who were chatting away while wheeling their rides out of what you would describe as some concealed warehouse into better starting positions. Feeling a wave of shyness, you did not move as Seonghwa stopped the bike and stretched his legs out to balance it. Only after you sense more movement, and approaching footsteps did your arms snake away on their own accord and tug at your helmet. The man seemed to sense this since, as soon as his own helmet was off, he turned to you to whisper a quick “you okay?”. You feebly nodded, and found the ground with your military-style boots.

Quickly enough, a man approached Seonghwa, and the two exchanged a handshake and a couple of words. You recognised him fast enough - while he had not come to the shop nearly enough to be considered a regular, and judging from how heavily modded his MV Agusta Rush was it was clear that he preferred to do most, if not all repairs himself, Yeosang was a memorable figure. His hair, approaching shoulder length, and the long black and red leather jacket with cutouts that flowed behind him as he hit top speed made him stand out to you, and his endearing disposition and innate warmth as he discussed all matters within your comfort made him something of a friend. He waved to you, excited that you had decided to join the patrol, agreeing with Seonghwa that it was an honour to see you on the urban tracks. You bit your lower lip, wondering just how far word about you had travelled after your supposed passing, and whether this word would travel right back down to the south again after your impulsive appearance right here, among the Blue Birds.

“So you riding with us? Right?” Yeosang finally addressed you, his voice jolting you out of your musings.

“I suppose so,” after giving Seonghwa one final look and receiving a reassuring smile, you responded.

“Great, then, follow me.” As Yeosang spun on his heel and led you towards the warehouse, you let yourself wonder out loud.

“Were you all waiting for me or something?”

“Well, yes and no. We’ve heard stories, then Mars has really taken to you and well, that comes with a lot of getting to know you, and then Yunho shared a couple things-”

“What in the-”

“Don’t be too surprised. We keep our tabs on everyone. Just in case.” he chuckled and elaborated on the miniature dossier that had accumulated - he was not going to rat out the fact that it was mainly his leader not realising that he was discussing you at longer time periods than was customary for a standard biker and mechanic relationship.

“Guess I’m a bit rusty in that department.” you pondered the networks, the informers that had existed back in your town, and how sometimes you even had to ‘do some less than appealing kinds of convincing’ to get updates, but shook the image away as you entered the dimly lit warehouse.

“Let’s hope you aren’t when it comes to riding.” You stood back, letting Yeosang turn on another lamp, something probably found in a trash pile but still functional enough to be a source of illumination, only to reveal a breath-taking beauty.

“Now, of course it isn’t the Kawasaki,” Yeosang paused, patting the seat of the black and red motorcycle that you could sense was studying you, checking if you were strong enough to handle it, “but it is still quite impressive. Aprilia RSV4-”

“1100 Factory. Grunty engine, sweet chassis. Good engineering.”

“You can say that again. Here, give it a try.”

You stepped towards the breathing machine. The beast in slumber, awaiting a boost, a nudge awake and it was ready to roar and leave all those in this lot behind. It was a captivating system of mechanisms, all working in unison to create what was going to be a revival for you. A revival on the road. As you sat down on the bike, feeling its energy ooze through you and appreciating its almost youthful vigour, your mind traversed its maze-like avenues back to the Kawasaki. This was far from your precious. Far from who you had been. Far from the soul that you had lost back then. Gorgeous, without a doubt, an astounding piece of work that the streets would be grateful for gracing them, but that was how you had to treat it. As much as a part of you desired a renaissance, that same thrill, it was obviously unachievable. Nothing was the same, nor could be, including you. The place where the tattoo of the Black Pirates still decorated your skin ached with dull throbs as you leaned forward and tested your movements, your fluidity with the motorcycle. This was going to do; this had to do for that one last thrill before you could say goodbye to the dream of re-experience - the final nail in the coffin of a phantom that had you delusionally hoping for that sense of belonging and sense of being undefeatable to return to you. The Aprilia was the Aprilia, and you were you. The need for speed, the desire to rule the roads and exist in discord and chaos had died with the Kawasaki Ninja H2R, and the you now was searching for peace. The peace that you could read in Seonghwa’s eyes. The peace that he was offering in the form of unconditional support, in the form of pieces of his own soul to ignite the one you were patiently cultivating in your hollow chest. To let the blaze warm you, nurture the affection you yearned for, and let you breathe again. You gripped the handles of the bike, and turned on the ignition, casting a permission-seeking side glance to Yeosang, who merely nodded. As it rolled out of position and you flipped the foot that anchored it in balance, and let yourself be regarded by Seonghwa and his fellow bikers, the revelation finally came, that this was the new life that you had hoped for. The life that you had wanted to experience, not a reworking, but a clean slate. A new home that you hoped to discover in Night City.

Once everyone was in position, and Yeosang gave you a helmet that was fitted with a communication system that let the Blue Birds converse while on patrol, you followed Seonghwa out, having been given a designated position and role in the formation. It felt like the old times, but in reverse. Instead of organising havoc, the group was organising peace. Instead of planning heists, the group was hoping to stop crime that happened under the noses of those who purposefully disregarded it, focusing on new age delinquency that manifested itself as banal expression and creativity. The city was different now, it had to be. Suddenly, you were astounded and amazed by it, by the intricacies of every corner, the affection with which the citizens of the sector had decorated their storefronts and windows, even though if a government-arranged bust was to be organised, and the forces, nicknamed the Guardians were to march down these streets, these homes would be the first to be annihilated. Risking their own lives these marvellous people decided to spread joy and share colour. There was hope in Night City, there was hope in this district where the desire to live and thrive could not be put out.

Blue, purple, magenta, pink, orange, yellow, red, green, purest white and inkiest black, every shade and every saturation was jumping out at you even through the visor. You felt at ease, one with your surroundings as Seonghwa’s soothing voice issued the final command before the group were to split, leaving you, Seonghwa and Yeosang alone and zooming down the central street, empty from the lack of business after a particularly nasty raid. You noted remnants of shattered glass and a charcoal black storefront, one of the downsides of living in an area where law was more questionable than local dealings. But even then, you felt more alive than before.

“How are you feeling, Red?” a nickname thought of on the spot for ease of callouts thanks to the accents on the Aprilia.

“Good, Mars.”

“Good?” Yeosang echoed, and you could swear you heard an amused giggle from his mic.

“Very good, Greece,” you would never not be amused with the choice of name for your friend, the word ‘sculpture’, to highlight his heavenly visuals, had apparently been deemed too long to work.

Seonghwa could hear the joy in your voice, stronger than he had ever experienced it before, even when you joked around with him or revealed to him a particularly high quality part that Jongho had produced by some unmentionable connections. Previously, there had been barriers that you had accumulated with each season of your new existence, hardened by your trials and tribulations as a person who technically was not supposed to exist. Less talk, more business. Less emotion, more control over your behaviour, your being in the effort of maintaining an image of strength, much like he had done when he had first met you.

When Seonghwa had first laid eyes on you, you seemed to be the closest thing there was to a human version of ice. You appeared to be dismissive and disinterested in him, in what he could bring, and that was vexing. He, as Mars of the Blue Bird gang, had gotten used to have the room freeze as he walked in, only to combust into hot flames an instant after, but definitely not come face to face with someone who was sombre, and with their lack of a reaction made Seonghwa feel as though, in reality, he was not that important. He had made a promise to himself after finding out about the Kawasaki rider of the Black Pirates, that if there was anyone he would listen to and learn from, it would be them. From the technique to the daredevil spirit, that was the kind of rider he had always wanted to be. At the same time, as days turned to weeks turned to months, and the image of you and the rider became one in his mind, Seonghwa came to understand that truly, the rider was an illusion. A fantasy that he had built in his mind that could not compare to the wise woman that had transformed his Hayabusa, and his own heart. He wanted to learn you, and learn anything else with you. And to hear the spark within you, to feel your passion for finding yourself begin to return to you was the final sign that he needed to fully comprehend what he had been searching for. For that smile to never leave your face, for him to bring you food just because, for you to be side by side in this race against harsh reality, fighting the odds and making it through to a land where there was true light, away from the land of neon farce.

As you sped down the neverending roads, checking each turn and alleyway for activity, an odd trepidation crept into your chest, and fluttered like a moth fighting for its spot on a bulb. The same feeling as when you had been out with your so-called crew, checking the outskirts of your hometown that fateful night. Your inner alarm rolled out of a restless sleep, and began to clang against your brain, once, twice more and more until it became unbearable and you cried out for the group to stop. The unexpected call startled the duo, and they barely had time to process the action as the three of you instinctively skid to a halt, leaving hot trailmarks on the road. A hum. An unsettling hum that came before a certain ruin spread across your surroundings, and you took off your helmet to tune into it in an attempt to decipher anything at all. Seonghwa and Yeosang followed suit, perplexed, contemplating you as you darted from one side to the other turning your head and getting a grasp of what could be the source of the thrum. A revving. A sickening revving in the far distance, picked up by you as you whispered to your team.

“You hear that?”

“Hear what?” Yeosang asked back, running a hand through his hair.

“The hum.”

“Hum?”

“Where are we right now?”

“Southernmost district, kind of outside of Night City, but still our area.” Seonghwa responded promptly, alerted by your concern.

“We need to leave.”

“But the patrol-” Yeosang tried to argue, but you cut him off.

“Now. We need to leave now.”

“Why?”

The engines became even louder, and if you were not going to move now, you would never move again.

“Surveillance Point South, Guardians Helmets on, MOVE!” you commanded, disregarding any hint of formality as you shoved the helmet back onto your head and twisted the bike to go back. The men followed suit, and in good time, as in one of your mirrors, you saw the first flash of white appear from around the corner.

“GO!”

Bless technology, bless the engineers who crafted these magnificent motorcycles; you were praying and praising every person who had ever contributed to the creation of these beauties, these roaring urban animals as you accelerated to top speed in seconds and swerved down a random street, one that you had no clue where it led to. Calming yourself to the level where you were able to ask a question, you hurriedly shouted into the mic:

“Mars!”

“Turn right at the end, Greece flanks on the left.”

“Gotcha chief.”

“Update on tail?” You continued as the initial wave of automatic movements subsided, and in came the need for fast, adaptive strategy. You were not about to make the same mistakes again. This could not happen. You had to trust yourself, trust Seonghwa and Yeosang. They should not suffer the same way you had done. Ever.

“Five Guardians. Gear - standard. They were not expecting us.” Yeosang communicated back, pressing himself into the motorcycle as the three of you sped down the street only to burst into another and swerve to the appointed direction.

“Well that’s a plus,” you huffed and accelerated more after completing the dangerously sharp turn. The Guardians were quick to repeat the motion, and were aggressively catching up to your trio.

“There’s a highway under construction, we can lose them there.” Seonghwa offered, clearly disturbed by the closeness of the forces, practically breathing down his neck.

“How far?”

“How fast can you go?”

“Lead.” a quick ‘yes’ in agreement, and Seonghwa issued an order:

“Greece, split on the fork and find Crow. If you get a tail then spiral the shit out of them.”

“Aye.”

“Good luck.” With one last wish, serving as a hopefully temporary farewell, Yeosang rolled away his own response blending into static as the connection grew weaker, only to fully break:

“Good lu-”

And just like that, it was you, Seonghwa, and four remaining Guardians, who evidently had decided that Yeosang was not their main target, leaving only one to tail him. You cursed under your breath, and clearly the mic was a lot more sensitive than you had initially expected, because as soon as the utterance left your mouth Seonghwa’s voice reverberated against your eardrums.

“Just a bit more, okay? Trust me we’ll get there-”

A gunshot stops the man mid-sentence, and you blindly followed him as he countersteered to make another sharp turn into a much more narrow street, forcing the group of four to slow down considerably and giving you an extra few valuable seconds.

“Are guns part of standard gear?” Shocked by the similarity between the gang you had been part of and your present followers, you managed to ask.

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“Well isn’t this a fun time.”

“Glad you are enjoying it. Turn in five then turn left.”

Before you knew it, you were entering the meandering manoeuvre from street to alley to a series of pedestrian passageways, fully expecting Seonghwa to still be by your side, but as you entered another road, zooming ahead, you took note that your partner was nowhere to be seen, along with another two Guardians. The ones behind you, thanks to the maze of stairs and tight spots down the path he had directed you through, the Guardians were trailing behind, the distance having grown to a more secure one, at least until you felt the bike, which you were not totally used to, hit a pothole on the road and start to wobble, forcing you to overreact - counterintuitive to any professional behaviour. Your yelps finally made Seonghwa return through the speakers asking as to what exactly happened. To the best of your ability you choked out the cause of your surprise, while loosening your grip and regaining at least some control by slowly rolling off the throttle.

“I leave you for one second and that happens?”

“Last time I was alone and being chased I-”

“Did not have me, to your left-” As you had balanced yourself out and returned to breaking any speed limit imaginable, you noted the familiar black and orange Hayabusa merge into the lane to your left, followed by one Guardian.

“Where is their friend?”

“Took an arrow to the knee,” out of the corner of your visor’s allowable view, you saw Seonghwa accelerate until he was a little in the front and he waved what could only be a particularly menacing pistol.

“That is one hell of a bow.” You pondered when and where he could have produced a gun from, and finally realised why most of the time he kept his jacket zipped up unless he was off vigilante duty.

As you approached the winding highways-to-be, you swore you were barely breathing. With only three Guardians remaining on your tail it should be easier, an escape should feel closer, but you could not settle into any form of focus, instead only speeding towards an oblivion. Another one, your final one. The fear that you had been living with, the repetition that you had wrongfully longed for, was it about to happen? You fell quiet as you saw the road curve higher and higher to another level, and followed its flow. Seonghwa let you flow forwards, turning back to return the gunfire that the white-clad spawns of the so-called law restarted, missing one by a few centimetres, but in this way forcing them to enter the same state from which you recovered. Luckily, they did not have as reflexive of a control over the vehicle, and toppled to veer and hit one of the borders, denting it and giving up the chase. Two to go.

Entranced by the openness of the location, you raised your head to find a night sky, clearer than the one you were used to back in Night City. It was similar to the countryside around your hometown, how the stars came around to glint and help you recollect your thoughts by emphasising that everything on this earth, compared to the infinite expanse of the universe, was small enough to brush off. It had always made you feel briefly light, relieved, free. How you wished you could fly-

“Ready to fly?”

“Literally?” you cried out, returning back to the matter at hand.

“I sure hope you remember how to recover from a high jump on a bike because that is our only chance.”

“What the-”

“Three.”

“Two.

“One.”

“May the suspension system be ever in our favour,” you muttered, embracing the oncoming drop as you avoided the cones that marked the end of the construction zone and led into a drop onto the highway below.

Your mind cleared, and you focused on the head level balance point in front of you, which just so happened to be the straight line of the horizon. Your body moved back to ease the weight on the front end, and as you saw the drop come into view, raised yourself up on the foot pegs and pushed with all your might, bending your legs into the motion as you felt the suspension respond to you and compress before rising again. Instantaneously, you blipped the throttle, giving the Aprilia that final burst, propelling you and lifting you right when the front wheel hit the jumping point you had marked out. Keeping your head up, you let yourself feel the arc that you made together with the bike, eagerly watched your surroundings blur as you continued your calculated fall, and giggled as you heard Seonghwa let out a loud proclamation of “awesome!” as you landed the jump and remained fully in control of the temperamental steed.

The Guardians had stopped themselves before the leap, clearly not having the borderline death-seeking move programmed into their ridiculous training schemes, nor into their own obedient, law-abiding cells. With the southernmost district, and as such, the Guardian patrol point long behind you, it was now a matter of finding a place to slow down and figure out a safe way home. You laughed airily as the adrenaline egged you on, making you feel like you could take on the entire world, your gang of traitors and snakes, and the masked tyrants that had been chasing you and all that you considered valuable in your new chapter. You survived. Finally, you survived.

When the empty highway hinted at an exit on the other side, in unspoken agreement the two of you hopped the inexistent border between lanes and swerved into the turn, re-entering the city from a different angle, fully avoiding the southern district. As neon began to occupy your vision once more, the lines of blue, purple, magenta starting to line the streets of your home, you let out a sigh of relief, coming down from the rush of a good chase. As soon as the two of you ensured that there was no hint of Guardians in your vicinity, Seonghwa signalled for you to slow down and stop in a secluded square that was located between the outstretched segments of an abandoned residential block, the doors taped shut with signs proclaiming ‘demolition’ plastered over fading graffiti.

Hopping off his bike and leaving the helmet and gloves on the seat, he rushed to help you out, the exhaustion from diving headfirst into something that had not been in your active arsenal for a while. Wobbly legs, dizziness and an urge to listen to gravity for once nearly had you stumbling off the bike and onto the cracked pavement, if not for the strong arms, stabilising you by positioning themselves at your waist, and bringing you flush against Seonghwa’s toned body. Through the haze of a numbing fatigue, you could finally make out the slightest tang of gun smoke, blending with an aroma of a sweet perfume, pronounced as he had burned up from the prolonged pressure and thrill. Smoke and vanilla. And you were alive to take it all in. You raised your arms, searching for him, trying to feel out an anchor in the renaissance, clamber out of the ashes that were still coating you in a weight of a past that you had now shed. Fingers flittering across the black tank top, left exposed as he had unzipped the jacket, travelled around his sides to find his lower back and hook themselves together. You let yourself be consumed by the feeling of safety, the feeling of having overcome yourself and finding someone, the one person who was ready to pick you up again. Your body shook as a sob that you were unknowingly holding back flew from your now light heart and into the omniscient night, but all you could feel was warmth. A reliable embrace that was going nowhere, a man who knew who you were, who you had been, and let you decide for yourself who you wanted to become-

“Mars-” you mumbled, pressing your face into Seonghwa in an attempt to let the fabric swallow your emotion.

“-Seonghwa.”

“Huh?” you wanted to look at him, at his dark eyes that held the sky, the universe within them, but the soothing circles that he was drawing on your back as he began to rock gently while keeping you in his arms made you remain in the same position, right against him. With him.

“Seonghwa. Hwa. Whatever nickname you think of but… just. Seonghwa, Y/N. Call me Seonghwa.” you chuckled through the tears that started to decorate your cheeks, earning a confused hum from the biker.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Cheeky.”

“At least we are not threatening each other with grievous bodily harm anymore.” you tried to squeeze him in a way to emphasise your joke, but earned a surprised pained yelp from the man, followed by a pursing of the lips as you darted to face him.

“Seonghwa?” it was obvious that the new address made him soften considerably, but your worry did not subside. “Are you hurt?”

“It’s nothing really, regular st-”

“Where, Seonghwa, where?” you used his own name against him, forgetting your own overwhelmed state and turning your attention to him.

He was entranced by the way your eyes glistened in the darkness, how the tears that stained your cheeks were only adding to your image. Nothing would make him look differently at you. Nothing ever. And if he had to race against time itself to be able to hold onto you like this, he would do it. He would fight all of the Guardians and Black Pirates combined if it meant that you could smile. You needed to smile. He tried to ease the concern, but the wound that he had acquired during the chase was becoming nearly unbearable. Instead of fighting you, he tilted his head to his left and lifted his arm while keeping the other on your waist. Getting the hint, you flipped the bottom of the cropped jacket and gasped as you saw torn material, reddened, irritated skin, and a mixture of coagulated and still-trickling blood concentrated around where what could only be a bullet grazed Seonghwa’s stunning, tanned skin.

“What the- and you are just here? Standing? You need treatment, stat!” admonishing his self-disregard, you leaned to inspect the wound more closely, only to have Seonghwa attempt to flip the jacket back and dig his fingers into your side.

“I am fine, I swear-”

“Do you know anyone who can fix this?” not quite in the know of any medical terms, you resorted to treating the wound as though it was a damaged component, except a lot more distressing, and obviously causing a lot more lateral harm than any scratch or even piercing tear could to cold metal.

“...Not really, no,” after a long pause, he responded. Lowering his arm, Seonghwa returned to his previous hold, except this time, moving until his face was only centimetres away from yours.

“Well then, you know me, I have a first aid kit at my cave.” your voice quivered as you at the man before you. You could tell, he was new too, also reborn from the chaos. Neither of you could predict, but it was obvious that now, that light that you had been chasing was within reach.

“So you can fix bikes and people?”

“Bikes, yes. People? Not really. But I would like for you to see another day please.

“It really isn’t that bad.”

“Then why are you in pain?”

“Because I have been staring at your lips for the past minute and still have not kissed you.”

You blinked once, twice as whatever words were in your throat remained there and fell right back down to be set on fire by what you could only describe as the blowing of multiple fuses. You were not quite sure when the two of you managed to lean so impossibly close to one another, but your arms were fully relaxed, having succumbed to the sensation of his hands dancing across your hips testing the waters, and your vision was occupied by Seonghwa, and Seonghwa alone. His gaze, once again, trailed down from your eyes down to your lips, slow, confident alluring. Ignoring whatever pain he was experiencing, dulling it with a different, more tantalising ache. With your breathing growing more shallow by the second, you were not sure what to expect of Seonghwa in this instant; perhaps more accurately, you were terrified of how this would change your new life. He was taking his time as though he was reading a book, trying to decipher what you were feeling, and while he was more than ready to lean in an destroy what was left of the gap between you, your swift hands that wiped what remained of the moisture on your cheeks and a playful smirk on your lips forced him into a childish pout.

“And you won’t, unless you let me patch you up.”

“And I can kiss you after?”

“...Deal.” to hell with it all, you continued soundlessly.

As rapidly as the moment had developed, it ceased to persist, with Seonghwa detangling himself from you and telling you to grab your helmet while pressing a couple of buttons that were concealed on his wristwatch.

“What about the bike?”

“Yeo will sort out the bike. I just pinged him with the coordinates.”

“You have a spy watch?” amazed, you exclaimed.

“Nifty, huh? Blue Bird exclusive.”

“I need to speak to the engineers in your circle, I need to absorb some skills from them.”

“I can see you’ll be speaking to Yeo more and more soon, then. He is quite the techy guy.”

As you were about to hop onto the bike, you thought once more about the injury, and tapped the already seated Seonghwa on the shoulder. Flipping open his visor, the man moved his chin forward, prompting you to go on.

“Scooch back.”

“But I can-”

“No buts. You are injured, and this is a hazard,” receiving a groan in response, you refused to pause, “besides, I can’t exactly hold on to you now, can I?”

That seemed to do the trick as the previously proud, arrogant man obeyed your command and slid away from the handlebar, but as soon as you were in position, revealed that potentially, it was not you winning here as he relished in the opportunity to embrace you for the entire trip back to OC, occasionally distracting you by letting his hands roam your torso, leaving you dangerously close to pulling over. But you had enough experience of being stoic, and Seonghwa still had much to learn about you, so you kept a steady speed, and greeted the luminescence of your neighbourhood with a relaxed rumble of the Hayabusa.

As you turned on the lights to your studio apartment and the two of you took off your shoes, you sped away to find the green case of health and all things that you were technically not supposed to have in your possession but did anyways. Funnily enough, Seonghwa’s comment had not been too far from the truth; back when you had been in the Black Pirates, a mechanic was fully expected to patch the customers up, as well as the bike, considering that both were normally against the law and had to remain undercover. Even when in certain districts the gang did bribe their way up to have a hand in decision-making, thus making it possible for the members to receive regular treatment, many had gotten used to the quick and easy drive-by healings, and would always choose to trust the person who gave life to their motorcycles over even the most qualified, certified doctor. Such was the rhythm that you had fallen into, the one that transitioned into the you in Night City through a library of skills and odd habits - like keeping the first aid kit right below the sink, the logic being that one could grab the kit, wash their hands and be ready for war, equipped with antiseptic and a plethora of improvisation techniques made up on the spot.

With Seonghwa settled on one of the foldable chairs that you kept to the side for when you wanted to sit while eating instead of leaning over the kitchen counter, you took the other, placed it right in front of the tired man and got to work. Carefully guiding his arms out of the leather jacket, you were left with a far too attractive biker, clad in only a black tank top and the ridiculously expensive chains, and the leather trousers that tightened around his legs as he wriggled a little and took a more comfortable position to sit. The earring with the feather right at the end still dangled in his ear, and his hair, ruffled but retaining some shape thanks to what you thought to be humble use of a styling gel. You needed to avoid his eyes at all costs, the burning eyes that were trained on you, and only you. It did not take an expert to guess what Seonghwa was replaying in his mind the entire time that you were around him. As you lifted the tank top and inspected what was now a dried up mass over a graze, you sighed with relief.

“Good news.”

“Good?” Seonghwa asked back, suspiciously out of breath.

“Yeah. Now, I can’t check for internal bleeding, but outwardly, this is easy enough. Seems that you got really lucky. Very. Over the top kind of lucky actually. Can’t say the same for the jacket though, but at least you are not a wine barrel.”

“Charming.”

“I’ll just clean the thing and put a big bandage on it so that it won’t get infected. I fear that most of the pain is from these old injuries though…” you absent-mindedly traced some of the hematomas, which, judging by their colouration, were well on their way to dissolving into a smoothness, with your fingertips, making the man tense up. He turned his head towards you, glancing back and forth as you inspected the collage of injuries that he had collected on his body.

“We’re fighters though, aren’t we.”

“Fighters need holidays too.”

“Right.”

“You need to park yourself in a garage and give your engine a nice break…” you joked, more to yourself as you turned to bring the green case to your lap for easier searching, keeping one hand in place to hold the cotton top up, until the finger grew tired, “hey could you be a darling and hold your own shirt for me? Cheers.”

Seonghwa jumped into action, enjoying the soft speech, and replaced your hand with his, the digits ever so slightly brushing against one another as he moved to hold onto the material.

“You are in luck.”

“Is that so? Even more than over the top?” ignoring his interjection, you continued:

“Uh-huh. I have hydrocolloid bandages left. This one’s actually barely noticeable, but works like a charm with weeping wounds so, get your flesh over here and you’ll be patched up in no time.” turning, he repositioned himself to allow you to clean the cut, removing some of the attached fabric that had dried with the first droplets, and leaving the redness exposed to the disinfectants, and to the patch. In no time at all, your work was done. Satisfied, you grabbed a tissue out of the packet that was sitting in the kit and cleaned the ointment and adhesive that stuck to you.

“I’m afraid I can’t help with the clothes though. Not my area of expertise.”

“You did more than enough, Y/N. And all this after racing through and out of Night City from five Guardians on a totally new bike.”

“I am a woman of many talents.”

“That’s true…” that honey-sweet, deep voice, slowing into a sultry beckoning as Seonghwa’s hand moved to rest on your knee. A man on a mission after all. You chuckled and snapped the first aid kit shut, easily sauntering from his approaches and enjoying every minute.

“You want hot chocolate?” you asked over your shoulder as you stashed the case back under the sink and shut the cupboard. Nothing was stopping you from being a good host to a very good person. Even though it was rather apparent that Seonghwa was eyeing something else on the menu, the sound of a sweet treat was rather appealing. You were right about him faking drinking coffee after all.

“Yes please.”

As you moved about the kitchen, fetching the cylindrical jar of chocolate powder and getting the coffee machine started for your own beverage of choice, Seonghwa moved to reposition the chairs closer to a table that bore the appearance of an ironing board squashed against the wall until he pulled it down and pushed the two legs at the free end out. Patiently, he admired your studio apartment, your corner of the city that was situated right above the shop. The walls were bare, only decorated with old holes from nails and with the odd scratch here and there. Minimal furniture, with the large dresser probably being donated to you by Yunho. The neatly made bed which judging by the headboard and armrests was also a small sofa, located right beside the window that was covered by wooden blinds roughly painted an off-white, was probably the newest addition to the metres of this room. Undoubtedly, the piece of furniture was acquired after you had moved here, after you had made your bosses certain that you were here to stay. And Seonghwa was going to make sure of it. Night City was now to be your new home, and when you tapped the table to alert him of the hot beverage that you had prepared, now ready and billowing steam out of the mug right in front of him, he revered how beautiful you looked, surrounded by the mechanic shop, by the streets of the district, by the city that he had despised for so long but the one that had helped him find you through mysterious serendipity.

"Thank you." he took a cautious sip, sighing in elation.

"No problem. I'll pretend that chocolate helps with internal bruising and call myself a doctor." You commented while settling beside the vigilante, making him smile.

“How’d you guess I would not want coffee?” you glanced over at your companion while taking a tentative sip once the initial temperature shock had subsided.

“You never order it.”

“But I never-”

“I think we have spent enough time together to know the basics, right?” A bolder swig, and you could feel the caffeine begin to hit your system like a nitro boost.

“Well I seem to be discovering more and more things about you every second, Y/N.”

“And how are you finding it?” you took the quietness as a chance to test him. It was barely a test, but nevertheless, too important to dismiss. The small questions, ones said in passing and ones to be forgotten were almost always the ones that were to be the most important.

“I want to learn more and more, since I simply cannot get enough.”

Momentarily bashful, you looked at the floor and thought of the garage beneath your feet. The place where you had initially determined that this same man who was now unbelievably bold in his expression of his feelings for you was to be your sworn enemy. How times changed, for the better. Regardless of the twists and turns, the ups and downs, even in the deepest night there was a light to find, and a light that was meant to be yours. This new life was your light, and Seonghwa wanted to be part of it. You grinned at the thought, and finally met Seonghwa’s smouldering gaze, fuelled by care, by determination, by the vision of a future.

“You know, I think I thought of a nickname for you, Seonghwa.”

“Oh?” he set down his mug, mirroring you.

“Yeah. I think I’ll call you mine.” you stood up, knowingly ambling to the light switch, listening to the biker following suit.

“Watch out, I might just marry you on the spot if you keep that up.”

“Well, I am not your bride but you may kiss me.”

“Y/N, you are too addictive, and will make me lose my mind.”

“Well then, are you mine?”

“In every lifetime I am yours.”

Enveloped in a new night, illuminated only by the colours that seeped through the half open blinds you ceased to think and rationalise, giving yourself up to instinct as you felt his arms wrap around your waist, twisting you from the wall, coaxing you closer to him, towards his warmth, his heart right there for you to take. It was easy to oblige and you pinched the material of his tank top, prompting him to step even closer, sure that he was practically beaming into the kiss as he nudged himself forward, lifting your head up just a little to prolong the contact. It was as though he was certain that if you were to break apart from one another, you would disappear. He wanted more, needed more. Digits tracing abstract shapes on your back, running through your hair, Seonghwa wanted to remember every detail. Just as he had said, he wanted to learn every part of you.

Lost in paradise, the kiss was electric. A hand that found itself toying with his chains, and proceeding to snake up the back of his neck to tug on his hair just enough to make him shakily exhale made Seonghwa switch his gears. A previous tentativeness, a tender exploration turned into an urgency as his tongue flicked against your lower lip begging for entrance, which you were more than eager to give. You sighed into the passionate call for more that left you breathless. And yet, in these seconds turned into an unprecedented timelessness, if you had to give up every life-saving molecule for even a fraction of nearly impossible unity, you would do it in a heartbeat. The sensation was as though you had finally woken up from a deep slumber, dragged from the somnolent abyss, and every vibration in the air was resonating with you, resonating with Seonghwa.

You felt drunk, dizzy as you guided Seonghwa to the bed, having very quickly memorised the layout of your tiny apartment to the point where you could move around even if there was not a single source of light. In a passionate blur your top was left by the chairs, while your trousers found their place right in front of the bed, together with Seonghwa’s tank top. With every flame that crossed between you, you laid yourself bare to one another, honest and open, and the vulnerability, intimacy you let yourself indulge in marked another beginning. As your nude bodies laid down onto the dark grey sheets, the both of you fervent for more but aware of the importance of honouring every step, Seonghwa suggested, feeling his side remind him of his injury:

“I think you’re going to have to take the lead here, Y/N, I’m a little bruised up.”

“Of course,” you leaned in for another kiss, smiling at the sweetness, “You ready?”

“More than.”

Seonghwa leaned against the pillows and headboard, devoured by lust as you moved further and further down until you reached his exposed member, leaking precum, hard, pleading for you to give it at least some attention. Testing the waters, you languidly rubbed the tip with your thumb in circles coating it in the translucent liquid and making Seonghwa breathe as though there was not enough oxygen. One glance back and you were in awe of the beauty before you. Eyes shut, reddened lips slightly parted, head tilted back as if he was caught in a divine act. The light from the street outside made him look all the more ethereal, and his skin, now an indescribably stunning collage of hues that had crept through the blinds, was a masterpiece that you wanted to honour with your love. As your teasing progressed into a gentle pumping, first of the tip and then with your hand sliding down the entire length, only to stop and give extra care to the base of the member, a low groan reached you - a melody that only encouraged you. Heat pooled to your core as you continued to elicit a string of indecipherable mumbles, a deep moan, and the most magnificent expressions from the man who had never thought you would even cross paths with again. How foolish you had been, masking Seonghwa’s stunning presence, response to your every action, and his eagerness to please you by whispering praises for how good you were making him feel, how amazing you looked and were, and how he was so grateful. Your prior ignorance was almost impossible to even consider now, as you let spit drip down from your mouth onto his dick, adding more lubrication and letting you increase the speed. The wanton sounds of your hand pumping Seonghwa’s throbbing cock, blended with the breaths turning shallow, any moan coming out airy, barely there, were filling you with your own desire, and your free hand quickly moved between your legs, fingers gliding along the folds, finding them to be slick, soaking, needy. You began to run your digits over your now wet clit, rolling over the nub painfully slow in a weak attempt to prevent yourself from cumming too soon, but what used to be a hint of a high only accelerated to a knot at the bottom of your stomach, pulsating and begging for fullness. With how Seonghwa’s hips began to buck up, oblivious to the bruises, the wounds that ghosted and adorned his body, you needed him.

“Hwa…”

“Mmh- yes?”

“May I… ride you?” Through phrases broken up by your choice to quicken the pace of your hand, abusing your clit until a trembling sensation spread over your legs in anticipation of an orgasm, you voiced your desire.

“Please- Y/N I- yes-” equally as shattered, Seonghwa was barely able to respond, moaning as you gave him a chance to recover ever so slightly, letting his member spring free, but more desperate than before for stimulation.

“Do you have condoms?”

“Back pocket, trousers, wallet.” he sighed, pointing at the discarded article at the foot of the bed.

“How’d you even get it in this Sector?” you asked, fishing the item out of his wallet, tearing the packaging and crawling back to unroll it.

“Con… tra… band,” he enunciated through your swift actions, biting his lower lip as he felt your heat press against him, your hand guiding the cock between your folds as you rocked back and forth.

“Vigilantes indeed. Protecting in all kinds of ways.”

“Are you kidding me?” Seonghwa groaned at the sorry attempt of a joke, his mind conflicted between the humour and the unbearable closeness of your pussy, lined up against his tip.

“I’m not the one smuggling condoms, though I have nothing to say but thank you, darling.”

Lowering yourself onto the member, bit by bit until he bottomed out inside you, you leaned forward, consumed by the euphoric feeling. Seonghwa took this as a chance to caress the side of your face, draw a line against your jaw and lead you towards him with soft fingers under your chin. Placing one kiss, another on your lips, and peppering your cheeks and nose with loving pecks, he encouraged you. He wanted to ensure that you felt loved, and only loved. When you began to move, hands finding the headboard for better balance and as a security measure so that you would not hurt Seonghwa, his gaze stayed on your face, bearing witness to the single most gorgeous view of his mortality.

He gave himself up to you, something that he would have never imagined, but something that felt so right that he was terrified of thinking how his life would be had he never met you. Seonghwa let you control the pace, and when your walls tightened around his dick with your climax fast-approaching, did nothing to stop you, deny you of the ecstasy, much to his own fortune, for the cries of his name as you reached your high and rode it out, leading him to his own heavenly demise were now permanently etched into his brain. Never before did anything of his sound so captivating. Never before did he think that he could see a light in this dark city, in his dark path. But there she was, an angel in his arms, falling forwards, a barely noticeable shake still over taking her as she nuzzled into the crook of his neck, your lustful fever accentuated by the coolness of the metal necklaces. Seonghwa kissed your cheek once again, then your forehead and the crown of your head, thanking you, adoring you, and as the minutes ticked past, finding his footing in the post-coital bliss, and nudging for you to clean up with him, so the oasis you had created in your four walls could last longer, and you could drift into the sunniest dreams in each other’s embrace.

As you laid in Seonghwa’s arms, flushed from the shower and changed into an oversized t-shirt, his leg lazily thrown over yours and breath tickling your exposed skin, you felt even more alive. As he pulled you closer to him, and with the hand that was fully on the other side of you reached out to rest his palm on the back of yours, and let your fingers intertwine, you let yourself fall into a serenity that you had never known, and listened to his heartbeat through the tee you had given him, a rhythm that you never wanted to forget, a soul that helped yours truly come back from a place of no return. Seonghwa traced the tattoos on your skin, whispering about their marvel, their story, pointing out his favourites, the details that put every piece together into one flowing design. He repeated, again and again, his adoration for you, kissing your earlobe only to say it once more, accompanied by his favourite sound: the syllables that made up your name. In rare moments like this, everything felt easy, within reach. In this time and space that existed after a revival, a self-discovery and a promise of a new beginning, you were ready to take the scenic route.

“Hwa, could you pass me the C-spanner?”

“Ah, the mechanic’s scythe, sure thing.” you rolled your eyes and grinned, accepting the tool from Seonghwa’s outstretched hand. You were working on a swanky new Yamaha that had been added to the general Blue Bird collection after a certain Aprilia had been turned into scraps in the name of security. Not that you knew anything though - after all that was not you, and you did not exist at all in the databases of the Guardians, having flown under the radar thanks to some quick camera wipes, and security checks around Night City. Your new beginning was greeting you with open arms.

As you adjusted the pre-load on the rear shock absorbers, Seonghwa noticed something that reminded him of cling film peeking out from under your sleeve and letting his curiosity get the better of him, inched towards you, around the bike and giving you barely a second to register his intentions, poked at the plastic.

“What’s that, love?”

“A little upgrade.” you smiled to yourself and continued to make adjustments to the energetic beast.

“A tattoo?” he inquired, taking the c-spanner from your hand and laying it down on the ground. You spun on your old stool to face him.

“Mhm…”

“Show me?”

“I don’t know… probably won’t be clear enough through the film and I don’t want to ruin it so…”

“C’mon Y/N, weren’t you gushing about it to me just yesterday? How Seonghwa would adore it and-”

“Don’t sell me out, bossman.” you retorted, faking a glare at Yunho who was in the depths of a discussion about component orders with Jongho and evidently, was getting more and more bored.

“And focus on the papers, Yunho.” the latter rapid-fired after you, making Yunho groan and shift his attention away.

“So?” Seonghwa nudged your foot with his, shoving his hands in his pockets. Clearly, whatever tailor he knew in this city was a magic person, because even months after the turning point in your identity, a switch in time that let you open your eyes to a beautiful new world, the beloved biker pseudo-uniform in black and orange hues was pristine, seamless, bearing no signs of any gunshots, nor of any tears nor grazes.

You stood up, and cautiously rolled up your sleeve to reveal a transparent bandage that covered your fresh ink. Another restart, another call for a new step in the form of a single blue feather, with a stunning gradient and black detailing. As Seonghwa peered at the design, open-mouthed and silent before nearly squeezing the air out of you as he hugged you as tightly as he possibly could and spun you around, you blinked away the last of your doubts that had been stuck to you from before the fateful arrival to Night City. In the most unexpected places, surrounded by the most unexpected people, time was finally on your side, and let you slowly but surely take steps towards the you that you were happy being. The you that was loved and could love. The you that turned a fresh new leaf, and was more alive than ever.

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ikemen-trifecta · 6 months

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A Date With Death ~ Making Grim Blush

“I’m not gonna write fanfiction or headcanons about him,” I thought to myself last night before going to bed, my head absolutely brimming with ideas. Ahem. Anyway. I took inspiration from HuniCast shenanigans and the CGs from the game. If you’d like to see more of Grim, feel free to submit a request to our Tumblr with more scenarios (not taking NSFW)! Please refrain from using his real name in comments and reblogs, as it is a major spoiler. Thank you for reading! –Edi

Edit: Two and a Half Studios retweets spoilers; it's fine.

⚪️🔴⚫️⚪️🔴⚫️⚪️🔴⚫️⚪️🔴⚫️⚪️🔴⚫️⚪️🔴⚫️⚪️🔴⚫️⚪️

🌻 The quickest way to make him blush is by resting your chin on his shoulder and murmuring “Oh, Grimmy~” 🌻 It’ll irritate him that you're not using his real name, but the close proximity will get him flustered regardless. 🌻 He’ll turn around and say “P-please stop doing that,” trying to obscure his face with the back of one hand.

🌻 Another way to make him blush quickly is to press your face into his chest (or make contact with his torso in any way). It's very sensitive, and he absolutely hates the fact that you use it against him. 🌻 You can run a finger down his back and render him a sputtering, red mess. 🌻 He tries to get you back by biting your neck (gently), but you are either very resistant to tickles or just don't care if you get flustered. It irritates him more.

🌻 Something more tame that you do that makes him blush is starting to grow a garden of sunflowers from the seeds of the bouquet he gave you. 🌻 He won’t say it, but he’ll be very touched that you decided to do that. 🌻 Every time he passes by the garden, his face will automatically become flushed at least a little thinking of you. It may even make him tear up a little.

🌻 Seeing you spend time with your pet will also make him blush. He won’t admit it, but you look very cute like that. When you aren’t talking, that is.

🌻 You also ordered your own axolotl plush to match his. He didn’t like sharing at first, but he couldn’t say anything when he found you in your apartment one night, all snuggled up in bed with Raphael. You had named the plushie after the angel of safe travels in preparation for the journey of your soul (Raphael is also seen as an angel of matchmaking and healing).

🌻 Speaking of sharing, he’ll…eventually…let you touch his hair. You enjoy having him sit against your bed or resting his head on your lap in order to braid his precious locks. If you look into his eyes while you’re at it, he’ll blush and avert them slightly. 🌻 To top it all off, you’ll either make a flower crown out of the blooms from your garden or weave them into the braids. He really is the prettiest grim reaper you’ve ever seen.

🌻 You’ll sometimes correct his typos, to which he’ll mutter the same thing again and again: “I do not type correctly…” 🌻 You always try to phrase it gently, but he’s still hard on himself regardless. He’ll blush and ask you about the proper grammar before disconnecting the call.

🌻 He still blushes when you mention the nonsense that is soul babies. 🌻 “You’re on about that again?” he’ll say. You respond by pushing him onto your bed. 🌻 “You. Me. Soul baby.” 🌻 “E-excuse me?!” 🌻 He’ll barely get those words out before you playfully hug him. 🌻 “You’re so easy to tease, Grimmy.”

🌻 He’ll try various things and finally pin you to the wall as a last resort and growl in your ear. 🌻 “I’ve got you now, Sunshine.” 🌻 You just smirk before stunning him with a quick kiss. He doesn't even know what happened, poor soul. You take this opportunity to taunt him. 🌻 “I’m the one with the most ‘rizz,’ my little reaper.” This mention of his previous cringey word usage will snap him out of it. 🌻 “Cease.” 🌻 “I don't think I will,” you’d respond, giggling. 🌻 This makes him pout— not that he notices. You bury your face in his chest again. He lets out a surprised squeak before just giving up and hugging you. 🌻 …still blushing from his chin to the tips of his ears.

#a date with death #a date with death vn #adwd #a date with death fanfiction #adwd fanfiction #a date with death grim #mild spoilers #just a little spicy #gender neutral reader #fluff #imagines #headcanons

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5queerducksinatrenchcoat · 7 months

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(making this a separate post from the reblog)

WELL WELL WELL, if it isn't me saying a thing that ended up happening! My cunty lil man got all dolled up with wee john, both looking gorgeous, by the way, and then izzy trying to teach frenchie the music real quick and y'all, I had to pause the fucken episode and prepare myself because izzy was actually gonna sing.

And then this lil fucker(affectionate) slaps me on the fucken face with LA VIE EN ROSE, and when I say nothing could have prepared me for that! I was not still the entire fucking song, my body literally could not contain its excitement. (there was a lot of finger snapping and bed slapping and 'fuck it up!'s and 'yes bitch!'s)

AND THEN, HE PULLS OUT THE FUCKEN FRENCH! Because of course con learned it in french, too! He didn't have to do that, but he fucken did!

And y'all, he was singing to the crew. It wasn't for ed, it was for the crew. The lyrics were changed so he was singing for the crew, because they're his family, and he loves them, and they love him. He feels safe with them and comfortable with them not only to be himself, but to FIND himself.

The crew actually took the time to realize that he is not okay, and to understand him enough to help him in the way he needed, not in the way they would need it. They took that opportunity to let izzy know, point blank, that he is one of them, that he is family, and I feel like it's safe to assume that that's more then he's ever gotten before.

And izzy's still not okay. He's been drunk or drinking for the majority of the fucken season. He is not coping with the loss of his leg, or everything else that ed did, in a healthy way. His thing with ed is still incredibly fucked because ed's allergic to proper communication and izzy will just take what he can get because he loves him. (But ed's a whole other can of worms who has his own shit to deal with.)

But anyway, it's okay that izzy's not okay. It's okay that he's not all healed and doesn't have his shit together. It's okay that he's not even healing rn, really. What's important is that he's in a place to start healing. He feels comfortable and safe and understood, he has a support system that he feels connected to and knows will help him, and he'll actually accept their help. (Like fang helping to keep him steady while he was coming down the stairs when he was telling frenchie what song to play. fang was holding onto izzy's hips and izzy wasn't even close to bothered.)

Also I love how ned picked up the song where he interrupted izzy, that was such a bitch move and it was great.

#im fucken feral about this show #and about this little middle aged man #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2 #our flag means death season 2 #ofmd spoilers #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd season 2 spoilers #izzy hands #ofmd izzy #con o'neill

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buckyownsmylife · 9 months

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about a girl - chris evans angst

The one where Chris breaks your heart

Warnings: angst

A/N: yes, I did finally write an angsty piece. No, this was not provoked by whatever rumors have been circling around this man's life, as it has been written since last year or something of the sorts. Just enjoy it and don't forget to let me know if you liked it by reblogging it!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Everything was going well until it all went to shit. That’s the way my life seems to go.

The evening started like it always does: I walked into the party and Chris was already there, chatting up another girl who I had never seen before.

I didn’t feel attacked or intimidated. We’d danced this way before - countless times, in fact. It’d become some sort of routine now. The one who got there first would find some unsuspecting victim to chat up while we waited for the other to arrive.

I’d seen that movie a hundred times before. He never pounced, only played with the food until it got tired and old. That’s when he’d turn around and find me, and together we’d escape to a room or a bathroom - whatever was nearest.

Anywhere felt fine when I had his dick inside of me.

I’d been looking forward to this night for ages. Even primped myself for it. I was wearing my skimpiest dress, and nothing but a thong for Chris to undress tonight. So I didn’t even mind when he didn’t connect his eyes with mine once I walked through the door.

It was all a part of the game, I told myself. He liked the chase, and so did I.

“Why are you looking so gloom?” Brie scared me with the question. I had been staring at my beer for the last twenty minutes, waiting for Chris to make his move. I didn’t question it - he might have gotten lost in conversation. It happened quite often, depending on how much liquor was in his veins by the time I arrived. So I wasn’t even anxious, just a bit antsy. The underwear was riding up my butt and I just wanted to be without it.

I kept playing with the idea of interrupting their conversation to slip my panties into his pocket, but I decided against it. I wasn’t that adventurous. All of my energy in these gatherings was channeled into wild sex in “exotic” places. There wasn’t much of it left by now, as unfortunate as it was.

“I just…” I didn’t even know what to tell Brie. “I don’t know. Might be having a night off, that’s all.” She shouldn’t be worrying about me when the real reason why I was looking so out-of-place still hadn’t even glanced my way.

Another quick look and what I saw had my heart falling down to my stomach. Chris and the girl were full-on making out. He had her against the wall, one hand on her ass and the other buried in her hair, and I didn’t know what to say when my friend followed my line of sight and noticed what had gotten me so sad.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” I didn’t need her words of compassion. It only had the mortification from this entire ordeal setting even heavier on my chest.

I knew Chris didn’t owe me anything; we weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, we weren’t together together. But every one of our friends knew about our customary hook ups. They were used to looking for us and finding us together, sometimes in compromising positions, so for him to just kiss someone else like it was no big deal felt beyond humiliating to me.

I wanted to go home, then and there. But I also didn’t want my friends to realize how hurt I was about it, so I knew I’d have to stay. I’d stay there and endure the humiliation, even when - through giggles and groans - the two of them found their way into a bedroom together, while I was left alone in the corner of a party I only went to in the hopes of spending time with Christopher.

It was hours before I saw him again, and even then, he didn’t see me - too focused on the conversation he was having with a common friend. I tried to be quiet as I approached them, I actually only wanted to grab myself another beer and they were the ones standing in the kitchen, but since he had his back to me, he didn’t notice my arrival.

I, however, couldn’t not overhear his words.

“So what? We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend anyway. Believe me, I would never date Y/N…” And that’s when he noticed me, standing there with a frown on my face.

I didn’t know how to react. I wasn’t going to lash out. I knew I wasn’t his girlfriend, but to be considered someone who could never earn the title hurt more than I cared to admit.

I didn’t know what to do. So I just left.

“Y/N…” He ran after me, for what reason I couldn’t understand. It’s not like he cared about me, not after what he did tonight.

“No, go away!” I yelled, my voice betraying just how hurt I was by his behavior. I hated it, hated that I couldn’t hide my feelings from the person who was the cause of them.

“Go and jerk off or something. Or find someone else who will fall to her knees and suck you whenever you want it. It obviously won’t be too hard.”

“You won’t at least hear me out?” That had me stopping in my tracks, ire making my heart beat so loud I could hear it ringing in my ears.

“Are you dumb?” I had to ask. “What could you possibly say to justify what happened in there?” That caught him by surprise. He fidgeted in his spot but didn’t open his mouth to say anything, and so I figured we were done for the night.

But just as I was about to leave… “We never talked about anything serious!” As if that was my problem with what had happened in there.

“And believe me, that’s on me.” I shook my head vehemently, crossing my arms in front of my body to show him that I meant business. “But it ends here and now. I can’t keep feeling this way every time we’re in a party together.”

Chris looked like he was struggling with something, but I wasn’t interested in letting him work through it at that time. “I know you could never love me.” Well, I knew that, now. “Not if you behave like that. Not if your only goal in life is to get more women into bed with you.”

He didn’t say anything and that’s when I decided it was time for me to leave. But I probably shouldn’t have mistaken his silence as a sign of his peace of mind, because the second that I turned my back to him, I heard his voice - barely over a whisper: “Maybe I just don’t know how to express my feelings.”

#my fics #chris evans angst #chris evans #angst #rpf #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fic #chris evans x reader

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grace-kami · 1 month

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Quick P sketch this morning

I have to do this again. I know the last time I tried to take a break, I ended up making a whole bunch of good artworks but I think this time, I have to take a real break.

Without get too personal, I have stuff going on at home that's taking a toll on me mentally and I can't seem to keep myself focused. As much as I want to draw and get more stuff out for you guys, I just don't have the mental capacity or the patience for not just drawing but for anything right now.

I'm really sorry and I hope I don't lose follower for this but sometimes we all need to step back and rest.

Normally for me, all I need is a few days. When I get in these bumps in the road, I can usually deal with it and move on. I know I'm a tough lady. We will see how I feel in a few days ya.

And sometimes when I do come back to drawing after a break, I dish out some bangers. So hopefully that will happen this time. I still have a lot of plans for our puppet puppy that I want to get started on but I also don't want to mess it up because lack of focus. I think we all have been in this position before ya.

Just know that I'm still going to be here. I'll be reblogging everyones beautiful artwork and I definitely don't plan on leaving the LoP community anytime soon.

If anyone wants to chat, I'm always around!

So much love to you, my friends🫂❤️

#lies of p #lies of p game #lies of p fanart #liesofp #p lies of p

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daddyy333 · 7 months

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Hard Day | Bucky Barnes x y/n

if you’d like you can reblog my original work, but please don’t post it without credit. if you take inspiration from my ideas please tag me, I’d like to see how someone else would write it

word count: 1.1k

warnings: ?

summary: You make Bucky feel better after a long, hard day at work

“Baaaby!” You said, hearing your handsome boyfriend come home. Bucky took a deep breath, of course he wanted to see you but he was so so so exhausted. He was usually so much happier and upbeat but today had just been…long.

“Hey, doll,” he said, placing his hand on the back of your head as he urged it forward slightly to kiss your forehead. You placed your hands on his shoulders, squeezing lightly. “What’s wrong, Buck-o?”

He sighed and said “I’m just…tired. And I’m sore, which doesn’t happen a whole lot so that sucks even more. Every little thing just kept going wrong and it seemed like no one was doing their job properly and no one was listening and of course it all ends up falling on me cause I’m the one actually out in the goddamn field”

Your eyes widened a little, he never usually said so much about his days, so he must’ve been really stressed. You moved to kiss his cheek and said “I’m so sorry, babe. Do you want me to run you a hot bath, massage you a little?” “No, no it’s fine. I’m just gonna go make a sandwich and hop in the shower really quick and I’ll be out in the living room in a minute” he said and you groaned.

He smiled and squeezed your hand as he walked off towards the kitchen. You scurried away to the bathroom in your room and ran the bath water, nice and warm, and even put in the bubble bath you normally use.

He came into the bathroom, half eaten sandwich in his hand and shook his head. You smiled and he said “you never do listen, do you?” “I just want to take care of you,” you said, crossing your arms. He slipped his shirt off and finished his sandwich before stripping naked.

You stripped down to your bra and panties, sitting behind him on the edge of the tub and beginning to massage his shoulders. He released a deep groan at the feeling, leaning forward. You smiled, gently massaging the knots out and moving down to his back.

He never felt so peaceful and in love. The sounds of the water moving gently and the feel of your delicate hands easing away the tension in his back were so calming. “I’m gonna cook you some real dinner after this, alright? Not a lousy sandwich” you said and he chuckled.

“I was thinking that soup you like. We still have that loaf of bread the Thomas’s down the hall gave us that you can eat with it” you said and he nodded. He turned around and smiled up at you, making you blush. He leaned up and kissed you, gently holding your hips.

You brush your hands through his hair and nuzzle your nose into his. “You're such a good girlfriend, doll. I’m so lucky to have you, I don’t deserve your love” he said and you shook your head. You kissed his nose and said “you deserve more,��

You slowly got out of the bath, Bucky squeezing your thigh as you reached for the towels. “Rinse your body off before you come out. Do you want me to rub lotion on you?” You asked and he rolled his eyes. He chuckled and said “I’ll do it myself. You’re already doing so much”

“Only for you,” you whined, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He blushed and watched as you walked away, admiring you.

When he came out of the bedroom, warm and snuggled up in one of his Henley’s, he couldn’t help but bury his face into your neck as his strong arms wrapped around your waist. “Hi, Bucky bear” you said softly and giggled, that was always such a silly nickname to you.

He sighed heavily, a lot of his body weight resting on you. “Why don’t you lie down? We can eat in bed. I know you’re exhausted, handsome” you said and he groaned playfully. He hugged you tighter and said “stop. No more. Just let me be” “alright, alright” you said, looking back and kissing his soft lips.

He squeezed your waist and said “smells good” “of course it does. You know I’m a 5 star chef, right?” You said, making him chuckle. You could hear in his voice how tired he was but of course he's secretly clingy and wanted to spend time with you more than anything.

“I’m so excited to sleep in with you tomorrow. Can we have fruit for breakfast? Banana. And those little oranges. Mangos!” He said and you giggled. You turned the stove off and said “I think we can make that happen, Bucket”

He rolled his eyes at the nickname. You turned around and kissed him softly a few times, running your hands under his shirt to caress his warm stomach. “You need to get in bed, mister. Can you even see my face right now?” “Yea, you look like an angel” he said and pecked your lips.

You giggled and pulled some bowls out, scooping the soup into each and keeping Bucky awake while they cooled down. You connected your phone to the Bluetooth speaker on the bookshelf and danced around him, grabbing his hands and making him dance with you.

“Baby you know I can’t dance” he said and you rolled your eyes. You patted his shoulder and said “that’s not true. Steve told me you used to bust some moves back in the day. Back when you were a real ladies man” “I wouldn’t say they were “moves” it was just slow dancing babe. Besides, one look and you put all those girls to shame” he said, grabbing your phone and changing it to a slower song.

He grabbed your hands and put them on his shoulders, wrapping his around your waist. He guided you, eventually burying his head into your neck as you swayed in each other's embrace. “Never felt this way about anyone but you, my soulmate” he said and you smiled, blushing softly.

“Come on, let’s eat before you make me fall in love with you all over again” you said and he smirked. You cuddled up in bed, slurping on the warm soup whilst Bucky admired his favorite girl ever. He eventually fell asleep, snuggled into your side as he snored softly, holding your hand in his sleep.

You set the bowls to the side, not even caring that you’d have to scrape the food off tomorrow because what mattered most now was your Bucky. You ran your fingers through his hair and turned the tv down, slowly drifting off to sleep with him.

Taglist: @auriel187 @kandis-mom @buggy14 @high-functioning-lokipath @wintrsoldrluvr

As of now l'm writing for

Eddie Munson

Lo’ak

Neteyam

Sebastian Stan

Bucky Barnes

CW!Bucky Barnes

Chris Evans

Geralt of Rivia

Henry Cavill

Chris Sturniolo