#blue motorcycle decor

[f-airchilds]

Mudroom - Farmhouse Entry Picture of a large cottage entryway with porcelain tile, blue walls, and a front door made of dark wood

[genderlessghoul]

I've been wanting to do this post for a while now so here is EVERYTHING I CAN TELL YOU ABOUT THE GHOULS' IMPERA COSTUMES.

Buckle up because I have a LOT to say about those, this is gonna be a very long one.

The costumes were designed by B Åkerlund, a Swedish costume designer who's worked with Ghost since at least Meliora (that's as far back as I was willing to scroll on her Instagram page lol). B Åkerlund has also worked for many other musical artists such as Lady Gaga, Beyoncé, Madonna, the Rolling Stones, Ozzy Osborne, Blink 182 and Hollywood Undead (information from her own website)

The masks were made by Bob Basset, a visual artists who works a lot with leather. I find his work fascinating, you can look him up on Instagram (nsfw warning, there's a few naked ladies).

Fun fact! The horns are real cow horns. That's the reason some of them have gold tips, to hide the imperfections that come with working with actual horns.

He does have a shop where he sells his items, there's a mask there very similar to the Impera ones. You can also buy Papa's batwings if you happen to have 2500$ lying around!

The jackets are made on the same model as one of Papa's. The back is decorated with a spine-like design made from leather and cording. It's adorned with a few of our classic Impera buttons. Some of the hems were left raw and some deliberate weathering was done to make it look old and worn.

Fun fact! The shoulder pieces are not sewn into the garment, I would assume for easier cleaning. I don't know if they're held by strong magnets or snap buttons.

The vest (my beloved 😩) is made from flocked velvet in a paisley pattern, the front hems embellished with satin piping. It closes in the front with custom metal clasps that are riveted into the garment. The D parts are attached with what seems to me like wide elastic, which would lessen the pression on the clasps when moving around a lot. The back is made from two different types of fabric, I'd have to touch it to be able to tell you what they are. I assume the panels closer to the sides have some mild stretch to them. The top of the shoulders are decorated with Impera grucifix patches.

The shirts were not custom made for the ghouls, altho they were altered. The original shirt in the vintage painter linen shirt from Punk Rave and it is still being sold. Some of the cuffs were altered, removing the ruffles for some of the ghouls, but not all. They were removed for Dew, Mountain and Phantom, Aether's didn't have them either. As far as I can tell, all the ghoulettes still have them.

An unfinished piece of linen serves as an ascot, that piece is decorated with a metal devil skull. The colour of the skull doesn't appear to be consistent between each ghoul, Dew's looks gold almost bronze while Phantom's is a silver-like colour.

Another modification is the buttons, a small portion of them were removed in favor of our Impera buttons. Some of the ghouls have more buttons replaced than others, which is still a mystery to me.

The pants are called Jodhpurs, they were invented in the 1800s as horse riding pants. The wide part at the hips and thighs allowing for better movement. The ones the ghouls wear don't reach all the way to their ankles, they stop a bit past the calf muscle, hidden by the boots. (Yes, the ghouls are effectively wearing capri pants)

The boots are motorcycle riding boots, decorated by a grucifix. Like the shirt, they can still be bought online through the All American Boots website, altho the price tag is... Headache inducing to say the least.

The cape is a piece of costume that was only briefly worn on stage by the ghouls, Aurora being the only one who still wears one. I would assume it gets in the way of playing very easily. The cape itself is made of two fabrics, a light blue satin and a dark grey suede. The two pieces are not sewn together at the bottom, they move freely from each other. The cape is attached on the left shoulder with a harness piece that has one strap across the chest, decorated with a metal buckle, and one under the armpit.

Aight that's it for me, have a nice day byyyyye!!

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #32

My baby, you’re my baby.

Imagine dis…

You know, I have the songs Mitski - I Bet on Losing Dogs and Reba McEntire - I'm A Survivor.

So in memory of the ever ending loop finally dissappearing and now replaced with Wake up by Llunr… Here it goes…

…

In the heart of Gotham, The Teen Titans who are being led by Tim Drake (Robin), along with Conner Kent (Superboy), and Bart Allen (Kid Flash) are fighting a powerful magician. They had managed to hold their ground, but they were unable to pass the unending minions summoned by the magician, nor could they land a decent hit on the magician, who was fighting fire with fire. Knowing they needed magical ability, they asked Zatanna to handle the caster while they focused on the minions.

The air crackled with electricity as spells collided and blended in a frantic dance of light and power. Just as they were ready to gain the upper hand, two opposing spells from Zatanna and their opponent collided in what appeared to be a last-ditch attempt. A flood of raw, uncontrolled power surged toward them, wiping out the majority of the minions and now heading towards them, and before they could react, they were bathed in blinding light.

…

When the light went off, they found themselves in a completely dark room. Their senses heightened, and they stood alert, as all three of them wondered what the magic's effects would be. Light gradually appeared around them, presenting a scene that perplexed and concerned them.

A teenage male with dark hair stood in the center of the room, carrying a baby swaddled in a blue and star-printed blanket. The boy's eyes were sad and shiny, and his cheeks were swollen with unshed tears. He rocked the baby softly and sang a sweet tune. Surrounding him were walls and a small window that was too high and narrow for him to escape, but just right for a newborn baby.

On the other side of the window, another teen came this time with dirty blonde hair and freckles and bright green eyes. Crouching to look at the teen mentioned above, who is still humming as if in his little universe. He looked at the first teen, full of sadness and grief, and said, as no sound came from the scene, that it was time.

The dark-haired kid took a deep breath before pulling out a little necklace covered with snowflake decorations. He wrapped it around the baby's neck, his hands quivering. Tim automatically stroked the similar necklace that hung around his neck, disguised by the layers of clothes he wore.

Tim knew he was adopted; he had always known. He had always resembled his adoptive parents, Janet and Jack, making him the ideal heir to the Drakes. He had attempted to locate his biological parents but had only encountered dead ends. Now he understood he was seeing a long-forgotten memory.

The dark-haired teen gave the baby to the other kid, who cautiously reached through the window. As he did, Tim noticed the thick chains that shackled the dark-haired teen's body, blocking his escape. The boy stared at the infant one more time and mumbled something Tim couldn't hear.

The blonde teenager appears to convince the other teenager that he will find a suitable home for the baby he is currently carrying.

The dark-haired teen flashed a sorrowful smile and looked longingly at the baby, who was now struggling to wake up as if realizing that the person holding him was not his mom.

The blonde teen nodded and prepared his motorcycle, placing the baby who is now trying to have a crying feast in a sidecar alongside what appeared to be his dog with red eyes for further protection and sped off.

All three of them looked at the chained teen as he held his gaze to the vehicle up until it went smaller and smaller and until it vanished from his sight.

Just as they thought the scene was over they were immediately shattered as a large metal door that seemed to materialize behind them opened wide and out came walking someone they knew as they were already in the middle of investigating.

Vlad Masters

Someone who gained his wealth through mysterious ways that warrant an investigation as most of the deals are more favorable to Masters than to his so-called partners.

They saw Masters grab the teen roughly and began hissing through gritted teeth something, leaving bruises wherever he handled the chained teen.

The teen, on the other hand, seemed so detached, as if he completely removed himself from the present as he let Masters rough handle him.

…

Tim wanted to scream, to rage as both of his teammates were already holding him back from running towards something they know is something of the past.

That is his parent GODDAMMIT!, Tim raged in his mind, usually he would have been calm and collected, logical, and gathered the facts. But a single memory made all of his restraints snap.

All Tim ever wanted was to be loved, something he never received during his stay with the Drakes. Both Janet and Jack kept on mentioning how Tim should be grateful that he is the one chosen to stay under their roof with thousands of dollars at his fingertips.

But here he was watching something he was too young to remember, something that his head kept flashing.

The soft hum of a melody that he would sometimes hear deep within his mind as he tried to cry himself to sleep.

A single necklace is a connection between him and his biological parents.

Watching how helplessly his father was? Mother? Be abused, be chained down.

Maybe that’s why he couldn’t find a lead, Masters sent someone to handle the blonde teen who brought him to a nice orphanage before the Drake couple adopted him.

…

The scene faded as Tim, Conner, and Bart were brought back to reality. They awoke to find Zatanna watching over them, her expression filled with concern.

Zatanna said that they had been bound in a deep memory spell, which the magician had created to capture them in a recurrent memory, rendering them unable to discern between the memory and the real world. However, because she also sent out her counter, it only displayed a fleeting memory to stop them from ending up like Sleeping Beauty.

She chuckled as she glanced at them questioningly, hoping for the best, and thought they witnessed a memory that reminded them of a dark time during their hero times.

Tim sat up, still holding the necklace. He had observed a memory from his past that he had never known existed. It wasn't just a last-ditch attempt at a spell; it was a look into a long-held secret that he had forgotten.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

[si1verghosts]

Hi!

3. A kiss on the forehead😌

helloooo dear anon!! i am sorry this took so long i could not for the life of me figure out to write but then ! i wrote this on the 4th and i realized it could work... maybe... sorta. this may not be what you were expecting/wanting but there's forehead kisses in there.... somewhere 🫡 also, if u are not american i apologize for giving you a july 4th fic 😭 but the holiday is relatively inconsequential here like theres no patriotism it's just a backdrop if u know what i mean.... anyway, i hope u enjoy <33

you taste like the 4th of july

di leon s. kennedy x fem reader (no use of y/n)

wc: 3.5k

18+ | cw: mentions of drinking | tw: thoughts about death and dying

tags: established relationship; fluff (i guess??); slight changes to canon to suit author's headcanons

read on ao3

a/n: for the past few months i've been working on this very insane multi-chap post di leon fic 😵‍💫 this was written with that in mind But does not have a place in that story... probably.... idk!!! either way, i think it can be read as a standalone just fine

additionally, there is a scene in here where leon picks the reader up. i would just like to say like... he gets thrown into concrete walls on a biweekly basis and gets up and walks it off without issue so i think he can lift anyone no matter their size or shape!!

not beta read or proofread - sorry if any of it is gibberish i've had a wicked migraine the past few days... will maybe attempt to proofread once i can see correctly again 🚬🧍‍♀️regardless, all mistakes are my own

i do not own leon or any other resi character mentioned, etc etc, please don't sue me <3

please do not use my work to train any sort of AI chatbot and/or writing generator.

-----

"It was a good day, wasn't it?" Leon asks, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as you stand over the patio table, cleaning up the abandoned plates and platters.

You hum. It was; a beautiful, cloudless July 4th, spent with Leon's friends in the backyard of your home. The only ones missing were Ashley and Ingrid; the former having a standing family commitment and the latter planning to spend her holiday on the beach, away from the country and your fiancé.

Typically, Chris hosted the Independence Day cookout, but Leon offered up your new home as this year's venue, citing your in-ground pool and the plenty of extra space you have for guests to stay. In reality, he just wanted the chance to out-grill Chris - he'd been preparing since Memorial Day; testing different spice and sauce combinations as well as stocking your freezer full of large cuts of meat.

He'd started before you were even awake, chopping and seasoning in the kitchen, slowly loading up the smoker. You'd joined him on the patio a few hours later, watching from your pool floaty as he poked and prodded at various things.

You don't even eat meat, didn't know the whole thing was so involved, but you did enjoy the view; worn blue jeans hugging his frame as he crouched to check a thermometer.

You had taken a short break from the water, tying up lights and setting a few little decorations around before your guests arrived. Rebecca was the first, tucking her jugs of pre-made cocktail and platter of deviled eggs into your fridge before joining you on the patio.

Chris wasn't far behind, unloading two coolers filled with beer and containers of homemade potato and pasta salads. He'd handed one off to you, grinning, "Claire made one just for you this year."

You'd thanked him, making another attempt to get him to share his family's recipes with you. It was futile, you probably couldn't even waterboard it out of either of them.

Claire had arrived on her motorcycle shortly after, pulling a bundle of fireworks out of her saddlebags. "Sorry I'm late," she said - even though she wasn't - dumping the pile on the ground, thankfully far away from the grill. "Had to stop for these."

Leon had crouched down to inspect them, listening intently as Claire told him about all the different varieties she'd purchased while you relaxed back into the pool.

Sherry arrived next, Jake trailing behind her. She'd left both him and her bags of chips at the table, giving Leon and Claire quick hugs before immediately joining you in the water.

She'd slipped in right beside your floaty, grabbing your hand to get a look at your engagement ring - she'd yet to see it, having been so busy with work. Her eyes widened at the ring as she pushed her sunglasses up to rest on top of her head, "Leon picked this out? Our Leon? Leon Kennedy? Are you sure?"

You'd giggled at her astonishment, "Ashley helped him out; took him to one of her favorite jewelers."

"I should've guessed," She nods. "For my 20th Birthday, he bought me this crazy cute pink tennis bracelet and I was like, 'no way you picked this out alone.' He fessed up that he got a little help from a friend named Ashley.

"At the time, I thought it was just some girlfriend - or hoped, I guess. Back then, I spent a lot of time hoping that Claire and Leon weren't just… working; I liked to think they were taking time for themselves, that they were happy," she had trailed off then, looking off to the tree line behind your house for a minute. Blinking the mist from her eyes, she shrugged, continuing on, "Anyways, I'm thankful to Ash for that bracelet, it was there with me though… a lot. And I'm thankful to you for making him happy, like I always wanted him to be."

With that, you slid off the float to give her a hug, holding her tight as you whispered your thanks. You had worked to bite back your tears - if she didn't cry, neither would you.

Luckily, Jill had walked in a few seconds later, providing a distraction in the form of the most ridiculously large watermelon. "Hey, Kennedy," she shouted, pulling Leon out of his conversation with Claire as she gestured to the melon tucked under her arm. "Can't burn this, can I?"

Leon had thrown his head back with a laugh - in previous years, Jill had always brought boxed brownies with extra crispy edges and Leon invariably had to make a comment about them. "I don't know," he had shrugged, "When it comes to you, Valentine, I'll never say never."

Jill had reared the watermelon back, acting as if she was going to throw it at him. Leon had thrown his arms up, shielding his face, causing everyone to crumble into laughter at the scene.

"It was nice," you agree, reaching to pick up the barong machete he had given Jill when she asked for a knife to cut the melon. "We do have kitchen knives, you know," you scold mockingly, gently waving the blade around.

"I know," he says, releasing you to reach around and pluck the machete out of your hand. "It's good to exercise these every once in a while, though."

You roll your eyes at him, "It's a machete, Leon, not a horse."

He waves you off, slipping through the patio door to wash the blade in the kitchen sink. You take the opportunity to speed clean, knowing it'll be a much harder task once he returns and wraps his arms back around you.

Thankfully everyone had taken care of their own plates and cups - they'd tried to stay and do more but you had ushered them out of the backyard, wanting Chris, Sherry and Jake to depart before the traffic picked up with the crowds leaving the city following the fireworks shows. Jill, Claire and Rebecca had taken up on your offer to stay, at least, piling into your guest rooms. You were glad to have them, secretly plotting to drag them to brunch once you all woke.

You finish piling the platters as Leon makes his way back outside. Before he can get his hands on you and derail your progress, you point to the stack, "Take those inside."

He frowns, "Can't it just wait until tomorrow?"

"We'll get ants; come on, five minutes and it'll be done."

He sighs, but doesn't protest further, carrying the heavy plates inside as you follow him with the utensils. You stack everything by the sink before turning to him, "Is there any of Becca's cocktail left?"

He cocks his brow, tilting his head, "You really want to try that again?"

It's a valid question - you had given it a go earlier and despite everyone's warnings to take it easy, you had thrown back a large mouthful right off the bat. You ended up wincing in pain, "Fuck, that burns. What'd you put in there, Becca?"

She'd shrugged, "Oh, you know, a splash of this, a splash of that. And," she teased, drawing out the vowel, "A bit of my own creation."

"Your own creation…" You had muttered, trailing off before it hit you, "Test tube alcohol?"

She had giggled, grinning, "Takes some getting used to."

You had tried another, much tinier sip. You were able to enjoy the sweetness of the juice for a moment before the burn kicked in again, causing you to curse once more, louder.

Leon had shifted his attention from Chris to you at your exclamation. Seeing the jug of Rebecca's cocktail in front of you on the table, he quickly pieced together what was happening, calling over to Rebecca from his place by the grill, "You trying to kill my fiancé, Becks?"

"Absolutely not; that'd be a stupid thing for me to do," she'd shot back. "She's the only one who can keep you in line, and we kind of like you like that."

"Well," you start, rolling the word around your mouth, "No. But yes - there's gotta be some sort of trick to it, right? Everyone else drank it just fine."

"The trick is," he starts, voice low, reaching out to grab ahold of your hips, "To not drink it. Let me make you some tea instead."

"Fine," you pout, relaxing into his grip, not bothering to argue - tea won't make you hate yourself in the morning.

He moves his hands from your hips, sliding his fingertips along your spine. "Go wait outside," he says, releasing you with a featherlight kiss to your forehead, "I'll bring it out."

With a brush of your lips against his cheek in thanks, you slip away from him, heading back out to the backyard and pulling off your shorts, settling onto the ledge of the shallow end of the pool. The air has cooled with the setting of the sun, becoming a comforting warmth instead of an overbearing heat. You dip your legs into the water, thankful you insisted on having a pool when you and Leon were house hunting.

Someone is still setting off fireworks; they're a few miles away, though - you can hear them more than you can see them. Resting back on your palms, you close your eyes, imagining what bursts of color may be accompanying each sound.

Leon joins you a few minutes later - just after the fireworks had died down - sporting his swim shorts and carrying your tea. He bends, setting the mug next to you with a kiss to your temple, nosing at your hair. "Earl Grey," he reports before drawling, "How terribly unpatriotic of you."

"You going to arrest me for treason, Agent Kennedy?" You laugh, reaching up to squeeze his thigh below the hem of his shorts. "You're the one who made it; they'd nail you as an accomplice."

He falls into a crouch, leg muscles bunching under the pads of your fingertips as he shifts closer to touch his lips on your cheek. "They can hang us together, then," he remarks, voice a bit too serious for it to be just a joke. "Side by side, off the same branch."

You sit back just enough to get your eyes focused on him, reaching your other hand out to thumb at his bottom lip. "Dulce et decorum est pro cor mori," you whisper, tacking on a hum in question.

He cocks his head at the unfamiliar words, nipping at your nail playfully, "English please, baby."

You consider him for a moment, the translation of the true phrase running through your mind; how sweet and honorable it is to die for one's country. The old lie, it's come to be known as - fittingly.

It's a similar sentiment to one that's grown to become your fear; that he'll die for the sake of the country, under orders from the government, believing it was his duty.

But you think your spin on it may be true; would be willing to find out.

You don't want to weigh him down with the thought, though, choosing to reel him in for a kiss instead. "I love you," is the answer you settle on, laying the words down right on his tongue.

He seems content with your translation - the method of delivery likely having something to do with it - humming into your mouth. He kisses you back lazily for a long, languid moment before he pulls away, "As much as I'm enjoying this, I've been wanting to get in there all day," he says, nodding his head towards the water.

"Go," you chuckle, giving him a gentle push away from you with the hand still resting along his face.

He lays another quick peck against your lips before standing, padding around the edge to the steps. He pauses for a moment to pull his shirt over his head, skin honeyed under the soft glow of the lights you'd hung around the patio.

A second later, he slips under the surface without hesitation; kicking off the steps, moving quickly to the deep end. He almost shimmers as he glides along the floor of the pool, the rippling of the gentle waves he'd created making him seem like some sort of mirage as he passes by you.

He comes up for air once he hits the far wall, tossing his hair back, smoothing the water from his eyes. He doesn't rest long, though, beginning to swim short laps across the width of the deep end.

You observe him, sipping your tea slowly, appreciating the way his back and arms work with each stroke. He continues long enough for you to nearly drain your cup, stopping short when another trio of fireworks set off in the distance.

Setting your mug down, you eye him, preparing to slip into the pool to soothe him if you have to, but he relaxes once he connects the sound to the flashes in the sky. The tension that had flooded the line of his shoulders drains into the water as he shifts to wade backward, moving closer to where you sit.

You finish off your drink as he starfishes out across the surface of the water, floating just a few feet in front of you. You wonder if you could use him as a floaty, pinning up a note in your brain to try it out sometime.

"I'm glad you insisted on a pool, sweetheart," he sighs, breaking your companionable silence.

You hum, pleased, kicking your legs out gently and causing the water to lap against his skin. More fireworks sound out; he doesn't tense this time, but he does get his feet back under himself, moving to where you sit along the ledge.

Sliding his hands up your legs, he pillows his head in your lap, wet hair fanning out across your thighs. You shift your weight back onto your right hand, laying the other along his jaw. His eyes flutter closed as you brush your thumb along his cheekbone and the scar that runs beneath it.

He picks at the tie of your bathing suit absentmindedly, tugging at the strings when you slide your hand into his hair, scratching at his scalp. "Sherry said something to me earlier."

He makes a noise urging you to elaborate, not bothering to open his eyes.

"She told me that when she was younger, she hoped that you and Claire were living your lives; that you were doing more than just working, you know? She said she wanted you guys to be happy," you explain, working to keep your voice even.

He cracks his eyes open, picking his head up to watch you as you continue. "She thanked me," you swallow thickly, "for making you happy, like she always wanted you to be."

He smiles at your words, and it's a beautiful thing. You still get all twisted up inside with how gorgeous he is; neurons overclocking themselves with the thrill of being the subject of his attention.

"I owe you a thank you, too, baby," he starts, pausing to nose at your wrist.

"You don't owe me anything, Leon," you tug at his damp strands still between your fingers, highlights catching the yellow glow from the lights around the patio.

"I do," he says, the words sending a jolt through you. You never intended on getting married, yet here you are now, eager to hear the phrase on the altar.

He kisses the thin skin of your wrist, lips lingering as if he can feel the thrum of your heartbeat; knows that the pace has picked up under his affection. "All this," he pulls back, taking a hand off you to gesture to the pool; the backyard; the house; to you. "It's something I never thought I'd get.

"Sherry's right - you're behind basically every bit of happiness I have now, sweetheart; I owe it all to you." He reaches up, untangling your grip from his hair, thumbing gently at the ring he put there, "Thank you."

You can't respond verbally, will burst into tears if you do. In lieu of speech, you lean forward, pressing your lips against his insistently.

He seems to get the message; understands that the pleasure is all yours, that you'd give him anything and everything you can - knowing he'd do the same for you.

He gets his arms back around you, continuing your kiss as he lifts you from the edge of the pool and into the water with him. You wrap your legs around his waist, safe and secure in his hold.

His teeth catch along your bottom lip and the neighbors down the street set off fireworks, the bright bursts of color painting your backyard in reds and blues and greens and oranges. The sparks reflect off the surface of the water as he slides his nose against yours and not for the first time, you think this may all be a dream. Maybe you died four years ago and this whole thing has been some sort of afterlife; you aren't sure you'd done anything worth this treatment, though.

Maybe it's more supernatural in origin; an intricate hallucination weaved by a Djinn that's got you chained up in some dark, damp basement as it feeds off your blood. Or maybe you just went crazy and the pool is actually a padded room, Leon's mouth against yours a product of your mind working to distract itself from your reality.

Whatever the case may be, it certainly feels real when he shifts his hold on you, hoists you up higher to get at your neck, laying kisses up and down the column of your throat, nipping at your jaw.

But before he can venture much further, the neighbor's fireworks show grows into an extravaganza, the relentless popping and bursting becoming a nuisance, shattering the illusion of your teeny-boppy movie moment.

"Jeez," Leon mutters, breath hot against the saliva cooling on your skin, causing you to shudder. "Did they buy out a whole tent?"

"Did you check that Claire actually went to bed?" You ask, shaking yourself free of his hold. "She could've joined them; brought everything I wouldn't let her set off here."

He hums, letting you down into the water, considering your words - even though you said it as a joke, it certainly is a possibility. You seem to come to this realization at the same time, eyes narrowing at each other as the spray of fireworks continues overhead. "We should…" He starts, nodding towards the stairs.

"Yeah," you agree, already beginning to move.

You pause to grab your towels, wrapping your own around yourself, throwing the other over Leon's shoulders when you catch up to him at the patio door. Stepping inside, you hear someone knocking around your kitchen.

Luckily, it's Claire. She steps back from the cabinet she'd been rifling through to face you and Leon with a frown. "Isn't this shit ridiculous?" She remarks, pointing to the ceiling in reference to the fireworks.

"You're one to talk, Claire," Leon shoots back. "Didn't you just set off about five hundred dollars worth of them in my backyard a few hours ago?"

"Yes, a few hours ago," she reiterates. "Nothing should be set off after the show at the Capitol is finished - after that, you're done; you missed your shot; better luck next year."

"Exactly," you nod in agreement at her reasoning, "They should put you in charge."

She grins at your words, moving to continue on, but Leon cuts in before she can start; "What is it that you were clawing through my cabinets for?"

She sighs, displeased with his interruption, setting her hands on her hips. "Where do you keep the ibuprofen?"

Leon shoos her out of the way, padding across the kitchen to get the medicine himself. Claire relents without argument, attention immediately shifting back to you as she leans over the counter. "So," she wiggles her eyebrows, "It seems like that pool was a good investment, huh?"

You bite at your lip, ears burning with embarrassment that she'd seen you and Leon necking in the water like teenagers - even though you shouldn't be flustered; it is your house, after all.

Leon sets the bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water down in front of Claire, annoyance evident with the way he uses a bit more force than really necessary, causing the items to clack against the marble.

"What?" Claire questions, glaring at him. "It was cute."

Leon huffs in response, unable to hide the flush that crawls up his neck at her words. You can't help the giggle that bubbles out of you, enjoying the way they bicker like siblings.

Claire leaves Leon to stew, tossing you a grin as she collects the bottle and glass, bidding you goodnight once more before she leaves the kitchen.

You move around the counter to Leon, steps careful in an effort not to slip on the water that has dripped off him and onto the tile. The neighbors must've ran out of fireworks while you were distracted by Claire as it's silent when you wrap your arms around him, tucking your face into his neck. "Still a good day?" You ask, voice muffled against his skin.

He slings an arm around you, fingers fanning out along the small of your back, "Still a good day."

[bettyfrommars]

Santa Comes Once a Year

biker!eddie x fem!reader

I had a request from the amazing @idkidknemore for "biker Eddie dressed up as Santa, railing reader on his motorcycle sleigh" and I also wanted some Eddie as Santa action for the Holiday Prompt Party I am doing with @allthingsjoeq he is not a mall Santa in this, but still.

wc: 2.7k

18+ONLY, smut, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, talk of cheating (on Mrs. Claus), roleplay, creampie, fingering, bit of spanking, ton of cliche phrases, sexualizing Santa, secret sex I guess? but it's just pretend, semi-public sex if you squint.

summary: you go to the Lighted Farm Implement show for the first time with Robin and Oliver to see what Eddie and Steve have cooked up for the parade. Afterwards, Santa takes you back to his place in his towtruck sleigh and wants to give you some cream with your cookies.

author's note: This can absolutely be enjoyed as a smutty standalone, but some elements of I'm on Fire are mentioned, including Robin raising Steve's son Oliver with him since he was a baby, and the fact that biker Eddie runs his own towing/mechanic business.

This was your first time attending the night time Lighted Farm Implement parade in Hawkins, and you weren’t sure what that even meant until Robin explained it to you.

“You know, Farm Implements. They decorate them with Christmas lights and throw candy for the kids.”

For some reason, all you could picture were shovels and snippers dancing through the street like some magical Beauty and the Beast scene.

Robin’s cheeks were rosy and she had Oliver in her arms, a navy Columbia fleece zipped up to her chin.  Mother and son each had matching, fuzzy blue ear muffs on.  She noticed your confused expression as the three of you walked up the street from where you parked. 

“Tractors, backhoes, dumptrucks, cement mixers,” she gave a few examples and your face lit up in recognition.  “There will also be buses, a few 18-wheelers, and a tractor bed with the Mayor on it.”

The big, shiny black tow truck from Munson’s Garage was in the parade too, and you were curious to see what Eddie and the guys had done to it.  Your boyfriend had been asked to dress as one of the Santa’s that year, and you’d switched evenings at the Velvet Hammer with Jackie just so you could witness this miracle of the season, being that Eddie wasn’t a huge fan of Christmas. 

He mostly did it for Oliver, to see the wonder on his face when Santa knew his name, and that year specifically, he was doing it for you.  He wanted to impress you by being the star of the show.  

Everyone from town lined the streets and cheered as the Hawkins high school band trumpeted down the lane to officially begin the parade with cheerleaders punching pompoms in the air at the front. Robin put Oliver down and you all moved through the crowd to get closer to the action. .

 Behind the band was a green John Deere bulldozer all decked out in colorful bulbs and an arc of gingerbread people up the back.  The owner of the local grocer drove a 1945 Chevy truck with Christmas trees in the back and a person dressed like an elf in the passenger seat tossing out chocolate bars.  A few skidded close to Oliver and he lurched to grab them with an excited scream. 

Each vehicle had its own music playing, and the next yellow backhoe with a santa in the bucket and adorned with snowflake lights was blaring Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree by Brenda Lee.  They threw some lollipops out, and this time you rushed to snatch a few for Ollie so that he wouldn’t have to go too far out into the street.

You were distracted watching the mammoth equipment vehicle pass when you heard Oliver screech and point, “Daddy!”

Your head snapped and there was Eddie’s tow truck, blinking with what seemed like a billion white twinkle lights with a pine wreath on the grill, and a person hanging off the side of the truck dressed as…a goat? Or was it Father Time?

Oliver recognized Steve immediately, and when he spotted his son, he jumped down from the step up to the cab with a sack of candy in his hand and came jogging over.  As he got closer, you tried to make out his costume, but came up with nothing.  He was wearing his typical biker attire with his Coffin Kings leather cut on over a hooded sweatshirt and black jeans, but the faux beard he had on was long and thin down to his belly button, and it was gray, not white.  He wore sunglasses and a black fedora.

He ran to give Ollie the bag of candy while the tow truck rolled by at a snail pace.  

“Are you Biker Santa?” You asked, sneaking a look at the sexy Santa in a red hat behind the steering wheel of the tow who was waving to get your attention.  You blew Eddie a kiss and he made the gesture of catching it in the air.  

Steve held his arms out as he trotted backwards to get back on his ride.  “I’m one of the guys from ZZ Top!” He shouted, as if it should’ve been obvious.

You shared a look with Robin.  “Don’t ask,” she mumbled.  

They were towing a wrecked car behind them with what appeared to be four reindeer holding cans of beer, each hanging out a window.  The song Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer played cheekily from speakers that were mounted on the lift.  

All three of you cheered and screamed for the rest of the show, and by the time two clowns in tiny toy trucks brought up the rear, you felt a warm body press up against your backside and you tilted your head back into the squish of a white, fluffy beard.

“Ho ho ho,” Eddie whispered against the shell of your ear making your body tingle from the warmth of his breath.  “I hear you’re the naughtiest girl in town.”

He stepped away and tapped Ollie on the shoulder, taking on a deep, jolly voice.  “And who is this good little boy?”

Oliver had the white stem of a sucker sticking out of his mouth when he turned.  “Oh hi Uncle Eddie,” he managed, sucking back purple saliva.

Eddie straightened to full height, his eyes falling on Robin with a blink of sadness, but she only shrugged.  “He’s getting wise to the world, what can I say?”

You turned to melt into your boyfriend’s chest, feeling the bit of padding he had on his belly under the soft faux fur accents of his red velvet coat.  There was a little jingle bell on the end of his Santa hat, and you flicked it with your finger.  You pushed him back through the crowd, off to the sidewalk and into the shadows, making him back up as you went.

“So,” you made sure no one was around before you slid your hand between his legs.  “Is this the official Yule Log, or are you just happy to see me?”

You could barely find his mouth under the synthetic mustache, and then you giggled and sputtered on a stiff Santa hair.  

He yanked the beard down with a tug of his fist, stretching the elastic band that held it in place,  so that it was under his chin and pulled you in again, returning your kiss so deep that a small groan escaped you.  

“You wanna get out of here?” he said in a rush, and then he nudged your nose with his.  “Come sit in my sleigh with me?”

Steve was reunited with his family by then, with Oliver up on his shoulders, and you checked to see the three of them head off in the opposite direction, possibly to Robin’s car.  You were all planning to meet back up at their place to make cookies in an hour, so you had a window of time.

Back in the cab of the  tow truck that was parked down the street, Eddie pulled the pillow stuffing out from under his coat and flipped the heat on high, but it almost wasn’t needed because the makeout session that ensued made the windows fog up.  You took his hat and beard off and tossed them on the dash so that you could finally have your hands around that face that you loved so much, squirming to get closer to him.  He had his hair tied up in the back and you released the band so that his locks fell around his shoulders.  

“If I’d known this would get you going baby, I would’ve put the beard on earlier,” he huffed.

You flicked your tongue out to tease him a few times.  “I need you inside of me, Santa.  No one will know, it will be our secret,” and you were just about to kick your leg over to straddle his lap when you both realized that there were people walking right next to the vehicle on the sidewalk.  

“Let’s get out of here, Mistress,” Eddie kissed your cheek.  “Take this back to the garage, finish what we started.”

You sat back, giving him a raised brow as he shifted the monster vehicle into gear.  “Oh, you think I’m just going to give it up when and wherever you want?”

“I think you’ll do whatever I tell you to do,” he said over his shoulder, watching for traffic before pulling into the street.  “I’m Santa.”

—-----

You sat right next to him the whole way there, like lovers do, with his hand on your thigh.  He still had the wrecked car with the beer-guzzling reindeer statues inside, so he was careful on the turns, while festive bystanders honked and waved.

At the Munson Garage compound, Eddie thought he would unhook the wrecked car from the crane, but there wasn’t time for that—he could feel your arousal dampening your jeans.  Parking in the furthest garage would have to do.  

“Get over here, naughty girl,” he licked his lips and opened his Santa jacket to reveal two black suspenders over a white t-shirt, and then he undid the suspenders to move his hand down to fist himself.

Your boots were off and your jeans at your knees when the sight of the tip of his glistening pink tip freed from his wholesome attire made you pause to touch yourself, putting your back against the opposite door with your legs spread so he could watch.

It was dim in the roomy cab of the truck, but Eddie could still see the wet spot on your red underwear where you worked your fingers and he bit out a curse.

“You heard me,” his tone was stern.  “I said get that beautiful ass over here and sit on Santa’s cock.”  

You didn’t bother taking your underwear off as you kicked your jeans away and scrambled over, giggling when he pushed his red pants down a bit more to show the mistletoe print on his boxers.  Your head hit the roof of the cab, but then you were finally squatting in his lap, teeth hitting as you fumbled into position.

He was quick to reach down between the two of you and move your panties to the side so that he could rub his knuckle up and down your slippery clit.

He puffed out a chest full of air.  “Goddamn was it the beard or the whole thing?”

“Just you,” you lifted up, pushing his hair back to cup your hands on either side of his throat.  “I’ve been aching for you all night, Santa. Waiting for you to come down my chimney.”

Eddie shivered, reaching to line his tip up with you. “Why is this so hot, holy shit,” he chuckled softly.

But then he was inside of you, and you sank down an inch with a cry, arousal dripping down his length.

His mouth pressed into the side of yours. “Did you miss me all year? You want to be a bad girl for me now?”

“That’s why you come to my house, isn’t it Santa?” You gasped.  “Because you want to fuck me? I’m your favorite.”

Eddie hissed and threw his head back as you bottomed out.  You could feel the faux fur from the top of his pants ticking your taint.  “You know I always come back for you, because you take me so good, fuck—-” 

You rocked your hips, squeezing that important muscle as you went.  “Better than Mrs. Claus?”

Eddie gripped your ass and pulled your cheeks apart with his strong, calloused fingers, thrusting up to meet  you, smacking against your wetness.  “Better than anyone, fuck.  I dream about this all year.  Landing my sleigh in Hawkins so I can bury myself in your tight, wet cunt.”

You were both breathing heavy, sweat trickling down your necks, while a few snow flurries danced into the garage. 

You reached a hand down to work two fingers at your clit.  Every word you said was against his lips:  “I want some cream with my cookies, please Santa.”

“Yeah?” Eddie huffed, rolling his hips in his seat so that you could feel every inch of his cock, making you whine a string of obscenities.  “What else do you want, huh? You want me to fill you up all night, so my cream drips out of you on Christmas day?”

He spanked your asscheek with a thwack and you arched back.  “Yes Santa, please, ruin me so I only fuck myself to thoughts of you.”

“I’m about to cum,” Eddie breathed, and your mouths met in a frenzy of tongues and moans. He could feel you throb around him.  

“So soon, Santa?” You teased.

“Shhhhh,” he took hold of your throat and planted his booted feet to thrust up into, taking you for a ride.  

You put your forehead to his and bounced a few more times, and then you froze, mouth open in a silent scream as the wave began to crash.

“That’s my baby,” he held you in that position and continued to buck up to bury himself inside over and over.  “Cum for Santa, let me feel it.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you exploded around him, whimpering and twitching. 

The back of your heel kicked up and accidentally flipped a switch on the dash, making all of the Christmas lights on the truck blaze on, and Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer blared from the speakers.  

You clung to Eddie while he came, shuddering at how good it felt but also

In a few seconds, you were both grinning, shoulders bobbing with laughter as the song seemed to herald in your mutual releases.

The windows of the cab were completely fogged up, and between that and the music, neither of you heard anyone enter the garage until there was a bang on the driver’s side door.  

“What the—?” Eddie scowled, and you were already scampering off of him, snatching clothing from the floorboard to cover yourself.

Eddie tucked himself back into the huge wet spot on his pants and wiped condensation off of the glass so that he could see who it was.  He was about to be angry, thinking it was one of the other mechanics about to give him shit or try to get a peek at you

but it was Steve.

The truck was lifted and the windows up too high for him to see in, but still Eddie checked to make sure you were decent before he rolled the window down.  He leaned over to switch off the lights and the music.  You gave a nod as you wrapped your coat around your waist.  

“Hey,” Eddie wiped some hair out of his face, trying to act casual.  “What up? Everything okay?”

Steve had his long beard in his hand, hugging himself, shivering against the cold, with the fedora pulled snug to his ears.  “Did you forget you were going to give me a ride?  I just walked halfway across town. Slipped and fell on the fucking ice twice.”

Eddie dropped his forehead to his fist.  “Shit sorry man I—-why didn’t you go with Robin?”

“Because I told her I was riding back with you to unhook the rig,” Steve sounded annoyed, teeth chattering, and you didn’t blame him, but still you stifled a giggle into your arm. 

“Tried to call Astrid from a payphone, and she’s not answering, so now I’ve got blisters from these stupid elf boots that Robbie made me buy.”

Eddie pulled his lips in over his teeth to contain his amusement.

“It’s not funny, dude,” Steve said, but then he caught a glimpse of you in the cab and you gave an apologetic grimace.  “Oh okay, I get it. Forgiven. But can we get this shit over with so we can get out of here? Robin doesn’t know how to work an oven and she’ll probably burn the place down before we get there.”

Eddie stretched across the cab to kiss you.  “Stay in here, keep warm.  I’ll put the Chevelle around when we’re done.”

“Go help your ZZ Top elf, Kris Kringle,” you shoved him playfully, but then he held his face there and hummed until you kissed him again.

You pulled your jeans up, eager to keep Santa’s gift from spilling out.  

---------

I'm on Fire taglist:

@notsobubblybaby @unfocused81 @aysheashea @etherealglimmer@manicmagicmayhem @dream-a-little-nightmare@chaoticgood-munson @emxcast @rhirojo @bexreadstoomuch @micheledawn1975 @falling-solar-system@secretdryrose

@whatwedontdointheshadows @miarosso @seventhlevelofhell @corrodedcoffincumslut @lofaewrites @goldyghoul @chloe-6123 @kelsiegrin @chelebelletx @stylesxmunson @kurdtbean@dandelionnfluff @clincallyonline17 @tlclick73 @eddiemunson95 @sidthedollface2 @hideoutside @truffleshuffle12 @tenthmoon @texasblues@emilyslutface@mmunson86@onegirlmanytales@laylaloves-ed@dashingdeb16@eddiiiieeee @ick90 @dashingdeb16 @polyestermonster @trixyvixx @atomickaratel8dy @kiyastrf94 @allthingsjoeq @eddiesxangel @razzieth @corrodeddeadlydoll @erinekc @angietherose @sllooney @writinginthetwilight @moonbeamsandmayhem @brianamunson92 @joannamuns9n @bellalillyrose @alba8688 @chevelle724 @chaoticgood-munson

[leyava]

Sweeter Than Sugar .

Modern!Mizu x Fem!Reader

a little fic of you and mizu giving each other the love and affection you’re both deserving of. <3

( mizu is reader’s fiancé in this fic, forgive me this is my first ever published writing lol )

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

You were baking, out of boredom. You’d been waiting for your fiancé to come from downstairs to see your progress in your pastry chef skills. Mizu went upstairs to take a shower and wash the dirt off of her, she had been working at her and her dad’s motorcycle shop all day. As soon as she stepped into the house she smelt of oil and a long day’s worth of sweat from fixing people’s bikes. It didn’t matter to you though, you still gave her a peck on the lips before she made her way to the shower.

“Smells good down here.” Mizu made her way into the kitchen with a white towel draped over her shoulder, her damp hair pulled into a bun. She wore a sports bra, and grey sweats. “I hope so. Might cover up the smell you tracked in.” You remark, joking with her as you poke a toothpick into the soft and fluffy cake you’d just pulled out of the oven.

Your remark amused her, she chuckled as she made her way behind you after setting her towel down on a chair, wrapping her slender, yet muscular arms around your frame, resting her head on the top of yours. “I hope it’s not too bad now.” She exhaled.

You removed the tooth pick from the middle of the baked good, setting it on a nearby paper towel. Mizu hummed contently as she started to sway your hips, you closed your eyes.

“It’s not.” Your response was delayed.

“Hm?” She opened her eyes, shifting her head slightly.

“Oh, I was replying to you, it’s not bad now at all.” You replied. She moved her head back to it’e original position, cheek resting on the top of your head. “Ah. Your response was a tad late, dove.” She reminded you. You rolled your eyes playfully, smiling at the reminder. “Yeah, yeah. You distracted me from responding, though.” You moved your head to look up at her, she picked hers up to look down at you. “I can’t help it.” She kissed you, it wasn’t long but it wasn’t short either. It was enough to make your heart flutter.

But let’s be honest, everything Mizu does makes your heart flutter.

Mizu pulled away from the kiss, blue eyes staring down at yours. “Did you eat the batter?” She raised an eyebrow. “Only what was left in the bowl. Why?”

“I could taste it.” She ran her hand up to your face, thumb brushing against your bottom lip before turning your full body around, pressing her lips softly against yours yet again. You pulled away, your hands around her neck, hers now resting on your waist. “You’re really desperate for sweets, huh?” You questioned her, swaying your hips as you admired her perfect face.

Her sharp jawline, her perfect lips, and strangely, how her eyebrows moved with every expression she made. “You, dove. I’m desperate for you. Your lips have always tasted sweet. Sweeter than sugar, at that.” Mizu pulled your body closer to hers, swaying along with you as the shine of the sunset peeked through your curtains into the kitchen.

“Do you think I could help you decorate the cake?” She tilted her head. You grinned brightly. “Absolutely.” You responded, attempting to get out of her grasp to get the frosting and different cake decorations set up for the both of you, when her grasp on your waist tightened and pulled you in again, smashing her lips against yours, yet again. The act of affection lasted for a little while longer than the last before you pulled away, your lips instantly missing the warmth of hers, Mizu feeling the exact same. “I’d love to continue this lovely, but we’ve got a cake to decorate.” She chuckled and nodded at you. “Sorry.” She apologized, lips curling into a perfect smile, that smile you love seeing so much.

“I love you, Mizu.” You placed your hand on her cheek, which blushed at your words and your touch. She paused, leaning into your hand. “I love you too, Y/N.”

“Okay, seriously, we should start decorating before I forget.” You pull away from her. Mizu groans and rolls her eyes. “I suppose.”

The two of you spent the rest of the night laughing and giggling at each other, Mizu had swiped a bit of frosting on your face to be playful. Of course you did the same back, and it turned into a full blown frosting war with the remaining icing.

After you two had cleaned up your mess, taken a shower, (Mizu’s second one today,) the two of you lay comfortably in each other’s arms, wrapped in a cozy, large and warm blanket. You both would talk about how much fun you had, she’d graze her fingers on your back, leading you to fall asleep. As you start to flutter your eyes closed, she presses her lips against your temple.

“I love you, dove. More than you could ever know.” Then, the both of you drift off to sleep for the night, content with the safety and warmth of being in one another’s arms.

————————

A/N: this was ass and rushed im so sorry. i rlly do hope u enjoyed 😭🤍

[xaviers-student-union]

Hey guys it's that time of the month

That's right, the time of the month where I take my dad's credit card and buy you guys whatever you ask for. [ so long as its not illegal.]

As usual:

- The money isn't traceable by my father

- This won't have legal ramifications, it's money he gave to me

- He's an Anti-Mutant Billionare running for a political office or some shit. So every month everyone in the X-mansion, and anyone else who sees this, can place orders from me. I like wasting his money.

- For every dollar I spend, I match it and donate to a Mutant positive charity.

So far:

- Aranza: New paint supplies, an easel, and other tools [ she didn't ask but I'm doing it anyway] and Hedgehog care supplies

- Deanne: New jewellery, medical textbooks, sports equipment, and a new laptop

- Molly: New fairytale books, 150 Jellycats, Club room materials, a megaphone, winter clothes, Halloween decorations, a clipboard, Polaroid camera, and an inflatable hamster ball.

She also requested silly string but I have veto'ed that.

- Megan: new book bag, stationary, sanrio "stuff", wing warmers

- Sativa: Beads, wing warmers, new dresses, accessories

- Reaper- Skateboard and cat toys

- Nod - Office decor, $100 donation

- Pyxis - New mountain bike, New winter coat, $50 donation

- Scott- Wood carving supplies, 50 cases of waterbottles, and top of the line New kitchen utensils.

- Mihai - Ps5, and a new laptop

- Kurt - Repair the trapeze. While I'm at it I'm going to get new equipment for the gymnasium in general.

- Rogue - Cat toys [ according to Google that's the best thing for a gator] and new romance novels.

- Negasonic Teenage Warhead : 2x giant 12 ft tall skeletons, costumes for the skeletons , a giant kuromi plush

- Yukio: several pieces of limitied sanrio merch, giant hello kitty plush.

- Eel: Luxury Yacht + hoverboard wheelchair

- Logan - New motorcycle + a helmet. Get fucked logan.

- Forget-me-not - New baking supplies, and equipment.

Lina- New bass strings, and a donation of 100k [ she didn't ask for this but I decided I wanted to donate extra in her name]

Emma - New lipstick in her favourite shade

- laurya- a bunch of cool rocks [ @goddess-of-birds ]

Phantom - Broadway year pass, compression gloves [ @phantom-x ]

Valentine - Designer outfitt [ @valentine-vuong ]

Vanessa - 50 sets of winter clothes for kids, and a large donation to the chosen charity.

Tagging relevant people [ let me know if you don't want to be tagged]

@jeangrey-xmen

@roguefromthexmen

@remy-lebeau

@wolverineofficial

@deadpoolsmeanestally

@dead-in-the-pool

@professorcharlesx

@scottsummers-xmen

@hankmccoyhere

@reapers-graveyard

@totally-not-a-mutant

@vanessa-howlett

@pyxis-deliveryservices

@a-trip-and-a-fall

@thebesttelepath

@forgotten-x-men

@just-a-mutant

@prettyplasma8

@blue-man-group-reject

@queenofthetempest

There's...so many people to tag so I'm going to stop here. If I missed you it wasn't intentional.. - J.🕯

[ no limit on price as long as its reasonable]

[ladyveronikawrites]

In Your Eyes I See City Lights

Nicholas Ruffilo & Gender Neutral Reader

A little treat for @deathblacksmoke Blurb inspired from this moodboard Just a lot of fluff, please enjoy💛 word count: 667

It’s been one hell of a work week for you, and all you want to do is collapse on the sofa and snuggle up with your boyfriend. You toss your bag on the floor, and just as you are about to slip out of your shoes, Nick hands you your favorite pair of sneakers and his jacket—the same denim jacket he wore on your first date all those years ago. 

“Where are w-” A slender tattooed finger pressed against your lips silences you, but you take his outstretched hand instead. 

“Let me show you.” 

As the cool autumnal air breezes past you, you wrap his jacket tighter around yourself. Hands entwined Nick leads you down the sidewalk into the city. The car lights glow against the remaining puddles on the asphalt. It’s been rainy and cloudy for days now and at times, now more than ever you miss the sun. The dark cold winter days on the east coast are looming. Fresh air in your lungs and your love by your side was just what you needed. Snuggling up against him, he finally breaks the comforting silence. “Almost there, my love.”

Looking over at him, his stunning blue-grey eyes light up and you follow his gaze to the new cafe. There’s an old traffic light lit up green when you walk into the cafe, damp sneakers squeaking along the concrete floor. You take it all the sights, the industrial metal chairs at the counter, road signs decorating the crisp white walls, and the fairy lights hanging from the open glass-paned garage door. “This used to be a motorcycle shop,” Nick says lowly into your ear as your attention returns to him. 

“What did you order us?” you ask as Nick uncurls himself from your embrace. “For you a Vietnamese cold brew and a Thai bubble tea for me.” He grins handing you your drink and clinks your plastic cups together. 

“Dork.”

“I know,” he says proudly. “And you love it.” He leans down to press a tender kiss to your lips. 

“I do.” You smile back at him.

“C’mon.” He links elbows with you and leads you to your next destination. 

Your drinks have long been finished by the time you stroll into the bar. You haven’t been here since the band had their first gig all those years ago. The band has skyrocketed in popularity recently and it makes you dizzy just thinking about it. But Nicky has always stayed the same; the quiet gentleman that opens all your door to the rowdy nerd when his character dies in a video game. He’s always creating and looking at the world around him for inspiration. When he’s home from tour or the tattoo shop he spends his time with you and his cats. 

“Thank you,” you say reaching for his hands across the table. In the dim light of night, his eyes reflect the moon. He looks at your hands before lacing his fingers between yours. 

“Of course, doll. I know you’ve been working a lot these past few weeks and I am so proud of you, but you also need to take care of yourself.” He smiles softly at you as you take in his words, sometimes you feel like you don’t deserve his kindness and generosity especially when you’ve been so worn down.

A gentle squeeze of your hands pulls you from your spiraling thoughts. 

“You know that I love you, right?” His cheeks flush a little and he suddenly gets shy when you look up at him. Like he still needs to pinch himself to remind him that you are real and that he is still the luckiest guy on earth to get to spend every day with you.

“Yeah, I know.” You squeeze him back wishing you could punch him in the arm for getting sappy. But you know it's sincere. And you need the reminder too, that despite how crazy life can get that he still loves you. 

“I love you too.”

tysm for reading 💜 dividers @saradika-graphics

👑Royal Readers👑

@deathblacksmoke @mysticdoodlez @sitkowski @snarkysolaris @collapsedglasshouses @shilohrosechicken

@cookiesupplier @iknownothingpeople @dominuslunae @agravemisstake @the-ancient-fae

@itsafullmoon @philomenie @th4t-em0-k1d @baddestomens @rumoured-whispers

@blackveilomens @sorrowsofsilence @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @theanarchymuse95 @lobolocaamo

Please show your support with a reblog! If you want to be a part of Royal Readers👑 (tag list) please fill out this form OR you can leave a comment or send me a DM - whichever you prefer💜

[mrslankyman]

Pick a Side

Montague x (fem) reader

-> perhaps diamonds look better than hope

-> warning: slight mention of smut

-> 2k words

Today's mission was a little different. You were being sent to the Grand Glacier Hotel. How grand it truly is you will find out. Montague has been on the UnderGrounds list for a while. 

His vault had many items inside that would give clues as to where Peely was. 

Only problem was there was no way inside without distracting the boss. 

He was quite the mastermind you had to admit. Going from a low life thief to a rich billionaire. Leader of the Society. Heart of diamond, nerves of steel. 

He really had his slogan going for him. Owner of a fancy hotel? He knew how to get the bag. 

Too bad he had no idea about you. High agent in the UnderGround knew just how to get a rich man's attention. 

You pulled up to the hotel on your high class motorcycle. Why get a lambo? It wouldn’t stand up.

Your diamond motorcycle was more classy. Beadies didn’t Montage love diamonds. 

Your outfit was detected out in blue and crystals. A classy race suit. With a helmet just as decorated. This was how you always went to missions. 

With your motorcycle and wit. 

The only reason you even got so high up in the Under Ground was your motorcycle gang. They were tired of the millionaires on the island taking areas that they owned. 

You headed up the steps looking through your helmet's glass. 

A few guards walked around. They instantly turn to you as you enter the building. Your suit glittering in the light of the hotel lobby. Montague was at the top of the steps. He instantly looked at you. 

You noticed his eyes widen at the sight of your outfit. Diamonds sure did catch his attention. Seemed like he had an interest already by the way he walked down putting a hand up in a guard's face to make his way over to you. 

His medallion on his neck glistened. You needed to keep him distracted for about an hour. Jonsey and Hope said any longer and you’d need to leave quickly. Meaning the mission failed. 

“How lovely to see a new face.” The man's French accent hit your ears. A smug smirk tugged at his lips. He sure as hell had a handsome face. Almost felt like a waste to want to take this man down.

Perhaps you could take him down in a different way. There was an idea for a distraction. 

“How lovely it is to see your face.” You offred back as a witty response, slowly sliding off your helmet. Shaking out your hair and letting your helmet rest on your waist. Giving him a quick up and down glance. 

He let out a breathy laugh at your response. “Love to see a woman in diamond.” He bit his lip giving you a once over glance. “Love to see a man in diamond.” You took a step closer. He didn’t move. He was beginning to enjoy this. He had flirted with many women before.

He knew what they liked. How to charm and woo them.

“What brings you here?” He titled his head the white tips of his hair parted so perfectly The scar on his eye made him look so much more menacing. 

“I need a room for the night. Traveling to Ritzy Rivera tomorrow. It’s a tad bit too far of a drive for now though.” You offered a quick excuse. He nodded his head thinking over it. “Of course. We have plenty of rooms.” He headed over to the check in area. You followed him taking note of his outfit. 

“Room 203.” He held out the key to you, your hands brushing as you took it. Or well his gloved hands. 

“Do you mind if we chat for a while?” You quipped quickly noting how he began to walk off. 

He thought for a second. You had caught his attention greatly. He never saw a woman just pull up to the front on a motorcycle. Specifically dolled out in diamonds. 

All the girls he had talked to or been in the presence of drooled or fell over his feet. They never wanted to just talk. 

Maybe you were different. He was rich, had a whole business to run and a gift to make things into diamonds. Perhaps you liked him for him, as much as you knew. 

You seemed rich enough. Didn’t need his money. 

“Sure, we can chat.” He nodded and sat down on one of the chairs in the lounge. 

You took a seat in front of him. Eyeing him with your poker face. 

“Do you often wear such little clothing when biking in the snowy mountains?” His question almost shocked you. Perhaps you did have little clothing on. Your racing suit was a one piece. With holes at the knees, a gap to show your stomach and some of your back. Cleavage on display as well. Perhaps that’s what he liked.  

“Do you like what you see or are you complaining?” You bit your lip and leaned back in the chair. Noticing his eyes go from yours to your exposed chest area. 

“The first option.” He leaned forward in his chair, hands clasping together. 

“Though I would hate to only like you for your body. Do tell me about yourself.” He leaned back now instead of forward. Eyes going back to yours. Being respectful. 

“Right.” A small smile creeped up your face. “I race motorcycles and cars. Got my own motorcycle club. Could say I get quite a lot of money from racing.” You crossed your legs and titled your head a little. “I don’t fall so easily into men like you. So, I'm sorry to burst your bubble if you thought this was going to go somewhere. When I drove that bike up here I didn’t have my legs wide open. Mr.Heart of Diamonds.” A smug smirk came on your face at his reaction. 

“Oh no my heart.” He clutched his chest acting to be in pain. “This girl got me, what a shame she won’t like me.” A fake cry came from him now. He stood up quickly. Gaining himself back to his straight face and tough exterior. 

“I’ll show you how to spread your legs open for me.” He stood over you. He was quite tall. The earpiece covered by your hair went off. 

“Vault successful. Heading out soon.” Hope's voice rang through. 

He leaned down, his hands gripping the arm rests of the chair. You looked up at him. Smirks on both your faces.

“One of us is going to have to crack.” His voice was so low you almost couldn’t understand him. The accent wasn’t helping either. 

The tension was high as he was merely centimeters from your face. The second you walked into this hotel you knew it would end like this. 

Did you mind? No. To be truthful his file photo was pretty handsome. 

There was a reason you were so quick to take this mission. You one knew you could distract him but also. You wanted to distract him. 

He was a bad man. Your group hated him. But imagine how much he could help your club. You could own half the island with him. 

Race on the side and become higher up in the world. The UnderGround was bound to end someday. These guys were too good. It’s not like Hope is going to be able to take down her sister.

Everyone saw how she looked when her sister was mentioned. She could never hit the killing shot. It would have to be here to give the go on it. 

This other option had so much more potential for you in the long run. 

You had betrayed an agency before. Shadow wasn’t so keen on you. 

Midas just had better options for you. Of course you’d be a double agent. Feeding info to both sides never choosing one. 

This time you’d choose a side. 

“Why don’t you give in then? You seem like you want this.” Your teasing voice hit Montagues ears. 

He didn’t even care that you two were in the public lounge now. He chuckled and smashed his lips to yours. “I’d give in any time.” He said between kisses. His lips were cold yet they kissed you with such hunger. 

“You’re the most outstanding woman I've met. To act like you don’t care about the richest man on the map kissing you. Such a little bitch.” He fell back on his chair. Pulling you over with him. 

You slung your legs over and sat on his lap. 

“Maybe I don’t care.” You teased back, lips back on him. His only response was a quiet moan. 

His hands gripped your sides, causing a small gasp to escape your lips. “I know you care, how could you not, beautiful?” He shook his head. His hair shook slightly. 

He pulled you back and let his lips hold yours captive. 

He kissed with such eagerness. Were you truly this desirable? 

Perhaps he was just very horny. 

“Mission is a success. Head out now.” Hope's voice echoed in your ear as Montauges tongue explored your mouth.

You ignored the cue to leave. It will be easy. Just get up and walk out. Leaving the man hard and confused. 

Though you didn’t want to leave so soon. Or ever for that matter. 

“Let me walk you to your room, please.” His eagerness to see you to your room made your heart skip a beat. For him to be a gentleman even after such a hot make out sesh. 

You got off his lap and accepted his offer. He gave a flirty smile and headed up the stairs, leading you to your room. 

The sound of the door unlocking then quickly shutting was all you heard as your lips were sealed to Montagues again. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, not letting go. 

You let him hold you. He was deprived of someone.

He could have all the girls he wanted yet he refused to get too handsy. He would let them please him. Not giving much to them. Not like they cared, they just wanted the money.

You were different.

You made his heart melt.

His nerves flare up.

Your hands running through his hair caused him to be reminded of the boner growing painfully harder in his pants. 

“I have known you for only a few hours, yet I want you forever.” His husky words made you think. 

You pulled back from him. Looking up at him with a serious face. “Are you serious?” His answer would change your life and reputation forever. 

“More serious than I have ever been in my life.” He whispered in your ear. “As long as you aren’t taking me for my money I’d be glad to call you mine.” He kissed your neck as his hot breath tickled your skin. 

“I’ll take you for something else if you let me.” You moaned out receiving a chuckle from the man. 

“Thought you’d never ask.” He shoved you down on the silky bed. Trench coat being torn off and vest unbuttoned in seconds. 

—--

The way he had worshiped you in bed. Grabbed you in all the right places and made sure you were okay with anything; made you want to be his even more. 

You were his woman. The reason he was happy to get up in the morning. Sure he had money and a gift to turn anything to diamonds, but you were the best gift in his life. 

He had begged you to stay, bring your club here. He would help you out. 

He was so soft around you, yet such an ass hole to everyone else.

Even better. 

You never went back to the UnderGround. You never even notified them of your leave.

It must have shocked them all the moment your own Pub was established not too far from Grand Glacier. 

Not only that but your club had joined you. Hearing the perks and benefits of this new business deal. 

Not only did you own a part of the map, have Montague around your finger, and a biker club decked out in so many weapons the UnderGround would regret losing you, you also had power.

All the Millionaires on the map know you now. 

They know their boss doesn’t want his girl to be messed with. 

It was only a matter of time before the UnderGround was taken out.

After all, you have picked a side now.

[hwaightme]

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.

[yandere-paramour]

Alright, questions about Noelle. What does she look like? Who is she attracted to? Does she have any hobbies? Does she enjoy animals?

Meet Noelle!

Noelle is a no-nonsense lesbian assistant to the Montclair heir, Atalanta, meaning she spends her days dealing with Atalanta's bullshit 24/7.

She can be called at any time, any day of the year, and will have to respond to whatever foolishness Atalanta wants. She'll even pick up and work when she's sick or injured.

Noelle is one of the only people Atalanta considers a true friend, and as a result, can speak informally and give advice to Atalanta when they are in private.

Because of this, she is also called upon to sometimes babysit/accompany Atalanta's Darling or even accompany Jamie places (if his manservant is busy).

Noelle knows all the intricate details of Atalanta's life and relationships. If Atalanta needs a new strap because the current one isn't "ribbed for her pleasure," Noelle is going to research the best brands, buy it, and have it delivered to the penthouse. And probably ask Atalanta how it went and if she should get one too.

Noelle's favorite color is ice blue.

Her apartment is decorated with ice blue and grey, and she keeps it spotless. She gets really agitated if her apartment is dirty.

Noelle is 25 years old.

She is 5'4" and hates it.

Noelle is a virgin.

Ever since she was a child, she has always had the drive to go FAST. So, nobody knows this about her, but on her days off, she likes to ride her motorcycle (her one vice) recreationally.

Because she works so much, she is pretty bad at taking care of herself. She doesn't sleep much, and only eats microwaved/frozen foods, what she can order in, or just outright skips a meal and sleeps. Because of this, she is extremely small, almost underweight, and gets cold very easily.

She grew up very poor and worked hard enough to send herself to college and get this job. She has crawled up from the bottom rung of society and will die before she gives up her 6 figure salary.

School was everything to her as a child. It was a place with heat, food, and no little sisters to take care of. Noelle was always a few years ahead of her grade in school because she did homework with her older sister, but they never skipped her grade because it wasn't that kind of school. So she occupied herself with other pursuits, like computers at the public library and reading. She eventually got a full ride to college and broke the cycle.

When she made it to college, she took more classes in both business and computer science and further refined her already impressive hacking and online skills that she uses a lot at her job.

Noelle has a mother, one older sister, and three younger sisters. She has no father and never needed one. She is estranged from her mother but still speaks and sometimes helps out her younger sisters who are teenagers. Her favorite sister is Odette, the oldest who is 28.

Odette also pierced her ears for her.

She hates cigarettes because her mother smokes. She doesn't drink either.

Because of her pale and delicate skin, Noelle is a skincare enthusiast. There is always sunscreen and moisturizer in her purse. She had sunburns constantly when she was young and she's tired of it.

Her hair is another luxury for her. She had to have short hair as a child because it was difficult to take care of, but now that she's an adult, she can grow it as long as she wants. It is currently halfway down her back, but she keeps it in a bun at work. Touch her hair and she might punch you.

With her lover, Noelle is extremely manipulative. She will do anything to improve your perception of her, including drugging you, threatening the people around you, and digitally changing online records.

She starts with stalking you. With Atalanta's connections and her own computer skills, she can easily follow you using street cameras and the ones in your home. She'll move your things around, make you worried someone is following you so you'll run right to your girlfriend's arms. She's the only one you can turn to, the only one you can trust.

When you're around her, she's always rubbing and caressing you, praising you, getting you to associate her with good feelings so when you're away, it always feels like something's missing.

In her small bits of free time, Noelle likes to do yoga, indulge in computer science, and do number puzzles.

Noelle only likes one animal: her Russian blue cat, Sasha. She generally associates animals with filthiness because of her childhood, but she found Sasha alone in a dumpster, starving and dirty, as a kitten, and it reminded her of herself, so she took pity on him and took him in.

Noelle does not want kids. She's raised enough little bastards for one life.

Noelle is practical, logical, and sensible, and what she says, goes. There is no arguing with Noelle, and sometimes her analytical sense of reasoning can feel callous and mean, but she doesn't always mean it that way.

Although she is usually physically in the office with Atalanta, she is sometimes permitted to work from home, provided she stays on call and keeps her phone nearby and charged at all times.

She gets along okay with coworkers, but she does not consider them friends. Except Ata. She considers her a friend.

Noells's job is mainly composed of her keeping blackmail on file, scheduling meetings, planning Atalanta's weekly and daily schedules, prepping and scheduling travel plans, itineraries, and agendas when needed, filing paperwork, doing background checks and compiling resumes for new hires, composing and preparing confidential correspondence (contacting the crime boss Ata uses), and delegating tasks given to her by Ata.

She likes to take relaxing baths, would inject iced coffee into her veins, and prefers fresh and clean scents.

What would make her soft is when she gets home from work and she's tired and stressed and burnt out, but you made her a relaxing dinner, and then you try to release her tension with orgasm after orgasm. Someone taking care of her and showing her that level of concern makes her want to cry, and she never cries.

Noelle has participated in street fights. There is a scar on her stomach that looks suspiciously like a knife would but she doesn't talk about it.

Noelle will do whatever it takes to survive. Don't ever forget that.

Cute kid, right? Don't be fooled, she'll charm you out of your rent money in a second.

[lalune9x]

SCTIR Translation - Chapter 399: Sunset (3)

[NOVEL SPOILERS] Story context: The cast was sent into a dungeon based on the pre-regression world. Pre-regression dungeon versions of the characters appear. Han Yoojin's leg was injured during his kidnapping in China. He met the dungeon version of Sung Hyunje in the preceding chapters and vowed to treat the real version well for 3 minutes the next time they met.

“I’m not the last…” Sung Hyunje uncharacteristically trailed off. His golden eyes widened slightly as they shifted between me and my pre-regression self. His habitual smile deepened, and he brought his gloved fingers to lightly touch his lips. Oh, great, he’s definitely intrigued. Let’s see, it’s 26 minutes past the hour now. “There are two Han Yoojins. I guess I can take one with me.”

Chapter translation under the cut.

---

[1:57:35 until sunset]

A message window appeared, kindly informing me of the remaining time. Since it was only visible to me, the others took out timers from their inventories to synchronize the time.

"Almost two hours—that’s plenty of time. Did they make the sun set slower on purpose?"

We had heard about there being a nice hotel in Gangnam. It took about ten minutes for us to reach Gangnam Station, clearing out weaker hunters along the way. With no traffic and no need to stop for signals, even riding the motorcycle at a leisurely pace got us there quickly. Traffic congestion really is the problem.

Whoosh—!

Water shot up from Exit 1 of Gangnam Station. This time it surged higher than ever before, forming massive letters in the sky.

[HERE!]

The letters inside were made of yellow ice, and the edges were mixed with blue and green, making the icy sign stand out. Yoon Yoon approached the sign and began covering it with glow-in-the-dark stickers from his pocket. The sky had grown quite dark, so the stickers emitted a faint glow.

Hunters from all over Seoul would be gathering here soon. We’d have to pick a hotel a bit farther away.

We walked to a nearby bus stop, and I sat down on the bench. My pre-regression self also sat down, placing the cake box on his lap, keeping a slight distance from me.

"Aren’t you hungry?" Yoohyun scanned the surroundings as he spoke. "Do you think there will be any ingredients left at the hotel? If there’s something you want to eat, I can go find a market since we have plenty of time."

"There’s a burger place over there," I replied.

"It’s cold, so wouldn’t something warm be better?"

My brother ignored my suggestion. What was wrong with burgers? Sure, they’re not the healthiest option, but they’ve got meat and vegetables. If you skip the fries and soda, they’re a relatively balanced meal.

"...Are you really making your little brother cook for you?"

The dungeon version of me looked at me as if I were a terrible person. Hey, I used to handle the cooking before Yoohyun left home—back then, he was still young. He’s still young now, but…

"Yoohyun wants to do it, okay?"

"He’s twenty, right? Even if he’s working, shouldn’t you be taking care of him until he at least graduates from college?"

"Of course, I do that the majority of the time!"

"I do it because I want to," Yoohyun interjected. "I like taking care of hyung."

At Yoohyun’s words, my pre-regression self fell silent. Then he glanced up at Yerim and Yoon Yoon, who were busy decorating the ice sign. Even though his build was buffer than mine, my other self’s figure bundled up in the padded black parka somehow looked small.

It must feel incredibly strange for him in many ways. And yet, he wouldn’t want to show any weakness. I was quite stubborn too.

"Still, from my perspective, Yoohyun, tomorrow is your birthday. Until tomorrow, um… I guess it would be okay. So…" my other self trailed off.

"That’s true. Hey, let’s stop by a mart and get some seaweed," I spoke lightly on purpose. 

Yoohyun looked at me and my other self thoughtfully, then nodded.

"Alright. And hyung, things will be the same tomorrow too."

Despite the faint smile on his lips and in his eyes, Yoohyun’s voice was firm. No matter what happened, my little brother wouldn’t let go of either of us easily.

"Ajussi! Tons of Hunters are coming this way!"

Yerim shouted, waving her arms. She had been making a large ice bear. It was a bit misshapen, but I was pretty sure it was a teddy bear.

"Which direction?"

"Over there!"

As soon as Yerim pointed, Yoohyun moved. He dashed toward the front of the building in an instant and swiftly drew his sword. With his gained momentum, the blade sliced through the building as smoothly as flowing water.

Giiiiing─!

A sharp hum from the sword rang through the air, vibrating fiercely. A deep blue flame trailed the sword’s path, melting and corroding the lower part of the building in the direction he intended to bring it down. With a loud crash, the building began to tilt. Yoohyun spun around, swinging his sword again, which had now transformed into a flaming whip. The black blade battered the side of the building.

With a heavy groan, the massive structure leaned precariously to one side. Before the first building had even fully crumbled, Yoohyun was already moving toward another. He seemed intent on blocking the wide, eight-lane street with the debris.

By clearing away the tall buildings that blocked the view and using the rubble to block the alleys, it would make it easier to prevent any hunters from slipping past us.

"Hunter Park Yerim."

"Yep, it’s my turn this time, right? Yoon Yoon! Let’s go to the Ajussis."

It seemed like they were planning to deal with the hunters properly this time, rather than just tying them up like when we first arrived. That’s not the sort of task I would want Yerim to do, and Yoon Yoon disliked blood, so it would be better for Yoohyun to handle it. Still, it showed that Yoohyun cared about Yerim.

"Ajussi, you’re praising Han Yoohyun again in your head, aren’t you?"

Yerim flew over to me, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. How did she know?

"Not exactly. But Yerim, did something happen?"

"Yeah, actually." Yerim glanced at my pre-regression self, who was sitting beside her, then grinned widely. "I met the most amazing person in the world."

"Huh? An amazing person?"

"Yeah. So I might end up liking that person more than you, Ajussi. Is that okay?"

"Well, that’s up to you, Yerim.… But who is it?"

I was genuinely curious. Someone Yerim held in such high regard—was it perhaps Hyuna-ssi? Or maybe Soyoung-ssi, who was practically the Sesung Guild Leader at this point?

"Uh, it’s a bit embarrassing to tell you now, so I’ll tell you later."

"Embarrassing?"

"That’s just how it is sometimes!"

What on earth had happened? Yoon Yoon, beside her, was covering his mouth with both hands. So Yoon Yoon knew. I could easily coax it out of him, but that wouldn’t be right. I was curious, but I decided it was better to wait until Yerim told me herself.

But I was really curious. Who could it be? Hopefully, it wasn’t someone strange…

"Yerim, that ring is new, isn’t it?" I asked.

"I got it from that person!"

"What? You got a ring?"

Who is it, really?! Well, it was probably just an item, but still, who gave her a ring?! A ring—a pair of matching rings. Who had one? Rings, bracelets, and accessories like that were easy to hide, so people rarely showed them off. There was no benefit to revealing their effects to others. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t recall who might’ve had such an item.

"It’s just an item, right?"

"Yeah, it’s SS-Rank!"

Yerim proudly showed off her ringed hand. I nudged my pre-regression self, but he didn’t seem to know either.

"Oh, and I’m going to college," she added.

"Of course, you should."

"I’m going to study properly. Not just be a college student in name only, like my guild leader."

…Wow. Whoever influenced her must be truly amazing. To convince her, who once said there was no need for S-rank hunters to have good test scores, to voluntarily talk about studying? This person deserved the title of ‘Perfect Caregiver.’

Yerim mentioned she was thinking of studying architecture. Studying hard was definitely a good idea. You never know how the world might change, so having a backup plan aside from being a Hunter was a smart move.

In the meantime, the acrid smell of burning started wafting over from behind the collapsed buildings. Smoke rose into the sky, accompanied by faint screams. It was a battlefield. Though, dungeons always were.

"The others should be arriving soon."

They were late. Surely it wasn’t because this dungeon wasn’t limited to Seoul, or something, right? What if Noah had ended up in France? Director Song is from Seoul, but who knows about Sung Hyunje. Did he start in Seoul, or was he somewhere else before coming to Korea because he considered it a suitable base? What if he was off in some place like Italy right now?

"By the way, Ajussi! Peace can’t read letters, right? Probably…?"

"Peace didn’t come into the dungeon."

"Oh, that’s a relief."

"Misters Kim! What do you want to drink?"

Yoon Yoon, who had disappeared for a moment, returned with a vending machine he had ripped out. He seemed to enjoy taking whatever he wanted from places that had no owners. He shouldn’t do that outside, though.

"Ajussi, your hands look cold. Should I warm up a can of coffee for you?"

"Huh? I’m fine."

"Not you, the other Ajussi."

Oh, right. She meant my pre-regression self. Now that I looked at him, holding a cake box without gloves for so long had left his fingertips slightly pink. It wasn’t anything serious, though.

"I’m fine, too," my other self said.

"You’re not fine. Here, there’s some rice punch too."

Yerim pulled out a dagger and neatly sliced open the side of the vending machine. Then she created a large water orb. She dipped cans of coffee, rice punch, and honey water into the warm sphere of water. Meanwhile, Yoon Yoon was shaking up a can of soda and popping it open, spraying it everywhere. It’s not good to play with food.

"I’ll have coffee, please," I said.

"You’ll have honey water, Ajussi."

"No, I want coffee."

"It has ginseng in it too. Should I give you honey water too, Ajussi?" she asked my other self.

He quickly shook his head. "I’m healthy."

"No, you’re not. Yerim, give him honey water too. He always drinks instant coffee at home."

The real problem was the alcohol, but I didn’t want to mention that in front of Yerim. In the end, both versions of me ended up with honey water, each with a tiny bit of ginseng. I took off my gloves and wrapped my hands around the warm bottle. Sitting at a bus stop like this, it almost felt like we’d gone back to the time before the dungeons appeared.

"I used to buy hot drinks from vending machines on my way home from work sometimes."

"I’d fidget with it until it went cold."

"For a while, I hated taking the bus because it reminded me of my little brother. Even though I told him not to come pick me up in the winter so many times, he never listened."

"…Yeah, I remember that. It feels like ages ago."

Both of us unconsciously twisted off the bottle caps at the same time, took a sip, and grimaced. It tasted weird. We put the caps back on and just held the bottles to warm our hands again.

"Ah! Han Yoohyun! The ice is melting! My puppy!"

Yerim shouted as she flew into the air. Wasn’t it a teddy bear?

"I worked hard on that! It’s different from just letters… Huh? Ajussi, there are more Hunters coming this way! Should I go?"

"If they’re far away, leave them. Yoohyun will take care of it soon enough—"

Boom! A loud noise echoed. I quickly used the Drill Sergeant skill on Yerim. Her vision sharpened as a bright light flashed in the distance. Golden electricity leaped wildly across the black asphalt road, like crashing waves, scattering brilliant light everywhere.

Then, with a rushing sound, chains extended, wrapping around the streetlights on both sides of the road. The previously unlit lamps suddenly blazed with light before exploding with a loud bang. Even though the lamps weren’t working, the electric surge seemed to have amplified the power, causing an especially large explosion.

"I see someone has arrived."

I set the honey water bottle down on the bench and stood up. My past self also rose to his feet.

Seeing those chains in action meant it was the present-day Sung Hyunje, and it seemed there had been no serious problems. Yoohyun returned first, stepping over the collapsed building. Sung Hyunje followed behind. His eyes looked fine.

"I’m not the last…" Sung Hyunje uncharacteristically trailed off. 

His golden eyes widened slightly as they shifted between me and my pre-regression self. His habitual smile deepened, and he brought his gloved fingers to lightly touch his lips. Oh, great, he’s definitely intrigued. Let’s see, it’s 26 minutes past the hour now.

"There are two Han Yoojins. I guess I can take one with me."

What the heck was he saying? But since three minutes hadn’t passed yet, I kept my thoughts to myself. Yoohyun moved behind us, ready to shield us at any moment.

"All of hyung belongs to me."

Yoohyun, what are you saying now?

"Yoohyun, you shouldn’t say things like that about people."

"But I belong to hyung too."

— ‘That’s right, Hyung! As they say, it’s ‘give and take’!’

Yilin said the last part in English. Where did you even learn that, Yilin?

"Of course, Han Yoohyun belongs to Han Yoojin. But I have a share in Han Yoojin too, don’t I? After all, we’re partners."

"Partners?" my pre-regression self muttered quietly.

Sung Hyunje’s words prompted Yerim to join in as well.

"Me too! You can have as many Han Yoohyuns as you want, Ajussi, but I also have a share in you! We’re in a guardian and ward, protector and protected relationship."

"Oh? Then me too! I’m contractually tied with Captain Kim!" Yoon Yoon chimed in.

The way they were talking made it sound like I was some kind of debtor. And the three minutes still hadn’t passed. These were the longest three minutes ever. So I smiled at Sung Hyunje.

"Really, Sung Hyunje-ssi. Of course, we’re business partners. Ah, this is the 29-year-old me. And this person here is my kind partner, Sung Hyunje-ssi. He’s the Sesung Guild Leader, as you well know."

My gentle and soft voice made Sung Hyunje, Yerim, Yoohyun, and even my pre-regression self give me a strange look.

"Hyung, are you sick? Did you get hit by some weird skill?"

"Ajussi, you’re the same one who was with us earlier, right? You didn’t just change into his clothes?"

"I’m fine. And yes, I’m the same. Sung Hyunje-ssi, you’re unharmed, right? Thank you for dealing with those other hunters. As always, you’re very reliable… Okay, three minutes are up."

Finally, I was free. I grabbed my other self’s arm and warned him.

"He’s dangerous, so be careful."

"…What?"

"I’m talking about the Sesung Guild Leader."

"I won’t deny that." Sung Hyunje smiled even more gently as he looked at me—both versions of me. "But my dear Han Yoojin-gun, if we make it out of here safely, won’t your other self need a place to stay?"

"We have an empty room at my place. And even more at Haeyeon Guild."

"That might be difficult." Sung Hyunje’s voice lowered. "The closer people are, the more they compare themselves to one another. Colleagues, relatives, friends, spouses, siblings. The more they interact and live in similar environments, the more they unconsciously measure who is better or worse. But if they’re the same person…"

…It wouldn’t just be about distinguishing between them; discrimination would inevitably arise, too. There was a clear difference between what my past self and I could do. Sung Hyunje was right; it would be a harsh environment for me.

Of course, we still didn’t know if we’d make it out safely. But he wasn’t wrong.

"So, are you saying you’d take care of my pre-regression self, Sung Hyunje-ssi? Be realistic. Right now, you’re interested because this is novel for you, but how long will that last?"

The connection to me was deep enough for strong emotions to be shared, so perhaps Sung Hyunje might really be sensing the me inside the dungeon. Naturally, he was intrigued. I pulled my past self closer, protectively. He wasn’t weaker than me, but he allowed himself to be pulled along.

"Don’t be fooled by that kind-looking face. The Sesung Guild Leader is notorious for losing interest after just a few months. There are countless victims."

"As you say, I can’t promise that my interest will last forever."

"There, see?"

"But I do promise that I won’t ever cease providing protection and more than adequate care."

"Why should I believe that?"

"For what it’s worth, I take pride in the trust my guild members place in me."

Well, that’s true. Suddenly, the image of the Sung Hyunje from the dungeon flashed through my mind. He had taken responsibility for his guild to the end. In whatever way he could.

"So, you’re saying you’ll take him into Sesung Guild."

"It seems like a mutually beneficial arrangement."

Since my other self was still technically me, joining Sesung Guild wouldn’t be a bad deal. It would strengthen the bond between Sesung and the breeding facility, and I could even be used as leverage if necessary. For my pre-regression self, it would be much better to adapt to a completely new environment rather than being thrust into the slightly familiar yet unfamiliar world of the breeding facility.

However…

"I decline."

It was my pre-regression self who spoke. Though he seemed nervous, avoiding direct eye contact with Sung Hyunje, his tone was resolute.

"I don’t understand why everyone insists that I need to be protected. I’ve always been able to take care of myself. I always will. The same goes for you. I’ll live my life as I see fit."

His final words were steady, without a hint of hesitation. That’s right, this is who I was. I’d unconsciously started to see my past self as weaker just because my own circumstances had improved. But I had always been like this.

And so, Sung Hyunje had now been rejected twice. But since both rejections came from the same person, what could he really do?

[lowkeyrobin]

helloo !! i was wondering if u could write anything that has finn wolfhard and reader.

- 🗡️

ooo sure! thank you for requesting 🗡!! ; I just randomly thought of this somehow so hopefully this makes any sort of sense? idrk tbh I'm just trying to write something lol ; also ty for the message you sent!! I promise I saw it haha, I just deleted it because I was flustered and upset over a million things (guys if it involves any sort of politics don't comment even if you're right bc some rando will make it ab them and call you a brainwashed moron) but thank you, I appreciate it a lot 🫶🫶🫶

FINN WOLFHARD ; thrift shop

summary ; you go to a thrift shop with Finn because why not

warnings ; language

word count ; 474

masterlist

"What are you looking for?"

You shrug, flipping through CDs among the shelves, looking for anything you'd be interested in. He nods, looking through the records section with you.

You decided to hit up a random Goodwill you found while passing through the town, wanting to see if you could find anything good. He'd found a thin jacket, colored dark blue with white stripes, with small, white lettering on the front that spelled out certified guitar guy. It was only seven dollars, so he decided it was a need over a want.

He pulls out a few records, looking at the condition of the actual vinyls and the covers to see if the money was even worth it. You continue scanning through the CDs, looking for anything that would grab your eye. After no luck with the music search, you head back to the clothing section since Finn had begged you to. They had the heat, he said.

You couldn't doubt his comment after finding a one of a kind t-shirt though. It originated probably from 2013 or something, featuring a weird picture of MGK on the front, with neon red text that was 100% written by some parasocial fangirl.

Finn holds up his phone camera, snapping a picture of you holding the shirt to your chest, posing with it. He captions it "this Goodwill has the heat" before posting it to Instagram. You quietly laugh it off, searching for anything you'd actually wear.

You end up finding some good clothes, him as well. But there were definitely some honorable mentions. Some of those included a navy blue grandma-core shirt with a drawing of a sun and moon on it, colored a weird shade of yellow. Another pictured a SpongeBob meme, which nearly killed Finn, and you'd found a similar one to that, being a jacket with printed on fabric.

"Who donated their Temu order, guys?" You laugh, holding up the weird jacket and matching fake denim pants to show Finn.

"That's insanely disgusting." He smiles, looking away to not throw up at the sight of the hideous fast fashion.

You hang the two items back up, also not wanting to look at them. You fade into the random decor section, seeing the usual donation items. You cover your mouth to hide a smile before grabbing something, turning around to show Finn.

"Finn..."

"Oh my God"

"Who's wannabe biker mom died?"

"I don't know"

You hold up a little kitchen sign, reading something about motorcycles, guns, and Donald Trump, laughing as you put it back down, using a set of pots to cover it up.

You pose next to an old grandfather clock in the back corner, pointing up at it with an Instagram worthy smile. "Stranger Things who?"

"We're leaving"

"Damnit"

"What is that...?"

"A chair shaped like a banana"

"Okay, let's go."

[fic-dumpster]

Only time will tell

Word count: 3k+

Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen (idk gojo? Nanami?) x reader

Warnings: none? Nonsense? Manga divergent, attempt at a fix-it-fic, Y/N is a looser, unfinished, no beta🫡 we die like a jjk characters. 3erd person POV (I wanted to try something dif but i regret that decision now).

Sorcerers, below assistants, managers, and supervisors. Everyone’s part of the well-oiled machine in the so-called Jujutsu world.

Under all of them is Y/N. The janitor of the Jujutsu world.

Fixing someone’s problem was her job. Be it cleaning crumbling buildings, or roads after sorcerers and curses fought. In short, tidying up the aftermath. Because of her, nowadays none gave much thought to what would happen if their cursed techniques damaged their surroundings.

Y/N was content doing what she could to support the order and balance of things… until a pair of clear blue eyes disturbed the balance of her life.

Chapter 1: It’s probably what’s best for you

“It’s probably what’s best for you,” Yuki told Todo’s friend.

Nine years later, Y/N could still hear that same phrase every time she got ready for work. She was given the option to stay behind, to continue to see curses, and never be able to do a thing to stop them. Not human but not a sorcerer either. Not even a window.

Y/N had ignored half of Yuki’s comment back then and that’s why she’s here today. Ready to step into action after some second-grade sorcerers finished his mission.

It wasn’t much, just a couple of crumbled walls and a hole or two. It was nothing compared to whenever she’s sent for cleanup after Gojo Satoru. He made hurricanes and earthquakes look nice.

“The barrier is up,” not even glancing her way, an assistant informed Y/N. “Please hurry up.”

Without answering, Y/N began fixing their mess.

May, 2008.

Aoi Todo, eight years old, beat up a high school kid.

Y/N understood it wasn't her fault, but that didn't stop the strange feeling of remorse flowering in her tummy. Blood decorated the ground as she stood observing Todo sitting on top of the older kid.

“That’s what he gets for mocking me,” Todo spad blood, adding more red to the green grass underneath him, “why does he care if I only hang out with you.”

Todo and Y/N have been the best of friends since he could remember. Todo beat every single person who made fun of Y/N and that happened almost every single day. Crying-Y/N, crazy-Y/N, and freaky-Y/N were some of the names kids in their district called her. Why? well, Y/N could see curses. Those weird shaped monsters scared her to death. So much so that she couldn’t control her fear and thus her reaction to them. Todo didn’t question why she cried. Curses are ugly monsters after all. What he didn’t understand was why all the others bullied his friend.

Back to the present Y/N noticed a fourth presence. Looking up from where she stood, she noticed a woman watching them with a strange glint in her eyes.

“Nice fight, boy!” The blond woman with a motorcycle and a weird snake shouted at Todo. “So, when it comes to women, what’s your type?”

That phrase presented the last day of their normal human life.

August, 2008.

Admitting that seeing curses wasn’t enough, Y/N almost gave up, but the third grader was a stubborn little thing. The training Todo went through was excruciating and Yuki realized pretty fast that Y/N wasn’t sorcerer material.

April, 2016.

While Todo went and became a superstar at Kyoto Jujutsu High, Y/N barely got the cleaning job. No, she didn’t even qualify as a manager or assistant. She couldn’t even perform a veil.

Eight years ago, Yuki did find a very interesting technique in the young girl. Every time Todo was injured, a strange thing happened, time stopped and every drop of blood from the boy went back to where it belonged. Todo looked as if nothing had happened. It wasn’t reverse curse technique. It was something similar to small time jumps… back and forth. It didn’t always work as expected, seeing Todo’s current face scar. Then Yuki soon noticed Y/N’s technique only worked on inanimate objects and… surprisingly, Todo. It also didn’t work when other cursed techniques were active or with cursed objects. It means, no curse energy she wasn’t comfortable with should be present for Y/N’s technique to work. That’s her limit and it didn’t change with time. No matter how much Yuki pushed Y/N.

However, there was something that bothered Yuki. Something she couldn’t grasp or understand about Y/N so instead of just kicking her to the curve, Yuki gave her two options.

“Stay and do what you can to help or go back to being the freak girl at your school, but no Todo this time.” as always, Yuki was blunt. Not an ounce of compassion for the young girl.

May, 2016

The assistant who was assigned to Y/N’s first cleanup job, moved out of the barrier so she could turn back the time in that specific area and fix the demolished street.

And she did it. As if nothing ever happened… the children’s doodles on the sidewalk reappeared, the overgrown weeds, cracks on the asphalt, and even the old stains on walls emerged.

What an amazing power, anyone would think, but Y/N knew better. What is the point if it doesn’t work against anyone or anything?

“I’m done here!” Y/N stepped out of the barrier with a tired expression, though not from exhaustion. “Where to next?” it was because she knew this was gonna be it for the rest of her life.

It’s probably what’s best for me, she thought.

Chapter 2: A watch, a mask and the sun

Unlike most sorcerers, Nanami tried to focus on his assignment, be done and gone. Nothing perturbed his concentration on the job or after it. Except today, when he couldn't find his watch. He looked everywhere for it. Wrists? Nothing. Pockets? Nothing. The car that picked him up? Nada.

Nanami must have dropped it amid the fight, and nothing bothered him more than misplacing his stuff. Oh, and maybe Gojo.

It was late, later than he expected by the time Nanami got back to the place he had faced the curse. Before arriving, he called the assistant manager assigned to the case and asked if anyone had seen a watch or anything remotely similar at the location where he had exorcised a grade-one curse, but none reported anything, so here he stood.

The darkness of the night felt different once it was past midnight, it gave the place even more of an eerie feeling. Once the blond sorcerer stepped into the building or what was supposed to be left of it after the fight, something wasn't right, he stopped dead in his tracks, muscles tense, and only heavy silence filled the place.

The place, which was once destroyed, looked as if no battle had ever taken place in it. Nanami checked his surroundings in case it was a domain or veil, but nothing. Not a single trace of any kind of energy. Not even his own or the curse that once lived there.

Somewhere in Japan, Y/N was in a car.

“Oh my god,” Y/N couldn't believe the price of the watch she found back at the crumbling building. After fixing the place, she almost buried the watch. Now looking up the model, her internet search showed about $4,150.00 and that was even before taxes. Who in their right mind wears that and just drops it? She couldn't wrap her head around such a thing.

After processing the price shock, Y/N wasn’t so clueless as to whom this might belong to. Seeing as it was a first-grade curse and it was exorcised in less than a day, and the price of the watch screamed jujutsu paycheck… oh, and taking into account the mess left at the site. Yeah, it definitely screams jujutsu sorcerer. The answer was clear, it belonged to some big-shot sorcerer, so she did what was right and called the only person she knew with that type of knowledge.

“Shoko? Hi? It's Y/N,” she wasn't going to call Yuki or anyone else. Shoko was the only person decent enough to establish a conversation. “I have a small problem and I don't know if you could help me?”

The next morning, Y/N was at Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High even before sunrise.

“Okay… Shoko said to find Ijichi at the Tokyo branch and he would make sure to deliver it to its rightful owner,” Y/N held the watch in her hands as if her life depended on it. What if it got scratched in her bag or something? Better safe than sorry.

Y/N was so focused on her task as she climbed the infinite stairs to reach the main office that she didn't notice a second person going in the same direction not far from her.

In the same vicinity, Ino Takuma was just arriving from a mission and on his way to give a report when a young woman caught his attention, and he almost missed a step. Going up the stairs in front of him, was a girl holding something he instantly recognized. Nanami’s watch.

He was about to approach the girl when a thought crossed his mind. Nanami never said anything about a woman in his private life… Was she a friend? A girlfriend? Why else would she have his watch? He must have left it at her place last night and she was bringing it to his workplace and…

As the twenty-one-year-old sorcerer continued to create a whole love story for his mentor, Ino felt a bit sad. Nanami never mentioned a girlfriend before, at least not to him. Accepting the situation, Ino was happy for Nanami. She was cute as far as he could see and young— oh, she looked even younger than him. Ino was getting dizzy with so many things passing through his mind at once.

At the top of the stairs, a certain blond sorcerer awaited.

Shoko told Ijichi about Y/N’s predicament and Ijichi did hear about Nanami’s issue from another assistant. He concluded that Nanami and Y/N must be looking for each other so he informed the grade-one sorcerer about her and her estimated time of arrival.

Nanami scanned the girl from head to toe and observed from above how she held the watch as if it were water, and she didn't want a single drop to go to waste poured on her hands. A faint smile flickered on his face at such absurd behavior.

Anyone would think Nanami didn't smile and Ino believed as much until now. Until Ino saw his senior sorcerer flashing a ghost of a smile. If Ino hadn’t been paying close attention he would have thought he imagined it.

Ino still observing, saw that Nanami's head was directed at the girl, who was a couple of steps ahead of himself. That confirmed his suspicions. They were a couple.

Y/N was tired and having zero sleep last night didn't help her situation. “I hope whoever lost this watch carries me back down because there’s no way in hell that I’m going through these stairs again,” she mumbled with heavy breathing.

“I apologize for troubling you,” a monotone voice spoke from above.

Looking up, Y/N’s eyes clashed with a pair of goggles-like glasses. Swallowing hard, she watched the whole structure of the man in front of her. A beige suit and spotted tie, polished shoes, tall, blond, and a sculpted jawline. If Y/N didn't have air before, she sure as hell didn't even remember the function of her lungs now.

As light from the rising sun glimmered, it appeared to only light the blond sorcerer. He was like a godly apparition and Y/N was just a puny human in his presence. Ino, behind her, saw the same sunlit scene and thought the same thing. Nanami is majestic.

Given the awkward silence that followed, Ino assumed his presence was bothering them so he turned around and ran down the stairs as fast as he could. Once he was out of earshot he still took glimpses as he saw them converse with each other.

Back to the present world, Y/N realized she just stood there and stared at the glorious man. A mental slap later, she managed to speak like a normal person. “Yeah, no, I mean-” or as normal as she could.

“I believe that belongs to me,” indicated Nanami with a solemn face, “I appreciate the time you took to deliver it here.”

An internal scream later, and trying to engrave his smooth voice in her auditory system, Y/N nodded agreeing with whatever he said.

“Y/N,” red covered the apple of her cheeks, “Hi, I'm Y/N,” Blink! Don’t forget to blink, “Yes, of course, it was no problem!” She took the last steps with jelly-like legs and finally delivered the watch to its owner.

Nanami’s hand grazed hers when retrieving the item. Y/N felt her pulse flatten and then go into overdrive. A rough, big, calloused hand brushed her skin, and… it was over. He quickly put on the watch.

Breath! Y/N mentally reminded herself. The problem was she never met anyone like Nanami before. Someone who overwhelmed her senses like he did, someone who filled every space available in her mind and left no room for anything else. Was this love at first sight?

As Y/N got lost in thought about the golden man, Nanami had other questions in mind, and he wasted no time in asking them out loud.

“May I know how you came to find my watch?” said Nanami, clearing his throat so Y/N could pay attention to his words.

“Watch? Oh…!” She hurriedly tidied up her thoughts, “I found it at my last job, kinda careless on your part using something so expensive when killing curses, don’t you think?” she scrunched her nose at the image.

Taken aback by the sudden comment, Nanami just ignored it as he acknowledged it was true. “And why were you there? Even if I did get rid of the curse, the place was dangerous since the edifice was about to collapse,” after hearing her, he abruptly became more interested in finding out who she was.

“Well, that’s my part of the job, you know,” Y/N still had to look up at him, even when they were practically on the same step. “Clean up after y'all leave chaos and debris,” moving her hands and fingers in a small explosion-like form.

Confusion clouded Nanami’s face, brows crinkled, “I didn't know a division like that existed.”

“It doesn't,” Y/N chuckled, “and if it does then I am the only member- ” She was about to explain a bit more about her role on the nonexistent cleanup team when the ringing of her phone interrupted.

“I- “ but Nanami never got the chance to finish either because his phone rang too.

“It seems we both have other matters to attend to. I'm happy you got your watch! Have a nice day!” Y/N almost flew down the stairs as she didn't even let Nanami say his goodbyes.

The sorcerer gave a quick glance at his phone before looking back to the girl who almost rolled down the stairs. If Ino hadn't popped up and caught the girl in his arms then she sure would have kissed the hard stone of the stairs.

Ignoring the two youngsters chatting on the stairs, Nanami called back the number that just interrupted his conversation, he had some questions still unanswered.

“Ye-”

“NANAMIN! Who’s the girl you were just standing with?!!” Gojo could never mind his own business.

Well, that answered one of his questions. Gojo didn't know Miss Clean-up team.

Running down the stairs isn’t a good idea, especially for Y/N since her foot-leg coordination was not the best. So a slip and a scream later, closing her eyes, she swore she could taste the rock of the steps. Until a pair of arms stopped the fall.

Holding her bridal style, Ino kept walking down the stairs. “So… Y/N, right?” said Ino, as if carrying someone was such a mundane task, “how long have you known Nanami?”

“What?” oh gods, not this too. Why was he still carrying her? Y/N felt her face redden three times more than it already was, “Uhm, just now.”

“Just… now… you mean… he isn't… you two aren’t…” Ino’s heart was shattered. He felt as if his parents divorced or something. A heavy disappointment burned in his chest as the story he created earlier disappeared before his eyes. He stopped moving.

“Hey, I am very thankful for you… you know… catching me but-”

“Did you steal it?” Ino’s heartbeat accelerated, thinking of the precious watch he wanted so much. “Are you a thief?”

Ino knows he tends to create stories before he even has the chance to check the facts as seen in the previous situation. But the watch was such an important thing for him too and she wasn't what he thought she was.

“Thief? Me?” Y/N outrageously replied, “You’re the one walking with a ski mask! All in black!”

As they bickered, Ino moved once more, and they both kept going down the stairs. Forgotten was the fact that he was holding Y/N.

Once home and ready to take a nap, Y/N thought back to her bizarre day. Two high-grade sorcerers and a lost watch. What a day…

After those encounters, she now sat in her room and again, mentally slapped herself. Why did she act like that? That was such an out-of-character behavior for her. It must be her ovulation or something.

Oh… shut… Y/N forgot about Aoi’s call.

Chapter 3: Elementary school disaster

2017

“What type of idiot makes such a mess?” Seventeen-year-old Y/N could barely hold the acid in her throat. The putrid smell of rotten meat surrounded the young girl who walked alone towards the elementary school entrance.

The curse that was exorcised a couple of hours ago, more like exploded, was taking its sweet time to evaporate. Y/N hated working nightshifts and it was even worse that the whole place was covered with a nasty purple slimy substance. Since it wasn't a living thing, she knew her technique would work just fine.

“Oookay… let’s get this done and go home,” said Y/N to none in particular. Already used to working on her own and maintaining monologues by herself. She focused on the task and… Nada… not a single thing happened.

Her energy wasn't working. Not a single piece of glass went back to normal. Nothing.

“What the hell?!?” Y/N shook her hands trying to activate her curse technique.

Not far from where she stood, a man in monk-like robes observed the lonely girl shaking her arms like a maniac. He would have called her a monkey with disgust, but something wasn't right with her. Besides the fact that she was standing alone at night and dancing weirdly. It wasn't the same sensation as a sorcerer or a human. What was she?

Soon the intrigue died, he couldn’t waste his time with whatever this was. Picking up the student ID from the rooftop, the man disappeared. Leaving the girl to her antics.

“YESS!” Y/N finally got a hold of her powers and the building began to fix itself.

A/N: I had an idea once upon a time but I no longer have it so here’s crumbs. Aaaand I’m sorry if my English sucks… I forgot how to write in this language. Let’s blame Gege either way. This is soooo old btw~ just posting to free my soul of the guilt.

[digitaldoeslmk]

do you have any nezha hcs? either from lmk or form investiture of the gods, he’s my fav and i’m curious what you think abt him

i love him sm just in general!!! and i got a few HCs that go for Nezha in my JTTW au and for the by the book au!

he does Indian classical dances as well as peking opera roles like wu xiaosheng or changkao wusheng

he has very frizzy and rebellious hair, wearing it in anything but buns is a nightmare for him

he's positively insufferable when it comes to pranks, he never stops or even lets up. absolute menace.

him and his brothers are often meeting up to do whatever in big cities, just having a fun time and vibing. they'll absolutely never let each other live down the stuff they did when they were younger, but they also never stop loving each other in their own weirdass way

they didn't know what "cain instinct" was for the longest time, but once they did that had a big laugh about it in a "hahaha we do that!" way

picky eater. dear LORD he's a picky eater and will throw a FIT over it

as an older god, past FSYY and JTTW, he's more serious and focused on his duties, but he still loves a good practical joke

him, Ao Bing and Yang Jian are banned from a few heavenly pavillions and halls due to... past misdemeanors (Partying Too Hard)

him and Wukong are thick as thieves. if you tell one something, the other will hear about it in a matter of seconds really

he has no issues whatsoever with killing, but he really struggles with or even being around for butchering animals. if he does, he has nightmares of his suicide for a few days

he rarely works up a sweat in general, but when he does, it smells like lotus perfume

he can also grow actual lotus flowers as hair decorations for fancy occasions

he can shapeshift between his child, youth, and older man appearances as needed, though more often it depends on his mood for the day

for the by the book au in specific:

he masks his wheels as rollerskates and wheelies, but sometimes as a motorbike

fashion style is punk but make it hanfu, with some techwear influence. it screams "DTF (Down To Fight)"

loves Chinese rap and rock, and modern poetry

celebrates Buddhist holidays and meditates, and he often joins Hai'er and Wukong to gatherings and lectures

he takes a liking to MK and Mei both, and often tips the scales in their favor when he can

follows Mei online and watches her livestreams, and he often gets in discussions with her about motorcycle mods and specs

has an online persona so people don't flood his inbox with prayers (it happened before with Wukong, he'd rather avoid that happening to him)

his body was made with pink and white lotus flowers, but he always prefered the blue-purple ones. he only told that to Ao Bing and Wukong, and they both often give him blue lotus-themed gifts on special occasions