#starless lovers edits

[wonderswritings]

I'm excited foe all seasons of SL (however many that may be) but I can't wait for S4. It'll be the season that changes everything.

Starless Lovers Masterlist

[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.

[leynaeithnea]

Introduction:

Hehylo, I'm Leyna or Ley

-> she/her, sometimes they

-> I can legally drink in the US (I won’t, I'm boring, I don't rly drink, smoke, i don't even drink coffee or energy drinks, I'm boring, I’m also not from that continent)

-> probably bi, idek not straight probably

-> trying to be a functional member of society but not doing great with that yet, keep questioning my life choices every few weeks

-> my blog is probably not family friendly

-> I'm mostly active on discord, you can add me under @ leynadeyemi ....but I tend to ignore unknown requests so maybe lmk on here first

Tags:

#LeyAnswers (ask replies)

#LeyWonders (asking questions to myself or others)

#LeysDoodles (stuff I draw or doodle)

#LeyRambles (ranting about stuff, probably trying to make a point)

#LeyWrites (anything related to my writing projects)

-> fandom tags

-> might add more tags i.e. for reblogs or stuff like that eventually

-> the writing projects get their own tags too

Content:

I'm a writer....well, I’m working on it, I'm neither good at writing nor storytelling, worldbuilding or character creation, but writing is the only thing that when I do it I don‘t feel like I’m secretly wasting my time, so imma keep doing it

Occasionally I draw and slowly getting a tiny bit better at that, mostly practicing digital, sometimes on paper, I also like playing around with all other stuff of digital arts: animation, trying to get into music again, editing,….long list, but mostly writing probably

Main writing projects:

Stolen Kingdom (working title) (#DayNightDusk): fantasy - trilology - no day-night cycle, political conflicts, no magic, mc wants to go home, enemies to lover's - worldbuilding, planning, plotting, character creation [-> still new and fully up to change]

Minto Wild (#MintoWild): epic/portal fantasy (probably?) - series - nine worlds, wild magic, the gods are gone, mc can manipulate and feel fear – worldbuilding, planning

Changeling King (#ChangelingKing): fantasy, folklore - novel (probably, duology maybe) - changelings, curses, withering world, otherworld, fairies – worldbuilding, planning

Starless - Starlit - Starborn (#Astaranay): gaslamp fantasy, galaxy core - series/triology - scholarship, constellations, stolen magic – worldbuilding

Rustle of Wings (#RustleOfWings): gaslamp fantasy, folklore - short story - moth, death omen, apothecary, fairies – editing

Shadows of Truth (#CakeMelonSword/ ShadowsOfTruth): lgbt fantasy romance - co-written novel (with two friends) - gods, fey, angels, truth and lies – plotting

(More that arent more than a single line or idea)

Hobbies/Interests, that I might mention or rant about:

Editing, history, mythology, folklore, fairies, writing, english, linguistics, culture, storytelling, witchy stuff, gardening/foraging, psychology, sociology, science like astronomoy (kinda, not the maths and physics behind it) probably more stuff

Fandoms I might reblog or mention/reference more frequently:

Epic the Musical

The Odyssey

Captive Prince Series

All for the Game series

The Silmarillion

Additionally:

-> reading mostly fantasy and lgbt, sometimes non fiction…mostly for research, sometimes for the brain

-> whatever I'm currently watching

-> i don't play a lot of games (mostly genshin and assassins creed syndicate) nor am I rly involved into any game fandoms, want to explore more games in the future though

Friend shenenigans with:

@underexasperation

@rudegizmo

@diovoppio

(Might start tagging interactions with #mydearestfriends)

#mutuals for interactions with other friends :>

Oh, i also tested out what these new communities were and made one for my stories, but considering I've only have two somewhat acceptable short-stories and an actually good co-written one, I don't think that's gonna be relevant anytime soon 😬 Unless you want me to ramble about my WIPs, in which case I wont refuse

[livingasaghost]

okay @permanentreverie did this in honor of book lovers day (aug 9) so here i am being obnoxious and sorting my favorite books based on genres bc i'm procrastinating editing

put it under read more because i'm annoying and this is longer than i thought it'd be ahjflksd

classics:

les miserables by victor hugo

1984 by george orwell

a midsummer night's dream by william shakespeare

hamlet by william shakespeare

the crucible by arthur miller

the great gatsby by f scott fitzgerald

contemporary romances:

red white and royal blue by casey mcquiston

with you forever by chloe liese

everything for you by chloe liese

beach read by emily henry

happy place by emily henry

a very merry bromance by lyssa kay adams

crazy stupid bromance by lyssa kay adams

love, theoretically by ali hazelwood

the love hypothesis by ali hazelwood

not in love by ali hazelwood

let's talk about love by claire kann

roomies by christina lauren

the hating game by sally thorne

fantasy:

tower of dawn by sarah j maas

kingdom of ash by sarah j maas

a court of mist and fury by sarah j maas

a court of silver flames by sarah j maas

the starless sea by erin morgenstern

a storm of swords by george r.r. martin

a feast for crows by george r.r. martin

wizard's first rule by terry goodkind

temple of the winds by terry goodkind

prince's gambit by c.s. pacat

kings rising by c.s. pacat

a discovery of witches by deborah harkness

jade legacy by fonda lee

the dragon republic by r.f. kuang

babel by r.f. kuang

every heart a doorway by seanan mcguire

the magician's nephew by c.s. lewis

priory of the orange tree by samantha shannon

strange the dreamer by laini taylor

sci-fi:

the host by stephenie meyer

nona the ninth by tamsyn muir

graphic novels / comics:

monstress by marjorie liu & sana takeda

check please by ngozi ukazu

the boy the mole the fox and the horse by charlie mackesy

heartstopper by alice oseman

lore olympus by rachel smythe

fence by c.s. pacat & johanna the mad

heart of gold by eliot baum & viv tanner

the prince & the dressmaker by jen wang

historical fiction:

cloud cuckoo land by anthony doerr

the book thief by markus zusak

literary fiction:

evenings & weekends by oisín mckenna

henry henry by allen bratton

a little life by hanya yanagihara

piranesi by suzanna clarke

malibu rising by taylor jenkins reid

if we were villains by m.l. rio

the invisible life of addie larue by v.e. schwab

real life by brandon taylor

s by doug dorst

horror:

house of leaves by mark z danielewski

imaginary friend by stephen chbosky

night film by marisha pessl

don't let the forest in by c.g. drews

middle grade:

magyk by angie sage

a kind of spark by elle mcnicoll

sir callie and the champions of helston by esme symes-smith

holes by louis sachar

the mighty heart of sunny st james by ashley herring blake

new adult:

loveless by alice oseman

obsidian by jennifer l armentrout

masters of death by olivie blake

alone with you in the ether by olivie blake

angelfall by susan ee

the sunshine court by nora sakavic

the king's men by nora sakavic

vicious by v.e. schwab

queenie by candice carty-williams

hell bent by leigh bardugo

nonfiction:

into the wild by john krakauer

it was vulgar and it was beautiful by jack lowery

the last lecture by randy pausch

what i want to talk about by pete wharmby

furiously happy by jenny lawson

ace by angela chen

blood sweat and chrome by kyle buchanan

refusing compulsory sexuality by sherronda j brown

the great divorce by c.s. lewis

the cancer journals by audre lorde

the dark interval by rilke

inverse cowgirl by alicia roth weigel

translated works:

the memory police by yōko ogawa

vita nostra by marina dyachenko

the strange library by haruki murakami

young adult:

the mask falling by samantha shannon

check & mate by ali hazelwood

i was born for this by alice oseman

the hunger games by suzanne collins

just listen by sarah dessen

ignite me by tahereh mafi

the unexpected everything by morgan matson

save the date by morgan matson

tash hearts tolstoy by kathryn ormsbee

neverworld wake by marisha pessl

the spirit bares its teeth by andrew joseph white

compound fracture by andrew joseph white

the wicked king by holly black

short story collections:

the tangleroot palace by marjorie liu

what is not your is not yours by helen oyeyemi

the late americans by brandon taylor

filthy animals by brandon taylor

seven empty houses by samanta schweblin

[sentfromwolves]

hiiii! For the constellation asks:

Cassiopeia, Draco, Libra, Ursa Major, Aquila, and Virgo!

~Morri🗡 (@memento-morri-writes)

AHHH MORRI THANK YOU! ; A ; <3

✧ Cassiopeia: What’s your favorite scene so far? (doing this for EAE/Birthright)

AHH Gosh I am really really loving the scenes of very early tension between Atticus and Aurora right now. Especially this confrontation that they have at the pond where he asks who she is after making assumptions about her, all of them wrong.

“Then what are you?” he asks. His voice is not an accusation but a wolven growl. There is a smoldering hunger in the dark carnation of his eyes. “You have never told me. You have never once given me so much as a name. Who are you? Tell me. Now.”  I open my mouth. For a moment, the words rest on my tongue, heavy as iron.  I am Aurora Polaris. I am Diana’s younger sister. I am the one they call Starless. "I am no one, Heir Jupiter," I whisper instead. "And nothing at all to you."

✧ Draco: Who’s your favorite character to write?

I really do love writing my POV character, Aurora, in the context of Birthright alone. But if I'm thinking more broadly about my favorite characters across all of my drafts, I love writing for Wren the most. I've been writing his voice for over five years now, and he hits incredibly close to home for me on many intimate and personal questions and thoughts on identity that we share. To be very sappy for a moment, he is my character that truly holds the most meaning to me, and I treasure him so much.

✧ Ursa Major: What scene are you looking forward to writing?

I thinkkkk for Birthright I'm looking most forward to the Hamara transformation sequence. In the revamped edition, Aurora does get turned into a beast in Hamara that reflects all of the inner distortion she has around her sense of self and her identity, specifically her self-loathing and insecurities. The stronger those are, the stronger the beast, and Hamara's arc is specifically about her coming to terms with how malignant and malicious her own thoughts have become.

✧ Libra: Which relationship dynamic do you enjoy writing the most?

In the context of Birthright, Aurora and Atticus are my favorite dynamic to write. The evolution and growth the two go through to even have a chance of beginning to consider a relationship in this rewrite is immense. They won't even broach becoming lovers until book 2. Atticus humbles because of Aurora, and Aurora's self-confidence grows so that she can stand and face him as herself and not as someone running away from their own identity.

However, across all my wips, my favorite dynamic is actually the dynamic of Wren and his father, Brisbane. The two have an incredibly dysfunctional relationship. Wren's mother died when they were a child, and unable to cope with the tragedy, Brisbane left Wren with his aunt on his mother's side and became emotionally and physically distant. He eventually remarried and had kids who he loves and cherishes, and Wren spites him for it and for the sense that Brisbane abandoned them to try a clean start somewhere else.

The fact that this dysfunctional relationship becomes a huge cornerstone of what draws Wren back after they've gone over the brink and deep into the corruption of their celestial divinity, corroded and malformed now as it is, makes me extremely emotional. There's a point where the only person that can drag Wren's humanity back in from the tide of the malevolent deity controlling them is their dad, and that does start a healing journey for the two of them.

✧ Aquila: What do you do when you’re stuck in your writing?

Man... I'm bad at it honestly. I keep trying to write. Like, over and over again, running myself into cliffs and boulders. I'll try a different wip, a drabble, anything. It's half because I've created such a routine of writing daily for myself that to not do it even for one feels REALLY WEIRD so I try anyways. But when I'm absolutely unable to do anything, I don't beat myself up over it thankfully! Usually I'll relax and create pinterest boards or playlists or graphics to revitalize my own creativity, play a game if it's an inspiration piece for what I'm working on, or rarely watch a show or go on a walk too. I just try to give myself the breathing room I need to re-approach writing with a clear head.

✧ Virgo: Describe your favorite tropes.

OHHH GOD IM SO BAD AT THIS BECAUSE I JUST DONT REALLY KNOW TROPES VERY WELL.... I'm a super basic bitch though. I love:

➺ SMALL VERSUS TOL! (points aggressively at Aurora and Atticus!!)

➺ Dysfunctional found family that might yeah...be family... but they're gonna kill each other over it (HOLDS UP TERRA-9 CREW!!!)

➺ Knife to throat, sexy but still murderous intent (Marek and Wren!!! DO THIS!! A LOT!!!)

➺ Only one bed listen... ok... I need cuddles... in general I just love any sort of bed sharing trope. It's my kryptonite. My achille's heel, if you will.

➺ does feral angry trans kid destroying the world count as a trope because I feel like if not I'm starting a one-person trend with Wren and Nemesis both

I'm sure there's more but I'll be honest I don't really know tropes that well and these are just the ones I know feature in my stuff and can be easily boiled down to the trope nature. ; w ; Thanks again for all the asks!!!!!

[sitpwgs]

hello best friend please answer: 17, 27, 40, 47, 48 (ps i love you!)

i love YOU

17. do you highlight in your books?

yes ma'am!! actually last night at silent book club, the girl running it looked at me and was like "are you a note taker" and i laughed

27. is there a book that scared you?

i read both the appeal and the twyford code yesterday (both by janice hallett) — made the mistake of reading twyford code right before bed, and it wasn't necessarily scary but i could not shut my brain off to go to bed and i kept thinking about things, so i'll count that? i don't read a lot of horror/scary books though!!

40. do you own any “rare” or “collector” books?

i own several — i have ARCs of the night circus, the starless sea, red white royal blue, one last stop, i kissed shara wheeler, the raven boys, the dream thieves, babel, yellowface, these violent delights, our violent ends and i think also foul lady fortune? i have the illumicrate the night circus, illumicrate bridgerton, seasons' editions of alice, little women, pride and prejudice and emma, fox & wit babel, i have an old copy of alice too!

47. what book do you feel most connected to?

would it be cheating if i say les mis because i'm named after cosette 🤍

48. what book would you give someone if they wanted a glimpse into your psyche?

emily henry's book lovers or beach read, grace d. li's portrait of a thief, morgan rogers' honey girl, sally rooney's normal people, or olivie blake's alone with you in the ether!

book asks! // 💌

[dramioneasks]

I think it was either posted recently here or in the dramione tag. I am unsure.

Fic starts off with Hermione in a heated exchange with someone and that person obliviates her.

I think it happens in the ministry and Draco takes her out of there to get a check up. When she awakes she’s freaking out because (obviously) she doesn’t know who Draco is to her (enemy, per her last recollection). Draco leaves to get Harry or Dean (the Healer) so Ginny is there to comfort her. Hermione questions Draco’s presence and Ginny says he’s there because he loves her. Which startles Hermione. Ginny is visibly pregnant too, much to Hermione’s confusion. Ginny says it’s her second kid. Hermione also notices a child’s drawing in Grimmauld Place, initialed S.M.

Harry figures out that Hermione only remembers until just after the war ended and informs her it’s been 8 years since. She’s at a loss, but Dean says they could try to reverse the obliviation if they’re quick, but it doesn’t work. Hermione wrestles with the fact that she’s lost years of her life and potentially will lose more years trying to get them back.

She overhears Draco and Harry arguing, Ginny’s words “he’s here because he loves you” ringing in the back of her mind. She hears Draco saying “I don’t care if she remembers me, but what about him?”

Later after she wakes from a night’s rest, Draco explains to her their relationship. Enemies to Friends to Lovers. On-and-off for 7 years. Currently engaged to be married. She’s very startled. When she questions further why they haven’t married yet, Draco says “things came up.” He informs her that she’s a powerful witch on track to become Minister, so she’s obviously a target. And that’s when you hear tiny footsteps demanding to be let in.

Draco tries to steer Scorpius away from Hermione, but her motherly instincts kick in. She realizes just how much has been taken away from her when she decides to comfort her crying son. She ignores her own turmoil of how it feels strange to be holding one’s child but it feeling like a stranger. She feels angry at the situation and she and Draco make eye contact as she comforts Scorpius, both making a silent vow to figure out who did this.

Anyone?

Edit:

dadada0203: I think it’s The light on a starless night which had a second chapter posted this week! http://archiveofourown.org/works/36787501

[starrose17]

Okay but boy King!Sam and his Knight of hell demon!Dean would be the hottest powerhouse couple on the planet. Because what if their co-dependency was still just as strong as when they were human?  What if Dean’s protective big brother instinct was exactly the same?

Like, no demon even gets to TALK to Sam without going through Dean first, and if they try? If they direct their question to the King sitting behind Dean instead of Dean as he prowls up and down like a protective panther in front of him? Cain’s knife in his hand? Oh Dean will grab them by the hair, yank them back and growl in their face;

 “What? You think your King deserves to even breath the same air as you? You’re nothing! You’re less than nothing! You don’t look at him you don’t deserve to look at him you deal with me, and if I’m not satisfied with what your saying then you can have the displeasure of talking to your King. Because believe me, if I’m unhappy with you? No matter how many years you’ve spent torturing souls you will not know the meaning of the word after your King is through with you.”

And Sam’s just sitting there watching, the pull of a small satisfied smirk at the corner of his lips.

And like, everyone knows they’re fucking, like alot, the days blurred together of heat and sweat and Dean’s blood trickling down Sam’s throat as he feeds him the power that keeps him King, and everyone wonders why, because every demon is out for themselves right? Everyone wonders why Dean doesn’t go for King himself, and the one time a stupid demon timidly voices this question Dean goes absolutely feral on him, before with a bloody grin as he holds up what’s left of the torn apart mess of the once demon beneath him, says;

“Taking care of my little brother? Best job in the world.”

For there are no knights, plural, of hell, oh no, there’s just one, just Dean. Wherever Sam goes in hell or on earth, there is always the figure of Dean standing beside him, his brother, his lover, his unwavering loyal protector.  Not that Sam NEEDS protecting oh no, but Dean is the big brother to his King after all, it was his favourite thing to show Sam just how far he would go for him, the lengths he would go to show Sam just how protective he was, and he knew Sam loved it, for there was always that wonderful, knowing smile on his face as Dean would dismember whoever had dared speak out of line.

It went both ways of course, and after a while as the earth fell into disarray, a band of rebel demons, who still hated the fact the Winchesters were in charge, humans, and angels would get together to try and defeat the King, to put a stop to the madness that was favouring none of them.  And they knew, the only way to stop Sam was to kill Dean. Cut off the hand that literally feeds the King and Sam would wither and die without him.

But Sam had grown so immensely powerful by this point that even angels could be killed with a simple tilt of his head, and none of them realise that as protective as Dean is of Sam, Sam is his brother too, and far more powerful.  They underestimate him, for it’s always Dean they see lose control, always the protector as Sam stands quietly behind him, watching with that quiet smile, so this time when it’s Dean in trouble, Sam’s power skyrockets.

As the rebel group descends on Dean, they get knocked back by the flare of power that emanates from Sam. So for trying to kill his brother? Oh, oh no a tilt of the head was too quick, too easy, and suddenly everyone within a hundred mile radius, every human, angel or demon, even if they had nothing to do with this attempt on Dean’s life, suddenly begin to burn! For Sam has set their very blood alight, his eyes as black as the starless sky above them as every living thing burns from the inside out, their screams filling the void.

Dean just saunters up to his King, and with Sam still gazing intently at those still burning around him, Dean just places one hand on his cheek, before kissing the other so incredibly softly.

“Thanks baby brother,” he purrs into his ear, “That was the hottest thing you’ve ever done for me. Literally.  You hungry?”

Sam’s eyes return to normal and he looks to him, smiling again and nodding.

“Come on,” Dean says, nodding towards the burger place near them, the charred bodies still smoking, “let’s grab me a couple of burgers and then you...” his lips curl into a lustful smile, his voice deepening as he tucks Sam’s hair behind his ear, “you can have as much of me as you want.”

(thought of this while making this demon!dean boyking!sam gifset)

EDIT: And I’ve now written porn, on a reblog of this post, see here (just scroll down a bit).

[yourfavouritetragedy]

TNTduo Demolition Lovers AU

(+ Early Sunsets Over Monroeville)

‘kay so I sent this to an Instagram account a week ago and I think they don’t know about MCR and were confused, but it made me decide I want to talk about it so:

Don’t need to know the original stories to read, though it will read slightly differently depending.

Quotes throughout because I feel like it. No I won’t source any of them.

edit: oh yeh and tumblr messes up bullet points. if u go to my blog on desktop or go to reblog u will be able to see the indents.

“This one’s a slow one- grab your girl AND SHOOT HER IN THE HEAD!”

I feel like c!Quackity (obvs all C!, I’ll probably give up writing those at some point) is better suited to be the killer but it has to be c!Wilbur because I had to come up with something for the other half of the couple and... you’ll see

(I originally planned for it to take place simultaneously, but then I changed some stuff so now Quackity’s just on his survival arc or something meanwhile.)

Also I just realized how “Never Say Goodbye” by Thnxcya is kinda similar to “Early Sunsets Over Monroeville”??

“When Hell is full, the dead will walk the Earth.”

so like. Partially Minecraft, partially not -- zombies are not normal

but there are zombies in the world

Also most important parts of the demo lovers aesthetic are there: cars, guns, highways, ect.

so what happens is, like in minecraft, there are no dead bodies -- the bodies go to hell with the souls

but Hell is full, so now the bodies are soulless zombies

ok not exactly I’ve changed this for Reasons: the souls are trapped inside the zombies, slowly being corrupted

“Can you stake my heart?”/”There’s a corpse in this bed.”

I love Vampires Will Never Hurt You style angst too, so there’s also a section of time where they’re holed up in Las Nevadas together running all over the place

And Wilbur’s like “Quackity, if I get changed, kill me, please. I don’t want to be a monster.”

There’s an unspoken “again” even though he never was one

They get him.

“Right through the heart. I love you.”

“Just you and I, your starless eyes remain.”

Quackity’s staring down the corpse of Revivedbur

which keeps attacking him

 Quackity’s not really sure what to do so he runs around Las Nevadas just trying to stay alive.

Eventually he gets cornered and he has to shoot Wilbur.

Tears are shed, ect, ect. He thinks he’s just ended the last chance he has to spend his life with Wilbur.

“The story of a man, a woman and the CORPSES OF A 1000 EVIL MEN”

Wilbur is dead, (and he thinks that Quackity died too, because it was a big attack)

His soul being freed, he can kinda ~exist~ but doesn’t have a physical form

Luckily, Ghostbur has a body still

Dream takes the role of the Devil.

He tells Wilbur he will revive him and Quackity (lying about Quackity’s survival status) if he kill the 1000 most evil [hu]men alive ect. ect.

Honestly 1000 is too many, might just make it 100. Gerard Way is real dramatic lol.

So anyways Wilbur reluctantly recombines with Ghostbur in order to get a body.

Ig he needs Dream’s help for this, otherwise he wouldn’t need to bargain for his own soul.

If I were to write this, Wilbur’s personality would definitely change some, and I think he would always harbor some regret about the deal with Dream, but I’m not going to explore that too much here lol

“Like a bed of roses, there’s a dozen reasons in this gun.”

I’ve always wondered how the male Demolition Lover knew which men he had to kill. For my purposes, Dream sends him books of like, 10 names or whatever periodically.

I think I will go with 100 names just for significantly less murder and because it’s not the entire story anymore

Murder, blood, guns, cars, highways, alcohol and drugs, ect. ect. He doesn’t go near Las Nevadas. 

“If you marry me, would you bury me?”

So obviously Quackity’s name is in the last book.

And the last name on the page? Wilbur’s.

I still have no idea how y’all figured out that the guy is the 1000th most evil man, but, man. Couldn’t not have that.

Just want to take a break to say I LOVE how TNTDuo is so *gestures* that a story where a man kills 1000 people (100 in this AU) in order to be reunited with his lover is a little TOO romantic for them. 

So anyways Wilbur travels back to Las Nevadas.

touching reunion, ect. ect. 

hey. it’s a desert. where snow falls

“Like Phantoms, Forever”

Idk how it ends. They could kill dream together (good ending) or go to Hell together (bad but canon ending)

actually i think I’ll take the “they gave us two shots to the back of the head” line

and they get killed together. fun!

Thank you for reading I started writing this tonight even though I didn’t want to write anything else until I finished Welcome to Jubilee so possible a full fanfic version in the future!

Edit: Here is my fic! No, it’s not quite done yet, but it will be soon, I promise haha.

[babylooneytoonz]

Power Struggle

Tommy Shelby x Fem! Reader

Requested by : @peakyfooky

So unfortunately I clicked on the delete button instead of the edit button and my work just went down the drain. I feel so pissed rn. I'm so sorry, @peakyfooky. Here's the request. Again.

Summary - Being an assassin was all fun and a right handed game until Tommy Shelby fucked up in an important mission and almost got you killed. The only good thing to come out of it was a hinted confession and a heated moment of passion.

Warnings: Cursing, Explicit language, SMUT SMUT SMUT, Sex . Reader's a badass in this one.

The rumours were many. Some said that she was a mythical creature, a story cooked up by mothers to get their children to sleep at nights, while some felt that she was a woman long dead. They said that she walked through the streets of London at nights, shielded by the darkness, hidden from the human eye. They even said that she had a scarred face, and a story to tell, probably why she didn't show herself during daytime. She was looking for the man that had done this to her, scarred her face and once she found him, she would be gone.

The rumours appalled you but at the same time, they made you feel powerful. You were nothing they had described you as. You were beautiful, your face that of an angel, if one would look at it, they wouldn't suspect a thing.

You were not some creature from the storybooks, neither were you someone alien to this country. You considered yourself a businesswoman, and your business was killing people. Killing your targets. Being an assassin, a female assassin, and being a pretty good one, you were the topic of talks among people and a pretty frequent household name for the gangs, having been frequenting them, and doing their petty calling for years now. And they made sure your identity was kept hidden and you were paid handsomely.

And this is how you knew Thomas Shelby, the leader of the Peaky Blinders. You wouldn't lie to yourself, his summons were the ones that intrigued you the most. They were uncanny, came for you on those you had least expected them.

After a long night at the pub next door, you stumbled into your first floor shabby apartment, a good disguise for a woman like you who earned a lot for every target eliminated. Your keys rattled into the keyhole and the door flung open, the familiar scent of your perfume, mixed with whiskey and cigarette smoke filling up your nostrils as you stepped inside and flung your heels off.

That's when you saw it. A card with a gold plated border stood on your bedside table, waiting for you to read it. You often wondered how Tommy managed to do it, sneak into your apartment to get you these notes but you didn't ask. It was Thomas Fuckin' Shelby and he had ways that you had probably never imagined of. To anyone who would see these notes, they would mistake these from a despaired lover, wanting to meet you again.

You flicked it roughly into your palm, turning it around as you read through it.

Meet me by the distillery when the moon's directly above us.

- T.S

He talked in riddles, riddles that no normal person would bother trying to solve but you knew his riddles by the back of your hand. Your eyes flew to the grandfather clock and you rushed out to your window, trying to look at the black starless sky, overcome with black humungous clouds with no moon in sight.You waited for a few minutes, waiting for the moon to show itself and when it finally showed you a peek, you knew Thomas would have seen it too. You grabbed your purse, flinging it across your shoulder and walked out of your apartment, making your way towards the distillery by the end of the street.

By the time you set foot there, you craned your neck upwards, trying to look at the moon that was now shining down on you and you knew it would be minutes before Thomas Shelby showed himself. Years for working for this man, he still hadn't learnt a thing about punctuality. Just then, a twig snapped behind you, causing you to slowly turn towards the approaching figure with a smug look on your face, "I am a busy woman, Shelby. I cannot always be here at your whims and fancies."

Under the pale moonlight, you saw his lips twitch, his hand mechanically moving up to his lips, his cigarette plucked between his lips as he inhaled the smoke that coiled around him.

"I hope you have something good for me. Something better than the man you gave me the last time. That took fucking two minutes. This better be worth my time."

Tommy took a step closer, the cigarette butt dropping from his hand as he stepped on it. Now you could see him clearly, his handsome features and his chiseled jaw struck out.

"Luca Changretta."

Two words were spoken and the smirk on your face went up your ears.

"I hope the pay's good."

"I'll triple it once you get me the news he's fuckin' gone." Tommy's ice like voice reached your ears and you just smacked your lips together, crossing your arms over your chest.

"So, when are we fuckin' doing this?"

-

Pretending to be a whore was easy. All you had to do was wear a skimpy dress, show a little cleavage, put on red lipstick and there you go, you were ready. Once you were ready, you looked at yourself in the mirror. The woman that looked back at you was someone you hardly recognised, but maybe that was what you always wanted.

Taking a deep breath, you finally pushed yourself out of the shabby bathroom at the back of the pub, your heels clicking against the pavement as you strutted towards the noisy entrance. You could hear loud chatters and occasional bangs, banging of fists, and even breaking of glasses and you rolled your eyes, cringing at the state of disorientation most of these men were in.

You placed your hand on the door, pushing it open as you stepped in, smacking your lips together. Your eyes scanned through the men, some of them now looking at you with hunger in their eyes. "Who the hell ordered a whore, ay?! Send her over once you are done mate!" You heard someone yell.

If you had to do this without testing your patience any further, you needed a drink. You went up straight to the bar, slamming your fist angrily against it to get the bartender's attention. His head snapped towards you, his mouth slightly falling, his eyes involuntarily moving and resting on your chest for a bit.

"Whiskey." You said, dryly. "And stop fuckin' staring at my chest."

The bartender cleared his throat, a red tint taking over his cheeks, flustered at being accused so pointedly. You saw him nod and rush into the backroom. You took this moment to look around, trying to spot the man you were looking for. This is where Thomas Shelby had told you he would be.

The bartender emerged with your drink in his hand, placing it on the counter in front of you. Your fingers curled around it, your hand flying to your lips, your ruby tainted lips pressing against the glass as the liquid gushed through your throat. Without wasting any more time, placing the glass back down, you leaned forward, watching the bartender in front of you struggle to keep his wandering eyes from taking a sneak peak at your cleavage. You placed your elbows on the counter to support you, looking at him.

"Where's Luca Changretta?"

The bartender looked at you, his eyebrow shooting up.

"Oh, you are Mr. Changretta's, ah, guest. The first door on the left." You nodded coyly, your fingers curling around the glass, your eyes fixed at the bartender as you watched him uncomfortably move away, scrubbing the counter on the other side. You brought up the glass and downed the entire contents of it, almost slamming the glass back down.

Following the bartender's instructions, you found your way to the first door on the left. It was a mahogany door, shut, but you could hear muffled shouting coming from the inside. Not bothering to knock, you flung the door open, barging your way in, your heels clicking against the floor.

Luca was sitting on a couch, his legs propped up against the coffee table, his drink in his hand as he was probably in the middle of an argument with one of his henchmen.

"Do you really not know how to knock?" Luca didn't move, only his lips did, as he eyed you his gaze, dwindling from distaste to full of lust.

"Not really, Mr. Changretta. You see, I just did my nails. Trust me, these things do take a lot of my time, that and making sure men don't leave disappointed." Your smirk reached your eye as your hand fumbled against your box of cigarettes, pulling a stick out of it and flinging it to your lips.

You heard Luca mutter a get the fuck out under his breath and the henchman rushed off, leaving you alone with the man. He slowly stood up, taking a sip of his drink, twirling his whiskey glass in his hand as he made his way up to you, looking at you from head to toe. "I didn't ask for a whore, now did I? Not that I remember. Who sent you?"

"No one asks for me, Mr. Changretta, I just flow with the wind. I just know who might have a need for me without actually him coming to me first. I see power, immense power and that's where I go. No one sends me." You took a step closer, lifting your palm and placing it on Luca's arm, using your pointed nail to move your index finger downwards, causing him to grit his teeth as your nail tore through his suit, almost scraping through his flesh. "Sorry about the suit. Where did you get these made?"

"Fenacci, Italian. He's my uncle."

"Well he must be a talented man." You cooed.

A sadistic snicker escaped his lips, causing you to give him a fake smile, although you knew how disgruntled you felt. The things money made people do.

"Now Mr. Changretta– "

"Call me Luca." He cut you off, his hand finally fixing on your hip, his fingers stroking your flesh over your satin dress.

"Luca, what would you like me to do to please you?" You pushed yourself away from him, watching his face flash a look of annoyance, his fingers twitching when it lost contact with you. Slowly, you took off your dress, only to reveal the soft, almost sheer negligee that you were wearing underneath it, exposing your legs and every bit of your skin. You saw him give you a quick do over his eyes flashing with his desire for you and this caused your lips to involuntarily curl into a smirk. You took a step towards him, placing your palm on his chest and using force to push him back against the couch, taking him by surprise.

"You are a man of substance, Mr. Changretta. I love it."

You placed yourself slowly over his lap, letting him wrap his arm around your waist, a low, throaty growl almost leaving his lips. As you moved on to straddle him, his fingers moved all over your arms, trying to feel the softness of your skin.

Taking that second of distraction in your stride, your hand flew up to the pin that held your hair, the pin of poison as you called it, and you pulled it out, your hair now falling loosely over your almost bare shoulders. Clutching the pin in your hand, you were ready to push the pin into the side of his neck, ready to end it once and for all but before you could do that, he grabbed you by your shoulder, pushing you away with such force, you fell back, crashing against the coffee table and fell to the floor.

"I least expected Mr. Shelby to be sending in assassins dressed as whores. Turns out Miss Gray was right. He did send you to kill me."

Your rage filled eyes met his, your finger still clutching the pin, while his fingers slid into his suit pocket and he pulled out his gun, ready to aim it at you. You gave him a smile, not dropping his gaze for a second. There was no way you would let him have you fail. You had never failed before. Fucking Polly Gray. You didn't understand how Luca Changretta already knew what Thomas Shelby's plan was.

You would have pondered more, had your eyes not noted how his finger moved to the trigger, ready to squeeze it. The moment passed by in a blur of a second, you adeptly caught his wrist at the right time, causing his aim to falter but the bullet shot of the barrel before the gun fell off his hand, slicing into your arm and lodging inside. You hissed in pain, your arm slowly turning red as droplets of your blood rolled down and fell to the floor, drop by drop. "Fucking hell," You cursed, your palm flying to the hole in your arm, feeling the warm gush of your blood, your wound throbbing under your touch while at the same time, you used your foot to kick the gun that had fallen out of Changretta's hand under the cabinet.

"Who the fuck are you, woman? You're no whore, that I'm sure of. I wonder how much that bastard paid you to do his dirty work. I'm ready to pay you triple– " He grabbed you by your hair and pulled you up to your feet which was a pretty bad move at his end. This was where you shot out your foot towards him suddenly, causing him to stumble and fall backwards. You let out a loud shriek, pulling yourself on top of him, straddling his waist, your palms coming to rest on his throat as you started squeezing it.

"I'm your death, motherfucker."

Luca Changretta started coughing, his eyes bobbing out as he tried to get your hands off his throat, but you just kept squeezing harder, pushing down at him with all the weight in your body. You were smiling now, watching life drain out of this man so easily, the throbbing in your wounded arm completely forgotten. You had gotten so used to seeing their faces when you killed them, it really didn't matter when they came back to haunt you at nights.

Suddenly, you felt a sharp prick at the side of your neck, the sudden impact of which caused you to loosen your grip on Changretta. Clutching your neck, you fell to your side, your eyes falling on your poisoned pin that was in Changretta's hand. Your chest heaving up and down, your heart raced so bad, you felt it was going to stop. Pain spread through your body, slowly, like a snake coiling at your insides as you started coughing out foam, your vision blurring.

"You can never be the death of me, bitch."

The last thing you saw before you shut your eyes was the door flinging open and the blue eyed gang leader rushed in, with a few men on his tail. You heard the sound of gunshots and screams but it all went black.

-

Your head hurt and so did every crevice in your body, as though someone had run a truck over you. It felt like you had been asleep for ages. The room smelled like a hospital room. After what felt like eternity, your eyes fluttered open. Even moving your eyes around took most of your energy. The room was warm and so were the covers that covered your body. Slowly, you started regaining shards of memory of what had happened that day. You had failed, for the first time ever. But worse than that, you wanted to bash Thomas Shelby's skull, for betraying you, for telling Polly Gray. He was responsible for your failure.

You winced as you sat up, your eyes flying to your bandaged arm. If the humiliation of failing that one thing you were good at wasn't enough, you had been shot and fucking poisoned.

You slid against the edge of the bed, your feet finding the floor as you hoisted yourself up, your legs almost wobbling at your first attempt. Five minutes later, you were walking down the hallway of what you guessed was the Arrowe House screaming like a mad woman, “Thomas! THOMAS SHELBY! FOR FUCK'S SAKE–"

Just then, the door to your right opened, and someone grabbed your wrist, pulling you inside and the door slammed shut behind you.

"My son's fuckin' asleep in the next room. Can you stop shouting at the top of your lungs? And who the fuck asked you to strut around the house when you are in no condition to get out of bed?"

You looked at the man in front of you and you wanted to gage his eyeballs out. Suppressing the urge to scream at him, you just pushed him away and weakly made your way up to his desk, grabbing his box of cigarettes.

"How the fuck am I even alive? Thanks to you, Changretta had stabbed me with my own poison needle. How the fuck did Polly even find out about the whole plan?" You struggled to light a match, a cigarette now pressed to your lips. Thomas snatched the matchbox from your hand, lighting a match for you and bringing it close to your face.

"Will you just sit down first." He motioned for you to take a seat. Wordlessly, you lowered yourself on it, your eyes trained on him, waiting for him to speak.

"I might have mistakenly said some things to her. I know, I'm sorry –"

You were not having it. You stood up, your fists clenched by your sides as you stormed towards him, almost pushing him angrily.

"You almost got me killed Tommy. You knew my fucking rules. No one except us should have known." He grabbed you by your arm in an effort to catch you if you fell but you just pushed his hands away.

"For fucks sake, will you stop with the dramatics, it was a drunken mistake. Polly came to me and she confessed to having told Changretta about you. That's when I gathered the boys and –"

You shook your head in disgust and cut him off, as your hand mechanically flew up to your lips and you took a drag of your cigarette, spitting out your words, "You wanted to be a fuckin' hero, did you not? You broke our deal, Tom. And then you save my life like this."

You didn't realise how the word Tom had so effortlessly slipped out of your mouth until you felt his lips suddenly press against yours, your eyes widening in shock at the suddenness of it, an electrifying feeling filling you up.

"What the fuck?" You whispered, licking your lips inadvertently when he pulled back.

"You don't fucking shut up, do you?"

"How dare you –" You didn't complete your sentence. Instead, you pushed Tommy to the wall, your hands tugging at his waistcoat to take it off as your lips hungrily devoured his plump ones. When you finally broke the kiss, you didn't look at Tommy like you did before. There was something different about him, something that made you want to explore. Your fingers tore through the buttons of his shirt, until he was standing bare chested in front of you, his lips slightly parted, his chest heaving up and down, his hand resting on your waist as he looked down at you, his eyes thick with desire.

"What was that for?"

"For almost getting me killed and then saving my life." You muttered, sarcastically and he just scoffed.

"I couldn't have left you to die." He deadpanned.

"Oh, and why's that?"

You bit your lip, slowly looking up at him when it hit you. "Don't answer that. Please don't. I can't take it right now."

"You're so –"

"Get your fuckin' pants off."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

It was as though your mind had exploded. All you saw was fire around you, the fire that could only be vanquished by him. Impatiently, you strode up to him, unbuttoning his pants while he just kept staring at you, his mouth almost open. You slid your palm through the waistband of his pants, stroking over his already hardened manhood, watching him as his eyes clenched shut and a low moan escaped those lips.

What you felt right now could only be expressed as sheer torment. You were emotionally drained and physically broken, and the only thing that could calm you down or make it even worse was what you were about to do. And you weren't going to waste any fucking time.

Thomas Shelby didn't realise what hit him. The next minute, he was sprawled over his desk, his pants lowered at his ankles, with you now straddling his waist, your eyes looking down at him. You wouldn't deny, he really looked beautiful under you. And you were sure, he was liking you on top of him.

It was a Power Struggle. But you always won. Atleast with Thomas Shelby.

"You are infuriating." You hissed, as you started rolling your hips against his erect cock, only the fabric of your underwear barring you from taking him in. The aching pain in your core was frustrating, getting even worse with each stroke of your core against the mountain pressed up against it.

"And you're a fucking tease," He moaned under you, licking his lips as he tried to adjust his hips to feel your warmth better.

"Stop. Don't fucking move until I say you do. We do this my way." You slapped his chest lightly, only to get a frustrated growl from him. A part of you wanted to tease Thomas Shelby to the point he was squirming, but the other part of you wanted to satiate the burning inside of you.

"I'm so fucking angry at you, Shelby, but good thing I know how to calm myself down in the most unholy ways." You lifted yourself up, Tommy's adept fingers worked to get your panties off you and once you had gotten yourself free from it, you took a deep breath, looking down at him before you went down on him. Using your hand to guide his cock, you slowly mounted yourself into him, feeling his thickness fill you up, a symphony of curses and grunts escaping both your lips as he filled you up.

Once you had adjusted to him, your slickness made it easier for you to build a firm pace, your hands using his chest to hold yourself on top of him, his hands holding you from your waist for support. Your body trembled and your mouth spilt vulgar curses as you slowly built up your pace, bouncing up and down his length, the study filling up with the sounds of your wetness of your core and flapping of your skin against his. His hands left your waist, moving up until he was squeezing your breasts, his fingers toying with your nipples, enhancing the pleasure you were feeling.

"Is that all you got?" Tommy moaned and this caused you to throw your head back and let out a dry laugh, only to end in a moan again as you felt pleasure built inside you, ready to burst any time now. By the looks of it, you could see that Tommy was close too, but he wouldn't give you the pleasure of knowing how good you were at this.

"Keep up with me." You swatted him again, deliberately slowing your pace, knowing how close you both were to your climaxes. He only slapped your arse in retaliation, budging you to keep up the pace.

"(Y/N)" Tommy grunted your name in pleasure, his fingernails digging into your hips.

"Say it again, love."

"Fuck." Tommy cursed, his breathing hitching as you continued bouncing on his swollen cock. Your hands found your way to his neck, your palms wrapping around as you started choking him, not hard enough for him to not breathe but hard enough for him to look up at you, his eyes burning with pleasure.

"Say it again, darling."

"(Y/N), fuck." He groaned. As if this was the push that was needed, you let out a whimper mixed with a moan, as you rode him to his own climax as well as your own, his nails digging into your flesh, panting into his sturdy chest.

You rolled off him and collapsed on the desk next to him, staring at the ceiling of his study, your chest heaving up and down, the smell of sex and cigarettes now filling up your nostrils.

"Please don't fuck up the next time, Shelby."

You felt his lips press against the skin on your bare shoulder in a kiss, followed by a hum as he pushed himself up from the desk, "That fuckin' poison pin. I had thought I lost you. You were lucky the doctor drained out the poison. If being an assassin is what you want to do, then we do this my way, not yours." He reached out, pulling up his pants and grabbed a spare tee shirt from one of the drawers of his study, pulling it over his head, looking at you once before he stormed out of his study.

(GIF is not mine, found it on Google. Let me know if it's yours and I will credit you.)

[wonderswritings]

S4 is gonna be fun...

Starless Lovers Masterlist

[luvnyx]

Strangers in the night

Pairing: Todoroki Shoto x Reader

Genre: fluff

Pronouns: they / them

Word count: 900+

Summary: Thunderstorms threaten to ruin a perfect plan, or perhaps it's a turn for something even better?

Warnings: food mention (slight?)

The brewing storm chased the young couple inside a tiny café, the warmth welcoming and soothing their shivering forms as they tried to catch their breath.

The sight before them was quite amiable yet a whiff of gloominess seemed to linger.

Vacant chairs and tables gave off a forlorn feeling, seeming to silently listen to the dying melody sang by the radio somewhere in the corner before getting violently silenced by infrequent thunders. Dark ceiling lights illuminated the melancholic scene as raindrops sparkled against the windows under them.

An elderly woman with a sympathetic aura glanced at her almost drenched customers as he wrapped an oversized coat around his partner, gently seized their hands together with his and blew warm air between the small gap of their palms.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!", you chuckled, trying to playfully escape from his grasp.

"You're still shaking all over.", frowned Todoroki as you felt the comforting warmth increase gradually in your arms, before he cupped your flushed cheeks.

"Stop that-!", you fumbled upon your words, taking flustered gazes at the old woman smiling at the antics of the youngsters.

"Take a seat, dear. I'll get some towels.", her kind voice spoke, laced with a certain delicacy.

"I'm sorry about this", began Todoroki, breaking the silence as you two settled down beside a window pane.

"You don't control the weather, you know?", you amused, gently rubbing circles with your thumb on the back of his hand.

"Still..", he trailed off, observing the view through the pane, allowing his mind to drift off into the gales for a while as he dried himself up with a towel.

Cool hues of dark blues and dots of pastel purples painted the skies, occasional lightnings and thunders lit up cotton candy clouds, it was a heavenly picture, truly, but there's terror in beauty, too.

Despite her elegance, she seemed to possess dark desires, a secret that she seemed to take to her grave; brutally downpouring on everything and anything she sees, flaunting her strength and marvel at all those who witness, wrecking havoc as admirers showered her with praise and adoration, oddly enough, she reminded him of a certain someone.

"And what may I get you, dear?", the elderly's soft voice cut through his thoughts, snapping him out of his reverie.

"oh, I'll have a zaru soba.", he requested, hearing a giggle from you, classic Todoroki.

"Don't worry, we could go to that restaurant some other day", you assured him, studying his slightly dejected features.

"oh no, it's not that" he started off, "I'm happy to be anywhere as long as it's with you", he added thoughtfully, oblivious to you slightly choking on your drink as you tried to regain composure, ".. I had a few plans in mind that I thought you might like", he sighed, slightly pondering.

"We just have to improvise! It's not like the storm is going to last forever", you beamed, waiting for light drizzles and sun rays to peek through the curtains.

Hours seemed to dwindle down to minutes, a faint babble between naive lovers filled the air before hushed raindrops replaced them, the aged waitress would often attempt a friendly conversation with a peculiar interest to know about a world quite unknown to her, reminiscing about the simpler days washed away with time before excusing herself back to her waiting tasks.

"hey, look", you pointed at the murky window, slowly wiping it; the rainfall left a bittersweet picture for their eyes, small puddles reflected the sombre starless sky above before drops caused ripples, distorting the clear image, street lights flickered to life, revealing lonely streets with a few stationary vehicles and brightly lit shops for company.

".. Come with me", he whispered, eyes immersed on the other side as he got up, softly squeezing your hand.

"hold on, where to-", you asked hesitantly, startled by the sudden decision as he directed you towards the exit.

Footsteps echoed on the sidewalk, rhythmically resonating with drops drumming on rooftops and idle chirps of birds nestling close to each other on pastoral trees as he pulled you closer to his chest, a small smile playing against his lips, calmly placing your arms around his neck, feeling your timid heart skip a beat.

"wait, someone might-", you faltered, a dawning realisation that curious eyes might be indulging in your innocent foolishness.

"calm down, it's alright", he hushed in a tone so unfazed by such notions, swaying your feet deliberately with his movements as he drowned himself in your alluring orbs, a wish to never come up for precious air clinging onto him.

You let out a sigh of relief, allowing him to puppeteer your pliable body and mind, drifting into euphoria with the sound of heels clicking against the pavement and puddles, the tender feeling of falling drops on your eyelids, cheeks and lips.

The picturesque spectacle would not be complete with the absence of any element in your long forgotten surroundings, a fact you realised a little later while recollecting this memory which you often confused for a dream. Though hazy since every logical reasoning seemed to leave at the moment, you almost feel like you got a glance at the little café in the corner, gleaming through the lurking darkness, the waitress sweeping, humming a tune of a song from a lost night as she caught the dancing dolls twirling under the glimmering light with her numb eyes glinting from her withered and wrinkled skin, and for a moment, even if just for a moment, she found herself in the days she left astray, as a weak laughter echoed from the dull four walls, gazing at the strangers in the night.

a/n: woo guess who's back~ it's been so longg since I wrote so I apologise for this being kinda bad, it's sort of a drabble + one shot I think? do forgive my grammatical errors, English isn't my first language :')

thank you so much for reading!! Do tell me what you think! Comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated, friendly criticism is always welcome! Have a great day ahead! ʕ•̫͡•ʔ♡

luvnyx © 2021 | All rights reserved | Please refrain from reposting, editing and translating

[galaxxiwrites]

Heya! =D so you can decide if you wanna do it, but can you do a headcanon reaction of how Akira, Zakuro and Mizuki would react to their darling protecting them like a shield when they noticed that someone was about to try and hurt them and ended up getting badly injured from the hit. Again completely fine if you ignore this request.

Angst? *cracks fingers* Hegg yeah.

warning: these ended up being super long

edit: I forgot to mention, it has mentions of blood and shot!!

prompt: You and your lover were merely enjoying your date together, until you noticed a glint of something hiding in the shadows. It wasn't until you heard a loud bang did your mind register it was a gun. Despite your confusion, your body moves faster than your mind processes anything and you shove your lover away from the bullet's path—unfortunately leaving you to take the bullet in his stead.

Taking a hit (ft. Mizuki, Akira & Zakuro)

Mizuki

Mizuki is stunned. His mouth agape as he stands there, unsure of what to do first.

His mind wrestles with thoughts of getting the bastard who shot you or helping you, but when he sees the pool of blood slowly growing bigger, his body moves by itself.

"Hey...hey...! (Y/n)!"

Mizuki screams and shakes you, but your lack of response makes his heart drop.

He's racing to grab his phone, and his hands were too shaky to properly work the touchpad, but despite the odds he was able to properly pick out Kokuyo from his list of contacts and calls the one man he looks up to.

"Mizuki, what is it? We're in the middle of practice—"

Kokuyo sounded annoyed, but immediately fell silently when he heard Mizuki's sobs.

"Kokuyo...what do I do—?"

Mizuki can't talk properly, but does his best to explain the situation to him.

Kokuyo tells Mizuki to wait there with you while he calls an ambulance. Not like Mizuki had much of a choice anyway, as he didn't want to leave you alone.

The ambulance arrives after what feels like forever, and Mizuki's sobs that finally dried a while ago start up again as he sees you being whisked away into the vehicle on a stretcher.

For the remainder of what happened, it was all a blur to him. All Mizuki remembers was crying in front of the ER while they worked on stabilizing your condition.

After those gruesome hours of worrying, the doctors finally leave the ER. They tell Mizuki they did what they could—and that your chance of survival was 50/50 at best.

Mizuki was about to beat the doctor for not doing a better job of saving you, but Kokuyo stopped him before he could grab the doctor by the collar.

Mizuki asked for a few days off Starless, and even asked Sotetsu to dig up some information on your the attacker.

"Don't worry, (y/n). I'll make sure whoever did this to you is gonna pay."

He says, though not really waiting for a reply. After all, how could a person in deep slumber ever answer back?

Akira

Akira immediately calls the ambulance, and tells them everything despite his shaky voice almost failing him multiple times throughout the duration of the call.

Akira also tells Kokuyo about what happened, and excuses himself time off from Starless until he was assured that you were no longer in critical condition.

He stayed up all night outside of the ER, unable to even sit down despite his feet almost giving out from the fatigue of him pacing back and forth.

"We tried to close the shop as fast as we could. How is (y/n)?"

Takami asks, shocking the daylights out of Akira who was too focused on his thoughts of you to even realize that they arrived.

Akira's voice failed him. All he could was stare blankly back at the doors leading to the ER room, where you were.

Some time after, some doctors and nurses finally left the ER room. The one handling your operation told Team W that your condition has stabilized, and that you should be fine soon.

Finally, Akira was able to calm down. He just dropped to the floor, his whole body trembled as a murmurs of relief could be heard.

Taiga on the other hand, decided to dig up some information. After all, the world now revolved around the internet—it wouldn't be surprising if some wackjob ended up posting whatever schemed they had on their social media, especially if it was a throw away account.

Luckily, this sort of thing was childs play for the tech expert, and after a few hours of searching, was finally able to trace the fake account to its real owner—one of Akira's delusional fans.

The singer is mortified to see the latest post on the person's social media.

"Soon, he'll be mine."

Again, Akira's nerves tensed. Kokuyo smacks Taiga for showing them such information when Akira hasn't rested yet, but the singer thanks his team member. He even commits the person's face to memory, despite his mind feeling light from all the stress and lack of sleep.

In the early morning after her surgery, a nurse was scheduled to come in to monitor on (y/n)'s condition.

Akira stands to greet the nurse, but stops himself when he recognizes the face. This woman was no nurse, it was his fan.

He absentmindedly mumbles the person's social media handle, staring at them wide-eyed in disbelief.

Hearing her name being called out excited the fan.

"Yes! That's me! Don't worry Akira...once I get rid of this pest, we can finally be together. Like how it's supposed to be!"

Akira couldn't fathom the words that came out of this deranged fan's mouth. Without realizing it himself, Akira had his hand clenched into a fist, ready to punch this lunatic and hopefully fix whatever brain wires needed repair.

"Oi, give it a break. Jeez, a man can't even enjoy a smoke break."

Kokuyo came just in time to stop Akira from beating the woman in front of him to death, meanwhile Sin held the woman down. Akira was about to ask how they knew, but Taiga waved his phone to show hom some kind of gps app.

"It's a tracker. I had a feeling she would be making a move, so I decided to track her phone. Sorry not sorry for invading on your privacy, miss stalker fan." The tech master announces proudly.

"Takami's gonna give her over to the police. Meanwhile...you should sleep. Those eyebags don't suite you, pretty boy."

Kokuyo says, before leaving with the rest of Team W to give the two of you some silence—one that Akira desperately needed as he finally dozes off to sleep on your bedside.

Zakuro

Zakuro has a menacing look on his face—it's a smile, but so distorted with pain that he looks like a maniac.

He shakes your limp body and calls out your name.

"O—ya...? (Y/n)...?"

Zakuro's voice cracks as he realized your body remained unmoving. Zakuro's mind is blank— for the first time he's never felt so lost.

It wasn't until he received a text message did his mind finally managed to start working again.

"Good job on luring her out, ×××"

Read the text message from the unknown number. It doesn't take a genius to connect two and two together, after all, no one should have known his real name. You were targeted by Black Card—but why? What did you have to do with any of this?

Zakuro, instead of directly calling the ambulance, texts Qu to do it in his place, as he knew their number two would ask later rather than sooner.

Zakuro hides himself among the crowd, but he feels his heart drop when he sees you out on the stretcher.

He wants to be there with you, at least holding your hand while they take you to the ER. But now was not the time, not when someone from Black Card might still be monitoring his movements.

He returns to Starless, and it was only until Kei asked Zakuro about the source of the bloodstain on his clothes does he realize his garments were soiled—with your blood.

Quite ironic, considering how this is the perfect literature imagery of a person's blood on one's hands. So ironic that Zakuro breaks down into a chuckle.

Team C's singer asks Kei for some time off on Starless. Naturally, Kei can't just give anyone time off, they were employees in an industry that requires one's constant presence to remain relevant.

Kei tells Zakuro that of the latter would explain, then he might consider it.

"(Y/n)...She was shot."

Was all Zakuro utters before taking his leave from the building. All the others who were in close proximity were shocked, not just at what he said but how he said the news. Zakuro sounded absolutely broken, his voice lost all hints of mischief he once had.

Zakuro wished he was able to visit you and give himself some peace of mind that you were going to be alright, but he can't.

He refused to rest, not until he learns everything. About your connection to Black Card, or why you were specifically targeted. He knows it won't be easy, but he's willing to risk it all for you.

"If you bastards think I'd choose my memories over (y/n), then you're dead wrong. All of you are going to regret this."

[wellhalesbells]

✨✨ TOP FIVES FOR 2020 ✨✨

2020 was, i think we can all agree, a massively chaotic year but i have never consumed as much media before in my life, so i thought others might benefit from my slothery uh, connoisseur.... ship?  yes, that.  below are the books, comics, shows, and movies that got me through!

B O O K S .

the starless sea, by erin morgenstern - i loooove this book because it loves me back.  it says: ‘oh, you’re a reader, well i have just the thing for you.’  it luxuriates in language and story and riddles and fairy tales and it feels like an entire library in a single tome.

they never learn, by layne fargo - oh fuuuuuck, this was satisfying.  i thought it might feel a little exploitative as it is very aware of the zeitgeist and likely would not exist without the #metoo movement but it never ever did.  this was a fucking ROMP, period.  reading about a woman getting away with murdering skeezy guy after rapey guy after shitty human just made me happier and happier.

moonflower murders, by anthony horowitz - this is the second in the susan ryeland series (and the first was hardcore good fun too) and really feels very classic mystery with the artful twist of catering to the literary community.  mainly because: susan isn’t a detective, she’s an editor and she gets drafted in this time because the clue to what happened to a missing woman is in a book she edited, if she can find it.  both of the books in this series have such an excellent coming together moment that is rare af to find.

the invisible life of addie larue, by v.e. schwab - the writing in this is just so good.  it has that feel to me where i just want to drop the book and open up my own page and let my fingers fly.  it’s that inspiring kind of writing that reminds you of all the things language can do.

crown of feathers/heart of flames, by nicki pau preto - aaahhh, this series is SO FREAKING GOOD!  why is there not more of a fandom for it, why???? it is so many of my favorite tropes all resting perfectly together to the point where you almost forget they’re tropes because they just so naturally evolved there.  ugh, it’s just.... it’s so heart-bursty good.

.... number 5, part 2?  raybearer, by jordan ifueko - this was just so original and i was invested af.  like, what a brilliant idea though and an even better execution??  i loved every character and am so looking forward to the next in the series so i can get to know them even better!!

honorable mentions (sh*t i still liked a whole heckuva lot): you/hidden bodies, by caroline kepnes // writers & lovers, by lily king // i’ll be gone in the dark, by michelle mcnamara // the faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home, by joseph fink & jeffrey cranor // girl, serpent, thorn, by melissa bashardoust // a little life, by hanya yanagihara // the guinevere deception, by kiersten white // obsidio (and the entire illuminae series), by amie kaufman & jay kristoff // the bone houses, by emily lloyd-jones // house of salt and sorrows, by erin a. craig // we hunt the flame, by hafsah faizal // savage legion, by matt wallace // blacktop wasteland, by s.a. cosby // crier’s war, by nina varela // the empress of salt and fortune/when the tiger came down the mountain, by nghi vo // upright women wanted, by sarah gailey // the monster of elendhaven, by jennifer giesbrecht // a deadly education, by naomi novik // you let me in, by camilla bruce // when you ask me where i’m going, by jasmin kaur // the lights go out in lychford/last stand in lychford (and the entire lychford series), by paul cornell // the devil and the dark water, by stuart turton // serpent & dove, by shelby mahurin // one by one, by ruth ware // ruthless gods (this was SUCH an upshot from the first book - it’s worth sticking with if you’re on the fence), by emily a. duncan // cemetery boys, by aiden thomas // the inheritance games, by jennifer lynn barnes // the fortunate ones (2021 release), by ed tarkington

C O M I C S .

cosmoknights, by hannah templer - the art was gorgeous, the gayness was glorious, and just.... hot HOOOOOOOOT lady knights in space?!  a princess winning her own hand?  find something not to love in there, i dare you.

don’t go without me, by rosemary valero-o’connell - wow. wow wow wow wow wow.  the writing was stunning, so lyrical and atmospheric and deep, and rosemary has to be one of my favorite artists but even that managed to come as a beautiful surprise because it was just so freaking bold.

through the woods, by emily carroll - i loooove emily carroll, the convergence of spine-tingling horror and art that feeds into it, that is both visually and aesthetically pleasing, is hard to beat!  p.s. i also read beneath the dead oak tree from her this year and it was also a BANGER.

the impending blindness of billie scott, by zoe thorogood - zoe is someone that i just want to follow.  she’s just starting and i want to be there for every single step.  i love her art style and her ability to tell a story with it.

above the clouds, by melissa pagluica - this was so unique, and such a baller concept, as nearly half the entire book is conveyed only through the art and yet you’re never once lost, never once confused as to what any character is thinking or feeling.  it’s a story within a story and only one of those gets words though they both are chock full of emotion!

um.... number 5, part 2? crowded, by christopher sebela - everything about this series is fun af.  crowd-funded assassination and a hirable bodyguard who’s rated like an uber driver???  and the chemistry between the two mains is so great and gay!!

honorable mentions: monster and the beast, by renji // long exposure, by kam ‘mars’ heyward // fence, by c.s. pacat // invisible kingdom, by g. willow wilson // ms. marvel, by g. willow wilson // heathen, by natasha alterici // not drunk enough, by tess stone // giant days, by john allison // die, by kieron gillen // be prepared, by vera brosgol // ascender (sequel to descender, which is also great), by jeff lemire // the unbeatable squirrel girl, by ryan north // bang! bang! boom!, by melanie schoen // gideon falls, by jeff lemire // life of melody, by mari costa // cry wolf girl, by ariel slamet ries // the tea dragon society, by katie o’neill // ptsd, by guillaume singelin // heartstopper, by alice oseman // solutions and other problems, by allie brosh // finding home, by hari conner // the magic fish, by trung le nguyen // something is killing the children, by james tynion iv // the weight of them, by noelle stevenson // spill zone, by scott westerfeld // skyward, by joe henderson // miles morales, by saladin ahmed

F I L M S.

parasite, dir. bong joon ho - oh it was satisfying, oh it was suspenseful, oh i had to watch some of it through my fingers but i loooooooved it.  such a good story and so well made.

knives out, dir. rian johnson - okay, everything about this movie was amazing.  every single character was fun as hell and i could’ve watched an entire movie about each of them.  what a great fucking mystery!

blindspotting, dir. carlos lopez estrada -  this made my heart hurt so damn much.  what glorious writing, acting, and story!

portrait of a lady on fire, dir. celine sciamma - gooooorgeous cinematography, amazing chemistry, and such a soft, atmospheric film.

the farewell, dir. lulu wang - i cried and my heart felt so full and i love it so so much.

um.... number 5, part 2? someone great, dir. jennifer kaytin robinson - no part of me expected to love a netflix movie this much but it’s a love story that doesn’t get told that often??  the end of a relationship and the true love of friendship and i love these girls and i love jenny and nate’s broken relationship.

honorable mentions: eighth grade, dir. bo burnham // booksmart, dir. olivia wilde // midsommar, dir. ari aster // the curse of la llorona, dir. michael chaves // the secret life of pets 2, dirs. chris renaud & jonathan del val // jojo rabbit, dir. taika waititi // the invisible man, dir. leigh whannell // the favourite, dir. yorgos lanthimos // can you ever forgive me?, dir. marielle heller // troop zero, dirs. bert & bertie // ready or not, dirs. matt bettinelli-olpin & tyler gillett // brave, dirs. mark andrews & brenda chapman & steve purcell // the half of it, dir. alice wu // palm springs, dir. max barbakow // doctor sleep, dir. mike flanaghan // uncut gems, dirs. benny sadfie & josh sadfie // birds of prey, dir. cathy van // bloodshot, dir. dave wilson // the old guard, dir. gina prince-bythewood // enola holmes, dir. harry bradbeer // hocus pocus, dir. kenny ortega // always be my maybe, dir. nahnatchka khan // finding dory, dirs. andrew stanton & angus maclane // die hard, dir. john mctiernan

S H O W S .

black sails (2014) - this show, this shooooooooow.  i cannot, it just makes me want to cry with how good it is.  the characters, the EMOTIONS, the story, the plaaaaaan.  like, the creators clearly had a plan for every single step of this show and it was a gOOD, GOOD PLAN.

the untamed (2019) - truly, cheesy good fun with one of the best gay romances ever.  i love these characters and their relationships to each other and the way it glories in its own ridiculousness.

the righteous gemstones (2019) - one of the things that bothered me about my next choice (the ratio of female to male nudity) was so much more realistic in this one (i mean, we’ve all gotten five thousand dick pics and i know like three people?  so the fact that there is so rarely male nudity in shows when there are tits everywhere..... no, how does that even make a tiny bit of sense?).  this show was such great, wonderful, awful fun.  they’re not great people and the show is under no delusion about that and it’s GLORIOUS!

the witcher (2019) - this was just hella fun, i loved the characters and the fantasy elements.  i’m excited for the next season, it’s just entertaining swashbuckling through and through!

fargo (2014) - all of this was really very enjoyable with the through line being somebody fucks shit up and gets involved in something they really shouldn’t be involved in that’s going to swallow them whole.  season one and season three were my stand-out favorites but they were all so violent, clever, and vicious!

um.... number 5, part 2? central park (2020) - um..... so many of the hamilton actors in a muscial cartoon drawn and written by the bob’s burgers team? WHAT ABOUT THAT DOESN’T SOUND AMAZING?!  it was such a joy to hear daveed diggs and leslie odom jr.’s voices again!!

honorable mentions: schitt’s creek // the mandalorian // mr. robot // broadchurch // mindhunter // jack ryan // the good place // the end of the f***ing world // big little lies // elite // kidding // servant // letterkenny // curb your enthusiasm // i am not okay with this // ozark // buzzfeed unsolved: true crime/supernatural // you // runaways // dear white people // dickinson // brooklyn nine-nine // will & grace // 9-1-1 // dead to me // solar opposites // never have i ever // killing eve // what we do in the shadows // grace and frankie // avenue 5 // roswell, new mexico // the bold type // evil // tuca & bertie // impulse // the umbrella academy // watchmen // infinity train // corporate // search party // on becoming a god in central florida // a.p. bio // criminal: uk // the morning show // mythic quest // last week tonight // prodigal son // the great

[lxvescramble]

How many otome games have you played? Including ones you no longer play or only played briefly? I’ve only tried three.

Hi 😊, Only three??? Which are they?

Wow, I have a good list, but I'm not sure I remembered everything 😅

Ayakashi Romance Reborn

Samurai Love Ballad party

Eternal Kiss - (Be my Princess in Japanese)

Court of Darkness (also in Japanese)

Love 365 (a lot of titles)

MLQC

Ikesen

Ikerev

Ikevamp

A3*

Obey me

Blackstar Theater Starless*

A Kiss From Death

The Spellbinding Kiss

Uta no Prince Sama

Ozmafia

Eldarya

Diabolik Lovers

Alternative Rap Battle (Hypnosis Mic) *** is not quite otome because it has no romance. But I love the guys.

Twisted Wonderland ***

Edit: How could I forget MLQC and Twisted ?! 😲😲😲🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

[mrs-biases-recommends]

𝕊𝕖𝕠 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕓𝕚𝕟 ℝ𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

>>I recommend stories! Because I feel like (even) more people need to read it!

You will not find any smut in this recommendation blog, if you are specifically looking for it, you will not find it here, because there isn’t any.

>>Personal favourites:  ♡♡

Edited on: 25-04-2022

sun & moon — seo changbin (by @hyunsracha)

Genre: fluff, angst

Word count: 2k

Summary: Is your boyfriend ashamed of you?

I am you (enemies to lovers au) (by @kim-seungmine)

Genre: slice-of-life, fluff, bad boy!changbin, (sort of) enemies to lovers au, high school au

Word count: 2839

Warnings: Language, slight violence (fighting scene)

Enemies-to-lovers!Changbin (by @taelme) ♡♡

Genre: enemies-to-lovers!au (again, not Super extreme, low-key clash bc they’re both stubborn), film club president!Changbin, childhood penpal!au (fluff, very mild angst, they bicker a lot, kind of cheesy bc changbin’s a sap and we know that)

Word count: 17k+

Request: Hiiiii I read you bangchan enemies to lovers au and I swear if I could like a post more than once I’d like that one a MILLION TIMES I’m wondering if maybe you could write an enemies to lovers au for changbin pretty please? 🥺🥰

Eggs (Bad Boy!Changbin if you squint) (by @chocojjk)

Genre: Fluff, slight angst?

Word count: 7k

Summary: Badboy!Changbin if you squint

Warnings: one mention of death by illness

Barista au! Seo Changbin (By @luvknow) ♡♡

Genre: Fluff

“Welcome to the dark side of cafe glow. Can I get you anything started for you?”

“Do you need to borrow some chapstick?”

SEO CHANGBIN Night/ closing shift likes black coffee Widely-known as “the other flirty one” snacking his entire shift too short to reach the top shelf

Set on you ↠ seo changbin (Enemies to lovers!au & Fuckboy!au) (by @changbeanie) ♡♡ 

Genre: Enemies to lovers au, brother’s best friend au, angst, fluff

Word count: 20,2k

Description: you think life hates you because you’re convinced that the universe conspired to help Seo Changbin exists at the same time as you.

Warnings: Explicit language, alcohol consumptions, suggestive remarks (!), slow burn

Seo Changbin as your best friend (by @wolffieen)

Genre: Fluff

Ficstyle: Bulletpoints

My Heart Beats | Seo Changbin (by @mae-gi-writes) ♡♡

Genre: hanahaki au! Lots of angst, little fluff, Chan is a good wingman. Happy ending!

Synopsis:

You’re dying, all because of the love that Seo Changbin has for someone else.

starless: XR — 0325 (by @crispy-chan)

Genre: fluff

Word count: 0.6k

Ficstyle: blurb

Pairing: Changbin x f.reader

Warnings: one use of a curse word (sfw)

17 - “when it’s cold don’t forget your beanie” (We Go) (by @crispbang)

Genre: Fluff

Ficstyle: Drabble

Warnings: a cute pun

tutti frutti ·˚ ༘♡ (by @jeonginify) ♡♡

pairing: seo changbin x reader genre: tooth-rotting fluff, slice of life, college au, friends to lovers au word count: 8.8k+

description: changbin says i love you in many ways. much to his chagrin, you never notice any of them. a love story told in five fruit puns.

warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, felix is fed up and just wants the two of you to date already so he can pass his bio midterm, changbin thinks you must be an actual idiot for not noticing he’s in love with you, you think he might be right (but he doesn’t need to know that…) literally just 8k words of you making changbin a panicked and chaotic mess

changbin as a husband; (by @puppywritings)

Genre: Fluff, sfw

Word count: 0.3k words. 

Ficstyle: Drabble

Stargazing (by @okayau)

 Genre: Fluff

Ficstyle: Drabble

say you like me | bad boy!changbin au (by @chenle) ♡♡

Genre: Fluff

Ficstyle: Bulletpoints

Bad Boy | Seo Changbin (by @maatryoshkaa)

Genre: fluff, high school!au, bad boy!changbin, perfect student!reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Trouble comes in the form of neck tattoos, lip rings, and Seo Changbin, the school bad boy who, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t seem to stay away from.

Pairing: seo changbin x reader

Features: done with changbin!bang chan, voyeurist!minho, 3rd wheel!jisung, baby!jeongin, woojin, felix, hyunjin

Requested: 1: “I’ll keep you warm, hold me closer”; 4: “I was wondering how long you two were going to make out before you realized you weren’t alone”; 18: “Stay the night”.

Warnings: mild swearing

“loves me or loves me not” [stray kids: changbin] (by @every1studio) ♡♡

genre: FLUFF (for my bias)

ficstyle: bulletpoints + LOONNGGG

summary: dark Changbin was recruited by his older sister to help her open up her flower shop cafe; where customers can order coffee, look at flowers/plants, or even buy them~ this was out of Binnie Binnie Changbinnie’s dark concept but all of that changed when he saw you~

My Heart Wanted You- Seo Changbin (by @aestheticseungmean)

Genre: Angst but mainly fluff

Word count: 3.2K

Summary: Changbin was dating a girl who was using him but he just. couldn’t. see. it. Unfortunately for him, he found out the hard way.

Warnings: Cussing

Prince!Changbin (by @chulobangtan) ♡♡

pairing: prince! changbin x reader

genre: fluff

request: Felix lee x reader historical au? Like a prince!felix where he falls in love w/ someone he’s not supposed to fall in love with? Thank you! Also please don’t be sad ㅠㅠ We’re all here to support you!

+ can u do the historical plot for all the members? Like make one story for each and publish it? You don’t have to if u wouldn’t like to

summary: changbin sneaks into your room and spends the night.

warnings: lowercase

Cupid!Changbin AU (by @warmau) ♡♡

Genre: Fluff, slight angst?

Ficstyle: One-shot, shortstory

Midnight - Seo Changbin (Tsundere AU) (by @maaaaaatryoshka0325)

Genre: Fluff

Ficstyle: Oneshot

Seo Changbin Headcanons | Engagement + Wedding (by @whale-minmin) ♡♡

Request: Can you do a headcanon for stray kids changbin on what he’d be like the day after he becomes engaged with his s/o?And what he’d be like after they’re married, and a week into the marriage 🥺💞

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 730

girls like you│seo changbin (by @pockpop)

↳ summary: when changbin came home from seeing thousands of girls all over the world, it was always you he escaped to.

↳ request: Can I request a Changbin scenario where he’s writing a song kind of like Girls Like You by Maroon 5 (or that song) and he’s telling you all the great things about you/ singing it to you?

↳ genre: fluffy fluff fluff , a little suggestive(?) POC!Reader

the loved and the damned part one | seo changbin (by @pockpop) ♡♡

➵ summary: you cough up flowers for a boy who already is in love with someone else and you have to decide whether the pain of his unrequited love is worth it.

➵ genre: angst, fluff, college au, 1990’s era, tattooed!changbin, hanahaki disease

the loved and the damned part two | seo changbin (by @pockpop) ♡♡

➵ summary: throwing up flowers for a boy in love with someone else is more exciting than not loving him at all.

➵ genre: fluffy angsty stuff ya know, tattooed!changbin, college au, 1990s era

mr. arrogant ♢ seo changbin (by @changbeanie)

→ genre: fluff, enemies to lovers au

→ pairings: reader x changbin

→ word count: 1,968

→ description: You thought rooming with a guy was hard? Wait till you room with an arrogant, egotistic prick.

Fake Boyfriend!Changbin (by @hey-hey-chan) ♡♡

❀ Fluff, Comedy + best friend!Seungmin

❀ Word Count: 5K

❀ When your best friend, Seungmin, is fed up with you not dating anybody, but you’re just too lazy to care. When the boy starts to set you up with numerous blind dates, you instill the help of your brother’s best friend, who happens to owe you a big favor.

Changbin Drabble (by @spilledtee)

Genre: Fluff

Ficstyle: Drabble

Request: Oh oh! I had an idea for a small Changbin Drabble when you’re feeling better....I hope that’s okay Ahah.So imagine like it’s a soft Sunday morning and like you’re curled up in bed with changbin in one of his hoodies and he’s all clingy and cute and like idk you end up playing video games together ??

 Or like I have this idea in my head of Changbin low-key loving Animal Crossing like askdkfkf imagine being sat between his legs with his arms wrapped around you and his head over your shoulder as he watches you play and is asking sweet questions about your game and like the characters and he-

You just know he’s the type of boyfriend to put on silly voices for all the characters!!!!I’m soft now ok byeeeeee

chapsticks. — s. changbin (by @etherealino)

Changbin needed some chapstick okay-

Genre: Fluff

Ficstyle: short drabble

mixtape: on track – scb (by @etherealino) ♡♡

Synopsis: “i can’t let you go, how can i ever let you go?”

genre: idolverse!au, post breakup!au, radio dj!reader, angst, fluff uwu

warning(s): one curse word. changbin went ooc, oops.

word count: 3423

Now or never (by @changbeanie)

genre: school au, fluff, enemies to lover au

word count: 2,665

pairings: reader x changbin

Heather | Seo Changbin (by @milknchannie) ♡♡

Word count: 3.7k

Genre: friends to lovers au, mentions of alcohol

Ficstyle: Oneshot, part of Heather Series

Bad Boy | Seo Changbin (by @maatryoshkaa) ♡♡

Summary: Trouble comes in the form of neck tattoos, lip rings, and Seo Changbin, the school bad boy who, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t seem to stay away from.

Genre: fluff, high school!au, bad boy!changbin, perfect student!reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing: seo changbin x reader

Features: done with changbin!bang chan, voyeurist!minho, 3rd wheel!jisung, baby!jeongin, woojin, felix, hyunjin

Warnings: mild swearing

Requested: 1: “I’ll keep you warm, hold me closer”; 4: “I was wondering how long you two were going to make out before you realized you weren’t alone”; 18: “Stay the night”.

• bestfriend!changbin confesses to bestfriend!y/n 💌 (by @wooyukh)

Genre: Fluff

Ficstyle: Text!Au, Drabble/ Oneshot

Tattoo artist!Changbin~au (by @slytherinbangchan) ♡♡

Genre: Fluff

Ficstyle: Headcanons/ bulletpoints

plastered (by @lixesque)

➤ when changbin breaks his arm, you make it your mission to make him feel better—by drawing all over his cast

➤ seo changbin x gender neutral reader, fluff

➤ 2k words

Bet | Seo Changbin (by @maatryoshkaa​)

Summary: as a JYP intern, your one goal had been to avoid developing feelings for the idols you worked with. Unfortunately, upon noticing your feelings for a certain “dark” rapper, the rest of stray kids have made it their mission to make your relationship happen.

Genre: fluff, infinitesimal amount of angst

Word Count: 2.9k

Features: Stray Kids, JY-Papi

NEW!

Daily boyfriend texts (by @thevampywolf​)

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Request: yes

Member: Changbin

Don’t call me cupcake (by @l0vemin​)♡♡♡♡

summary: you've always hated seo changbin. he was the classic jerk that thought he looked good in a leather jacket. but after making a deal, you seem to question all the reasons you hated him.

pairing: changbin x gn! reader

genre: enemies to lovers (?), fake dating au!, high school au!, fluff, suggestive

warnings: cursing, underage drinking, suggestive 

word count: 7.8k

Berets & Lockers (by @lixesque​)♡♡

➤ summary: when your boss comes up with a fun activity for valentine’s day, you’re stumped on what to get for your assigned partner. that doesn’t stop you from wondering who has your name, and what kind of gift you’ll get in return

➤ pairing: seo changbin x stylist!reader (gn) featuring a scheming minho

➤ genre:  idolverse, fluff, the barest hint of angst; rated G

➤ warnings: none!

➤ word count: 2.2k

Oxytocin (by @lvandrmoon​)♡♡

synopsis: He wasn’t sure when he started feeling that weak, sickly feeling of love creeping into his heart. But when he did finally notice it, he felt anxious. Nauseous. It felt as is his whole entire foundation had broke underneath him, because there’s absolutely no fucking way.

pairing: seo changbin x reader

genres: fluff, angst, best friends to lovers!au, non idol!au

warnings: mentions of being drunk, alcohol, and cigarettes

Overworked (by @lunarskzzz​)

synopsis: your boyfriend, nervous for the tracka he was putting together, lied to you about where he was spending the weekend, and it took a call from his fellow members to get you to come and convince him to rest

genre: fluff, angst if you squint

pairing: changbin x gn reader

Sorry, I love you (by @seospearbs​)

pairing: changbin, reader

genre: fluff

summary: A drunken Y/n confesses to her boyfriend.

count: .8k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, established relationship, mentions of other members

The art of confessing (by @starlightjoong​)♡♡♡♡

summary: in all his years of being your roommate, seo changbin has never been nervous with doing anything in your presence. until it was time to confess his huge crush on you.

word count | 8.4k

pairing | seo changbin (skz) x gender neutral reader

warning(s) / includes | swearing, food mentions, alcohol mentions (please lmk if i missed any!!)

genre | fluff, angst if you squint, humour, roommates au, idiots-to-lovers au

Truth or dare (by @kangaroosmile​)♡♡

description: Playing truth or dare with the boys and a few staff members should be fun right?

Till your best friend chooses a dare for you. You need to identify four of the Stray Kids members only by their abs.

The only one that doesn't like the idea is Changbin, but why?

pairings: Seo Changbin x reader

genre: idol and staff member, truth or dare

word count: 2.1k

warnings: mentioning of alcohol, mentioning of body contact

One in a million (by @fantastic-bby​)♡♡♡♡

Pairing: (F)Reader x Changbin ( ft housemates Felix and Jisung)

Word count: 14.7k

Genre: Fluff | Romance | Slow burn | Mermaid!Reader | Non-idol AU | College student!Changbin | Strangers to lovers

Summary: In a world where magical creatures exist simultaneously with humans, Changbin, a marine biology student, knows that merfolk have been pushed to extinction by humans years before. However, while he’s at his regular smoking spot at the beach, he notices a figure watching him from the water…

Warnings: Cigarette use (Changbin) | Mentions of marijuana usage | Changbin almost drowns

Flufftober D7: Flustered - Changbin (by @huihuiheart​)

Pairing: Jock! Changbin x Shy! GN Reader

Genre: Fluff, School Au

Summary:  Ask anyone else and they would say that Changbin is much higher on the social food chain, and yet he wasn’t the one who seemed to have the upper hand here.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 573