#taxi driver fanfiction

[onhajoon]

The level of badassery in this playlist knows no bounds. Kim Do Gi is a force of nature, a law unto himself. Conversely, he is a carer, a listener, a friend, and protector of those left behind, but at the end of the day, he is just a man who needs a place to call home.

[gaspanicwrites]

‘Just another no account fatality’ by gaspanic on ao3

Pairing: Travis Bickle/Arthur Kirkland

Fandom(s): Taxi Driver (1976), …And Justice for All (1979)

Rating: Explicit

Words: 6.1K

Summary:

In the aftermath of the Fleming trial, Arthur Kirkland is suspended from the practice of law and bumps into a former client.

Happy June 29th!

Got hooked onto 70s Al Pacino and Robert De Niro and it led to this… Might be a crack pairing but the fic ain’t so give it a go if you’re interested!

girlies pls understand 70s al pacino has got me by the metaphorical balls im in so deep this is a whole PHASE

[idkelly]

Painting

Travis bickle x reader

Summary: 3 encounters lead to 3 words on their minds.

Warnings: none; fluff

FIRST ENCOUNTER

Her knuckles were turning white.

Her grip didn’t soften as she pressed her notebook into her stomach. She stood on the edge of the sidewalk, shivering in her boots. She cursed herself for going out of her comfort zone that day. It was an important day on her calendar, yet at the end, she regretted her outfit. Upon moving here two months prior, she came to the realization that not many people had ‘style’. or at least a pop in what they choose to wear, everyone is so mundane in New York City that it clashes with what actually happens in the shadows.

As she stood there waiting, her mind wandered off to earlier that day. She had officially made it, and her agency is finally letting her step foot onto the field. Back in her hometown, she had worked tremendously for years on end on her craft; art wasn’t easy to master, or at least memorable art. Now that she's achieved what she’s been wanting, her work is recognized and in high demand.

But that was all on paper; she, on the other hand, wasn’t. She felt as if she were a ghost roaming around, creating what people thought were the most breathtaking paintings ever. At the back of her mind, an encounter a few months ago had stuck with her. She heard a higher-up phone call about the upcoming sales, and the topic switched to the products. Then he rambled on and on about how her paintings are basically Renaissance-made today. She was never much of a talker, yet she mustered up the courage to go up and talk to him, though his confused gaze threw her off.

"Uh, who are you exactly?"

It was fate; it had followed her everywhere. Sometimes she thinks that it’s because she was bland, basic, ordinary, and vanilla. But those thoughts left as soon as they came; she knew she wasn’t any of that. She was someone’s cup of tea for sure—not the vast majority thought so—and she was okay with it. Most of the time, she was alone, yet she never felt lonely.

Her cowboy boots were killer, red and bright, but so was the blood running down the back of her ankles; it was the first time she wore them. but she didn’t think it would mean a miserable way back home. Someone was supposed to pick her up, but guessing by the time they'd probably forgotten, she didn’t have anywhere near to go; her apartment was almost an hour away, and she hadn't seen a cab in a long while.

Behind her, illuminatingly, was a night café. Shaking her purse, she guessed she had enough money for some coffee and waffles.

She sat on the bar stool; she always liked it better than the regular seats; it was taller and bigger, almost like she was on top of the world. She liked the little stuff like this; it seemed silly to an outsider, but at least she’s having fun on her own, especially facing the window and looking at whoever walks by. A few minutes later, the waiter brought her food. She kicked off her boots to rest her feet a bit. It was going to be a long walk home.

She sat her bag on her lap and pulled out her small sketchbook. As if on cue, she noticed small rain drops clinging to the window before her; it added to the atmosphere, making her smile to herself. In her ear buds, killing me softly by fugees played, and her head swayed with the rhythm.

Half an hour passes as she’s lost in her sketchbook, her pencil dancing along the page, creating another beautiful portrait. That was her specialty. Her train of thought stops for a second when she notices someone sitting at the end of her row. Her head turns around, and she realizes that the place is basically full.

She glanced beside her at the figure; it was a guy in a green jacket and some jeans; he seemed to have ordered a coffee and some waffles; he had a mole on the side of his face. She didn’t spend much time staring at the man; it was rude. She just went back to drawing. but out of the corner of her eye, she saw what shoes he was wearing. cowboy boots.

"Cowboy boots!" It slipped out of her mouth before she could think.

The man looked startled. He looked at her, then turned his head behind him, making sure she was talking to him. His eyebrows rose as he looked at her confusedly. "Huh?"

She smiled, a bit embarrassed. I'm sorry, I meant—your boots! Cowboy boots, I like ‘em."

Her eyes never left his; they were dark, almost black, yet pretty. He hadn’t spoken a word yet, but he was smiling now.

"These are mine," she pointed to the pair that’s beneath her. I had to take them off because my feet were all bloody. She laughed, not taking it seriously at all. He looked at them and smiled, saying, "Hey, they’re just like mine, just in a different color."

She looked closer, and he could see her eyes light up at the realization. "we’re matching!"

"matching?"

"Yeah, matching"

A moment of silence passed, not an awkward one, though; they were both staring at each other, smiling a bit, her eyes drifting to his plate, then back to him.

"We don’t have matching taste buds, though; I hate waffles. This surprised him, making him chuckle and take a sip of his coffee. He wasn’t used to this; he didn’t know how to act when people approached him. Whenever he responds, he usually says the wrong thing, ruining the encounter. He didn’t respond to her; he simply didn’t know what to say. It felt like her eyes burned holes through his side, but soon enough she went back to her small book.

Her legs were crossed, and her black skirt hiked up to her mid-thigh because of her position. She wore a colorful dress shirt that was predominantly red, matching her boots. Her hair rested on her shoulder. A few pieces kept falling in front of her face, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Staring is rude, you know. "His head whipped straight back. She laughed; it was almost contagious, creeping on his lips. He mumbled an apology.

"What’re you writing?"

“I'm not writing, I'm drawing."

"oh"

She seemed focused now, unlike a few seconds ago, when she was pushing him to have a conversation. He felt a bit blue, but once he mustered up the courage to talk to her, she was over it. After the incident last year, Travis has been more weary of how he talks with other people, though that didn’t stop the screw-ups from time to time. He now understands how to read the room.

He was already done with his food; the coffee turned out to be bitter, so he barely touched it. As he got up and put on his jacket, he heard her.

"Wait, where’re you going?"

“Uh, I finished my food; I'm going home. Why?"

“Just," she started scribbling faster on her paper without looking at him, "sit down for a few more minutes, ‘kay?"

He stood still for a few seconds before agreeing to the request. He looked around the place; everyone had left by this point. Subconsciously, he yawns. He never feels sleepy, but he could feel his eyelids getting heavier by the second. She spares him a glance, smirking.

"Don’t fall asleep on me, alright? Here—ya go, take this." She handed him her right earbud between her slender fingers, and suddenly Travis took hold of it. They were sharing earbuds.

"Just two cowboys listening to music."

"You’re a cowgirl, not a cowboy."

"Saying cowboys is much easier than saying cow enthusiasts," they laughed.

She stayed quiet for a while, then suddenly stood up with her book in hand. The earbud fell out of her ear, and her face displayed an ear-to-ear smile. He had never seen someone smile this much in this city.

"It's done!" "Here you go. She ripped a piece of paper and handed it to him. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name."

"I'm Travis, he said, looking down at the paper in his hand, absolutely stunned. She could tell he almost lost control of his face as his mouth hung open.

"Well, Travis, you might want to close your mouth, or a fly might fly in there." She was getting her boots on with a bag over her shoulder with all of her belongings in it.

Travis was flabbergasted as he looked at the drawing of himself; it was almost like someone had taken a black and white photo of him, but she barely looked at him while drawing. How did she do this? She saw him. She’d seen him. The man’s hands started to shake a bit. He composed himself and looked up at her figure; she was smiling, as she always had. Words couldn’t leave his mouth once again. Don’t say the wrong thing. Don’t say the wrong thing. Don’t say the wrong thing.

"Well, if you didn’t like it, it's completely fine; don’t sweat it."

"No! No, I, uh, do like it; I'm just, uh, surprised, that’s all. Thank you." He didn’t catch her name, but she chuckled and told him. He made a mental note that she wasn’t from here; it was the first time he heard a name like

"Now it’s time for me to go, Travis. See you around, yeah?"

Yeah, he breathed.

As she walked towards the door, his eyes couldn’t stop following him, but he raised a brow once she stood dead in her tracks, turned around, and headed towards him again.

"Did you forget something?

She kissed his forehead and went away, like it was nothing. Travis wasn’t sleepy anymore; his mind was working full force, and he was only thinking of one thing: the way her lips felt on his skin.

[29625]

Here’s a confession; I’m seeing Slider as a femme (homme?) fatale and I’m always imagining Slimav in some sort of classic Film Noir settings where Mav (sometimes Ice, too) becomes slowly obsessed with Sli, who is all hot n mysterious and witty like a true princess he is.

What if I told you…Slimav but Taxi Driver. Or Slimav/Slice but Blade Runner. Or Night Moves in which all three of the love interests are Sli because why the hell not fuck around with the idea of dilf Sli.

What do you think?

[currentlylivingonaprayer]

my wip

@zenithsky tagged me.

(if you read this, I will read the last few updates of diaryus I've missed in the next few days, sorry)

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

WIP

• call it love and devotion (kentakim/pitbabe)

• kinnporsche the series mermaid au inspired by @thatgothsamurai

• good omens hospital au

• taxidriver kdrama one shot

• vegaspete spin off to my kimchay ff

(I'm only actively working on the first two, but when I have the time I will sit down and maybe write some of the others)

Tagging @ae-azile , @liesineyes , @zoinkssc00b , @shou-jpeg , @le-trash-prince and everybody else, who wants to participate :)

(To the people I've tagged, you don't have to participate, if you don't want to)

Ask box is open

[tea-spawn]

Current mutuals please ignore, I'm just here to rant about the season finale of taxi driver season 2 and it isn't going to be coherent. Because WHY. Did the villain's arc have to be so tragic??? I am an absolute wreck, my heart is in pieces, verh much NOT okay about that doomed angel omg. The horror of his final revelation??? The twist??? 'Maybe if I'd met you guys before, it would have been different'?? The pathos of father and son going the same way?? The way do ki was just #notokay afterwards despite having won the battle, the whole victory tinged bittersweet by that last face off (which very much resembled the last agni kai between azula and zuko, hello). Top tier content yall. I am so utterly impressed. Ugly sobbing my way towards a brand new wip, God bless

[shesarainbow]

What was I made for? | Taxi Driver (1976)

TW: trauma bonding, emotional abuse, gaslighting, etc...

🎶 I used to float, now I just fall down. I used to know, but I’m not sure now what I was made for. What was I made for? 🎶

Iris clings to him like a lifeline in the midst of the storm. She’s nearly forgotten how good it feels to be touched by him again. She buries her head in his strong arms in a protective, comforting embrace.

Oh, how lovely it feels to be held, and how safe it makes her feel. She needs him so much right now; she craves him with all her being and can’t help it.

It only takes a hug, and everything falls into place. All of her doubts and insecurities fall to the floor. She’s no longer tense.

Travis was wrong. How could he say those things? He has been so mean with all those implications about Sport. He doesn’t know him like she does.

Sport is not a cruel man; he can’t be like this, and this proves it. He merely wants to take care of her and keep her safe.

Travis was wrong; now she’s really sure of it.

Sport cradles her and strokes her blonde hair as she lets herself go into his arms, which make her feel at home—not the home she left, but the one she found in New York.

Sport is her safe haven to return to, the only place to be, where she can finally be herself and be loved.

Music fills the room, and they continue slow dancing.

“I depend on you” Sport says.

Is this love? Iris wonders.

“I’ll be lost without you” he continues.

Is this what everybody’s talking about? Could it really be love?

“I am a lucky man.”

Is this how you feel when someone actually loves you? Iris keeps asking herself.

Yes, her heart answers. No, says the brain.

“I need you so much, Iris. Don’t forget that.”

Iris closes her eyes and lets him guide her, take care of her and make her feel loved.

No, Travis was wrong. He knows nothing about love.

[andielion]

I think discourse about James Cameron’s Avatar having no cultural impact is kind of silly/takes a distinctly fandom-oriented point of view. “Goncharov has more fanfics on AO3 than Avatar!” Goncharov also has more fanfics on AO3 than Taxi Driver. No one’s saying that Goncharov is Scorsese’s most culturally impactful film.

[l0vergrlll]

: ̗̀ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐞

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Inspo: Care by Sonder (good song, I <3 Sonder)

Summary: You come home on a Friday evening after a rough week of work, excited to finally have some time alone with your boyfriend, who plans on taking good care of you tonight.

Warnings: established relationship, bathing together, fluff, suggestive, no actual smut, just cuteness hehehe

Note: this is my first fanfiction EVER!! It's not the best but not the worst ig. I also wrote it at like 2am lol. Enjoy!

It's been raining relentlessly this evening, and it seemed to show no signs of coming to an end any time soon. You don’t mind it, though. Frankly, you found the rain rather peaceful. You thought it was nature’s way of quieting the rest of the world’s unwavering commotion with its own serene ambience. The pleasant pitter-pattering of droplets against the car window served as a calm, subdued white noise for you as you rested your forehead against the cool glass. Your eyes subconsciously followed each passing car, each person scrambling in the downpour, eager to get home. You were itching to get back to the apartment as well, taking glances at the taxi driver’s GPS up front to get an idea of how much time remained. You relaxed back into the backseat, sighing as you returned your attention to the outside world, observing the cohorts of people flooding out of the revolving doors of various high rise buildings. 

It was definitely a taxing work week to say the least. You were overcome with relief as you let the idea of the oncoming weekend embrace you in a welcoming hug. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself at the thought of what was waiting for you back home. A chance to unwind, treat yourself, and indulge in the warm comforts of your weekend hobbies and activities. But what excited you most was the idea of him. 

The week had been a rigorous, almost never-ending series of projects, meetings, and all-nighters. And you were painfully aware of the lack of quality time spent with Matt. Even though you couldn’t help your harsh schedule, and he was endlessly understanding, you couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt which weighed on your heart. After a week of dull, rushed conversations with him as you were scrambling to get out of the door on time for work, you were experiencing what almost felt like withdrawals. When was the last time you allowed yourself to lay in his strong arms, comfortable in his secure embrace? When did you last feel the shivering sensation crawl up your spine and the warming of your cheeks as he whispered into your ears, his lips grazing your earlobe with every word? You craved the grit of his voice blessing your ears as he spoke to you, the way your heart fluttered as his pale blue eyes pierced into your own, slightly squinting as he spoke. The way you gasped and muffled your moans with the back of your hand as your back arched to his rhythmic, unforgiving thrusts. The way tears would fall down the sides of your face as you couldn’t contain your pleasurable screams, digging your nails into his biceps as he edged you closer to your climax, whilst simultaneously groaning in your ear. Close was never close enough. You missed that unyielding need for each other. 

Finally, the driver parked parallel to the entrance of your apartment building. You were swift to exit the car, thanking him in the process. The rain showed no mercy, prompting you to run inside the building whilst holding a hand above your head as a pathetic form of coverage. Once inside, you called for the elevator with the click of a button, squirming uneasily in your damp work clothes. You felt giddy with anticipation, undoubtedly excited to see Matt, to jump into his arms and inhale his scent. At long last, you were on your floor and facing your apartment door, fiddling in your purse for the keys. You tutted in annoyance as you struggled to dig them out in the jungle of items stuffed in your purse. 

You audibly groan with frustration, about to dump the entirety of the contents inside when you hear the door click. You look up to see it open fully, Matt looking down at you with disheveled hair and an almost childish grin of pure excitement. He leaned against the door frame, wearing a black long sleeve and gray sweats which were untied, loosely hanging low on his waist and revealing the brim of his boxers. You couldn’t help but return the smile, and laugh as he pulled you in by the arm, wrapping his own around your waist and burying his head in your damp hair. 

“God, remind me to clean out my purse, please,” you remarked, smiling as you snuggled your face into his chest, your hands gripping onto his shirt. 

Matt laughed silently as he pushed you away slightly, now able to look at you. 

“I’m glad you're home, baby. You have no idea how much I’ve been missing you,” He spoke softly, and god was the gruff sound of his voice elating. You smiled at him, and took his hand in yours as the two of you wandered into the kitchen, the smell of food engulfing your senses. 

“I think I might, Matty. I’ve really been missing you too. Thank God it’s finally Friday,” You exhaled with relief once again. Matt’s arms snaked around your body from behind you, and he pressed himself against your back. He’s taller than you, able to rest his jaw upon your head as you leaned back into him. You rested your head slightly on his shoulder as you looked up at him, really taking in the sight. Your handsome boyfriend, adorned by a freshly shaven complexion. You traced his sharp jawline with your finger, moving it upwards as you gently carved out the outline of his cheekbones. A smile crept across his face as he looked down at you. His arms tightened their hold around you and he lowered his head into your neck, inhaling deeply. 

“So I made you dinner…” He spoke softly, bringing his hands up from around your waist and onto your shoulder, gently pressing his fingers expertly as he massaged them. You exhale with your mouth open, clearly needing the relief of tension. He continued, “...But I think what you really need is a nice hot bath. What do you think, sweetheart?” His voice lowered, almost into a whisper as he spoke dangerously close to your ear. He continued to rub your shoulders, awaiting your response. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I’d love a bath right now,” You turned slightly to face him.

“I thought you might, so I have one ready for you,” He smiled, his eyes squinting at the corners as he did so. You melted at the sight every time, never able to get enough of that pretty face. 

“Wow, you seem really proud of yourself,” You joked. He chuckled lightly, and suddenly moved away from behind you, taking your hand in his. He tugged you in the direction of the bathroom. Your smile never faded, your cheeks and ears warming at his sheer thoughtfulness. Upon entering the bathroom, he closed the door gently behind the two of you.

“You know I care about you, more than anything. Let me show you tonight just how much I do,” He dropped your hand as he spoke and walked over to the bathtub, lowering a hand into the water to check if the temperature was right. You noticed the thick layer of foamy bubbles sitting on top of the water. You breathed in, a strong aroma lingering in the room. It was eucalyptus, your favorite, meaning Matt used your favorite aromatic bubble bath. Two candles were lit, sitting on the corner of the tub. Matt had hung up two bathrobes upon the hooks which hung from the back of the bathroom door. Everything was laid out for you, your favorite body scrubs, creams, and hair care items. 

Matt smiled, pleased at himself as he watched you beam appreciatively at his efforts. 

“Hop in, beautiful,” He spoke as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his bare torso. You stare with your mouth open at his nude upper body, admiring the slight curvature of his toned muscles. The way they descended into his v-line, lined down the center with a little hair. You watched as he slid his sweats down with his thumbs. He smirked playfully at your anticipation for his boxers to come off next, and instead of rewarding you with that display, he walked up to you and lifted the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head as you obediently lifted your arms in an effort to help. 

He whispered almost to himself, “Let me take care of you tonight..” repeating the promise he had previously mentioned. You let him pull your pants down, dragging your underwear down with them as you lifted each leg for him to fully remove the garments. You held onto his hair as he did so, and you smiled to yourself, unable to prevent the heat of blush which tainted your cheeks at the intimacy of it all. Once your bottoms were off, he ascended back up and moved onto the clasp of your bra, expertly unclipping it and slipping the fabric off forwards. Your breasts relaxed, perking upwards with taut nipples as he removed it, and you watched as his eyes observed them hungrily. He stepped back for a moment, appreciating the art in front of him. He sucked his bottom lip as he examined the beauty of your nudity. You laughed, and his gaze then lifted to your own. He leaned in, suddenly removing any space between you two.

“I haven’t even kissed those pretty lips yet,” He whispered, followed by his lips softly landing on yours. You brought your hands up around his neck as you hungrily moved your mouth against his, your body buzzing as his lips closed around yours repeatedly. He pulled away, and took your hand again, leading you to the tub. He let you keep holding his hand as you stepped into the tub, the hot water initially shocking your skin, making it deliciously difficult to delve the rest of your body within the water. You sighed as you lowered yourself, the comfort of the heat engulfing you. 

“Oh yeah… I really needed this,” You spoke breathily, your body relaxing. It’s clear that your body was wound up, and in desperate need for this physical consolation. You watched matt lower his boxers, revealing his large manhood. You bit your lip slightly at the sight, smirking as he maintained eye contact with you in the act. He flashed you with one of his signature sexy grins, and took his turn entering the tub. He groaned quietly at the shock of the heat, slowly lowering himself until he was opposite to you, his long legs meeting yours as his knees remained visible and bent above the water. For a while, the two of you remained in comfortable silence, staring at each other. You let the warmth cloud your conscience, freeing your mind of the unbreakable stress of the work week. Simply being with Matt at all was enough to ease your turmoil. But when the two of you took part in rare intimacies like this, just naked and in each other’s presence, you felt as if he was your haven, as if he was the physical embodiment of comfort and safety. 

He was still staring at you, the humidity causing his soft brown hair to flatten a bit, ever so slightly damp at the very edges. His alluring eyes devoured your physical being, his unbroken eye contact causing your heart to flutter. 

“What?” You asked shyly, slightly lowering further into the water as a way of hiding your vulnerability from his intimidating gaze.

“Come here,” He said with a smirk, holding out his strong, veiny arm in invitation. You crawled over to him in the water, careful to refrain from splashing outside the confines of the tub. As you made your way to his body, you turned your own so that your back faced him. He then wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in so your bare body is pressed against his. You giggled as you felt his hard dick prod at your lower back, but stayed leaning into him. This kind of closeness drove you crazy. You just wanted to bask in his comfort forever. You wanted to stay this way, naked and in eachothers arms, for it was the two of you in your most vulnerable state. The idea of it warmed your heart. And Matt felt equally as appreciative. The kind of love the two of you had, was a love which seemed to transcend the meaning of love itself. It felt as if you two were bound at the soul. It wasn’t only your bodies pressed against each other, but also your hearts, making love, entwined with one another and refusing to detach. 

“I need you like I need oxygen. Is that crazy to say?” He spoke suddenly, and then chased the lingering words with passionate kisses on your neck. You loved when he randomly spoke his mind, saying the most romantic things sometimes. He tightened his hold, wanting to pull you in beyond what was physically possible. You moaned softly at his hungry kisses, which slowly escalated into nibbles and sucking, leaving signature spots in the areas in which you loved for his mouth to be, and he loved to remain. 

“Of course it’s not crazy, baby.” You responded, your voice soft and flirtatious as he continued to kiss down your neck, his hips ever so slightly bucking upwards into your back. His hardness pressed against you, revealing his pure desire. 

“In fact, I think I need you more than that. I mean, what would I ever do without you?” You continued, bringing a hand up to wrap around his neck. “You take such good care of me, Matty. Thank you for this.”

“You're welcome, pretty girl. I love everything about you, care about everything you do,” He spoke into your neck. Without looking away from you, he palmed the shaving cream that was sitting on the other side of the tub, and with the same hand grabbed your razor which was sitting beside it. He lifted his head from neck and smiled as he gazed into your eyes. He brought the arm that was still around your waist up and held your tit, massaging it slightly to both of your pleasure. You giggled,  followed by a satisfied moan as he played with your nipple.

“Whatcha gonna do with that?” You gave him a quizzical look as he squirted some shaving cream into his hand. He gave you a light nudge back towards the other end of the tub.

“Can you move back to the other side and lift your leg up for me?” He smiled as the question left his lips. He had a way of asking questions like that with such a ravishing tone, his words alone made you want to moan in pleasure. Naturally, you obeyed, moving back to the other end of the tub and facing him again. You lifted your leg out of the water and he gripped it firmly, bringing your foot up to rest on his shoulder. He placed the cool white product on your leg, and began gently rubbing it so that it emulsified, covering the entirety of your shin. He did so while looking at you with lust tainting his eyes, accompanied with a tantalizing smirk. You watched him intently, fascinated by the way his hands roamed the surface of your skin, the muscles on his arms contracting slightly as he moved. His touch, his large hand holding your leg, it made your skin buzz with excitement. You were obsessed with the way he caressed you with such longing, as if he couldn’t survive without your touch, your warmth.

He let the hand covered in shaving cream drop into the water, rinsing it off. Then he picked up the razor and positioned it right at your ankle, close to his face. He slowly set the razor down onto your skin, and gently moved it up your leg while maintaining the slight pressure upon your skin. He moved his gaze from the razor to your face repeatedly, watching your reaction as he attentively shaved your leg. Something about the activity was so feverishly romantic. The way he maneuvered the razor with such care as to not leave behind any cuts or bumps. He went slow, and smiled at you yet again as you let your head lull to the side slightly, letting him groom you, take care of you. 

“How is it?” He asked, as if performing an act of intimacy out of which you had to be satisfied. Which for the two of you, it was, as he shaved your leg with precision, his breath tickling your feet from time to time as he worked. 

“You’re perfect,” You say. It was the only conclusion you were able to come to during the whole thing. He was simply perfect. He chuckled, lifting the razor as he did so as to not accidentally cut you.

“Well..” He trailed off, returning his attention to the job at hand. His other hand remained resting on the side of your ankle, his thumb moving up and down, gently rubbing your skin. He suddenly brought his lips to the skin on your inner ankle, placing a gentle peck of a kiss. He then brought his attention back to your face, pure passion projecting from his gaze. His lips were upturned in a tiny smile as he spoke.

“You know I care.”

...

a/n: smutty part 2??? maybe???

[emkayewrites]

A snippet from my Lukola fanfiction: steamy edition! TW for smut~

13th July 2023 – London (UK)

Luke Newton: How far away are you?

A smile stretched across Nicola’s face as she typed out a reply on her mobile phone.

Nicola Coughlan: I’m sending you my live location.

The response was instant.

Luke Newton: It’s not as fun as you trying to tell me where you are and failing.

Nicola Coughlan: I’m doing my best!

Luke Newton: You’re nowhere near Canary Wharf.

Nicola Coughlan: My head barely reaches up to the window.

Nicola Coughlan: Did I mention I’m very small?

Luke Newton: Being short can’t be an excuse for everything.

Nicola giggled out loud at his response and then remembered where she was.  She looked self-consciously at the front seat of the car she was in.  The middle-aged taxi driver was staring straight ahead, his eyes bloodshot, and his face slightly weary.  He gave no indication that he had noticed her sudden giddiness. 

God, was she giddy.

Her life felt like it had never been better.

The last few weeks had allowed her to finally be in the same city as Luke and they had taken every opportunity possible to be together, usually at her apartment or his.  This had also been an incredibly busy time for both, and they had been pivotal cheerleaders for one another as they went through career milestones.  When Luke was invited to Wimbledon for the first time as a guest of GQ, he had responded in true Luke fashion: with joy at being acknowledged but also severe anxiety at the whole idea of being a fashion object of some sort.  She was fast learning how much he loved being an actor but how much he equally struggled with just being Luke at these events – being most comfortable when he could disappear into a role.  She had reminded him how only a year ago, he had teased her about her own Wimbledon appearances and now here he was – being a fashion icon at a top British sporting event.  She found the way he blushed in response to her praise endearing.   She loved how quick he was to remind her that she was invited to several Wimbledon events this year and was constantly being revered in the fashion pages for her style – she loved this not because she wanted him to admire her but because it demonstrated how humble he was.  He never wanted the spotlight for too long, and he was all too happy to cast it back on her. 

In their personal lives, they had not been shy about demonstrating their affections for each other around people they knew.  She attended the wrap party for The Shape of Things as his date; they had walked in together and then spent most of the night pressed up against the side of the bar, not-so-discreetly making out, much to everyone else’s amusement.  They had decided they did not want to nor feel the need to be more public, with both agreeing not to post anything on their respective social media accounts or to discuss their relationship in the press.  They knew that at some point, talking about each other would be inevitable but they were keen to keep as much of their relationship for themselves for as long as possible.

Nicola thought about how she had never felt so good in herself.  She was in the city of her dreams, with a burgeoning career, and with a boyfriend with his own successes, and they were both aligned in their core values.  They just seemed to fit.

How the hell does it get better than this?

Some days, she worried about whether she was peaking too soon – in both her career and love.  She dismissed these thoughts quickly, and usually on that kind of day, there was something consuming on her schedule that distracted her from the fears.

It was this kind of high that Nicola was riding as she sat in the back of the taxi, watching London landmarks whizz past her.  When she looked down at her outfit or caught a glance of her reflection in the wing mirror, she really wanted to pinch herself.

She was dressed in an outfit that she could only describe as being from her literal dreams.  The true credit had to go to Aimee, but Nicola could not help but to admit that she was the one who made the dress look damn good.  She was in a silver corseted gown that was covered all over with Swarovski glass crystals.  Off-setting the shimmering outfit were her freshly dyed red locks which were beautifully styled into soft curls that framed her face, and her make-up was doll-like but subtle, with soft pink lips and light pink contouring.  She felt good.

Only hours before, she had walked onto a bright pink carpet to flash bulbs, screaming fans and an endless litany of famous faces at the London premiere of Barbie.  It was a film that had hype - it was breaking records in the worldwide box office as well as shaping popular culture.  She had negotiated interviewers and photographers, and she had become keenly aware how much attention she was getting.  Even further validation had come in the form of messages from friends and family who were at home watching the photos of celebrities at the premiere come in on their social media feeds.  Luke was the most enthusiastic of them all, sending her screenshots of herself on the carpet a mere ten minutes after she had taken them with statements like: “How are you a real person?”

She would be lying to herself if she said that she was able to sit inside Cineworld in Leicester Square with A list stars and watch one of the most hotly anticipated films of the year that she herself was featured in and fully appreciate it.  Of course, she was excited to be there, and it was a special thing to be around such talented people and to celebrate a project like this.  However, there was a part of her that wished Luke was there by her side, not sat at home avidly scanning Instagram Live and Twitter feeds for scraps.  He could have been there as one of her guests and kept Grainne company in the family and friends seating, but they had both decided against it.  They reasoned that it did feel too exposing, and anyway, if they were not able to sit by each other’s side, it did not feel worth it.

It was in this spirit that she had found herself ending her night a little earlier than she usually would at an event like this.  She navigated her way into one of the free taxis provided by the press team and asked them not to take her to the afterparty, giving them Luke’s address instead.  She had texted her sister to let her know she would not be at said party, to which her sister had responded in her usual nonchalance:

Grainne Coughlan: Do I need you to get in?

Classic Grainne – straight to the point.

Nicola Coughlan: Not if you’ve got your premiere tickets

Grainne Coughlan: Alrighty

Nicola Coughlan: I won’t be there though

Grainne Coughlan: But Margot Robbie will

Grainne Coughlan: So I’ll live

Nicola Coughlan: Don’t do anything to tarnish the Coughlan name

Grainne Coughlan: I only want a SMALL lock of her hair

Nicola Coughlan: I know you’re joking but still, the fear of God resides in me

Grainne Coughlan: Tell Lukey I said hi ;)

Before she knew it, Nicola arrived at the large Victorian terrace and hastily attempted to tip the driver, but he politely refused, insisting that tips were also taken care of for the night.  No sooner had the taxi left then the front door flung open and there stood Luke, his hair slightly tousled, in a white t-shirt and dark sweatpants.

She felt her heart race as he drank in her appearance.  His eyes seemingly bulged out of his head.

“Fuck.” He finally said. “You look….”

She felt herself blush.

She never blushed.

Jesus, what was this boy doing to her?

“You look too good to be stood on this street at this time of night.” He finally concluded, reaching out to take her by the hands and pull her into the house.

The door had barely closed behind them before they were all over each other.

This had become one of their main communication methods lately: tongues.

They always greeted each other with a hunger but tonight was different.  She could feel it.  Tonight was the night.    

It was a strange thing but in the last few weeks, despite numerous sleepovers, they had not got there yet.  Luke had insisted that he was not in any rush when it came to sex, and she herself had a sneaking suspicion that the romantic in him would not allow them to just fall into having sex one random night, she knew he wanted it to be special.  He had still not completely recovered from the way his plan to confess his feelings to her had fallen apart; he often expressed that he felt she deserved better than a phone call – not that it mattered to her.  She made it clear she was low maintenance in that regard.   

As the days had passed, Nicola had realised that most of their nights started off with a lot of kissing and touching, but also a lot of talking.  So much talking that often, the sun was starting to come up just as they were drifting off to sleep.  Nicola realised this was the first time she had been in an intimate relationship with someone who had been one of her best friends, and because of that, there was always so much to talk about. 

Well, some might call it talking but the more accurate term was gossiping.

They gossiped about everything and everyone.  Their worlds had been so intertwined, and they had shared so many experiences that they never ran out of things to comb over.  It was an intoxicating experience to be able to make out with your best friend in one breath, and then in another, be able to share your deepest, darkest thoughts about yourself or about people you knew.  It was a level of intimacy that was deep and terrifying.  She could not imagine being so emotionally open with anyone other than him.  There was also a deep desire within her to know him inside and out.  She wanted to know his thoughts all the time, and he seemingly felt the same way. 

Yet tonight, Nicola could tell they were both thinking about the same thing, and it wasn’t talking.

They stopped kissing for a moment and Luke delicately placed his hands around her waist, being careful to not cause damage.

“Well, all I’ve thought about since seeing pictures of you tonight is tearing this dress off you…” He stated.

“Ugh, no.” Nicola let out a small, disapproving gasp in response and peeled his hands off her waist. “I shouldn’t even be here in this dress.  I’m meant to literally extract myself out of it without it touching any of my make-up and put it into an airtight bag.”

“I know, I know.” He gave her a knowing smile.

Nicola gave him a puzzled look.  She knew him well enough to know he was up to something.

They were stood in the semi-lit hallway that had two doorways along it; one door led to a kitchen and living space and the other led to a bathroom.  Right next to them was a carpeted staircase with a wooden banister that led up to two bedrooms. 

Luke led her into the living room.  An ornately engraved fireplace, high ceilings and wooden floorboards made up the period features of the space which were coupled with modern touches that included a dark leather sofa, a dark green island and kitchen cabinetry and a large bookshelf containing a mixture of DVDs and books.

The first thing she noticed was that the usually bright room was dimly lit because the only source was lighting was candles.  So many candles.  Candles everywhere.  On the kitchen island. Along the bookshelves. On the mantlepiece.  The light bounced off the crystals on her dress making her literally shimmer. 

She felt silly at how oddly emotional the sight made her feel. 

“You’re glowing.” Luke whispered in her ear from behind her, as if reading her mind.  She felt his arms wrap around her from behind, felt his chest press up against her back as he placed a kiss on her neck.

“This is… this took you some time, huh?” She managed to croak out.

He laughed in response. “You have no idea.”

“And the fire hazard alone…” Nicola joined in with his laughter. “This is enough to give your landlord a stroke.”

Luke’s hands started to move carefully across the bodice of her dress, and she started to help him. Together, they identified the zip, and she let Luke tug at it so that the dress started to slide down her spine.  She started to extricate herself from the tight-fitting arms of the dress, until she was stood there in just a nude thong and bra with the fabric at her feet.  Luke gave her a hand as she stepped out of the gown and then dutifully bent down and to lift it up carefully by the sleeves.  He held it up before them, unblemished and without a single piece of embellishment missing.

“She’s perfect.” Nicola remarked. “Nicely done, sir.”

“Nearly three years of watching you get in and out of impossible gowns pays off.” Luke shrugged.

He took great pains to gingerly lay the dress across the length of the sofa.  For not the first time, Nicola felt a warm feeling travel through her.  The way he cared about the things she cared about was everything to her.  It was so unbelievably sexy that she had to have him, right there and then.  She grabbed him by the neck of his shirt and pulled him in for a kiss and he responded eagerly.  Before she could process what was happening, she was hoisted up, her legs wrapped around his waist, his hands groping at her waist and naked buttocks as he carried her back through the hallway and into the bathroom.  She gave little thought to the change of location.  It was hard to care about anything when your entire body felt like it was on fire.  She found her back pushed against the wall of the bathroom as they continued to kiss, but she wanted more.  She pulled her face away from him as she tugged his t-shirt up over his torso and his head, but it was slightly stuck around his neck.  He tried to assist despite his face being covered by the shirt, his arms flailing hilariously to get it over his head. 

She took in his body, his glistening abs, his biceps which bulged as they supported her weight; she found herself tracing kisses along his shoulder and up his neck as he let out a moan, finally freed from the shirt.  She felt the hardness between his legs, she tightened the grip of her legs around his waist, pulled her own soft wetness against his member and felt the hot frustration build in her at the barrier of fabric between them.  She wanted him in her.

Those sweatpants needed to come off.

She found herself tugging at them when Luke gently pulled back.

It was only then that she took in the room around them.  The bathroom was spacious and lined with wooden floorboards.  A glass walled rain shower stood to one side and a claw-footed bathtub to the other.  The entire room was also decorated with lit candles.  The bathtub was filled with foamy bubbles and rose petals.  A small side table stood by the tub with a bottle of champagne, a box of chocolates and two crystal flutes.  A bouquet of roses lay to one side.

“Wow…” Nicola gasped for the second time that night.

“I know how much you like a nice bath and some bubbles, and I thought you’d need it more tonight than anything.” He smiled.

“Oh, Luke, this is…” She found herself blinking back tears.

How was she ever going to top a day as good as this one?

She started to slip out of her thong and bra, her sudden nakedness feeling more apparent to her as she padded her way across the room to the bathtub.  She felt his eyes on her, his expression was one of someone spellbound. 

“I can’t be the only naked one.” She teased as she started to slide into the water.

He grinned back at her and in one sweeping movement, he pulled down his bottoms and boxers so that he was fully exposed to her.

“That’s a move right out of Magic Mike.” She managed to joke as most of the breath left her body.

The sight of him like that was almost too unbearable.  She really wanted him.

There were parts she had seen before of course.  You don’t film sexually explicit scenes like the ones they had and not see something.  Yet, there were definitely parts she had never seen before.  His erect penis being one of them.

How could someone be so perfectly sculpted?  She thought.

“Get over here.” She managed to say, her tone demanding.  Her desperation seemed to please him, he smirked in a self-satisfied way but obliged, and walked towards her, and then crouched beside her as she lay in the tub.

“What are you doing?” She frowned, impatience affecting her. “I want you. Get in.”

“I want to take care of you first…” He responded. “We need to get that make-up off you.”

He was right.  She was covered in body make-up and glitter.  Some of it was bleeding into the bubbles and petals, turning the water slightly amber.

“You’re pretty dirty…” He continued.  His hand reached into the water and was between her legs before she could respond.

Jesus fucking Christ, she had never been this horny in her life.

He used the firmness of his fingers against her, pressing and rubbing at alternating intensities that were somehow just right.  She closed her eyes tight and let out one moan and then many moans as pleasure took over every part of her body.   

“But you’re dirty in all the right ways…” He sounded breathless as he spoke, as his hand worked on her.  She could feel him vibrating with desire as he watched her writhe before him.

She began pushing herself into him, her hands gripping the bottom of the tub as she forced her pelvis against him.  Her back arched and she felt her breasts leave the warmth of the soapy water as they were thrust into the air, and then she felt the wetness of his mouth on her nipple, his tongue working on it as hard as his fingers were down there.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck…!” She found herself practically screaming as she came.  Electric jolts travelled through her body.  She convulsed as the sensitivity in every nerve in her body increased.

“Fuck…..!” She sighed, her head against the porcelain of the tub, a bead of sweat travelling down her forehead. 

Before she had time to really catch her breath, Luke was pulling her up so that they were both stood, naked, pressed against one another as they entered a passionate kiss.

“Bedroom, please.” She managed to beg.

She wanted him inside her so badly.

He pulled her up, slippery and naked, so that her legs were around him again.  They continued to lock lips as he carried her out of the bathroom. 

They made it as far as the stairs.

Nicola learnt something that day: a wooden banister provides great support for certain physical activities.

(Excerpt taken from my fanfiction 'Curtain Fall')

[thetriboulet]

AMERICAN OSEMANVERSE FAN'S GUIDE TO BRITISHISMS AND THE SCHOOL SYSTEM

HELLO - so I've been seeing a few posts about like. american Osemanverse/other-british-ip fans not understanding the uk school system or just general britishisms, especially when writing fanfiction, SO. I've created a little guide below to help with some pretty common mistakes i see a lot in fics, but also just general misunderstandings and confusion.

(NOTE THAT THIS IS SPECIFIC TO ENGLAND AS ALL OSEMANVERSE PROPERTIES ARE SET THERE. AS THIS IS LARGELY TO DO WITH EDUCATION AND COLLOQUIALISMS PEOPLE FROM DIFFERENT AGE GROUPS AND PARTS OF THE UK MAY HAVE EXPERIENCES WITH THESE TERMS/SYSTEMS THAT DIFFER FROM WHAT I HAVE LAID OUT.)

Language and slang:

(the four words I see misused, used out of place, or used in excess a lot in fics.)

1. 'Mate' - alright so. 'Mate', in my experience, tends to be used in three main ways:

i) just a general address that people (usually guys) use on their friends. I'd like to point out that it's used more as an address than a noun. So, for example, its a lot more common to hear someone be like 'Mate, are you alright' than it is to hear 'Yeah we're good mates', although the latter is still a thing. Worth noting however that when used as a noun the word comes off as very casual and sometimes a bit dismissive, so it's unlikely that characters such as Frances and Aled would refer to each other as 'mates'. The only Osemanverse characters I can think of rn that I think have or would call someone their mate are Harry or Mac, probably.

ii) again a general address except with a hint of irony. think when Angel tells Juliet 'Mate, I am living.' It's basically the same as i) except a little sillier. a little more chutzpah. i could see Rooney, Angel, Tao, and Bliss using it this way.

iii) aggressively. think when harry says 'mate, are you in a mood' in the heartsopper netflix show or when Nick calls Charlie mate in Nick & Charlie. In an aggressive context its pretty much exclusively used as an address. If you're writing angst about your chosen characters arguing then this can be a pretty good way of indicating a tonal shift.

2. 'Bruv' - absolutely not. Never use this one unironically I'm begging you I promise that the general bruv population over here are NOT in the Osemanverse fandom.

3. 'Bloke' - not the worst. Used solely as a noun (unless you're counting 'blokish'), usually by and with reference to men aged 30+. This one is a bit more common up north so if you're writing fanfiction for Loveless set in Durham then having older characters use this is fitting. It isn't unheard of for younger people to use it, but the only Osemanverse characters I can think of off the top of my head who would are probably Harry, Lister, (maybe) Rowan, and the taxi driver from iwbft, or Rooney or Becky ironically.

4. 'Lad' - same as 'Bloke' except used with reference to young boys/men. This one is more likely to be used by younger people than 'Bloke', specifically as a noun or mode of address (i.e I think at one point in IWBFT Lister addresses Rowan and Jimmy as 'lads'.)

School stuff!:

NOTE: We refer to stages of school in two main ways-

No 1 is Years, going from 1-6 (primary), 7-11 (secondary), and 12-13 (sixth form/college).

No 2 is Key Stages (KS). This basically lumps together year groups. Years 12-13 are KS5, years 10-11 are KS4, years 7-9 are KS3, years 3-6 are KS2, and anything below that is KS1.

YEARS TO GRADES TRANSLATOR: Add one to a grade and you'll get the equivalent year. For example: Grade 9 = Year 10, Grade 4 = Year 5. I know this may seem innocuous but trust me it makes SUCH a difference.

SUBJECT NAMING CONVENTIONS: Some of our school subject names are different. Common ones that people get wrong (as in, using american names to describe british classes) include:

- Maths/Mathematics (=MATH, obviously) - This doesn't seem like a big deal but trust me if you put 'math' or 'math class' in your writing it can stick out. (Also worth mentioning that in the UK we don't normally seperate maths into different classes, i.e Calculus or Geometry. These will all be taught by the same teacher(s) in the same allocated class time.)

- PE/Physical Education (=GYM) - not much to say about this. 'Gym' is fine when referring to the physical space, but most people don't call the subject 'Gym class'.

- History - not a big deal but we usually don't have different kinds of History class, i.e 'World History' or 'U.S History' (obviously not the latter.)

A RUNDOWN OF THE SCHOOLING TIMELINE:

PRE SCHOOL- (equivalent to KINDERGARTEN) - most people start school around age three by going to 'nursery', though some people dont.

PRIMARY SCHOOL (equivalent to ELEMENTARY SCHOOL)- You then move up to Reception, which is basically Baby's Induction Into the School System. Following that, you go from years 1-6 (some primary schools only go up to year 5 and some go all the way up to year 7 but this is uncommon).

SECONDARY SCHOOL (YEARS 7-9) - (equivalent to MIDDLE SCHOOL) - this is where the translation to americansim gets a bit messy im afraid. Secondary school spans 5 years total, from the ages of 11-16, which means that the first two years of what americans call high school are part of our secondary school system in addition to american middle school years. But yeah, years 7-9 are basically middle school. During year 9 students will choose subjects (although some are compulsory, like maths and english) to study at GCSE (General Certificate of Secondary Education).

SECONDARY SCHOOL (years 10-11) - (equivalent to FRESHMAN and SOPHMORE years of highschool) - years 10-11 is generally when people start studying for their GCSEs. In summary, this is when school gets a bit serious. Year 11s sit for their exams at the end of the year and leave school early once theyre finished. As i said before these year groups are usually a part of the same school as year 7-9.

SIXTH FORM/COLLEGE (years 12-13) - (equivalent to JUNIOR and SENIOR years of highschool) - when shit hits the fan. Students in this year bracket will usually study 3 or 4 A-Levels depending on the school. We also have International Baccalaureate and Level 3 Diploma courses but as far as I'm aware no Osemanverse characters take/have taken these. 'Sixth form' and 'college' both refer to this age group (college does not mean university in this case) and facilitate mostly the same types of study, however, Sixth forms are more similar to Secondary schools than colleges as they usually have uniforms and are generally stricter. I don't think any characters attend college though so this shouldn't be an issue.

FINAL NOTE: Don't take any of this too seriously. Writing fanfiction is supposed to be fun, and stressing over transcontinental slang differences isn't worth it if it takes any enjoyment away from your writing process. I just wanted to put all these things into one text post so people who want clarity on them can have an easy point of reference. While sometimes reading 'grade' instead of 'year', or 'mate' in a place it shouldn't be can sometimes very briefly take me out of a fic, it is not a big deal at all and doesn't stop me (or anyone) from enjoying that piece of writing. I can confidently say I have never read a bad Osemanverse fic, and the IWBFT and Radio Silence fandoms in particular produce some amazing work IMO. These aren't rules, just tips.

Except for the bruv thing.

Never put bruv in your fic I beg.

Y'all are amazing, have a nice day :^)

[onhajoon]

A tribute to one of my most favourite villains to grace a Kdrama. This playlist is about dark pasts, moral dilemmas, toxic relationships, PLUS the redemption arc we never got, in which Hajoon is saved and relearns how to live with the Rainbow Taxi crew 🍻

[muddy-water-1997]

𝖠𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖡𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗍𝗌

𝖳𝖶: 𝖤𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝖼𝖾𝗌, 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌, 𝖬𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀?, 𝖭𝖣𝖠 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗍𝗒𝗉𝖾

Chapter 4 - The Hilton

Even if you've seen a group at a concert and been keeping up with their social media, you need more preparation for the intensity of their presence. This realisation hits you hard as the van accelerates, seemingly defying local road laws. A cacophony of unfamiliar languages fills the air, emanating from phone speakers, fellow passengers, and the driver. It's as if your parasocial friends have unexpectedly whisked you away, leaving you feeling utterly powerless. 

As the chaos around you intensifies, you attempt to interject and calm the situation. "You know," you say firmly, your voice cutting through the noise. "If this is about your whereabouts or anything of that nature, you don't have to worry. We can keep a secret." You motion towards yourself and your friend, hoping to convey your sincerity. Despite the painful throbbing in your head and the lingering effects of alcohol, you try your best to maintain a serious demeanour.

"Oh, we can trust you?" Changbin retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, why didn't you just say that? Let's turn this whole thing around, and while I'm at it, I'll give you every member's private number so you can just call us and chat whenever you like." He turns away; his gaze is fixed on the passing scenery. A sigh of relief escapes his lips as the hotel doors come into view, and staff in all black await your arrival.

As Chan and Changbin stepped out of the SUV, Chan shot a frustrated look at his friend and whispered, "Dude, she's still recovering from the bump on her head, give her a break." Felix and your friend slowly helped you out of the vehicle and guided you towards the hotel entrance. As you approached them, a staff member directed you to a meeting room where medical staff awaited your arrival. The room was brightly lit with fluorescent overhead lights, the intensity of which only added to your ever-growing headache. All you could think about was the water you desperately wanted half an hour ago.

Following a thorough checkup by the medical team, which you found a bit too rigorous for your liking, you were informed that you could leave, but only if you agreed to rest for at least 48 hours. You turned towards your best friend, feeling utterly stunned by the intense night you had just experienced and eager to hail a taxi back to the hotel. Meeting your favourite band members had always been your dream, but you never imagined it would happen in such an unexpected, almost fanfiction-like way.

You emerge from the meeting room, clutching your trusty water bottle, still reeling from the blow you sustained earlier. Thankfully, the bandage on your head has stemmed the flow of blood that was previously cascading down your face. The medic had allowed you to glimpse your reflection momentarily, and you were taken aback by the sorry sight that stared back at you. Blood and mascara had mingled together, creating a gruesome sight, and your foundation was caked with gravel marks from the impact of your fall. 

As you step into the grand foyer, you can't help but marvel at its extravagance. The walls are decorated with intricate gold and cream details, and the area is overflowing with blooming flowers that match the décor perfectly. Your gaze is drawn to a cluster of eight men huddled at the bottom of the grand staircase, engaging in hushed conversation. Suddenly, you notice Felix's eyes snap in your direction as he becomes the first to acknowledge your entrance.

"Hey, y/n!" he called out as he approached you. You were surprised that you didn't freak out when you first saw him in this light. You tried to push the cringe-inducing thought of your first meeting out of your mind. As Felix called out, the rest of the group slowly turned to look at both of you. The situation was quite overwhelming. The other seven men were dressed in tracksuits and looked tired. Most of them smiled. However, two notable people didn't.

You smiled at Felix and said, "Thank you for everything, and I'm sorry for everything," gesturing towards yourself and the room to give him a general understanding of the situation. A small laugh escaped Felix's lips as you quickly turned on your heels to avoid further questions.

You spin back around, startled by the sudden interruption of Changbin's monotone voice. "Hold on," he says, his expression unreadable. "Management requires your attention. They need you to sign some important papers."

Hyunjin intervened, reaching out to grab Binnie's shoulder, and spoke up calmly and gently. "Don't be so harsh on them. Felix had good intentions and was only trying to do something kind for them. I believe anyone in his position would have done the same for you."

Minho chimed in, adding his two cents to the conversation. "It's not fair to blame Felix for Seungmin's loose lips," he remarked, his tone tinged with amusement.

Seungmin glanced over at IN, a hint of annoyance on his face. "If only someone hadn't taken four hours to get themselves sorted after the show," he muttered, his eyes rolling at the thinly veiled accusation.

"I think you'll find I was busy trying to find Han and Minho who couldn’t find their phones. I spent at least 3 of those hours trying to sort those two out", IN retorted.

"Well, that wasn't exactly why Minho and I took so long." Han retorted before Minhos hand sealed his mouth shut. Your eyes widen in disbelief.

"Okay, enough. We're all tired," Bangchan stepped in, ending the argument. "Let's just have you and your friend sign these documents so we can go to bed and forget that any of this happened." You have never agreed to anything sooner in your life. A staff member showed you a table where two forms were laid out for you and your friend to sign.

Both are labelled: JYPE NON DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT.

Damn. It is not the NDA you were expecting to receive after a concert, but here you are, and at this point, you just want to be out of there and back in your own, much lower-standard hotel. A pen is quickly handed to you by another member of the seemingly endless staff, and you sign it without reading through the document. 

After receiving an NDA from the group of eight men, you force a smile and turn away, feeling a mix of disappointment and frustration. As you approach the reception desk to order a taxi back to your hotel, you can't help but replay the night's events. The concert you had been eagerly anticipating for weeks had turned out to be a huge letdown, and the insensitive comment from Changbin had just added insult to injury. You try to push the negative thoughts aside and hope that when you wake up, it will all have been a crazy, vivid dream, and the disappointing concert will be just a distant memory.

NEXT CHAPTER

𝖶𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾? 𝖳𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾! 𝖬𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝖻𝗈𝗑 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗎𝗒𝗌! 

𝖶𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗃𝗈𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍? ����𝗋𝗈𝗉 𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝗋 𝖣𝖬!

[x-aefx]

ONE TIME THING - BELLA RAMSEY (PART3)

Pictures above are not mine

Summary: unbeknownst to you, you meet actor Bella Ramsey. You two hit it off but your paths lead two different directions.

Bella Ramsey x female reader

Warnings: none

Taglist: @evieguhbyebroski @amberputh @assgardangod @just-here-to-read-fanfictions @eddiesgirlsblog

I used she/them pronouns for Bella.

A/N: not proofread !

Part one⬇️

★★

The small piece of paper kept itself crumpled in the back pocket of your trousers for the remainder of your shift. Sometimes you found yourself holding onto it when you zoned out, like some weird necessity.

Everytime you thought your shift was near it's end, you'd look over at the clock and it was like it went back an hour. You didn't know why you were so excited. you knew bella gave you her number so you would text her, but you were dreadful at texting.

Just text bella like you text Aaron.

No. Definitely not.

The seventh time you looked over at the old clock that hung amongst the rest of the decorations displayed on the walls, you felt as if the guy in the clouds finally listened to you for once in your life.

All the burns and pains in your arms you had endured suddenly became worth it.

You ignored the confused faces off your coworkers as you sped past them and towards the door. The cold breeze hit your face Instantly, working in that stuffy café made it very much welcomed.

The taxi ride home was quiet. You exchanged a few words with the driver about the weather and what was happening on the news. The entire ride home your leg shook up and down, from the worry or nerves you couldn't tell.

You watched the life outside you pass you by from the window, 90s greatest hits played on the radio at a low volume, you had the urge to tell the driver to turn it up but decided it was better to leave him alone.

"here we are, miss. "

Your small home came into view. It wasn't the fanciest house, but it was yours and you loved it. It was a small two story brick house, ivy was growing along the side of it (you thought it looked pretty in a way) the design was something straight out of victorian times but that never bothered you. It was cozy and safe and you were able to call it home. Thanking the driver you stepped out of the black vehicle, your phone and purse in your hand.

Walking up the small footpath leading to the dark green door you listened to the sound of the taxi driving away amongst the other traffic, the sounds of children and adults conversing. You made a mental note to replace the flowers that were on your windowsill, their dying petals falling from the plant pot they resided in.

Unlocking the door you stepped out of your shoes and took off your coat. Making your way into the living room you dropped your phone on the couch. You paced back and fourth.

"this is so fucking stupid!" You groaned in frustration as you covered your face with your hands.

The sound of soft padding on the wooden floor captured your attention. Your frustration temporarily gone at the sight.

Toby ran as fast as any kitten could at only a few weeks old. He was only the size of your hand. He sat directly on your foot, looking up at you expectantly.

You laughed, all your thoughts completely gone.

Bending down to pick the tiny fluffball up you craddled him in your arms. Toby rested on his back in your arms, all four paws fighting with the air to try grab at your hair. You rubbed your hand on his white stomach, covered with thick fluffy fur. You kissed his nose.

"I love you buddy. But I wouldn't trust you to protect the house. you sleep in my bed for the entire day."

Toby let out a soft meow. Your heart melted, all the love you had for this little guy couldn't be normal.

"yeah yeah, your life is so hard." You teased. Bending down again you placed him gently on the floor.

Your head turned to your phone once again. You sighed. It was Bella. A complete stranger, but it was still just Bella. Why were you stressing? Closing your eyes for a second you tried to collect your thoughts. You came to the conclusion that a warm shower was needed right now. You would text Bella after.

Leaving your phone where it lay on the couch you made your way for the stairs, only to stop. You turned back around, looking at the floor where you stood, expecting to see Toby only for him to not be there. Your eyes moved to where you placed him Infront of the couch. Toby lay sleeping.

"you've got to be kidding me?" You rolled your eyes. Trust Toby to not be able to stay awake for more than five minutes. Walking back you picked him up again and held him in your arms as you made your way upstairs. Upon entering your room you placed him under your duvet against your pillows: his favorite spot.

Walking into the bathroom you immediately began undressing yourself. You wasted no time before stepping inside the shower. The warm droplets of water felt magical on your skin. The tension in your body relaxed, your mirror fogged with steam. Those twenty minutes you spent in the shower was the most peace you've had the entire day.

When you had eventually gotten out and dressed in a more comfortable attire, you briskly moved down towards the living room. Picking up your phone you walked back up the stairs, you were afraid the more you stopped to think about what you were about to do, the more likely you were not to do it.

Crawling beneath the duvet, you cuddled up beside Toby on your side. Unlocking your phone you typed in Bella's number, you were ashamed that you had stared at the number for so long that you had accidentally learned it off by heart.

What would you say?

Hey, bella, it's me a random texting you at night! How are you?

Hey! It's the girl that can't stop thinking of you!

Good evening Bella, it's the stranger who sat beside you on the bus.

Fuck. My. Awkwardness.

You envied Bella for her boldness. Perhaps if you had given them your number first, they would have to be the one to start the conversation first, not you.

Pondering it some more in your head, your thumb began moving around your keyboard once again.

Oh my god

Oh my god

Oh my god

The moment you pressed 'send' you regretted it immediately.

''They're going to think I'm such a weirdo.'' you groaned. You ruined all imaginary chances you had with Bella.

"why do I do this to myself?" You whispered.

★★

"I take offense! I give great advice!"

"right. And how exactly has that ended?"

"I literally get called 'daddy' everyday by people on the internet."

Bella rolled their eyes knowing Pedro could see it as they were on FaceTime.

Bella rested their chin in their hand as they continued to listen to Pedro's rambling. Laying on their bed whilst on call with Pedro was one of their favorite ways to spend their evenings, especially when moments like these were rare considering both of their busy timetables.

Bella's eyes briefly looked up at the incoming notification before going back to Pedro. Only when the realization fully hit them a second later did she do a double take. Suddenly sitting up on her bead, Bella reread the notification over and over again in disbelief.

It's was a message from an unknown number.

"hey, it's y/n."

A simple three word text that meant the absolute world to Bella. Their heart was beating like crazy at the thought of you. Bella could imagine your face in their mind right now. You standing there looking all pretty.

Bella smiled widely.

They were terrified that they had scared you off, creeped you out by showing up at your work and giving you their number before they ran off. And when you hadn't texted them earlier, it confirmed their thoughts in their mind. It saddened them, thankfully they managed to call Pedro at a time when he wasn't busy. Bella had managed to avoid the thought of you and the possibility that they had ruined all imaginary chances that they had with you.

Until now, now it was all they could think about.

"what's got you all smiley then, huh?"

"nothing, hey I gotta go-something came up-"

"Are you blushing!" Pedro accused whilst he laughed at his friends reddened face.

"no-i have to go bye!"

"hey you didn't answer my question -"

Call ended

Bella rolled onto their stomach as they opened their messages, clicking on your text. They felt all giddy inside, like they were a child again.

Quickly they typed out a response.

Bella bit their lip anxiously as they continually read over their response waiting to find something wrong with it.

"Please don't think I'm a weirdo" Bella whispered desperately to herself.

★★

You squealed once you read Bella's message.

There was no getting rid of the smile on your face.

Immediately you started typing again.

This time you felt a little less nervous about texting Bella, the nerves were replaced with excitement.

The 'sent' changed to 'seen' immediately. You watched with anticipation as the three dots moved.

You giggled. You knew Bella was referring to seeing them act on the show. You must admit the urge to ask a trillion questions about their acting career and each of their characters was strong, but you didn't want Bella to see you as some overbearing, nosy fan.

You were laughing now. Everytime you read another of Bella's texts, the more your face reddened and the fluttering feeling in your stomach multiplied.

You let out a breath.

You hoped you hadn't fucked everything up now.

Please don't think I'm a weirdo

★★

Bella's whole face was red now.

They smiled widely as they kept reading your messages.

You knew who they were!

The thought made Bella excited. A different sort of excitement, almost proud in a way.

You thought they were cool!

Bella laughed in joy and partly because of the flustered feeling they got from thoughts of you.

Play it cool Bella

Bella hid their face in their hands, dropping their hold on their phone instantly like it was lava.

Now matter what, their smile was not ceasing and neither were their giggles or butterflies in their stomach.

--

[magnolix]

The Road Home | a kny isekai { 1 }

Synopsis: Once upon a time, you were just a normal girl taking a normal trip with your normal friends. But one day, after a shrine offering gone wrong, you find yourself in Taishō-era Japan.

+ warnings: gn!reader, adhd!reader, insomniac!reader, cursing, violence, mentions of nudity, mention of trauma, pain (inflicted/received), weapons, mentions of taking sleeping medication, mentions of taking medication,

+ word count: 4.2k

+ categories: gn/m, gn/f (partially), isekai, fanfiction

+ hashira, hashira family, kagaya ubuyashiki, kamaboko squad, made up slayers

✩ author's note: this fic is heavily inspired by @kingkyoujurou's "Another Era, Another Universe". please go give it a read because without them I wouldn't have any idea of what I'm doing

chapters: one, two, three, four, five

Compared to others, you had a good life. You were almost done with college, you had a loving family, and you lived in a cute little town in the countryside. But today was different, today, you and your friends were traveling through Japan. And as much as you wanted to go and keep exploring, the sun was setting, and you couldn't risk the wrath of all your friends.

"Come on, just two more stores! I can see a ramen store right there!" You whined as you and your friends all walked into the hotel lobby. They all laughed as you got into the elevator with them.

"Come on Y/n, we went across half of the entire city. That's a lot of walking!" One of them said as she yawned. "Besides, you almost went bankrupt, it's day two and you've already spent two-thirds of your spending." Another commented, wrapping his arm around you to lean on.

You sighed as the elevator doors opened up with a ding. The four of you begrudgingly all walked down. But, nevertheless, you steeled yourself, grabbed your raincoat, your hiking boots, your bag filled with all of your necessities, and your old froggy umbrella. You smiled as you took in a deep breath and opened the door.

You made sure to lock your door and pull against the handle a few times just in case before you took your shoes off. The rest of your friends all undressed as you looked at your phone to see what you had done.

"Maiden Road, raccoon cafe, anime store, maid cafe, oh!" "What is it?" "We missed that shrine near the forest! Can we go now? They say it's best at night!" "Hell no! It's gonna start raining soon and I don't wanna get swept away!" Your other friend said as she let her hair down and snatched up a towel.

You hummed to yourself as you thought about what you all would do tomorrow. But the promise of the shrine visit was killing you. You wanted to see it, no, you NEEDED to see it. You looked back at your friends. You were still in your clothes and had the location up on your phone but you had to come up with a good excuse. After a few minutes, finally, one appeared.

"I'm gonna go downstairs to the little convenience store and buy some food. I'll be back in a second!" Your friends all waved you off as you grabbed your hotel key and made your way downstairs and hailed a taxi. This was gonna be fun.

Ever since you were little, you had always wanted to go to Japan. The food, the culture, the colors, and the people. Anything and everything made you so excited. But most importantly, you wanted to see the shrines. Of all the books you read about Japan, they always mentioned the unique and mystical shrines dotted across the country. And you were gonna try your damndest to visit every single one, no matter what it took.

You paid the driver and got out near a street lamp so you could get your barrings. You slowly began to follow your map which led you through a massive, and eerily quiet, forest. The lack of noise creeped you out and made you wish you had your headphones.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you spotted a paper lantern with the kanji "参道" on it. You followed it until it led to one lantern after another and then, in all of its glory, was the shrine. It was a tall pillar of white stone that was surrounded by smaller statues and beautiful wisteria trees. Each flower was a beautiful purple and seemed to almost glow in the moonlight.

You sighed and took a moment to catch your breath, silencing your phone and rolling up your sleeves. You walked up, bowed, clapped your hands twice, and went to reach for your--

oh,

oh no,

"HOW DO I NOT HAVE ANY COINS?" Your scream caused a stir in the forest. You panicked and patted down all your pockets. Surely you had at least one 10 yen coin, but none were found. "I can't turn back. I'm not gonna turn back." You thought about what you could offer. Paper money wouldn't be okay, nor your credit card, and then you thought about a different offering.

You walked over and pulled off a wisteria flower. You knew it was wrong and not the right offer, but you were desperate. You placed it down and yawned. You were more than ready to go back to the hotel and get some sleep, but you still had one more thing to take care of.

As you turned your heel to walk out, a twig snapped somewhere in the dark forest. How cliche, You thought to yourself. You scrambled to get your phone and turn on your flashlight but it was knocked out of your hand by a hand full of claws. You looked up and were face to face with a...a...

"HOLY SHIT IT HAS TEETH!" Your fight-or-flight instinct kicked it, and you chose flight. You ran into the forest, not caring about staying on the path, you just needed to get away. You ran past trees, jumped over rocks, and eventually tripped over a large root before landing on your face. The creature grew closer, breathing heavily and making noises like a wild animal. You turned over to meet your fate, but before you could, sleep clouded your vision and a moment later, you were out.

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

As you started to stir, you could hear voices and a soft, flickering noise. You opened your eyes expecting to be surrounded by your friends and hospital equipment but instead were surrounded by empty beds, a few strangers, and the stench of old bandages. Your nose stung from the smell alone. You did your best to sit up but felt a pair of tiny hands push you back down.

“No no no! You need to stay down Miss L/n!” The little girl whined. She looked as if she was going to pass out, her little worried expression was precious. But that still begged the question…

“How do you know my name?” “Oh no, Miss L/n have you forgotten?” “And who are you?” “I-I’m Terauchi, don’t you remember? I work with Nakahara-chan and Takada-chan. Oh no, do you really not remember?” Terauchi looked as if she were about to cry. All of the others in the room looked at you with concern. Some even looked with pity. Could these be your friends? Did you just wake up from a coma? Have you been living in Japan the entire time? Was life a simulation? You did your best to remain calm but couldn’t.

Terauchi ran out of the room and came back with two others who you could only assume were Nakahara and Takada, following behind was a slightly older girl with big blue eyes and short hair. She walked over and held your hand as your breathing returned.

What felt like only a few minutes ago, you had been running for your life in a forest from some sort of thing. And now, you’re waking up in a whole new world surrounded by people you didn’t recognize. Even worse, these people somehow knew you. You needed to calm down.

You took in a deep breath as the girls around you all smiled and let you take your time. You did what you could to calm down as your heartbeat slowed and your pulse went to normal. Terauchi hugged you while she and the other little girls left, leaving behind the older girl.

“Can you really not remember anything?” Her voice was surprisingly stern for someone so young. Like a mom but…teenier.

“No, I can’t. And who are you?” “Aoi, and you’re in the butterfly mansion.” “That’s a weird name.”

Aoi groaned and reached into her apron, pulled out a small paper bag, opened it, poured out some medicine into a small cup next to you, and mixed it thoroughly before handing it back. “Drink this three times a day, morning, noon, and night. Don’t move around too much, you’re still too weak to be walking. And for the love of God if you need help just shout and someone will come.” As you drank, your eyes wandered around the room.

It was large enough to fit at least 8 patients but small enough to still be manageable. It was bright as well. All of the windows were wide open letting in a nice, cool breeze. The smell of the gravel and the sound of the trees reminded you of your home. You managed to take a deep breath as Aoi gave you a nod and left.

After that, it took you a while to realize this was no dream. Actual weeks went by. So much so that you had to start training. You had only ever picked up a sword to do cosplay or just to drool over the idea of having a big piece of metal in your hands, but this was new. This was going to be your life now. You were a demon slayer, more specifically a Kanoe, just like one of the other inhabitants of the mansion. Her name was Kanao from what you remembered. This meant two very important things.

First and foremost, this was not your first injury. You had been here before, fighting demons and kicking ass. Secondly, it meant that you had survived. Somehow, you and your dumbass self had survived a dozen or more demons, multiple times. However…

It also sucked.

The others around you that you had come to learn were your friends all started to leave you out of sessions. Your memory loss wasn’t enough to prove to them that you weren’t the same person they thought you were. You were left to figure out what you could do on your own. And, surprisingly, you were able to figure a little out. You learned how to block and how to swing. That was it. Just enough so you could defend yourself and run like hell away.

But even if you had learned a lot, you still had the issue of going back to the butterfly mansion at the end of the day to sleep in a room that wasn’t yours. Your phone was gone and you were slowly going insane. Plus the infinite amount of books you could find wasn’t gonna be enough for you.

But finally, after a few weeks of training and getting yourself back together, another one of the demon slayers approached you. He seemed excited as he approached you in the hallway.

“L/n! L/n! Guess what?” “Hmm?”

You struggled to remember his name before pronouncing it slowly. “Ez..ume…right?” The boy’s eyes lit up and nodded. A smile appeared on both of your faces as you listened.

“We’re heading to Swordsmith Village! We’re finally gonna get our Nichirin blades!” You raised one of your eyebrows in confusion.

“Don’t we already have swords?” “The training ones? No! Those are wooden, they could never kill a demon.” He hit the back of your head in a friendly manner. “Come on, L/n, you need to keep up.”

You let out a chuckle and rubbed your head. “Well, when do we leave?” “Before daybreak, tomorrow. Your crow should be here any minute to give you more info.” Ezume looked back down the hall at a smaller group of slayers who were waving for him to join. He smiled and waved at you before running over to join them before they all disappeared further into the mansion.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, your crow arrived practically screaming at you about your mission. As it did, you took your uniform off and cleaned it up for tomorrow. You left your room to go and eat before you and Ezume chatted for a bit; even going outside to practice your skills before you both parted ways.

The moon above you glowed in the middle of the night sky as you finally entered your room. Your face was washed, your uniform was cleaned, and even your crow was fast asleep. You pulled the covers up and held them close as the sounds of crickets and the trees waved. Yet, you couldn’t sleep. Usually, you have the option of taking some meds to help you out. But now you were forced to lay awake as the moon’s glow filled your room.

Hours went by and you continued to lay awake in your room. You didn’t have a clock but considering how late or early it was you got up and readied your uniform. But you couldn’t help but hear the faint noise of conflict a few doors down. You walked over and pushed open your door before sneaking off and creeping down the hallway. The two voices were entirely different. The first one was soft and gentle with a sad undertone, a female’s voice. The second was husky and filled with anger. A male voice.

As you approached a corner you paused and stuck your ear out to listen to the two.

“Please, Y/n just needs more time. I’m sure that they’ll be back to their duties very soon.” “You don’t understand, they’ve never been like this. Ever! Something happened in Akigawa \valley, something bad.” You could feel the house shake as you heard what sounded like a punch to the wall. “They’re practically a different person!” “Y/n has been learning, they’re getting better. It’s a memory issue--” “Repeating it to me won’t change my mind Shinobu! They had enough skills to become a Hashira!”

You let out a small yawn, it was barely above a whisper but somehow caught the attention of the two. You felt a big hand grab your wrist and pull you into the light. The man holding your wrist was tall and had white, spiky hair and surprisingly pretty, pale purple eyes. The other was more familiar to you, Shinobu, the head of the mansion. A little ravenette with purple eyes and short hair. She frowned at seeing you listening in but instead walked over and pulled the man away.

“Sanemi, that’s enough. You’re hurting them.” Shinobu smiled at you as she looked over at you. “You’re healing, that’s good! Are you excited to go to the village?” You nodded at her words only to get shouted at by Sanemi.

“Don’t speak to them as if they’re a child, they’re a demon slayer. They’re practically a Hashira--” “I am a Kanoe and I fucking enjoy it!” You said with a strange sense of pride. You stared the white-haired hashira dead in the eyes as a sadistic smile crept onto his face. He grabbed your collar and lifted you up with ease. His eyes burned red like burning hot daggers.

“What did you just say? Did a weakling just speak back to me? I must have misjudged you, maybe you aren’t ready to be a Hashira. Maybe you’re dead meat.” “And maybe you’re a bitch.” You could feel your heart racing as you said those words. A sick comeback you would only think of in the shower, you couldn’t wait to tell the others. If you were still alive at that point.

“Why I outta--” “Caw! Wake up, wake up! Caw! You must leave for Swordsmith village!”

Your crow screamed from your room as you heard several others wake up and scurry to get their uniforms on. Shinobu separated you from Sanemi before you fell down, bowed to both of them, and ran to your room, putting on your uniform and getting a small bag ready. You followed your crow out to the gates of the grand estate where you met up with the others and set off on your journey.

“Hey L/n, you don’t look so good, are you-” “Later, Ezume. Later."

.・。.・゜☂・.・☽・゜・。.・。.・゜☂・.・☽・゜・。.・。.・゜☂・

The trek to the village had been long and rough. You all had tried to stay happy and kept morale up but it was no use. The mountains you had to climb over, the valleys you had to walk through, and the stupid paths you kept getting lost on made you want to rip your hair out. Sure, it had been pretty, there were birds and stuff but it was still almost a full day of traveling.

So by the time that you arrived at the village with your company in tow, you were ready to rest. The entrance was a tall group of houses that led to a long narrow road. The sound of clanging metal and the scent of steam was almost too much for you but you went on. The others all seemed to have a designated location to go to. Some of the smiths opened their doors and gave them their blades almost immediately. Others welcomed them with open arms and offered them food and drink. Ezume walked to a small house and was led in to go and see his swordsmith, leaving you alone to stand awkwardly for all to see.

You walked around the rows of buildings, listening to the sounds of laughter and work mixed together. The smell of sake and steam drifted through the air making your nose twitch, you never really enjoyed alcohol. And as you rounded the corner, you felt an oddly familiar hand touch your shoulder.

“Y/n! It is very good to see you! How are you?” Standing next to you was a tall man in a clown mask, you hopped back a bit as you didn’t recognize him. He tilted his head and lowered himself, holding up his hands in a friendly manner. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Ah- Uhm..” “L/n lost their memory!” Ezume shouted as he walked up to you, at his hip was a long sheath which you assumed held his new sword. “They what?” The man shouted in a rageful voice. He looked between you and Ezume. “When did this happen? Was it a demon? Where is your sword?”

You put your hands over your ears as the man went on, expressing not just anger about what had happened to you, but also anger about his swords. Some of the other villagers had to practically come out and hold him back while he calmed down. As he did, another stranger appeared. He was much older, and frailer too.

“Ah, young L/n,” He said with a bow “I see that you have come for your blade, yes?” “Yes sir?” You offered him a weak smile, he let out a soft chortle and walked over to the screaming ball of rage. 

“Hotaru, you are an esteemed sword maker, please act as such.”

“Yes, Chief Tecchin.” Hotaru managed to calm himself down, stand up and took your hand to lead you to his home. He opened up the sliding doors and you were met with the sight of a busy workspace. A barrel of water, a large anvil, and several sticks of Dango everywhere, both clean and unfinished. He let your hand go and reached up to a tall shelf before pulling down a long, elegant blade.

Your eyes sparkled as you looked at it. It was long and completely black with a unique hilt. It was a lavender-colored oval-shaped hilt with a dark purple rim, on the top was a detailed etching of a familiar-looking tree next to what looked like a statue of sorts. Hotaru took a moment to admire his work before carefully handing you the blade. You took it with a grateful bow of your head before holding it in both hands. As you did, the blade began to take a beautiful greyish-pink and purple color, much like the trees that had surrounded the master’s estate when you had visited last. 

“The handle is a mixture of wisteria and cork as per your request. I understand that your hands tend to sweat during battle so the cork will be able to absorb the residue until you clean it next.” Hotaru reached over and pointed at the hilt and opened his hands as if asking for it. You gave it to him and he reached into his pocket to pull out a long piece of fabric. He set the sword down and tied the fabric across the hilt in a unique pattern before handing it back to you once more. “Try holding it.”

Because of how it had been wrapped, the blade fitted perfectly into your hands with ease, familiar and comforting ease. You stood up and twirled it around a bit, smiling and laughing like an idiot the whole time. Hotaru cleaning enjoyed seeing his work admired.

“Welp, that does it for us. I’m delighted to have seen you and hope your memory returns.” Hotaru gave you a nod as you gathered yourself and walked out, offering him a wave before walking toward the rest of the slayers.

“Yep, me too…”

.・。.・゜❋・.・⍋・゜・。.・。.・゜❋・.・⍋・゜・。.・。.・゜❋

Darkness had fallen faster than anticipated forcing the slayers to run. They still had a while before they were close to the roads but that wasn’t their main worry. Their main worry as of now was surviving, and Y/n wasn’t helping. So, with blades held tight and their minds focused on getting the hell back to the butterfly mansion, they ran as fast as they could through the tall brush, unable to see if they were heading the right way.

Darkness had fallen faster than anticipated forcing the slayers to run. They still had a while before they were close to the roads but that wasn’t their main worry. Their main worry as of now was surviving, and Y/n wasn’t helping. So, with blades held tight and their minds focused on getting the hell back to the butterfly mansion, they ran as fast as they could through the tall brush, unable to see if they were heading the right way.

“Keep going, I think I see a clearing up ahead!” Shouted Ayako, one of the others in the group of five. Sure enough, she was right. Just ahead you could see a small space surrounded by massive trees. You pulled your shit together and ran up to the open space, looking back and watching for both the others to see if anything was chasing you.

Ezume was last to follow, heaving and collapsing once he made it to the clearing. Ayako was having none of it. She kicked his side, forcing him up.

“We need to keep going,” Ayako shouted. “We need to take a break!” Ezume shouted back. “We need to get our bearings.” Yelled another. “We NEED to Shut the fuck up!” You screamed. The others went dead silent as you listened to the forest. This felt all too similar to something else.

The moon was in the middle of the sky and the forest was eerily quiet. You held up a finger to your mouth, having the others quiet down and taking up defensive positions as Ezume got himself up as well. The lack of noise creeped you out and made you wish you had your headphones. Headphones… Headphones.

“What’s the nearest landmark to us right now?” “What?” “Ayako, listen to me, where are we?” “The uh- the valley.” “WHICH FUCKING VALLEY?” “DON’T SHOUT AT ME!”

“Akigawa!” Ezume screamed as he looked around frantically. “Why? What’s wrong?” His question was answered by a twig snapping and a clicking of some hollowed mouth sounded out from the dark forest. You turned to face your enemy. A tall and gangly demon with long limbs and a tongue hanging loosely from its mouth. Its eyes were glossy as if it had been blinded and its body was covered in sparse hairs and battle scars. You went dead quiet, moving ever so closer to your group and whispering as quietly as you could.

“Everyone, don’t panic. I think it can’t see us so whatever you do, don’t-” "HOLY SHIT IT HAS TEETH!"

Your fight or flight kicked it, and you chose flight. You ran into the forest with your comrades, not caring about staying on the path or out of danger, you just needed to get away. You ran past trees, jumped over rocks, and eventually tripped over a rock before landing on your back. A loud crack broke some of the silence and you felt your leg come undone. The footsteps grew closer, breathing heavily and making noises like a wild animal. You turned over to meet your fate, not sure if you were ready to die or not.

You could hear the others running past as you locked your sight on the demon. It approached slowly, sticking its long arms out and waving them like it was using a cane. You had an advantage this time and a good one at that. Your fight or flight kicked it yet again, and this time, you chose to fight.

You managed to get up and got into a battle stance, doing your best to remove as much weight from your broken leg as possible as you held your sword, took a deep breath, and listened to what was around you.

Silence.

Heavy footsteps.

Distant screams.

And a strange sense of power coursing through your body.

You opened your eyes and spoke quietly.

“Wisteria Breathing. First Form: First Spring.” Your body lunged forward and you side-slashed the demon from the right to the left at an angle, taking its head off with a satisfying and clean cut. The demon fell to its knees, turning into ash.

You let your guard down for a moment, stumbling back and falling down, your injury getting worse as you landed on your ass. You let yourself roll onto your back and let out a deep and heavy sigh as the night air washed over you.

“sleep now, young one”

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✩ author's note pt2: HOLY CARP! FOUR THOUSAND WORDS! I guys, it's ya girl, Magnolix. I first off want to say thank you to everyone who's supported me, liked, commented, reblogged, and all of that stuff. It means the world to me ♡ In the future, I'll be doing smaller stories as well as continuing this larger story. I've never written Isekai before so this had been fun. I hope you all enjoyed this fic and I'll see ya later,

~Ciao

[ceeceefangirling]

i got really sentimental about odasaku and then i wrote this thing which is kind of formatted weird and maybe does not make sense lolol. but here u go!!

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bungo stray dogs fanfiction ~ odasaku x female reader ~ pregnancyy

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one thing leads to another and suddenly, suddenly, you’re seated at a bartop, staring at a glass of chocolate milk and waiting waiting waiting. heart in your throat, lungs in your stomach. swallow hard and fast. when will he be here? the barkeeper pours you another glass. you chug half of it. when will he be here?

swing of a door and you hear his footsteps. you don’t need to look up. it’s him.

he greets you with a kiss to the side of your head - your temple - and you feel his hands on your arms, guiding them into the sleeves of his coat. “you’re shivering.”

he sits down next to you and the bartender sets a glass down before him. his usual drink. you both wait until it’s poured, shimmering amber in front of him.

he takes a sip and glances over at you. you haven’t looked at him once.

he doesn’t ask. he doesn’t pressure you. he looks away, at his drink, at the ice floating inside of it.

“enjoying the rain?”

flash of need through you. get it out. get it out. you lean towards him, desperate for your mouth at his ear, desperate for as much privacy as you can get; and he leans forward, obliging.

you claw at him, unconsciously, nails digging into his neck as you drag his head even closer.

“i’m pregnant,” you hush into his ear, as faintly as you can. if you don’t speak it it’s not true. if you don’t speak it it’s not true

he’s silent.

you’re silent.

the barkeeper is minding his own business on the other end of the bar.

it’s just the two of you, isn’t it? just the two of you, your world rapidly constricting around you.

he’s the one not looking, now. you’re staring at him. desperate. look at me. tell me what you’re thinking.

but you already know, don’t you? he’s thinking the same four thoughts as you are.

thought one.

perfect perfect perfect perfect perfect. rush of everything golden and good. this is what you want. this is what you want. you’ve craved this you’ve needed this more than anything more than oxygen. a family. our family. our child our family me and you you and i our child our child our child our

thought two.

cold. chilling. ice down the spine.

if they target us, now, they target them.

thought three.

it’s dangerous, isn’t it? this line of work. this line of living. we’ve doomed our child. we’ve doomed our family. we’ve doomed our future. we knew this. we knew we could never have a family together. we accepted this. we accepted anything just to hold each other. there is no space in our life. there is no space in our life.

thought four.

we are lost. we are sinking. we are lost. we are sinking. we are

he does not speak. he is staring at the countertop.

you apologize, even though it is not entirely your fault. it is not something you could have helped. but your hands are shaking, and so are his, and you know that he has never ever breathed a word to you - he could never bear to - but he has never wanted needed craved for yearned for anything, anything more than to hold your own child.

you apologize again. he shakes his head.

he shakes his head.

he knocks back his drink and stands up.

“we should go,” he tells you. “go home.”

“but -”

he knows you. he knows the tightening around your ribcage when confronted with anything uncomfortable at home.

“we should go home,” he tells you, firmly.

he’s looking at you, now.

you slide off of your barstool and let him lead you off. he hails a taxi outside. usually you would walk.

neither of you speak on the drive to your apartment. how can you speak with the driver there, listening, intruding?

it takes him a few tries to get the keys into the door. you try to help, reaching out with your own shaky hands, but he jams the key in before you can do much.

the lights are off in the apartment. your hair is wet.

you don’t move to turn on the light. neither does he.

“saku -”

and he’s crashed into you, his arms tight around you, his mouth on yours his tongue on yours. he’s desperate. you stagger backwards. he follows, follows, until he’s pressed you tight against a wall, knocking over a picture frame, or a glass. who cares? he’s devouring you whole.

“saku -” you gasp, and he kisses your neck, his arms still clenching you like you’ll escape from him if he loosens his grasp even a little bit, even a little.

he does not speak. he moves to your lips again, his tongue still hot and thick in your mouth. you can hear him whining in the back of his throat.

you let him kiss you, eat you, swallow you. he loses momentum after a while, still pinned against the wall. he drops his head, panting, rests his forehead against your shoulder.

“having my baby,” he says, now, his voice husky and choked, wet with passion, love, hope, terror, reverence.

you put one hand on the back of his neck. it’s warm, and sweaty.

“i’m -” you try.

what are you?

sorry? angry? scared?

you can’t name the emotions like that, like a preschooler still learning how to feel. you want to kill something, and eat something, and watch your husband press his lips to your child’s forehead. you want to hear him tell them stories, see his eyes light up as he looks at them.

“i’m -”

he kisses you again, soft, lingering. his mouth tastes like whiskey and blood. he’s bitten through his tongue.

“i’m so happy,” he whispers. he doesn’t sound happy, does he? he still hasn’t turned the light on. you put a hand on his cheek. it comes back wet.

“saku -”

your eyes are adjusting to the darkness, just a little. you can see him looking at you. his eyes are big, wet, pleading. his lips are trembling.

you touch his cheek again. scratchy. he hasn’t shaved. his tears are warm and salty on your fingers.

“saku,” you whisper, again.

he presses his forehead to yours. his breaths are hot and quick.

he starts to say something, and stops. he’s whimpering, whining, straining sounds of pain or anger or horror or

“i think we should get some sleep,” you tell him.

he nods.

he insists on showering, first. his skin is coated with a layer of sweat, dirt, blood, rain. he stands under the water for a little too long. you sit under the covers and wait for him, folding and unfolding your fingers, nervous, nervous.

he's silhouetted in the doorway for a moment. his hair is sticking up.

he clicks off the bathroom light and crawls into bed next to you. the mattress creaks and shifts.

you lay, silent, in the dark. backs flat on the bed. eyes up at the ceiling.

he is thinking.

he can’t speak right now but his mind is so loud.

two things he wants, more than anything. writing and a family.

he’s got those orphans, holed up on a second floor. but they’re not quite the same thing. they don’t have his eyes, or her fingers. they’re not his.

he shuts his eyes, so tight that sparks flit across the back of his eyelids. she’s pregnant.

and he should be happy - he should be - but it’s hard to be happy under these conditions. worrying about the orphans is bad enough. and if they have a kid - his own kid - he’s going to wear himself out, worrying. he’s going to tear a hole through his stomach.

he turns over to look at her. her eyes are open. she’s staring at the ceiling.

he reaches out for her, his fingers brushing over her cheek. she turns her face. her eyes are shimmering.

neither of them speak. how could they?

how can you speak like this?