#michelle hue

[tashayarr]

Magnum P.I. - 1980 7.21 | Limbo

#magnumpiedit #mpiedit #classicmagnumedit #magnum pi #madame hue #michelle hue #marta dubois #*cas

[filmonizirani-filmo]

The Last Kumite (2024) - #BillyBlanks, #CynthiaRothrock, #KurtMcKinney, #MatthiasHues, #MichelQissi, #RossWClarkson https://filmonizirani.net/the-last-kumite-2024/

#Billy Blanks #Cynthia Rothrock #Kurt McKinney #Matthias Hues #Michel Qissi #Ross W. Clarkson

[alphabetboyluvr]

the curious lifespan of migrating monarchs - jjk

THE CURIOUS LIFESPAN OF MIGRATING MONARCHS (& other aurelian affairs)

pairing: streamer!jk x international student!female oc (s2l)

warnings: strangers to lovers, clubbing, foul language, alcohol, vaping lol, jungkook is kinda famous, the oc is oblivious, the oc is also a foreign student who has very recently arrived in Korea!! (pls note - while i've been in korean uni dorms, i've never been in yonsei dorms specifically so don't shout at me if it isn't supeeeerr accurate), jaykay is speaking in eng for like 90% of this!!, i've also never watched a gaming streamer and had to do so for research lmao so there's a lot of guesswork going awwwn <3, the oc has tattoos, they bond over this, cute nicknames (tokki and nabi <3), one bed trope?? kinda, jaykay lives w/ yoongi and tae (they are streamers too (and dj?? (tae is a bit unhinged))), jungkook wears calvins!, a singular appearance of yoongi in his boxers!!, tipsy hookup, fingering, protected sex (woo!), desk sex, oral (m receiving), girliepop swallows <3, brief mentions of jungkook's starry eyes, lots of kisses, bunny ears, (1) mention of cross-fit

wordcount: 13011

note from holly: this was a commission done for the lovely Michelle over on my kofi page!! i don't open commissions often, but when I do I'm very lucky that the requests are so much fun. this actually ended up being way longer than it was supposed to be lol and is also available on wattpad!! also fun facts for you - I imagine the boys apartment (and jks room!) to be same as jk + jimins place in BD, just a little bigger lmao

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

CLUB SUNDOWN WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE SATURDAY 02:24

Time ceases to exist after the sun goes down in Seoul. It could be two, or it could be five. The only thing that really clues you in on the actual time is the DJ schedule that lights up behind the decks: 02:00-03:00, Blu-Tae.

It's some guy you've never heard of. Looks no older than you. Probably a student, just like the rest of the crowd.

His hair is as blue as his namesake, which does make you smile, and his choices aren't bad either (even if somewhat questionable). You've never heard a jazz remix of Darude's Sandstorm before, and you doubt you ever will again.

Club Sundown is just as rogue as the rest of the city after the sun goes down. Hidden in the basement—like all the best places in Seoul are—the small room is packed to the absolute brim.

Who cares for views and sunsets offered by rooftop bars when you could lose yourself in the debauchery of an eternal midnight, instead?

Drinks are spilt on strangers, and dances have lost the grandeur of old-fashioned waltzes. It's not like you could dance properly, even if you wanted to. There's just simply no space.

Like Alice, you're down the rabbit hole—and oh, how you prefer it to being in the real world. In the shadows, you can be anyone you like.

If you were sober, you'd know this is also the case for daily life. You're in a new country with no ties to your former self. Who you are is who you choose to be.

But the shadows aren't all that dark. The red lights of the club bleed into the cracks, painting everyone in the same subtle hue of danger.

They shine a little light on the identifiers of you; the thin black lines of your patchwork tattoos. Trailing up your arm, they're memories of your past selves, and an indicator of who you hope to become.

"Down this," you say to your dormmate, Rae, handing back over the drink you've just ordered from the bar. "Cloakroom, then dance."

Still carrying your winter coats, you'd wanted to check the place out before committing to it. Entry is free, but the cloakroom is the same price as a drink. It would only be worth putting your coats away if you knew you wanted to stay—and given the fact the DJ was playing O-Zone's Dragostea Din Tei as you entered, you know it's a no-brainer. While his stage name might make you roll your eyes a little, Blu-Tae certainly does cater to your tastes. When you're drunk, and music vibrates through you, it's empyrean. No place you'd rather be.

"Oh, Jesus," Rae gags as she sips the drink you've just handed her. Despite her disgust, she's laughing. Head to toe in black, dark hair loose around her shoulders, she's been your ride-or-die since you arrived in Seoul. Both international students in the same dorm, there's no one you'd rather get up to no good with. "Vodka?!"

You beam at her like you're from the heavens above, wrongfully relegated to the depths of sin. Pretend like you love vodka. It's totally not like you panicked when you saw the menu was all in Korean.

Vodka-coke is a universally understood delicacy—the easiest thing for you to order without making a tit of yourself or butchering the pronunciation. When the bartender ignored your botched attempt at ordering in Korean and answered in fluent English, you'd wanted to melt into the floor. So embarrassing.

You're here, like most foreign students, for a language course. Semester is yet to start, and as much as you've studied and practised hard, it's always different when putting it into practice.

"I'm sorry," you laugh. "It's fine—you can order next time!"

But Rae has the exact same predicament as you. If anything, your language skills are better than hers, so you really have no hope. It's vodka-cokes for the evening, or maybe highballs. Once your tipsy brain manages to compute hangul cocktail names, you'll be golden, but that won't be for another few weeks, yet.

You'll look back at this time of your life fondly, realising how simple it all was, even if it feels incredibly overwhelming right now.

Funnily enough, hope is exactly what you have: for the semester ahead, for this new life you're forging, for the opportunities that may come your way.

In fact, by the time you're on your third vodka coke, you've managed to convince yourself you actually like it. You also can't taste it, thanks to the bartender freepouring a 60-40 ratio of vodka to coke in the first drink. Your tastebuds were wiped out pretty much instantly.

Coats in the cloakroom, you're glad to be wearing thin layers. The room is stuffy; your skin sweaty. While meeting new friends had been the goal, you keep to yourself. Dance like nobody is watching. Hold Rae's hands to stay close and ward off weirdos. Quickly realise that clubs back home are slightly different. Pay it no mind. Ignore the intrusions of hands on waists, because men, disappointingly, are no different.

Or at least most of them aren't.

But most of them don't look like the man in the corner booth, laughing with his friends.

Though he is tall, he's eclipsed by his demeanour. Shoulders broad, he's in a dark T-shirt and pair of jeans. Nothing special. Nothing that warrants such a perplexed stare from you - but he's familiar. You can't place him, but he's got the kind of face you swear you've seen before.

Rae doesn't notice the change in your poise, nor how you're desperately trying to work out where you know him from. Perhaps you've seen him around your university? It's only been a couple of weeks, but people are steadily moving in. Maybe he works at the convenience store you constantly find yourself in? Or mans the front desk of the noraebang you and Rae visit pretty much every other evening?

Impossible, you think. If you'd seen him before, you wouldn't have forgotten him, or the way he constantly toys with his lip rings. Plural. There are signs up around the place stating bar rules. NO SMOKING is rule number three. You've seen his friends pass him over a vape a handful of times. Anyone else, and you'd think it was cringe. Embarrassing.

But in the midst of his laughter settling, and a fresh toke being inhaled, his eyes flicker towards yours.

Perhaps it's just because you're drunk, but you don't avert your gaze. Show no shame. The smile on his lips sinks into a smirk as he exhales. An acknowledgement. A 'hello, trouble'.

Again, any other man, you'd find the vape smoke repugnant. Nasty. Now? Watching the way he flicks his tongue against his lip rings?

You wanna know how it tastes.

Black ink weaves an intricate outline of who he is up his arms. Where he's been. Who he's been. A map, if you will, of his soul.

Much like your own tattoos, he's got thick black lines, and little else. Simple, you assume. A man of convenience. Efficiency.

You wonder if he does everything in life with the precision to match his tattoos, and as your lips wrap around the straw of your vodka-coke, you decide you'd quite like to find out.

Interrupted by Rae pulling you deeper into the crowd, your night is spent in and out of shadows. Attempt subtlety. Try not to make your occasional glances to the corner booth noticeable, just checking if his eyes are still on you. More often than not, they aren't—but sometimes they are, and that's enough to fuel your little flirt.

It's not until the sign behind the DJ booth changes from 03:00-04:00, GLOSS into some other guy that you notice your staring contest opponent has slipped into the shadows himself. The booth is void of both him and his friends. Gone.

"GLOSS has a set at another club," Rae all but yells in your ear, and even then, you barely hear her. "All the hotties left when he did. Let's go."

"Where to?!" You laugh, empty cup in hand. Admittedly, the new guy who's stepped into the DJ booth is just not doing it for you. Blu-Tae was just the right amount of unhinged with classics, whereas GLOSS was definitely cooler, but still fun. Had the club yelling curse words over trap remixes just for the fun of it. This new guy, whose name you don't care to remember, takes himself too seriously, you think.

"It's, like, two blocks down," she yells back, tugging on your wrist to drag you to the stairwell that leads you back up to the streets of Seoul. The hustle and bustle of people trying to go in different directions in the tight place forces you apart, but you figure you'll catch up with her, or that she'll be waiting at the top.

You don't know the roads well enough yet to make it to whichever club it's at alone, and quickly realise when you nearly tumble into the side of a waiting taxi that you're far drunker than expected. Knew the bartender was freepouring, but didn't realise just how free those pours really were.

"Woah, easy trouble," a deep voice sounds from behind you as you're steadied to a more stable position.

"I'm good, I'm good!" You insist, shaking off the hands of your 'saviour'. Have no interest in being a damsel in distress, or some sober guy trying to take advantage of you.

Looking down to check your laces are tied properly, you check over your shoulder to make sure the guy isn't creepily waiting for a thank you that he can turn into an intrusive game of 21 questions—'are you open-minded?' or 'do you live alone?'—but when you glance in his direction, you regret it. Notice the tattoos immediately. Recognise the eyes. Want to die.

"Oh."

"Oh," he says back with a smile, imitating you. Suddenly, the confidence you'd had earlier when looking at him from afar dissolves into nothingness, just like the alcohol in your bloodstream. You feel rather sober, but your body would definitely disagree. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, suddenly a little stuck for words, desperately trying to play things cool. "Are you okay?"

The pouting of his lips as his tongue runs along the inside of his cheek only serves to make you internally cringe. Men who look like him have no business being on streets like this. Should be in a museum. Strung up on the walls with the other masterpieces. Admired by everyone who looks his way.

In a way you don't yet realise, he is.

Though he's not in galleries, he's often burning into people's laptop screens. Is the background of a fair few thousand lock screens. Indeed, he is admired by everyone who looks his way, just not in the traditional sense.

"I'm not the one who just fell into a car," he reminds you, as if you could forget your embarrassment so quickly.

"Was just seeing if you'd catch me," you bullshit, the confidence you usually have returning tenfold. Was just a momentary blip. He's just a man, after all.

"Oh?" He chirps, decidedly curious. "So you fell for me?"

"Stumbled."

"Semantics."

His fluency, and the fact he just said 'semantics' so casually in conversation, clues you in on the fact he might be a language student, too. 

Could be useful study partners for each other, you think, then mentally berate yourself for already masterminding ways to see him again.

"So, where you going?" He asks, not caring to downplay his curiosity. The bartenders were free-pouring his drinks just as severely as they poured yours. The only difference is that his were on the house—'cause you were right. He does have a recognisable face. "Should probably go with you. Make sure you don't fall into the road."

"Stumble," you insist, a little pleased with the boldness of his suggestion, but not wanting to blindly agree. "My friend," you say glancing around, only to find yourself completely alone. "She wanted to go catch the next GLOSS set. So, I guess that's where we're going."

"Just down the road," he says, knowing the schedule like the back of his hand. Bounces from club to club supporting his friends, just like they would for him. If he wanted, he could get a slot up there, too. He doesn't care for it. "I'll walk with you, if you want? My friends are heading there anyway."

It's not a bad offer.

In fact, it's probably the best offer you'll get all night.

"C'mon," he nods his head to the side, encouraging you to follow him. Checks his phone for the time. "Starts in five."

If there's one thing you've indulged in since moving to Seoul, it's how safe you always feel. Security cameras are on every corner, and you've walked home countless times without any issues, even late into the night. While the place isn't perfect, it's far safer than your home country.

Still, you're not a complete idiot.

"It's not wise to follow strange men down dark alleys," you tell him.

He holds out his hand. Waits for you to shake it. Cocks a brow when you hesitate, so introduces himself.

"Jungkook. Nice to meet you. Now, can we please hurry up? I promised I'd be there."

Narrowing your eyes, you don't shake his hand. Arms folded over your chest, there is ice to your exterior, and given how warm his eyes are, you doubt it'll last for very long. May as well keep up this hard-to-get act while you still can.

Walking on past him, you call back, "Alright then. Lead the way."

In the domed mirror meant for reversing cars at the end of a tight alley, you see him laugh. "Wrong way, idiot."

Pausing, you scrunch your face up. Don't turn to face him for at least a second or so—but when you do, you're surprised to see him walking towards you. Hooking his arm around your waist, he carries on walking in the 'wrong' direction, taking you with him.

"Was just fucking with you," he grins. Nods towards a sign by another basement entrance, listing both Blu-Tae and GLOSS.

By the door, Rae is looking around like a mother duck who's just lost some of her ducklings when crossing the road. Breathes a sigh of relief when she spots you.

"C'mon," she grins, then realises who you're with. Says nothing of it, 'cause she doesn't want to be weird, but she recognises him, too. Decides she's just had a little too much to drink. There's no way it's him. Holds out her hand for you.

Reaching out for her, you're let go from Jungkook's grip, ready to get lost in the lights once more.

HAEJANG24 WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE SATURDAY 05:53

Seoul is a city for the nocturnal. The restaurants and bars are open until the last men are standing. Given how much you've had to drink, you're surprised you still are.

Rae had dipped an hour or so ago. Had hit it off with Mr Blu-Tae himself. Seduced him with the suggestion that their couple name would be Blu-Rae. He'd said they should go to a DVD-bang. Would be fitting. See what Blu-rays were on file.

Naturally, you'd looked on with mild disgust and also admiration for how quickly she'd worked her magic. Everyone knows what goes down in DVD-bangs. Small private rooms, often with projector screens and the world's least comfortable futons, they're somewhere you hope to never end up—but also can't wait to hear all the details the next morning when Rae comes to your room for a debrief.

You'd been left under the surveillance of Jungkook.

"Look after her," Rae had instructed, then narrowed her eyes. "Or I'll destroy your reputation with a single twitter thread, Tokki."

It's a threat he's taken seriously. Knows how the internet works, and even though he's never done anything worthy of a cancellation, he also doesn't intend on starting now. The fact you seem to have no idea who he is during the daylight hours intrigues him. It's a rarity on streets like these.

Even when a few people asked for pictures with him on your walk to the hangover soup place, you didn't clock it as weird. Figured they were friends passing by, wanting to document their chance run-in. Just another memory of the night. The way Jungkook had greeted them was full of warmth, and kindness. Why wouldn't you assume they were mates?

You were also still incredibly drunk at the time, so didn't think to question it. Was keen for food, and Jungkook had insisted on hangover soup, and so that's where you are. Dishes nearly empty, far more of it eaten by him than you, you're laughing about nothing and everything all at once.

"Right," Jungkook declares, deciding he cannot hold in a question that's been tickling at his brain for the entire meal. "What the fuck is that?"

Coat left in the cloakroom, long forgotten about, your tattoos are on full display for him, just like his are for you. Up your arm they trail; a patchwork of teeny tiny identifiers. Latin phrases around skulls, birth flowers of the people you hold close, butterflies and stars. There's an ode to your favourite musician and your favourite Shakespeare quote, too. The fabric of you etched into your skin. There's no reinventing yourself, even half the world away from home.

You know precisely which tattoo Jungkook is asking about. You've asked yourself the same question a few times.

"Fuck off," you laugh.

While most of your tattoos are gorgeous, there's one that was done by a rogue artist on a girlie holiday a few years ago. What was supposed to be a seashell now looks like... well, nothing really. It's just a blob, thanks to the artist being absolutely terrible. The only solace you find in it is that your two best friends have an equally awful permanent reminder of that holiday on their bodies, too.

"It doesn't look how it's supposed to," you explain with a little pout. "I got royally screwed over."

He cocks a brow. You still haven't told him what it is. He isn't gonna ask you twice.

With a grumble, you feebly admit, "A shell."

And then he's laughing. Really laughing. Laughing so hard you think he might piss himself—which you'd actually prefer, because then he could be the embarrassed one, instead.

"I'm calling you Shelly from now on," he says with a broad smile. Has had his fair share of tattoo blunders, and knows you must've developed an affection towards how shitty it is. Would have gotten it covered up, otherwise. "That's incredible."

"You're calling me so such thing," you assure him, but you also can't help but laugh.

"I am," he tells you, then really solidifies it. "Shelly."

"Fuck off," you whine, doubling down. Scanning his arms, you try and pick out anything you can use against him, too. "If I'm Shelly, then you're Mike."

"Mike?!" He protests.

"Yeah," you insist, pointing towards the microphone on his forearm. "Mike."

"You are not calling me Mike. Do I look like a Mike?!"

"Do I look like a Shelly?!"

You've got a point. It's not the name he would have first associated with you - but it is cute, he thinks. Cute how mortified you seem. Cute how you can't help but smile.

After a little bit of back and forth, it's decided that neither of you look like your namesakes.

"Y'know, we kinda have matching tattoos," he says, holding out his arm for you to study. "Or at least, the placements."

And sure enough, below his elbow lives the outline of a bunny sitting on a crescent moon. Holding your own arm out next to his, below your elbow is a butterfly. Above it, is a teeny tiny moon.

Like Jungkook's moon, it's a crescent. Was supposed to symbolise new beginnings. You wonder what his means, but don't ask. Instead, you marvel at the coincidence of it all.

He presses his index finger against the butterfly on the inside of your forearm. The echoing chatter of the restaurant fades softly into nothingness as he says, "Nabi."

You nod. Even if you have spoken with him in English this entire time, it's nice to hear him speak in his mother tongue, no matter how minimal - so you reciprocate. Press your index finger against his bunny. Smile. Say, "Tokki."

It further confirms to Jungkook that you have no idea who he is. Has been a while since he's met a girl in a circumstance like this where that's the case. Likes the anonymity of it all. Is hiding his identity from you, and yet hasn't felt such vulnerability for years.

"Daltokki, right?" You continue, not wanting the silence to linger for too long. "The rabbit in the moon?"

You're not wrong, but you're also not entirely right.

"Yeah," he smiles regardless. "That's it."

JUNGKOOK'S APARTMENT ITAEWON-DONG, YONGSAN-GU SATURDAY 07:12

"Shhh," Jungkook quietly laughs. 

His hand is over your mouth and the other is on your hip as he guides you into his apartment. With your back to his chest, you've both been giggling for the entire ride to his place.

He had insisted that he should walk you home, and was surprised by the offense you seemed to have taken by this. You then told him that he absolutely could not seduce you, and that it was very gender-role-conforming for him to think that you were incapable of getting home by yourself.

"Maybe I should be the one to make sure you get home safely," you had said with a false sense of concern, which had made him laugh quite considerably.

In all reality, you didn't mind him offering to get you home. You just hadn't tidied your room. Didn't really expect to be taking a boy back to your place, much less one that looks like him.

Together, you'd caught the early morning bus over to Itaewon instead of a taxi, 'cause you're still on a student budget and Jungkook wasn't quite ready to blow his cover just yet.

You've been teasing him—questioning his status as a potential International Super Spy—ever since he took your hand and guided you into one of the flashiest apartment complexes you've ever been in. There was security. Doormen. A passcode for the elevator—not to mention that he was heading up to the seventh floor once you were in it. Might not sound like much, but when there are only seven floors to the entire building, it makes it the penthouse by default.

"It's not a penthouse," he'd insisted. "Plus, I live with friends. Only pay a third of the rent."

But a third of his rent is more money than you'll probably see in three months of post-grad work. You're drunk, but you're not stupid. You also know that the rental market here differs significantly from your home country. Monthly rent is cheap, but the deposits are extortionate. Sure, he'll get it back when he leaves, but to have the initial money needed for a place like this? He's not a regular student, if one at all, that much is sure.

"Not sure who's home," Jungkook whispers as you both kick your shoes off in the entryway. Given the looks of the other shoes, it's clear that this is a guys-only living situation. You're proven right when he continues, "Betcha Tae's still in that damn DVD-bang, but Yoongi might be back."

"Yoongi?" You question.

"GLOSS," Jungkook says, remembering how oblivious you are to who he is. Reaching down to grab your shoes, he isn't gonna leave them by the door. Will take them to his room. Doesn't want the boys asking questions, if they are in. Knows they'll just use it as an excuse to publicly roast him whenever they're next online together.

Given that a stream is scheduled for Sunday night, he doesn't want to tempt fate.

Their current choice of wind-up, which the viewers have been eating up, is the joke that Jungkook is a virgin. He's not, but he never knows how to defend himself without sounding like a tool, so always gets a little awkward. A lot of their viewers love it. Join in on the joke. Some take it seriously. He doesn't care.

Next month, Taehyung will do something dumb, and he'll become the favourite joke for a while. Maybe Yoongi. But for now, it's Jungkook.

None of them take it to heart. They're just a group of friends who share their gaming hangouts online, and accidentally made it to the top of the ranks.

They aren't particularly good at gaming, but that's part of the charm. Crescent Collective is how they're known: Blu-Tae, GLOSS and Tokki.

After a bet went wrong, and they all lost, they ended up with moon tattoos and their respective 'symbols'. Jungkook's is a rabbit, Tae's is a blu-ray DVD disk (because he really is committed to the bit), and Yoongi's is stars to symbolise the shine of fresh gloss. Jungkook's makes the most sense. Yoongi's is pretty decent. Taehyung's is just... Well, it's very him.

Sliding open the door into the main living area, Jungkook has to cover your mouth again when you gasp at the sheer size of the place.

"I thought butterflies were supposed to be silent?" He teases. "Quiet for me, Nabi."

His place is bigger than your family home, you think. Hushing you again, he's laughing—and then he's cursing at the sight of a half-naked Yoongi by the kitchen counter.

In his boxers, with half a clementine slice hanging from his lips, he's just as shocked to see Jungkook with you. Gets over it pretty quickly.

"Don't mind me," he says, chewing down on the fruit with a smirk. Looks towards you. "Apologies for the lack of clothes."

With your shoes hooked on his fingers, Jungkook's other large hand is still over your mouth. You're not sure you can form any words as it is, but you do notice the crescent moon and stars on Yoongi's ribs.

"Not a word to Tae," is all Jungkook says. Knows that he'll be in for a world of teasing tomorrow if he gets wind of it. "I mean it."

Holding his hands up, Yoongi's still smirking, but he is backing away into a room just off the kitchen. "My lips are sealed."

Watching as he closes the door, you wonder how much truth is in his words. Jungkook knows it's absolute bullshit. Chooses not to dwell on it. Loosens his grip on you and heads towards his own room. Turns back to check you're following him, and can't help but smile when he knows that you are.

Tossing your shoes just inside the door, Jungkook is quick to pick up a pair of jeans he'd left on the floor, before chucking them over his desk chair. He tweaks his bedding. Straightens it out. Looks a little shy as he turns to face you.

"Made it home safe," he says quietly, as you close the door behind you.

You nod. Keep a little distance. Say, "It's dangerous to sleep after drinking. Make sure you build a tower of pillows in the middle of your bed so you don't roll onto your back."

Both of you are far more sober than you were earlier. There's no need to worry about anything like that.

And yet he nods, now. Says, "You're probably right. You can always stay, though. Just to check I don't die in my sleep, or whatever."

"It'd be the responsible thing to do," you nod, wondering if he can tell just how fast your heart is beating. "But I don't have any pyjamas."

Jungkook swallows. The way he looks at you now is entirely different to how he'd looked at you in the club. Back then, he'd been bold. Flirtatious.

Now, he seems vulnerable. Needy.

"I sleep in my underwear," he tells you, unsure if you'll actually be sleeping. While he likes the idea of fucking you, part of him doesn't want to. Fears it'll ruin the magic of the unknown. The way he throbs at the mere thought of it would suggest that his hopes outweigh his fears. "I don't mind, if you don't."

The clothes Jungkook's wearing are baggy. You've seen nothing of his figure.

Reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs on the fabric of his T-shirt. Pulls it over his head and discards it in one swift movement. The sound of it crumpling on the floor is abrasive in how it makes you feel. Raw. Unrefined. You suppose it's just a natural consequence of seeing the toned muscles of his chest. How his waist defies what you thought was possible for masculine builds, and how broad his chest is. The indent of his collarbones, and the lines of his pelvis that draw your eyes downwards.

A pair of Calvins peek just above the waistband of his jeans, and a silver chain rests around his neck. Light from the city filters in, and LED lights around his impressive computer set-up paint him in a hue of violet.

"No," you manage to reply, which is a miracle, you think. "I don't mind."

And then you reciprocate. Reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, letting the fabric fall to the floor. Seeing him swallow back his nerves, or maybe his desires, makes you feel far bolder than you should.

"It's really uncomfortable to sleep in jeans," you tell him.

He nods. Agrees. Threads the button of his trousers through its loop. Doesn't take them off yet. Waits for you to do the same. Keeps his eyes firmly locked on yours. Doesn't let his gaze wander, no matter how much he has to fight all his instincts not to fully take you in. Is still pretending like he doesn't want you in the most indecent of ways.

The room you're in right now is known worldwide. 

People set it as their zoom backgrounds. It's on Pinterest. There are YouTube videos attempting to recreate the set-up. If he were to power up his computer—which, in all fairness, is only on standby—and go live, there'd be a thousand viewers within minutes. Doesn't matter what he plays, or who he's with. He doesn't give it much thought anymore. Is just life.

Sometimes, he regrets not being a faceless streamer, but he also knows that it's part of the appeal. Connection, and the fantasy that comes with this almost dystopian, parasocial idea of it.

After all, the meeting of his eyes with yours across a busy club led you to this point. Human connection in the simplest of ways, that he thinks could culminate in the most complex of ways, too.

"Okay," he says. "So take them off."

"You want me to?" You ask just to tease a little bit, and when a smile flickers onto his seemingly nervous lips, you're glad you did.

"You think we'd be here right now if I didn't?" He says with a tweak of his brows.

"You've got a point."

With that, you push your jeans down and reveal the matching set of black underwear you're in. It's nothing special. In fact, it's not really a set, but it's close enough that it'd fool anyone who didn't know.

Jungkook, in this moment, is indeed a beautiful fool.

There's a lopsided grin on his face as he lets his eyes rake down your body. Is shameless as he indulges in you. Nods, as he bites down on his bottom lip.

"It's cold," you tell him, urging him along a little bit.

"Shit," he says without much thought. "Sorry. Was just... Yeah. Shit."

It's both endearing and wholly confusing how Jungkook flips from confident to cute. A man of duality. It makes you giggle, and then you're the one biting down on your bottom lip. Are both a little bashful. A little shy.

"I'm only here to make sure you don't die in your sleep," you remind him before it goes any further.

Looking at him now, knowing you want him in the worst of ways, it's testing all of your willpower not to just cut to the chase.

Thing is, you liked his company tonight. Want it again. Want to give him a reason to seek you out once more. Want him thinking about you in clubs, and looking for you in crowded bars. Pining. Yearning. Needy.

"It's already gone seven," he tells you, walking towards his bed. Knocks his head to the side. Silently tells you to follow suit. "Will probably only get a couple hours in."

"Better than nothing. Plus, you're actually really irritating," you bullshit as you get into bed with him. Are adamant you won't fuck him, but you do let him pull you in closer.

"Oh, yeah?" He grins.

"Mhmm," you nod, pretending as if you aren't looking at his lips. "You'll be less annoying when you're asleep."

"I'm never gonna sleep again," he assures you. "Will annoy you forever."

"I know where the front door is," you say as you stroke a few of his loose, wavy hairs back behind his ears. They fall freely almost right away, but it just gives you another excuse to play with it "I can just leave. I'm only here to make sure you don't die in your sleep. Pointless if you're awake."

"So I have to be asleep for you to stay?"

"Mhmm," you hum.

He immediately loosens his grip on you and flops into an overdramatic sleeping position. Fake snores. Gets you giggling. Can't hide his smile, either. Laughs through the god-awful noises he's making.

But it is late, and you're both tired. As much as he'd like to stay awake with you, the pull of sleep is just too tempting now that you're beneath his sheets. It's not like he doesn't wanna fuck you. His semi is very much present, but neither of you mention it.

"Y'know what's sad about butterflies?" Jungkook mumbles after the laughter dies down. He carefully begins to trace the lines of your tattoo, eyes entirely focused on the tip of his finger.

You purr a response before you fully vocalise one. "Tell me."

He glances up at you only very momentarily. Looks back down. Is quiet when he says, "How quickly they die. Spend over half their lifespan growing into these beautiful creatures, and then they have, what—A week? Two? Three, tops—and then they're gone. It's like the cherry blossoms in spring. Beautiful, and then—" He clicks his fingers. "—gone."

Stroking back some loose strands of his hair, you wonder if he's thinking about you. About this chance encounter. Beautiful, then gone.

"Just means you have to appreciate them while they're still around," you say softly. "Cherish them, because you know you only have them for a moment."

His gaze lifts to meet yours. The reflection of his LED lights makes it seem like butterflies are floating around in his deep, dark eyes, too.

There are stories he could tell you of ancient folklore; about human souls taking the form of butterflies. Of justice, and peace, and spirits. Of back in time, when tigers still smoked. He could tell you of his favourite butterflies. Of the black butterflies that are as large as his hands in the summer. Of the huge display in a museum downtown that would transfix him as a child.

Instead, he gently presses his lips against the lines of your butterfly tattoo.

The rate at which your heart is beating multiplies. Like a swarm of butterflies chasing through your veins, you've no control over the way you're feeling. He's brought your artwork to life; set the souls inside of your butterfly free, only for it to be apparent that the souls belonged to the both of you, anyway.

You know that this is one of those moments; a butterfly passing on by through your lives. Here, and then gone. Beautiful, but fleeting.

There's a shyness to Jungkook now, as he rolls onto his back. A reluctance to get things wrong. He doesn't look at you, just nibbles on his bottom lip and pretends as if the empty white ceiling ahead of him is the most interesting thing he's seen all night.

It's not.

You are.

You, and those eyes that make him feel like the butterfly on your arm is tickling at his tummy. He finds himself jealous when he faces you again and begins tracing the thin lines of your butterfly once more. Wants to embed himself into you like the ink that's carved out a home in your skin.

"Sorry," he mumbles, seemingly regretful of the tender kiss he'd pressed against your arm just a short moment ago. "Don't know why I did that."

"It's okay," you reply without much thought. Like him, you're letting the way you feel dictate the words you say. Care not for playing coy. "I liked it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Jungkook wants to stop his mouth from letting his desires escape. The issue is, he drank a little too much tonight and his lips are a little too loose. Too bad. Can't help himself from asking, "Can I do it again?"

You're just as bad.

"Yeah," you whisper. "Please."

The way his lashes splay against his cheeks as he presses another kiss to your arm is nothing short of celestial. Like that damn moon on his arm, he's got a beauty about him that's hard to capture in words. Ethereal feels too fantastical, but gorgeous feels too dense. He resides in a realm somewhere between the two. Somewhere you'd like to stay forever.

Forever, sadly, only lasts a few hours. You've brunch plans with new friends you can't bail on yet for fear of running a friendship before it's even begun.

You see yourself out. Jungkook's still asleep. Not quite 10AM, you've a dozen missed calls from Rae, and a cold can of coke waiting for you in your fridge. Funnily enough, though, you don't really feel hungover. Must have gotten it all out of your system the night before.

It's only fitting, when you think about Jungkook on the subway home, and how soberingly drunk the idea of him makes you feel. 

YONSEI UNIVERSITY DORMS DAESIN-DONG, SEODAEMUN-GU SUNDAY 21:39

Brunch had, predictably, been a yawn-fest.

The people were perfectly nice, but you spent the entire time thinking about Jungkook; how you'd left him in a pretty slumber, the LEDs behind his computer still glowing, with not even so much as a note to say thank you.

It's not like he had any paper on his desk, and you weren't about to start rummaging around his room. You also didn't want to wake him. Part of it was because you knew you'd be saying goodbye, and the concept of that was one that you didn't like all that much.

And so your subway ride back to your dorm had been spent searching his name. He didn't take long to find. 

From the club's Instagram, you found GLOSS and quickly discovered that there was far more to both him and Blu-Tae than just being DJs. Their follower counts were wild. Numbers you know you'll never see on your own account. Verification check marks accented their display names. 

Who are you? You'd thought to yourself, incredibly perplexed by it all.

Jungkook was littered all over their pages, and yet it still took a while for you to click through to his account. You're not sure why, but think that perhaps the unknown was a nice place to reside within. Safer. 

CR3SC3NT_T0KK1 was his username—and curiously, Tokki was also his display name. Brows furrowed, you'd almost dropped your phone when you saw his follower count. It eclipsed both of his friends. 

Filled with gaming set-ups, merch drops, and general life dumps, it was pretty clear that whoever Jungkook had made himself out to be the night before was not who he was in real life. 

Equal parts offended and intrigued, you were only more confused when you saw that Rae was already following him—but not following Taehyung.

"What?" she'd beamed when you'd asked her about it after you'd arrived home from brunch, a scoop of hangover ice cream being waved around in the air with her flamboyant gestures. "He's, like, one of the biggest streamers in the country—and if I want to keep Tae obsessed with me, we need as many connections as possible. Jungkook's a frog to me, baby, not a prince. Don't you worry your little cotton socks. I'm not after him."

"I wouldn't care if you were," you'd blatantly lied in response, and then you'd giggled together at how ridiculous you were both being over boys you didn't really know.

Hovering over the bright purple 'JOIN STREAM' button later that evening, part of you holds back. Think it'd be weird. Strange. That he'd somehow know it was you.

Dipping your mouse, you tick the checkbox to join as an anonymous viewer. Take a breath. Think fuck it. Watch with bated breath as the loading wheel turns—and then he's there.

Jeon Jungkook has the kind of beauty that transcends shitty quality streams. Smiling as he jokes with one of his friends through a headset with a pair of black bunny ears affixed to the top of them, you hear a voice you almost recognise. Notice the friend he's streaming with in the top corner. Realise you do know him, too.

Hair as blue as the trees are green, Tae has just as much boyish charm as Jungkook, but also an incredibly large hickey that seems to match the ones on Rae's neck.

"Nah, can we get an L in the chat for Kook," he's teasing. Sure enough, the chat begins to explode with the letter, and Jungkook looks so pretty when he protests.

"It's not an L!"

"It is!" Tae insists. "Should have seen him, guys. Was following this girl around like a lovesick puppy—"

"No, I wasn't!"

"And she didn't even give him her number. Not even her name!"

"That's not true!" Jungkook whines. He switches between Korean and English with ease, sometimes just single words, other times whole sentences. "I have a name."

"What is it?"

"Not telling you."

"Cause you don't have one!"

"No, because you'll all make my life a living hell," Jungkook laughs—and then notices a bright blue comment lighting up in the chat. His eyes widen. "Fuck."

GLOSS: Was calling her Nabi when he got home last night Almost shit his pants when he saw me

"Yoongi, I'm gonna shave your eyebrows off in your sleep," Jungkook growls—only for the chat to start spamming butterfly emojis. Closing his eyes, he leans back in his chair, the still paused video game long forgotten about, now. Thousands of people are in their chat, and even more are watching the stream.

"Guys, get it trending," Taehyung goads. "Tweet, I dunno, bunny and butterfly emojis."

"Don't do that!"

"Hashtag find Jungkook's butterfly."

"Do NOT do that!"

"I'm like a modern-day cupid," Taehyung beams.

"I'm shaving your eyebrows, too."

Closing the stream, you sit for a moment, mouth ajar, unable to process what on earth you've just witnessed. Part of you feels as if it must have an incredibly vivid daydream; a projection of your heart's desire.

And you know you shouldn't, but when you get home from running errands the following day, you join the stream again. Blush when you notice the chat is still teasing Jungkook.

"I'm gonna block you all," he threatens them with a grin, which only encourages them to send even more butterfly emojis.

The next day is no different, nor the day after that.

He is, though. Has been letting it all play on his mind. Doesn't have much of a filter when it comes to streaming.

"What if she didn't even like me, guys," he whines to the chat. "And sees this and is like... mortified. I think I'd punch myself in the face if she ever saw any of this."

You toy with the idea of sending a comment into the chat. Something that only he'd realise was you. Thing is, you feel bad for intruding. As if you shouldn't be prying. As if you're eavesdropping on him chatting with friends, and not on the stream he's broadcasting live around the world.

Typing out a message, you deliberate your choice.

Punch urself in the face pls, tokki x the message reads. 

Simple. Effective. To the point.

But everyone calls him that, you stupidly realise, now.

And so you change the name to 'Mike'. 

Before you can even really realise what you've done, you've pressed send.

The message flitters into the chat feed. He's about to resume his game. Doesn't notice it at first.

Gives the chat one final glance, and then his eyes widen. He sits up taller. Straighter. "Mike?"

You close the lid of your laptop immediately.

"Fuck."

THE STREETS WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE FRIDAY 23:51

"Tae is on in five," Rae squeals, dragging you down the road at lightning speed. 

You'd spent far too long at dinner, and also had far too much to drink with your food, so have been forced to make an undignified sprint to the club in an attempt to make it in before the place reaches capacity.

There's already a queue. You can see it from a mile away.

Realistically, Rae could have gotten Taehyung to add her to the guest list. He'd offered. She didn't wanna look needy, so had played it coy about her plans for the evening. 

After a single beer and soju, she'd decided that the idea of him hooking up with anyone but her simply wouldn't do.

"Shit," she sighs in defeat, looking at the queue. The direction you've come from means that you reach the entrance before you reach the queue, but even then, you can tell it goes around the block. "Are there no other clubs these people can go to?!"

There are—but this club is rammed tonight for the same reason Club Sundown was rammed the week before. People want to see the Crescent Collective. 

You didn't realise it at the time, but you'd bypassed the queue of the second club last weekend because Jungkook had been with you.

And as if by a stroke of luck, or perhaps a twist of fate, the same tattooed hand that had held you as you slept last weekend is now putting out a cigarette just a few steps away.

Eyes landing on yours, he looks away again, almost immediately. Feels embarrassed. Stupid. For the way you left him, and also for the way he knows you must know who he is, now.

Behind a red rope, he's away from the general crowd. It's sort of obnoxious, you think—but also know Jungkook is anything but.

"They're with me," Jungkook says to the bouncer, not really looking at you, but nodding in your general direction. Is deliberately keeping a little distance. Instead, he says to Rae, "Tae wouldn't want you waiting in line."

Nodding, the security guard makes way for you, stamping the backs of your hands with UV-activated ink as you walk past.

"Thank you!" Rae beams.

"No worries," Jungkook smiles right back. "He's about to start. Was just getting air. You're lucky you arrived when you did."

"Angel," she praises. "I'll get you a drink while we're in there."

You know her well enough now to know that she absolutely will not, but you don't say anything. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest as you walk, suddenly feeling all awkward in Jungkook's presence.

"Nabi," he curtly greets you as you head down the stairs.

"Tokki," you greet him back just as formally. Consider calling him 'Mike' instead, but you chicken out.

Face scrunching up, Jungkook tries his best not to cringe at himself. Doesn't know if you're addressing him by his tattoo moniker, or just calling him Tokki because you know it's his identifier online.

"How have you been?" He asks, not wanting to let it simmer.

"Alright," you say, aware of how awkward this all feels, as you descend the stairs and into the club. The music is getting louder, and soon you won't be able to hear him talk unless you're in each other's ears. "And you?"

"Alright."

Just as quickly as he appeared, Jungkook is lost to the crowd. 

He doesn't care to stick around if he's just going to be hung out to dry by you again. He tells himself that he only made sure you got in to keep Rae happy for Taehyung's sake—yet as he rejoins his friends in their booth, he finds himself desperately seeking you out again.

It takes him a while, but he eventually spots you by the bar in conversation with Rae. He can't make out what you're saying, but notices how your eyes are flickering around the room. Seems as if you're hunting for something. 

Deep down, even if he pretends like he doesn't, he hopes it's for him.

Pulled away from your search by the bartender passing over drinks to the pair of you, Jungkook feels bad. Knows the drinks are pricey in this place. Also knows, from the conversations you've already had, that you're on a tight budget. Had said that once the semester starts, you'll stop going to parties. Are seemingly unaware of the fact the parties never stop in this city. You'll learn.

When your eyes finally land on his a little while later, you're surprised by his intense gaze—intrigued by his lack of shame for being caught out. He doesn't look away or appear embarrassed. If anything, it's quite the opposite.

Girls are vying for his attention all around him, yet you receive all of it. Half the room away, hundreds of people create a sea between you both. Jungkook thinks he'd swim through it, no matter how choppy the water, if it meant he could have you right now.

You're the one who left, though. 

It's up to you to come back.

Part of you doesn't want to, but then you see another girl making advances, and Rae's horror over other girls trying it on with Taehyung seems to have rubbed off on you. The idea of it makes your skin crawl. You're drunk, and a little reactive, but Jungkook likes playing with fire.

As you work your way through the crowd towards him, he tries his best not to grin. Finds himself vindicated in his desire to be close to you, 'cause it seems like you want it, too.

Sliding in between Jungkook and the girl, you turn and apologise.

"Just need to borrow him for a second," you smile, clutching at his shirt and pulling him away from the booth before she even has a chance to protest.

With an ever-so-satisfied smirk, Jungkook shrugs towards the other girl, and lets you drag him wherever you want. He's putty in your hands, a little tipsy and desperately in need of attention from you. 

For the past week, he's played scenario over scenario over scenario in his head about this moment, and now that it's happening, he's glad he let you seek him out. Is so pleased that you actively want him just as much as he wants you.

In the middle of the crowd, you're hidden from prying eyes. It's too dark to notice any discerning features of the people around you, yet somehow, Jungkook seems like a vibrant golden light to you. Impossible to miss. Unable to ignore.

You wanna talk. Ask him about who the fuck he is. Explain that you didn't mean to leave so heartlessly.

Taehyung's set is so overwhelmingly loud, though. Can barely even hear yourself think.

As soon as he'd spotted Rae in the crowd, Taehyung had sent the bar coordinator to go and get her. She's sitting pretty up in the DJ booth, incredibly pleased with herself. Notices you and Jungkook almost immediately. Knows it'll be on Twitter in the next few hours, especially if that damn butterfly tattoo of yours is noticed.

Bunnies and butterflies have been trending for days.

Jungkook speaks, but you can't hear him.

"Huh?" You ask, getting on your tippy toes, but it's fruitless. Even as his hand drops to your waist to steady you and keep you in place, you can barely make out his words. "I can't hear you!"

He can't hear jack shit, either. Frowns. Looks around. Spots Yoongi by the booth and gestures towards the side of the room. When Yoongi nods back, it's Jungkook who drags you through the crowd, now. Just beyond the DJ booth is a little black door that Yoongi meets you by. Taps in the code. Nods in your direction.

"A pleasure," he says with a knowing smirk. Miraculously, you can hear him, but ultimately, it's because you're not in the direct line of the speakers now.

You don't get a chance to respond before Jungkook gets you into what can only described as a dark hole as quickly as he can. Romance, you think to yourself, but you also are very aware of the fact Jungkook doesn't let go of your hand, even when he's searching for the light switch. It takes him a second, but he manages to recall the approximate location quickly enough.

Dingy yellow light floods into the room. Small and boxy, it's a 3-in-1 storage room, bathroom, and dressing room for 'talent'. It's why Yoongi had the code, but you can't imagine anyone with any shred of self-respect actually using this place. The walls are the same grey tiles as the floor, and the light bulb hangs from a wire without a shade. The tap on the sink drips, and you're pretty sure there's a leak in the far corner by the mirror.

None of that matters, though. All you can focus on is the man in front of you. Though not soundproof, the room does offer a far more muted version of Taehyung's set. More importantly, it provides you with privacy.

It's been a week since you last saw him, face to face.

Though you have, admittedly, seen him what feels like a million times on low-quality streams from his bedroom.

Realistically, it's been about three times, but you think about it almost constantly.

"You left," is all he says, a little pout on his lips.

It's cute, you think, that he is so outwardly offended by such an act. You would have thought that a man of his position would have a habit of leaving, himself. Then again, you didn't know of his status when you left him in bed that morning.

"And you didn't die," you reply with a teasing smile, trying not to make it sound so severe. "You were fine without me."

"I'm not joking," he says, even if he can't help but smile at the recollection of how stupid the conversation before bed had been. "You left. It was rude."

"I had brunch plans," you tell him, reaching your hands out for his. He wants to resist. Fails. Lets you pull him closer. Incredibly close, in fact. So close that you begin to notice all sorts of things. His freckles. A small scar on his cheek. A tiny fleck of glitter on his skin, no doubt from one of the girls who had been desperate for his attention earlier. "You'd only had a few hours sleep. I didn't want to disturb you."

"Could have left a note," he says, still pouty but far quieter. You can smell the Jack on his breath. Have always hated the taste, but think you could grow to like it. "Your number. Something, at least."

"I could've," you admit, edging even closer. Closing the gap. Nudging your nose against his. But then you smile. Pull back. Tease, "And you could have warned me that I'd become a trending topic on Twitter."

Just like that, Jungkook's pout snaps into the prettiest smile. His face scrunches up, lines creasing on his nose. Beneath his closed eyes reside the sweetest little puffs. He's got the kind of face that is impossible not to like.

"Ah," he cringes.

"Yeah," you laugh at the stupidity of it all. What did he expect? That you wouldn't find out? "Ah."

"In my defence," he holds his hands up, eyes wide and innocent. "You called me Tokki. How was I to know you didn't know?"

"Oh, give over," you laugh, as he reaches for your hands once again. Pulls you closer. "You know I didn't know."

Truthfully, he does know this, but it was nice to be unknown for a little while. Nice to not second guess your intentions. Even now, knowing that you know, he feels like none of it matters. 

"Look," he begins, toying with the hem of your cropped shirt. Lets his fingertips graze your bare skin. Tries his best not to think about what you look like half-naked. Fails. "I only came out tonight 'cause I hoped I'd see you. I don't care about staying out till ass-o'clock, again."

"Think I've only just caught up on sleep," you hum, angling your chin up and giving him the perfect opportunity to make a move that goes beyond flirtatious touches.

"Exactly," he smiles, letting his hand squeeze the side of your waist. Pulls you closer. "And I've not drunk half as much tonight, but I think I could do with you making sure I don't die, again."

"Yeah?"

Nodding as he nudges his nose against yours, Jungkook is all smiles. Lets his lips line up against your pout.

"Yeah," he mumbles—then lets the word get lost in your lips.

Sinking into what it feels like to kiss you, Jungkook can't help but feel satisfaction. Has finally caught the damn butterfly he's been after all week. 

He's played a lot of games. Won a lot of battles.

And yet victory has never tasted so sweet.

JUNGKOOK'S APARTMENT ITAEWON-DONG, YONGSAN-GU SATURDAY 02:07

You retrace your steps. Get a taxi to his place, 'cause there's no point pretending like he can't afford it. Not anymore.

You're not giggling like you were the first time you were in his elevator, but it's kind of impossible to do so when your back is to the wall and Jungkook's tongue is in your mouth.

Your hands roam his body—waist, ass. If you can squeeze it, you will. Just makes him deepen the kisses. If his large hands weren't cupping your jaw, keeping you close, they'd be doing the exact same thing as yours.

The ding of the elevator pulls you apart just for a second, and then you're the one pulling him down to the corridor to his place.

He doesn't open the door. Just kisses you again. 

Finally understands what it means to get butterflies, 'cause he's got you, now, and he never wants to lose it.

Hooking his hands beneath your ass, he hoists you up. Gets your legs wrapped around him. Could go in, but where's the fun in that? There's a slight danger of getting caught. He knows the hallway security cameras will definitely pick this up. The threat that it could get leaked online, and the simple fact that he couldn't give a shit if it does, is kind of hot.

"I'm not fucking you out here," you tell him through a hushed giggle, when he rests his forehead against yours.

"Woah," he jokes. "Who said anything about fucking?"

"I can literally feel your boner, Jungkook."

"Touché."

He doesn't even attempt to downplay it. He puts you down. Gets you through the threshold of his apartment. Shoes off by the door, there's no need to be quiet. Yoongi and Taehyung are still out, and will be for hours. He could take his time if he really wanted.

But what he wants is you. Doesn't waste time. Gets you in his room. Kinda feels like you never left. Jungkook still wishes you hadn't, but doesn't mind the idea of you making it up to him now.

"So," you hum, trailing your fingertips across his desk. "This is where the magic happens?"

He smiles a little bashfully, head dropping for a moment before his eyes are on yours again. "Yeah. You could say that."

Now that you're back in his space, it's a little embarrassing just how many clues there were. A headset rests on the desk—black, robust, with his signature bunny ears secured on top—and a mic is hooked up by the monitor. The webcam doesn't look special, but the keyboard subtly glows in his darkened room. Violet, like the LEDs behind his screen.

A laptop covered in vinyl stickers is closed next to the set-up. He uses it when he's not streaming on his desktop. At least three of the stickers are of the Crescent Collective's logo.

Turning to fully face him, you rest your palms behind yourself and perch on the edge of the desk.

He gets a little kick out of seeing you so flippantly disregard the domain in which he dominates. Gives him a point to prove. Gets him closing the space between you, hands on your waist, dipping to your ass to leverage further back on his desk. Knows it's sturdy, 'cause he built it himself, but has never tested out quite how strong it really is. Thinks now's as good a time as any to find out.

Your legs wrap around his body with no thought, just the innate understanding that you want him in a way you're sure thousands of people have only dreamt of: in his room, on his desk, that damn 'Go Live' button just a few short clicks away.

Reaching beside you, there's a smirk on your lips as you retrieve his headset. Put it on him. Say, "The ears are cute, Tokki."

He rolls his eyes. Is fighting a smile, and currently losing. He's seen some lewd shit during his time on the internet and is well aware of the fanart that includes the ears and little else. Always found it kinda funny, before.

Now? He's so hard it almost hurts, and he thinks he could grow to like it.

As your arms drape over his shoulders, he takes them off. Puts them on you, instead. Adjusts the sizing. Gets them just right for you. Is attentive, like that. Pulls his head back a little, and then realises what a problem you're gonna be for him.

It's not so much the addition of animal ears that's getting him insatiable, but seeing you adorned with a crown that is so inherently his that does it.

Jungkook's no saint. He's had his fair share of one-nighters. A couple hours of fun never to be spoken of again. Since the group of them signed to their management agency, they've been repeatedly told how important it is to get NDA's signed. Something about it always feels so icky to Jungkook. Cruel, almost. Has only had a couple hook-ups since then, both with flings he's known for a good couple of years, with no fear of them spilling the beans on how prettily he whines when he cums.

You're the first new girl in a long time. He knows he should really pause things before you cut to the chase—but then your hand is trailing down his thick forearm, delicately stroking his rabbit moon with a curious smile. Decides he doesn't care.

"The ears are cute," he replies. Teasingly adds, "Nabi."

The position of your arms over his shoulders ensures the tattoos he'd traced the week before are fully displayed for him. As his eyes drop to your butterfly, you're curiously smitten by the way his lips move to press a kiss against it again.

"Suit me?"

"Mhmm," he hums, eyes flickering back up to yours. "Should also get you a pair of butterfly wings, or something."

"I'd make you wear them," you tell him with a cheeky glint in your eye. "Turn you into a butterfly, yourself. Your girlies in the chat would love that."

Jungkook knows without a shadow of a doubt he'd let you. Not for the girlies in the chat, but for you.

Ghosting his lips against yours, he's waiting for you to press down. Is letting you take the lead.

Your kisses are sweet. Tepid. Reserved.

You're feeling; his hands on your waist, the pressure of his lip rings, the presence of his nose.

And then he's feeling; your bare skin as his large hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, the way your legs wrap around him, the vibration of a small groan against his lips.

The skirt you're in is bunched around your hips, and the positioning is just right for you to feel how hard he is against your underwear. It's a little undignified, you'll admit, but you're impatient, so you take control. Reposition his hand between your legs. Encourage him to take things further.

"Yeah?" He checks.

Nodding into a needy kiss, you mumble, "Please."

It might've been a while, but Jungkook's muscle memory is enviable. He's the best player on the team for that very reason.

As he hooks your underwear to the side, he's pleased to be greeted with indications of your arousal. Smirks into the kisses he's giving you, as his fingertips graze against your clit. Trails his lips to your neck. Wants to hear the way you gasp as he pushes his thick middle finger inside you.

"Fuck," you sigh at the welcome intrusion. Nod, as he curls his finger almost immediately. He's got a lot to thank those damn video games for, that's for sure.

Softly moaning, just how he hoped you would, there's an arch to your back as he picks up a pace. The need to perform, almost.

Head tipping back as Jungkook fucks another finger into you, you're unable to think too cognitively. Can only think about the way he feels. The smell of his hair as he presses kisses against your neck, and how prominent his collarbones are as your nails trail up his toned torso.

"Feels so good," you tell him. Move the hand of yours that's been resting on his shoulder to his hair. Tug on it a little. Elicit the prettiest of whines from him.

There's something to be said for making a man—especially one of such strength, stature, status—so weak. Gets you all giggly. Jungkook can feel the satisfaction ripple through your entire body, and it just makes him groan against your neck even more.

"You're so wet," he praises, pulling back to study your face as he plays with you. Lets his thumb stroke up against your clit ever so gently. Revels in the way you get a little shaky. Twitchy. With those damn bunny ears, you really are like a little rabbit. Jungkook finally understands why the fan artists choose to draw him in such a way. It is hot. "You're making me so fuckin' hard."

And then you're giggling again.

"Is it a joke to you, huh?" He smirks. Looks down at your pussy, all swollen and sopping wet for him, in the hazy violet light of his room. Knows that his throbbing cock is gonna stuff you so fuckin' full that laughing won't be an option. Is desperate for it. "How badly I want you is just a big joke to you, huh, bunny?"

The way he groups you in with his moniker is too damn hot.

"Dunno," you rasp, desperately trying to hold off the orgasm that's building inside you. "Fuck me and find out."

Reaching for the button of his trousers, you're quick as you wrestle his jeans down over his ass. Don't bother pushing them down entirely. Just enough to get his boxers exposed, and in turn, his thick cock. Hard and engorged, his desperation for you is evident. A small patch of precum seeps through the fabric of his boxers. He curses as your thumb strokes against it.

"Condom?" You ask, knowing you've got none on you.

"Hold that thought," he says, regretfully pulling away from you.

Watching on as he pushes down his jeans, and strips himself of his shirt, you're at a loss for words. You've seen him like this before, but it's so much hotter knowing that he's gonna be fucking himself into you as soon as he possibly can.

Jungkook could very easily lead you to his bed. Get you comfy. Reach to his bedside cabinet for a condom. Fuck you how he likes—doggy-style, minimal face-to-face contact—and be done with it all very quickly.

Instead, he says, "Stay here."

Doing as you're told, you watch on as he walks to the cabinet, and retrieves a condom. Admire his back, and his broad shoulders. The valley of his spine, and the hard work he's put into crafting his physique. Smirk to yourself as he dips into his boxers. Strokes himself. Once, twice. Tears the packet open with his teeth, just like you were always taught not to do, and rolls the latex down his thick shaft.

"What?" he smirks as he walks back, realising your eyes are transfixed on his cock.

You say nothing. Smile. Hold your hands out for Jungkook to take, just so you can pull him back even quicker.

Lips pressing into yours as he closes the gap, Jungkook is all smiles. Rubs the head of his cock against your pussy, gathering up your arousal all over his tip. Lines himself up with your entrance. Waits for you to give him the go-ahead.

Hand on his ass, you pull him closer. Edge the crown of his cock into you. Whimper. Beg. "Please."

Sinking into you with a laboured grunt, he's surprised with how much tighter you are around his cock than you were with his fingers. Wet and warm, there's an undeniable pleasure that sparks through his body as he gets familiar with the way you feel.

Slowly, his hips begin to pick up a pace. As his tongue strokes into your mouth, there's no dignity to the way he's taking you. The increased pace means heightened moans, and it's not just you—it's him, too.

"Shit, yeah," he grits. "So fuckin' tight, aren't you?"

Whining, you nod into his kisses. Are at his entire disposal as he grips your waist, proving exactly why Tokki is the perfect nickname for him.

As much as he likes the ears, he's a little worried that he might fuck you so hard they fall off. Doesn't wanna break them, and definitely doesn't wanna think about the story the boys would make up when they go live tomorrow to tease him—but also really wants to fuck you harder.

Which is funny, cause the way he tugs them off with such desperation and tosses them down, you'd be forgiven for thinking he couldn't care less about breaking them. Doesn't give you a chance to say anything, 'cause his big hands are cradling your face, bringing you in for desperate kisses once more.

There's a lewdness to the sounds you make together, but Jungkook knows that if he was an entirely different kind of streamer, you'd make bank together. Wonders about the way it would look on camera. Worries. Pauses.

"You good?" You check a little breathlessly as he reaches behind you, just to tug the wire to his webcam from the plus.

"Yeah," he nods, still fiddling around behind you. Smiles in the hedonistic haze as your lips find a new home on his neck. Strokes your hair gently, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. Quietly says, "Just making sure there's no way in hell I accidentally start streaming."

You hum, all purry and pliant. "People would pay good money to see it."

While he agrees, and has had the same thought process, he doesn't care. "You saying I should be charging you for this?"

"Oh, no," you say all very sweetly. "You should be paying me."

"I'll pay you with orgasms," he promises, knowing that it's a rare currency for one-night strands.

You smirk. Pat the top of his head. "Sure you will."

If there's one thing Jungkook loves, it's a challenge.

Pulling back, he turns you around. Gets you bent over his desk with zero opposition from you. Rubs himself against your soaked cunt, then asks, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you smirk, and then settle into a sigh as he pushes into you. The feeling of fullness from Jungkook is one that's hard to compare. So thick, and fat, and heavy, his cock really is just as impressive as he is.

With one hand hooked at the crease of your thigh, the other holds the top of your shoulder. Gets you pushed down onto his cock as far as you possibly can be. There's a slight reflection in his streaming plaque beside the monitor, and you're pleased to see just how intensely focused he is on you, brows furrowed, pretty pink lips resting ajar. The silver of his lip rings and chain catch in the light, and you find you can't look at him for too long. He's too hot.

But then he's reaching down for your clit as he fucks into you. Has your legs shaking. The waves of a familiar sensation begin to lap against the shores of your pleasure.

"Fuck," you whine. "Feels good. Keep it like that."

Jungkook knows better than to ignore your requests. Does as he's told, the pressure of his fingers on your clit only deepening. Rubbing calculated circles against you, he knows just how to work you up. Gets you whining. Mewling. Moaning.

"Gonna cum, aren't you?" he smirks, as his own high builds.

"Fuck—"

"C'mon," he husks, feeling your walls tighten around him. He doesn't stop his relentless chase. Will win your orgasms fair and square. Continues pounding into you. Pace fast, strokes deep, he's everything you could ever want and more—and then he's slowing. Keeping you plugged, nice and deep, but focusing on the way he's toying with your clit. "You know you wanna cream for me. All over my cock, pretty Nabi. C'mon—"

"I'm close," you all but whimper. "So—fuck. So close."

"Yeah, you are," he tells you—and then your legs are shaking, pussy tightly clamping around his cock, one hand tense against his desk while the other grabs at his wrist. Uncontrollable, is the way you whine for him. It's so needy—so desperate and pathetic—that it's almost a sob. Jungkook doesn't ease up. In fact, his hips gain a little pace again as your orgasm shatters around you both. He's breathless, but manages to choke out, "Flithy fuckin' cunt. Feels so fuckin' good. Fuck."

The frail limpness of your body as the orgasm smokes away is cute. Jungkook loves it. You're so weak for him. He fucks into you still, chasing his own high, and your whines only get louder. It's overwhelming, but you never want to lose the feeling.

It doesn't take much. Just a minute or so of your tight cunt, and Jungkook is pulling out. Even though he doesn't ask you to, you get to your knees as he tears the condom off.

"In my mouth," you beg, and who is he to reject such an offer?

Jerking himself to completion, Jungkook is all pretty and pathetic when he cums, too. Looks at you with eyes so starry you'd been forgiven for thinking he was a descendant of the constellations.

He milks the final few spurts of himself onto your wet tongue, and curses when you press dainty kisses to his tip. Stroking your tongue against him, you don't want to waste a drop. Look up at him and find that his eyes are resting shut from the pleasure of it all.

Silence surrounds you both, just your beating hearts and laboured breaths filling to the room. He helps you up. Holds you tight. Hugs you for a little while, then presses a kiss to the side of your head. "Thanks."

"My pleasure," you giggle - and then he's smiling, too. Feels vindicated by his irrational thoughts about you over the last few days. He pays no mind to the fact you're still technically dressed, and he's basically naked.

As he sorts himself out, you perch back up on his desk and languidly swing your legs. Enjoy the thought of memories plaguing him whenever he tried to play his little games over the next few days.

"You wanna grab a shower?" he offers. "Food, too? Dunno about you, but I'm fuckin' starving."

"Same," you nod, biting down on your bottom lip. "I'll go wash up, you sort food? Are places still open for delivery?"

Checking his phone for the time, Jungkook is surprised that it's closer to midnight than it is to his morning alarm. Only a handful of places will offer delivery at this time, but that's enough.

"Works for me," he says with a yawn, then opens what you had assumed was the closet door. Reveals an en-suite and knocks his head to the side. "Get your shower. Gimmie a shout if you need anything."

Tiles large and grey, it's the perfect counterpart to his bedroom. A little dark, but it's only because Jungkook hates using the big light. Always flicks the small light switches instead. There's a window overlooking the city, and even though you're only seven floors up, the hills of Yongsan-gu mean that he's got a view you could only dream of.

You're about to start the shower up when he calls through. "Is pizza good?"

"Pizza's good," you call back with a smile. Look yourself in the mirror and wonder how the fuck you ended up in the bathroom of arguably the most famous person you've ever met. Decide it's better not to question it.

The shower begins to cascade down, even if your sins are washed way, you know you won't be able to forget the feeling of Jungkook so easily.

Truth be told, you won't even try.

YONSEI UNIVERSITY DORMS DAESIN-DONG, SEODAEMUN-GU SUNDAY 21:13

"L in the chat," booms the voice of Taehyung through your laptop speakers. His trademark grin rests on his face as he teases Jungkook.

You've only just opened the stream. Instantly, you focus on the prettily lopsided smirk of Jungkook's lips. You've learned it's an almost permanent fixture on his boyish face. Shaking his head, he's adjusting his headset. Making it a little looser so that it'll fit him properly.

No one is questioning it.

What they are questioning, is where the fuck that pretty purple bruise on his neck has come from.

"Cross-fit," Jungkook just shrugs, knowing that it's the colloquial term for suspicious bruises after some idol used the same excuse. Blatant horseshit. Jungkook doesn't care.

"I've never done cross-fit, but I know you're bullshitting," Taehyung snorts.

The chat seems to agree with him.

"Thought I was a virgin?" Jungkook states a little cheekily, making reference to Taehyung's usual banter. "How else would I get one?"

Taehyung knows better than the retort. Knows that Jungkook could very easily slip something about Rae into the conversation.

Virgin? You type through a message on a private discord chat with Jungkook. He'd set it up the day before. Has already sent you, like, a thousand messages. Is what can only be described as obsessed—but it's mutual. Could have fooled me.

As his eyes glance down to his laptop screen, he fails to hide his smile. Had opened your chat on there, cause he didn't wanna accidentally broadcast the messages onto his stream. Despite this, he doesn't care that there are nearly 10,000 people in his stream merely minutes into it. Is far more interested in his chat thread with you. Replies immediately.

Stop distracting meI'm working</3

Giggling as the message pings through to you, there's a giddy quality to the way Jungkook makes you feel.

He'd spent the day in bed with you after your night together. Had wanted you to stay when he started streaming that evening. Said he'd only be an hour or so, and was incredibly pouty when you did leave.

It had just been him on last night's stream—headset off 'cause he didn't wanna adjust it back yet, hoodie on to hide his neck. The other boys were nursing hangovers, so he could do what he liked.

What he did do had you incredibly curious. Was just chatting. Talking to the comment section. Sleepily reeling off facts he'd recently learned about butterflies. Debating over their lifespan.

You're not naive to the fact that Jungkook does this streaming stuff as a profession, and are aware that the more people talking about his stream on other platforms, the more viewers he'll get.

Made sense for him to add fuel to the butterfly-related fire by talking about them.

Had sent you a message earlier that evening to ask what kind of butterfly you had on your skin.

A Monarch, you'd told him.

"See, the thing is," Jungkook had rambled to his viewers a little later on. "Most butterflies have super short lifespans—Monarch's included."

Eyes all starry, lights in his bedroom purple as per usual, he'd looked cosy. You wished you'd have stayed.

"But there's a specific kind. Migrating Monarchs. They're the last of their generation—the final butterflies of the year," he marvelled at the magic of it all.

His facts were a little hazy, but he knew enough. Had been down a you-shaped rabbit hole all afternoon.

"And they migrate, right? Move away from home—somewhere warmer—and then it just extends their lifespan. 180 days. Not 30. That's six months. Six months. It's a long time. It's not fleeting. Not in the slightest."

It's also, curiously, exactly how long you're scheduled to stay in Korea for.

"I dunno," Jungkook had just sighed, a little forlorn, trying to make sense of his thoughts.

He bit down on his bottom lip, stroking his thumb against the hard plastic ears of his headset, then focused on the camera again. Wondered if you were watching. 

He simply shrugged. Said, "Counts for something, though, right?"

#byholly #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bangtan fic #jungkook fluff #streamer!jungkook #non idol au #bts fanfic #bangtan ff #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader

[hwaightme]

This world

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

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

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

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

🏍️ cannot be tagged: @mystar1024

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mars.”

“Mars?”

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

“Mars, care to show me your bike?”

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

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

“What are you smiling for?”

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

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

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

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

“What?” quickly countered with:

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

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

“Aye.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s your favourite bike, Y/N?”

“Why the sudden question?”

“Why answer a question with a question?”

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

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

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

“What do you want me to say?”

“What you are thinking about.”

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

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

“...Hm.”

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

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

“What was it?”

“It?”

“Let’s start with the bike.”

“Is this an interrogation?”

“Just curious, no biggie.”

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

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

“Kawasaki Ninja H2R.”

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

“I played around with that.”

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

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

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

“Now that explains it.”

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

“The tattoo.”

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

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

“What of it? I have many.”

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

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

“Sacrificed the bike?”

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

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

“Hey, are you-”

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

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

“Do you?” cold, you hissed.

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

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

“Do you need any-”

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

“Standard rate.”

“Yep.”

“Everything is sort-”

“May I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Were you all waiting for me or something?”

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

“What in the-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good, Mars.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You hear that?”

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

“The hum.”

“Hum?”

“Where are we right now?”

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

“We need to leave.”

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

“Now. We need to leave now.”

“Why?”

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

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

“GO!”

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

“Mars!”

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

“Gotcha chief.”

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

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

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

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

“How far?”

“How fast can you go?”

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

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

“Aye.”

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

“Good lu-”

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

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

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

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

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“Well isn’t this a fun time.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Where is their friend?”

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

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

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

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

“Ready to fly?”

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

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

“What the-”

“Three.”

“Two.

“One.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“-Seonghwa.”

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

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

“I’ll think about it.”

“Cheeky.”

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

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

“It’s nothing really, regular st-”

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

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

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

“I am fine, I swear-”

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

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

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

“So you can fix bikes and people?”

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

“It really isn’t that bad.”

“Then why are you in pain?”

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

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

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

“And I can kiss you after?”

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

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

“What about the bike?”

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

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

“Nifty, huh? Blue Bird exclusive.”

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

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

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

“Scooch back.”

“But I can-”

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

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

-

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

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

“Good news.”

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

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

“Charming.”

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

“We’re fighters though, aren’t we.”

“Fighters need holidays too.”

“Right.”

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

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

“You are in luck.”

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

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

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

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

“I am a woman of many talents.”

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

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

“Yes please.”

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

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

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

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

“You never order it.”

“But I never-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well then, are you mine?”

“In every lifetime I am yours.”

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

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

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

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

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

“More than.”

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

“Hwa…”

“Mmh- yes?”

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

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

“Do you have condoms?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that, love?”

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

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

“Mhm…”

“Show me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

#kflixnet #k-labels #ateezlovenet #seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa x reader #seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa smut #seonghwa angst #biker seonghwa #biker hwa #yeosang #kang yeosang #yunho #jeong yunho #jongho #choi jongho #ateez outlaw #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez au #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez angst

[callsigns-haze]

Short love: Prologue

Summary: The is about widowed father Bradley Bradshaw who enlists his brother-in-law Jake Seresin and childhood best friend Robert Floyd to help raise his three daughters, eldest Donna Jo Margaret (D.J for short), middle child Stephanie and youngest Michelle in his San Diego home. 

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Warning: Fluff

In the warm embrace of the morning sun, Y/n stood in Bradley's cozy kitchen, a sense of excitement bubbling within her as she prepared to whip up a batch of pancakes from scratch. The tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the sweet scent of vanilla and cinnamon that would soon infuse the fluffy pancakes.

With a deft hand, Y/n measured out flour, baking powder, and a pinch of salt into a mixing bowl, the ingredients coming together in a cloud of soft white powder. She cracked eggs into the bowl, their golden yolks adding richness to the batter, and poured in a splash of creamy milk.

As she whisked the ingredients together, Y/n's mind drifted back to fond memories of lazy Sunday mornings spent in her grandmother's kitchen, learning the art of pancake-making from the master herself. She smiled at the thought, grateful for the tradition that had been passed down through generations.

Adding a dollop of melted butter and a hint of pure maple syrup to the batter, Y/n stirred until it was smooth and silky, the mixture taking on a golden hue that promised deliciousness with every bite. With a satisfied nod, she set the bowl aside to rest, allowing the flavours to meld and develop while she heated up the griddle.

The sizzle of butter hitting the hot surface filled the kitchen as Y/n ladled spoonful's of batter onto the griddle, each one spreading out into perfect circles of golden goodness. She watched with anticipation as bubbles formed on the surface of the pancakes, signalling that it was time to flip them over to cook on the other side.

With a flick of her wrist, Y/n expertly flipped the pancakes, their edges turning crisp and golden as they cooked to perfection. The kitchen was filled with the mouth-watering aroma of caramelized sugar and warm spices, beckoning her nieces to the breakfast table with eager anticipation.

As Y/n finished up the last batch of pancakes, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching from the hallway. Moments later, Stephanie and DJ, her two oldest nieces, appeared in the kitchen, their faces lighting up with surprise and delight at the sight of the delicious breakfast spread before them.

"Good morning, Aunt Y/n!" Stephanie exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. "What's all this?"

Y/n turned to greet them, her smile widening at the sight of their eager expressions. "Good morning, girls!" she replied, her voice warm and jovial. "I thought I'd whip up a little breakfast treat for my favourite nieces."

DJ and Stephanie exchanged a look of disbelief, their eyes widening in astonishment. "You made all this?" DJ asked, her voice tinged with amazement.

Y/n nodded proudly, gesturing towards the table where plates of fluffy pancakes, bowls of fresh fruit, and pitchers of maple syrup awaited them. "All from scratch," she confirmed, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

Stephanie and DJ wasted no time in helping themselves to the delicious spread, their mouths watering at the sight and smell of the pancakes. They piled their plates high with pancakes, drizzling them generously with syrup and adding a handful of fresh berries on the side.

As they dug into their breakfast, laughter and conversation filled the kitchen, the sound of their voices blending harmoniously with the clink of forks against plates. Y/n watched them with pride, her heart swelling with love for her nieces and the joy of being able to spoil them with a homemade breakfast. Together, they savoured each mouthful of pancakes, savouring the warmth and comfort of being together as a family.

As Y/n sat at the kitchen table with her two nieces, DJ and Stephanie, the aroma of freshly made pancakes filled the air, mingling with the excitement bubbling within her. With a warm smile, she decided to share with them stories of her recent geographic news reporting trip to Australia, a journey that had taken her to the far reaches of the continent.

"DJ, Stephanie, did I ever tell you about my recent trip to Australia for work?" Y/n began, her voice filled with anticipation.

The girls shook their heads, their eyes wide with curiosity as they eagerly dug into their pancakes.

"Well, let me tell you, it was an adventure unlike any other," Y/n continued, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she recounted her memories.

"As a geographic news reporter, I had the incredible opportunity to travel to some of the most remote and breath-taking locations in Australia. From the rugged Outback to the lush rainforests, I witnessed the stunning diversity of landscapes that make up this vast continent."

DJ and Stephanie listened intently, their pancake-filled mouths forgotten as they hung on Y/n's every word.

"I explored ancient Aboriginal sites, where rock art told the stories of generations past. I trekked through dense rainforests, where towering trees and cascading waterfalls created a sense of wonder and awe."

The girls gasped in amazement, their imaginations sparked by Y/n's vivid descriptions.

"But do you know what was truly remarkable?" Y/n asked, her voice filled with wonder.

"What?" DJ and Stephanie chimed in unison.

"The people," Y/n replied, her voice tinged with admiration. "I met incredible individuals who were deeply connected to the land and its rich cultural heritage. From Aboriginal elders sharing their wisdom to local communities welcoming me with open arms, I was constantly inspired by their resilience and strength."

As they finished their pancakes, DJ and Stephanie bombarded Y/n with questions about her trip, eager to learn more about the fascinating experiences she had encountered. And as Y/n shared more stories and answered their curious inquiries, she knew that her nieces were already dreaming of their own adventures, inspired by the tales of distant lands and faraway journeys.

In the bustling kitchen of the Bradshaw household, Y/n watched the clock anxiously as her two nieces, DJ and Stephanie, leisurely nibbled on their pancakes. With each passing second, her sense of urgency grew, knowing that they were perilously close to missing their school bus.

"Come on, girls, hurry up! You need to finish your pancakes quickly so we can get you to the bus stop on time," Y/n urged, her voice tinged with urgency.

DJ and Stephanie glanced at each other, their eyes widening with realization as they realized the gravity of the situation. With newfound determination, they began to eat with renewed speed, their pancakes disappearing in record time.

As Y/n bustled around the kitchen, packing their backpacks and gathering their coats, she couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration at the time ticking away. The school bus would be arriving any minute, and she dreaded the thought of having to drive them to school herself.

"Come on, girls, we need to go!" Y/n called out, her voice tinged with urgency as she ushered them out the door.

With a final gulp of orange juice and a hasty goodbye, DJ and Stephanie scrambled out of their chairs and raced to the front door, their backpacks slung over their shoulders.

As they hurried down the front steps and onto the sidewalk, Y/n breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that they had made it just in time. With a quick wave goodbye, she watched as they boarded the school bus, their faces flushed with excitement and the thrill of making it just in time.

As the bus pulled away from the curb and disappeared around the corner, Y/n couldn't help but smile. Despite the chaos and rush of the morning, she knew that she wouldn't have it any other way. After all, these were the moments that made being an aunt so special.

In the early morning hustle and bustle of the Bradshaw household, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the stairs as Bradley rushed into the kitchen, baby Michelle cradled in his arms. His face was a mix of determination and concern as he quickly scanned the room.

"Y/n, I'm running late for work," Bradley exclaimed, his voice filled with urgency as he handed Michelle over to his roommate. "Can you watch Michelle for me while I grab my briefcase?"

Y/n, caught off guard by her friend's sudden appearance, quickly adjusted to the situation, taking Michelle into her arms with practiced ease. "Of course, Bradley," she replied, her voice calm and reassuring. "I've got her. Don't worry."

With a grateful nod, Bradley dashed back up the stairs, his footsteps echoing through the house as he hurried to gather his belongings. Y/n watched him go, a fond smile playing on her lips as she cradled Michelle close.

As the minutes ticked by, Y/n soothed Michelle with gentle words and soft caresses, the baby content in her aunt's loving embrace. She hummed a soft lullaby, the melody filling the air with warmth and comfort.

Finally, Bradley reappeared in the kitchen, his briefcase in hand and a grateful smile on his face. "Thank you, Y/n," he said, his voice filled with gratitude as he leaned in to kiss Michelle on the forehead. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Y/n smiled back, her heart swelling with love for her friend and her precious niece. "Anytime, Brad," she replied, her voice filled with warmth. "You know I'm always here for you and Michelle."

With a quick goodbye, Bradley rushed out the door, his footsteps fading into the distance as he headed off to work. Left alone in the kitchen with Michelle, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of fulfilment wash over her. Despite the chaos of the morning, moments like these reminded her of the bond that held their family together, strong and unbreakable.

With Bradley gone and the kitchen now quiet, Y/n cradled Michelle in her arms, the baby's warm weight a comforting presence against her chest. As she gazed down at her tiny niece, Y/n couldn't help but marvel at the innocence and beauty of this small, precious life in her care.

With practiced ease, Y/n reached for a bottle of warm formula, prepared earlier in anticipation of moments like this. She settled into a cozy armchair by the window, the morning sunlight casting a gentle glow over the room, and carefully positioned the bottle for Michelle to latch onto.

Michelle, ever the eager eater, eagerly accepted the bottle, her hungry suckles filling the air with a soft rhythm. Y/n watched with a mixture of tenderness and awe as the baby drank, her heart swelling with love for this little bundle of joy.

As Michelle nursed, Y/n gently stroked her soft cheek, whispering words of love and reassurance. She marvelled at the bond that had formed between them, a connection that transcended words and filled her with a sense of purpose and belonging.

Time seemed to stand still as Y/n and Michelle shared this intimate moment, the outside world fading away as they basked in the warmth of each other's presence. In the quiet stillness of the morning, surrounded by love and tenderness, Y/n knew that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

And as Michelle finished her bottle with a contented sigh, her eyelids growing heavy with drowsiness, Y/n held her close, savouring the precious moments of peace and quiet. In these simple moments, she found joy and fulfilment, knowing that she was fulfilling her role as both aunt and caregiver with all the love in her heart.

With baby Michelle nestled in her arms, her tiny fingers curling around Y/n's, the aunt couldn't resist engaging in a little conversation with her niece.

"You know, Michelle," Y/n began, her voice soft and gentle, "we're going to have some special visitors later today. Uncle Bob and Uncle Jake are moving in with us for a while."

Michelle's bright eyes blinked up at Y/n, her small mouth forming a curious O-shape. Y/n chuckled at the adorable expression, feeling a surge of affection for the little one in her arms.

"They're going to be staying with us for a little bit while they get settled," Y/n continued, her tone warm and reassuring. "It's going to be so much fun having them around. They're going to make you laugh and smile, just like they always do."

As Y/n spoke, Michelle cooed softly in response, her eyes fixed on her aunt's face as if trying to understand every word. Y/n couldn't help but marvel at the way Michelle seemed to be taking in everything around her, her innocence and curiosity a constant source of joy.

"I think you're going to love having them here, Michelle," Y/n said, her voice filled with excitement. "They're going to be the best uncles ever, I just know it."

With a contented sigh, Y/n hugged Michelle a little tighter, feeling grateful for the bond they shared and the adventures that lay ahead with their extended family. And as she rocked Michelle gently in her arms, she couldn't wait to see the smiles and laughter that Uncle Bob and Uncle Jake would bring into their lives once they arrived later that day.

tagging: @callsign-magnolia @shanimallina87 @callsign-dexter @rosiahills22 @horseslovers2016 @djs8891 @hookslove1592 @emma8895eb @hardballoonlove @kmc1989 @dempy @mamachasesmayhem @senawashere @buckysteveloki-me @sweetwhispersofchaos @itsmytimetoodream @jessicab1991 @ahh-chickens

#jake seresin #hangman x reader #hangman top gun #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you #jake hangman imagine #hangman imagine #hangman seresin #hangman fanfiction #hangman seresin x reader #hangman seresin x you #hangman x y/n #hangman

[mitchhbitch]

The Unknown: The Strangers!Nick Folio

Pairings: Nick Folio x OC

Warnings: Angst. It contains language. Blood/Violence. Dark themes. If this makes you uncomfortable or you are under 18, please do not read! Thank you.

Summary: A weekend getaway turns into a nightmare when Nick and Michelle's vacation is disrupted by three masked intruders, one least expected.

Authors Note: First off, I want to say that this is the first fic I have ever written. It is something that I enjoyed writing, so I hope you enjoy it just as much. I am sorry that it took me this long to finish it. This is based on one of my all time favorite horror movies The Strangers. Thank you for reading it! I hope you all love it. Also, shout out to my bestie @thescarlettvvitch for helping me with this and for showing amazing support and love.

TAGS: @thescarlettvvitch @thefallennightmare @spicywhenspeaking @cookiesupplier @dsireland86

As I get out of my car, I see nothing but darkness. It was late by the time I pulled in. All I can hear are the animals being vocal. My boyfriend Nick invited me to his family’s cabin. It was an exhausting three hour long trip. 

Nick came bounding down the stairs with a big smile on his face, “Hey babe. Glad you made it here safe. I’m sorry I wasn't able to drive up here with you. There was a problem with the shower so I had to come and fix it up.” He greets me with a kiss. 

I smile excitedly and kiss him back “Hi baby. I’m glad I finally made it. No worries. Were you able to fix the issue?”

He grabbed both of my bags with one hand. How he managed the strength? I couldn’t say. 

“Oh yeah. It took about half of the day but I got it all fixed up. Plus I needed everything to be perfect for when you got here” he winked at me as he went inside the cabin.

I blushed. My cheeks turned a vibrant red in hue as I followed him, “It’s going to be perfect because we are going to be together.” Closing  the door and walking into the living room, “wow this place is nice. Feels very homey.” My eyes gleamed with warmth. 

“Are you ready to just relax this weekend?” Nick said softly, grazing my cheek with this thumb as he passed by me walking into the living room.

Sitting on the green sofa, he looked so content. I turn to look at him with a big smile, getting up from my spot on the lounge chair to go sit next to him.

“Yes. School has me wanting to rip out my hair. It's just been so hectic with studying for finals. It has me on the verge of a breakdown. But I am so glad to be here with you. With that, that also means no school and work talk anymore.”

Gently  putting  his arm around me, I nestled under the crook of his arm. I looked up at him longingly, he placed a  kiss on my forehead, “Sounds like a plan babe. I forgot to mention that being up here, we don't get very good or any signal and the wifi has been out for a couple of days. I got an email about that before I came up here. I have been trying to get someone up here but it's been difficult.”

Leaning into his arm, I joked, “well that sucks. How am I supposed to let my family and friends know that I haven't been kidnapped or killed?” 

Nick throws his head back and lets out a loud laugh, “Don't worry. I’ll protect you from anything Michelle.”

—------------------Line Break—------------------------------------------------------

While cooking dinner, I pour myself a glass of whiskey. Whiskey was my weakness. Hennessy and a lot of bad decisions. 

 Nick shouted from the living room “I'm going to go take a shower. I'll be back.” He left for the bathroom. Once I hear the shower start, I put my phone on the speaker and play some music.

There was a knock at the door. It was loud and echoed through the house. I was Confused. We weren’t expecting anyone. I went and opened it half way, peeking my head out. “Hello. Can I help you?”

A woman with long black hair, yellow beanie snug on her head. She was short in stature and whispered low while looking down at her shoes. “I'm looking for Jamie.” 

I couldn't see her face because of the porch light. It was too bright, I responded with a scowl. “I'm sorry there is no Jamie here.”

She asked me again, more demanding while keeping her head down  “Is Jamie here?”  

I sighed, already fed up. “There's no Jamie here. I already told you.”

The woman brought her head up to look me in the eyes, her gaze penetrating. “Okay. Whatever you say.” Slowly began walking away from the door. 

I closed and locked it shut. Walking towards the kitchen. Another knock is heard from the door. 

Frustrated, I turn back over towards it, peeking through the peephole. 

Christ, these people. Slowly reopening it, I was greeted with a different female this time. I couldn't make out her features but was only able to see her short and crimson locks. 

She quietly says as she looks down to the heels of my feet.  “Is Jamie here?”

I look at her, irritation steering through my veins. “Look I told your friend that there is no Jamie here. So leave before I call the police.”

The girl replies “okay.” She slowly looks up at me for a couple seconds and walks off. 

Closing and locking the door with a sigh, Nick asked from behind me “who was that?” 

I  jumped and turned to face him, “You almost gave me a heart attack. I don't know who that was. It was a strange chick looking for someone named Jamie. It was weird.” Shaking my head at the thought. Maybe I was losing it.  “Anyways, dinner is ready. Let's go eat.”

As we eat our dinner, Nick looks up from his plate, placing his fork on mine, fiddling with my carrots.  “How was the drive up here?” Did you enjoy it or was it too much for you?” He was never one for a quiet dinner, rambunctious by nature. 

I look at him with a bright smile, all teeth.  “The drive was okay. I'm not a fan of long drives but this one was manageable. It was peaceful.” 

Nick gave me a goofy grin. I melted internally as he grabbed my hand and placed to his lips leaving me a tender kiss, “You know i wouldn’t torture you with a very long trip.”

 I chuckled, taking his hand in return. “How very thoughtful of you, baby.”

I start gathering the dishes and take them to the kitchen. I place them on the sink looking out the kitchen window, I see a person standing near the trees. Confused, I called out for Nick “hey babe! Come here please”

Nick walks into the kitchen “what's up?” he goes over to me and puts his arm around my waist. 

“There is someone out there. I saw someone standing near that tree” I turn to look at him

Nick turns to look out the window “I don't see anyone out there babe. Maybe it's just the drink getting to you.” He looks at me and smirks 

I roll my eyes and move away from him “I only had half a cup. I swear to you I saw someone out there.”

As soon as he opened his mouth to reply to me there was a loud bang coming from the front door. 

Nick goes to the front door and opens it only to be greeted by no one there. Confused, he looks around and goes back inside “that was weird. There was no one there.”

I shrug and go back to the kitchen. I see that my phone isn't on the counter, confused. I start looking around for it “babe have you seen my phone? I left it near the counter when I was cooking and it's not there.” 

Nick leans against the door frame “no i haven't seen it. Are you sure you left it there? Maybe you just misplaced it.”

Looking at him annoyed, I answer “No Nicholas. I didn't misplace it. I know where I left it at. It couldn't just get up and walk away from me.”

Nick “I'll help you look for it. I'm sure it's around here. Like you said I don't think it got up and just left.” he looks around the living room.

I walk into the bedroom and look around for it. I get on the floor to look under the bed when I see a pair of feet on the other side of the bed. I see the person wearing black dress pants and black boots. Confusion running through my head, I sit up and look up to find no one there. 

“Nick come here please” I say from the bedroom while getting up. Nick walks into the bedroom “yes Michelle?” I look down to his pants and his shoes and see that he is wearing black levis and all black nike air max 90s. 

Nick smirks at me “baby if you want something you just gotta say it, you don't have to be a tease about it” he sits on the edge of the bed close to me. 

I roll my eyes “have you always been wearing those shoes or did you just change them?” 

Nick replies “I have always been wearing these shoes. Why?” I look at him horror flashing through me making me get goosebumps “I I think someone is in here. When I was looking for my phone under the bed, I looked across and I saw a pair of legs. The person was wearing boots”

“Are you sure? The only people here are us. I would think we would have been able to hear if someone came in here. Again, you need to stop watching horror movies” Nick says as looks at me 

Frustrated I responded “I swear on anything I saw someone standing on the other side of the bed. Stop gaslighting me Nicholas. I'm so close to leaving you here. I still can't find my phone.” 

Nick sighs “I'm sorry. Please forgive  me?” he pouts and brings me close to him.

I smile and kiss him “I guess I can accept your apology Folio. You are going to have to make it up” I put my hands on his shoulders as I stood between his legs.

Nick looks up at me and smirks “you don't have to tell me. I have thought of every way I am going to make it up to you baby.” 

Just as I was about to lean down to kiss him, the lights were cut off. I gasped in horror not knowing what could have caused this. 

Nick looks at me “well that's strange. I'm going to go to the garage to get some flashlights. I’ll be back babe.” He says as he makes his way out of the room to the garage.

I make my way to the living room to see if I can find some candles. I hear a tapping sound coming from the back door. Confused, I make my way to the back door, pull open the curtain when I'm greeted by a girl in a mask holding a knife. I scream and back up.

 As I'm running to the bedroom, I see a shadow down the hall. I gasp and run into the bathroom and lock the door. I go inside the bathtub and sit. I bring my knees up to my chest. Crying and shaking out of fear, I look at the door. I see it being shaked and pulled. I cry even more. 

The door gets kicked open and the shadow gets close to me. “Michelle, what are you doing here?”

 Nick asked me while standing near the bathtub. When I hear his voice, I get up and encircle his waist.  “Oh Nick. I saw someone outside holding a knife and I don't know if it was the same person b b but I saw someone in the hallway. I want to leave. Please, I want to go home.” I plead.

 Nick sighs and holds me tightly in muscular arms, “Alright, Alright. Let's go back home. Let's start packing” He goes to the bedroom.

“No! I don't care about my stuff. I just want to get out of here!” I get out of the bathroom and go to the living room. Nick follows me “What is going on with you? There is no one else besides us here” I turn to look at him and see someone standing a few feet away from him. I scream. 

Nick turns around and backs up to me “who are you!” he calls out. The masked person walked to us slowly. It was the same girl that was tapping the window. 

Nick holds my hand and runs out the front door to the car. I held and ran with him. As we got to the car there was a masked man standing near it. He had a ski mask and was fairly tall. He was holding a lighter in his hand. As fast as we saw the lighter in his hand was just as fast as he threw it to the car making it light up. 

Nick looks at the car “fuck. We ran back inside. As soon as Nick closed the door an ax came down on it. Screaming, I backed away from the door. Nick ran to me and turned to look at me. With his hands, he grabbed my face looking at me.

 “I need you to go hide for me, okay? I have a weapon in the garage and I need to go get it. I'm going to come right back for you. I love you” he kisses me softly and lets go of me and makes his way out of the room.

 I grab his hand to stop him “Nick I want to go with you please. I don't want to be left alone here.” Nick looks at me “it will be okay. I promise you. Everything will be fine Michelle.” I let go of his arm “please be careful Nick.” I say to him as he walks out of the backdoor. I follow behind him slowly watching him till he gets to the garage. Suddenly I hear a noise near the garage thinking that Nick could have gotten hurt, I go out and start walking towards it. 

Once I get close to it I see that there is a girl standing there in a pin up mask. I look at her out of fear and start walking backwards. As I take my steps she starts walking towards me. I turn to run and she walks behind me. 

I ran into the house and hid in a closet. I cover my mouth to keep any noises from coming out of me. I suddenly see a silhouette standing across the closet door. 

Suddenly the door gets pulled open and there is a girl wearing a doll mask standing in front of me. I let out a horrified scream.

 Trying to run past her, she slices my arm with her knife. I ran to the living room. As soon as I got to it, I saw a man in a mask dragging Nick by the shirt and tossing him into the middle of the living room. Nick is beaten and bloody.

 I gasp and go to kneel beside him and hold him. I cry and look at him. The three masked strangers stand in front of us next to each other. The masked man squats down to look at us.

 I look at him and say “Why are you doing this? Why us?” He looks at me with a smile and says “because you are here and you answered the door.” He stands up and stands next to the other two girls.

The masked man looks at both of the girls and says “It's time”. He takes out a knife and looks at Nick and I. The room is silent except for the sobs that are leaving my mouth. 

“Please don't do this. Please. You can take whatever you want. I-I promise I won't say anything to anyone.” I plead to them. 

The girl in the pin up mask takes it off and throws it on the ground. Next to take off their mask is the girl wearing the doll mask. 

The last one to take off their mask is the guy in the ski mask. He stands out to me the most because he looks familiar. 

Nick looks at me and says “I'm sorry this had to be done.” 

He gets up and stands next to the girl with the long black hair. He wipes the blood from his lip with the back of his hand and takes the knife that the guy gives to him. I look at him shocked and confused and angry not knowing what to do. 

“I I don't understand. Why?- Wait- you’re apart of this? Why did you do this?” 

Nick looks at me expressionless. “Because you were so different from the rest, don't you get it? You sweet, sweet dumb girl. You were a mere ploy, a means to an end.”

 I look at him shocked. “You don't mean that, I don't believe you!” 

Nick goes to me and squats in front of me “you don't have to” He traces the knife along my jawline. 

I look at him with a terrified expression and whisper “Nicholas, don't do this please.” I beg him crying on my knees. He leaned so close to me, his lip grazing my ear and whispered,  “Nicholas isn't here right now, please leave a message after the beep.” 

Three long beats go by and he leans back to look at me. I look at him and see his pupils are dilated.His eyes are no longer the light brown that I know, all I see is darkness showing no emotion. No love. No worries. Nothing. 

Nick looks at me with an evil smirk and grabs my jaw, squeezing it hard, he licks his lips and said;  

“You look so delicious like this, so weak and defenseless. Makes me want to put on a show before you lose.” 

I look at him angry and spit at him “Fuck you Nick! I hate you!” Nick laughs and wipes the spit from his face with the back of his hand, “those are some nice last words you have to say baby.” I try to move his hand from my jawline but he's stronger than me.

 He lets go and pushes me back, making me fall back onto the floor. I turn to see that one by one the strangers are leaving the cabin. Nick stands over me and knees down to straddle me. 

His knees are on either side of my hips. Eyes locked on mine as he spoke harshly,  “You know, I wasn't lying when I said that you were different from the rest. You were my favorite one.”

 I look up at him screaming, a guttural and loud growl erupts. “Please! Nick please! Don't do this! I-I promise I won't say anything to anyone!” I kicked my legs and hit him on the chest. 

Nick takes one last look at me and pushes the knife right above my right breast. I scream in horror and try to fight him off of me. 

Nick pushes it deeper and takes it out. As he takes the knife out,  blood starts seeping out and spilling on my shirt and on the floor. 

Specks of blood land on his arms. He stabs me a couple more times and gets up to look down at me. I open my mouth to scream but nothing comes out. I roll over onto my stomach and cry. 

Trying to crawl away from him, he grabs me by the foot pulling me back. I turn to him to look at him, still on my stomach as tears fall down my face, I whisper “I love you Nick”. As those words leave my mouth, no emotion is being shown by him. 

I close my eyes to not look at him. Remembering all the happy memories we shared together. He brings down the knife stabbing me on the back. 

Nick takes out the knife, setting it on the kitchen counter. He takes one last look at me before walking out of the cabin. He gets into a car with the three strangers. 

Taking off. I open my eyes and look around to make sure he isn't around anymore. I get up slowly and make my way to the kitchen, seeing my phone on the counter as if it was never missing. 

My hands shake as I pick it up making a phone call. Hearing the dial tone on the other side, I take a deep breath.

911 what's your emergency?....

#nick folio x ofc #nick folio fanfiction #nick folio au #the strangers au #The Unknown!Nick Folio #nickfolio #theunknown nick folio #nick folio fic #nick folio x oc

[hannahssimblr]

On a bright, clear morning, our art class gets permission from the principal to embark on a trip to the park. It’s an exciting prospect to us students, a trek all the way across the road from school, totaling a distance of one hundred metres from the back gates. It feels every bit as exciting as our fourth year school tour to Rome.

It’s cold, but there is the slightest tinge of spring in the air, and though the grass and the earth is damp I find a place to sit nestled among the newly sprouted wild flowers because I think it might be nice to try and draw them, but also because Michelle and Evan were sitting here first and Jen still has me on a mission to befriend them. 

“Pay attention to the colours when you’re doing your drawings today,” Ms. O’Reilly says, “Oftentimes things aren’t as they seem when you really look at them. Yes, the grass is green, but can’t you see yellow there too? Blue in the shade? There’s a whole range of values and hues that you don’t see at first glance, nor will you unless you take the time to really observe and take it all in.”

“That’s how you should think of me,” I nudge Michelle, “Like the grass. I’m not just green, I’m shades of blue and yellow too.”

She rolls her eyes, “Oh wow, so now you’re a poet.” 

“I knew you’d think that, and you know what? It comes naturally to me, I’m just that kind of person.”

I catch her smirking before she turns her face away and pretends to be interested in what Evan is drawing in his sketchbook. “What’s that?” She asks him, and he flips his hair out of his eyes, “the drain. I think it’s more interesting than the trees and shit, you know? Like, that juxtaposition of the man made in the middle of nature.”

I snort, “I take it back, I’m not the poetic one after all. Wow, that’s deep. I never thought of a drain into the sewer in those terms before.”

His shoulders stiffen, “Hey, what are you getting smart for? Didn’t you get detention a few weeks ago for vomiting on the floor in Mr. Doherty’s class?”

I won’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his rudeness as such, so I laugh, “Nah, man, rumour. I did throw up, but not on the floor. I was hungover,” A shrug, “What can you do, huh?” 

Michelle huffs out a laugh, “Surprised you didn’t see each other in detention. Jude is the only person I know who has to go more often than you, Evan.”

“I’ve got detention again yesterday” he boasts, and I indulge him, “For what?”

There’s a satisfied glint in his eye, “Fireworks.”

“Where?”

“Just in my locker.” 

“No way,” I let out a squawk of a laugh, “I got caught for that once too.”

He glances around awkwardly, unable to decide if I’m engaging genuinely with him or taking the piss again, “Really?” He says with cautious interest, “When?”

“Oh, like a few years ago. Second year I think, sometime around Halloween, but someone ratted me out,” I jokingly jab my thumb at Michelle who gasps in outrage, “It wasn’t me! Jen and I knew about it but we didn’t say anything! I don’t know who it was.”

Evan rests his pencil on the page, “What were you going to do with them?”

“I hadn’t decided yet.”

“Me neither,” he says, actually smiling, “I was just storing them. Actually, I turned myself in once they made that announcement that someone was seen with them. I didn’t want them going through my locker or anything, like, doing the whole search operation thing.”

“Yeah, who knows what might be in there.”

“For sure,” he goes back to drawing his drain and I begin to sketch in the petals of a crocus flower next to my shoe. After another short moment his curiosity gets the better of him, “Hey, what’s the worst thing you ever got detention for?”

I chuckle, “When I was twelve I set a fire in the boy’s bathroom.”

An incredulous pause, “That was you?”

“Yeah, like, it was an accident though. I’m not an arsonist.” 

“Yeah that was wild,” Michelle muses, “I remember having to keep it a secret, because Jen and I knew but nobody else did. We weren’t even supposed to know it. You remember how the school made us all go to an assembly about it and they brought that fireman in?”

Evan nudges her with his elbow, “You knew who it was the whole time? You never said!”

“I’m a good secret keeper!”

He looks at me with intrigue, “What happened? What’s the real story?”

“So I was skipping class. I used to get really bored in Mr. White's History so I hid in the toilets and then when I was there I guess I realised I didn’t have anything to do. I had this lighter in my bag that I’d found in the yard, so I started lighting little pieces of toilet paper on fire, you know, just to watch them burn up and turn into nothing, but if it got too crazy I’d just extinguish them in the toilet. Anyway, I got carried away and decided to light the whole toilet roll on fire and then,” I shrug, “you know the rest, I suppose.”

“I remember that day so well, do you-” he cackles, “-do you remember how they didn’t replace the toilet paper dispenser for the whole year? It was just this big hunk of melted plastic stuck to the wall of the stall.”

“Really? Nah, man, I didn't go back into that stall ever again. That’s hilarious.”

“You mean to this day? Five years later?”

“Yeah, seriously! I can’t face it, it just brings me right back there, to getting screamed at in the principal's office and then them calling my parents and all…” the jovial spirit in me falters and this memory, “...who, um, weren’t happy about it and all. Uh, but the main thing was that we talked the principal out of expelling me. I got suspended for a week and then a month straight of detention instead, so it worked out okay.”

“And you talked them out of expulsion…?” Evan prompts.

“Oh, you know, I’m just good at bullshitting,” I say vaguely, though the reality was that I sat at the principal’s desk, my body racked with breathless, terrified sobs until I almost puked, snot pouring down my face, swearing on my pre-teen life that it was an accident until they let me off easy out of pure pity alone. 

I concentrate on my crocuses for a while while Michelle and Evan draw too, the three of us in content silence while Ms. O'Reilly walks around the group to look at our work. “Beautiful,” She says of mine, and the compliment fills my insides with such joy and acceptance that I can’t hide it from my face. 

“Who’s the teacher’s pet now?” Michelle mutters as Ms. O’Reilly moves on.

“Jealous?”

“No.”

“Can I see yours?”

“Why, so you can gloat?”

“No, c’mon, I’m curious.” 

She sighs and tilts her sketchbook to me so that I can see the trees she has drawn. She has a soft line, feminine, cautious and a little shaky, but she’s captured the scene nicely, how the spindly, bare branches of the chestnut tree cut through the clouds and frame a hazy February sky.

“That’s lovely,” I say. “Not that I’m surprised, you’ve always been a good drawer.”

She looks at her work doubtfully, “I’m not sure, I think I fucked up the scale of some things.”

“Nah, you’d hardly notice.”

“Hm.”

“When did you change your mind about art school?” 

“Huh?”

“I thought you wanted to pursue it. I remember you saying that a while back.”

She scoffs, “Oh yeah, years ago. It’s not a practical choice though. What am I going to do with an art degree? Work in McDonalds? I think it’s better that I go for something with more prospects like, um, law or business or medicine.”

I smile, “Yeah. Okay. I think that’s your dad talking.”

“That’s what I think,” Evan pipes up, “Don’t I always say it, Michelle? They’re all boring choices, and you are so not boring. You’re a creative soul.”

“Aw, thanks baby.”

It takes all of my willpower to resist pulling a face. Baby? I almost say something about how horrendous it is for me to be subjected to their emo love before I remember that my task is to be nice to them. It’s going so well, I shouldn’t jeopardise it no matter how tempting.  

“Hey,” she spins back to me, “Can I see that drawing you did of me in class? You never showed me in the end.”

“Well, you didn’t ask,” I flip a few pages back and hold it up to her, her own face, a direct, impatient gaze and mouth slightly pursed in concentration. She stares at it like she’s gazing into a mirror. 

“You made me look very pretty,” She decides after several moments. 

I steal a glance at her. It’s not difficult to, because she is very pretty, she’s always been that way as long as I've known her with those deep, dark brown eyes and heart shaped face. It is her personality and attitude in the last couple of years that's the real pity. I smirk, “Well, you know, I appreciate you saying that, because it really wasn’t easy for me…”

“God, you’re insufferable,” she complains, rolls her eyes and turns away.

I go back to my crocuses. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2009 #thank you to the pose makers for this one #my sims no longer have to use the drawing tablet wooo

[madameberry]

This was originally a thread I made on twitter of drawing reference packs of nonwhite and/or body-diverse people. I made this out of spite after hours of googling trying to find fair-use reference for RGB/hue lights on dark skin (which I still haven't found!). With twitter going the way that it is, I'm crossposting this here in case it gets nuked. This thread originally focused on packs that are specifically uploaded for drawing reference that have licenses for artist use, though later I did branch out a bit with suggestions from others. I'd love to see more added to this.

This is gonna be long so I'm putting it under the fold. Let's get into it.

@AdorkaStock has tons of body-diverse reference packs, including probably the only trans or disabled models in a reference pack I've found. Oh, and the best part about adorkastock: most packs are free with attribution! Some faves:

https://www.deviantart.com/adorkastock/art/Wing-Pack-Preview-891765898

https://www.deviantart.com/adorkastock/art/Sailor-Starlight-and-Prince-Nova-Highlight-Pack-842015663

Faestock on Artstation has a few packs. I like that these packs have costume references too, since I struggle with clothing a lot.

https://www.artstation.com/marketplace/p/VXDqy/x113-stella-fantasy-queen-reference-pack

https://www.artstation.com/marketplace/p/v9bPA/x120-genie-pose-reference-pack

https://www.artstation.com/marketplace/p/1V0aw/x120-christine-action-reference-pack

https://www.artstation.com/marketplace/p/LpWb0/x120-gown-sword-pose-reference-pack

Grafit Studio has a few good packs if you're willing to pick through their selection. Here's a free pack with a variety of models, and an expressions pack I've used a few times.

Sample pack: https://grafitschool.gumroad.com/l/IoHbY

Expressions Pack: https://grafitschool.gumroad.com/l/LPpjT

Satine Zillah on Artstation has a number of packs. Anyway here's a nice one of an older black gentleman, a variety portrait pack, and one costumed pack that I included in my original thread, but I can't speak on the accuracy of the depictions:

https://www.artstation.com/marketplace/p/J25K/portraits-vol-2-model-ali-260-jpegs-photo-reference-pack-for-artists

https://www.artstation.com/marketplace/p/yJ72/portraits-photo-reference-pack-255-jpegs

https://www.artstation.com/marketplace/p/9NdV/culture-of-the-steppe-760-jpegs-photo-reference-pack-for-artists

Cathleen Tarawhiti on Deviantart has a number of stock options sorted by model. They normally do book cover shoots, but they're seemingly free for personal use, which I assume includes study.

https://www.deviantart.com/cathleentarawhiti/gallery/55170611/zabeen

https://www.deviantart.com/cathleentarawhiti/gallery/65446765/whitney-marie

photoref.org has a number of shoots of diverse models. The pinup shoot and the skate party shoot are great, I love the outfit inspo!

Pinup Pack: https://jennravenna.gumroad.com/l/vwAsi

Skate Party Pack: https://jennravenna.gumroad.com/l/EGpIk

@ fugitiverabbit on Twitter is running this resource of fat photo references that's (so-far) volunteer-run:

This site was suggested to me and it's just good and fun and wholesome.

There are a number of Tiktok users who pose for reference use. I can't include all of them individually, but here's the one that was brought to my attention:

r/drawme and /rdrawmensfw subreddits were suggested to me as places where people have given permission to be drawn. This can be a good source of refs for different body types as well!

And finally, two book recommendations:

Morpho Anatomy for Artists - Fat and Skin Folds by Michel Lauricella So many anatomy study sources focus on idealized proportions. This is one of the few resources I've found that goes deep into how fat and skin lays on the body in different locations.

and How to Draw Black People by Malik Shabazz

That's all from my original thread, but feel free to add more!

#drawing reference #art reference #reference poses #art resources

[theindependenttrentcrimm]

“Henry, Henry, we’ve got to go, we’re gonna be late to your mom’s!” Ted zipped the bag of chocolate chip cookies he had made the night before and stuffed them quickly into Henry’s backpack. The mid morning sun was already streaming through the slanted window over the kitchen sink and peppering the counter in golden hues. “I know you want to finish the level, buddy, but I told your mom 11!” It was still hard not seeing Henry everyday, but he’d take every other week over FaceTime calls from an ocean away any day.

“Coming!” He heard from the other room as his phone started ringing in his pocket.

“Ah shoot,” he said as he juggled the backpack in one hand and fished out his phone with the other. “Hey, Trent,” he said just as Henry came skating around the kitchen doorway, hopping on one foot to pull his shoe on while he watched a YouTube video on his phone. Ted handed him his backpack and covered the end of the phone to say “hey, what did we say about runnin’ around distracted in this house?”

“That it’s more dangerous than an elephant on rollerblades in an intersection!” Henry intoned, his eyes tracking the video on the phone. Ted sighed, figuring that he may have lost this particular battle and replied,

“Darn straight, bill gates. Thank you. Now hustle your butt to the car.” He turned back to the sink to grab the keys and tucked the phone back between his ear and his shoulder.

“Hey, yourself,” Trent chuckled and Ted couldn’t help the smile that slowly spread over his face.

“Sorry, about that,” he said, “you know how trade off day goes.”

“That I do,” trent replied. “Do you want me to call back later, my love?” Ted felt the pleasant warmth spread to his cheeks and he passed a hand over his face as if to wipe the giddy love from it.

“Nah, that’s okay. I know it’s getting late over there.”

“Dad come on!” Henry yelled from the front door, dragging the ‘on’ out until it sounded almost English.

“And that’s my cue. Hey, Trent, okay if we put a pin in this until tomorrow? I promised Michelle we’d be there in twenty and it’s at least a twenty five minute drive if traffic is on our side.”

“Of course, Ted. Go, be with your son. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Thanks,” Ted started for the door but paused just outside of Henry’s earshot. “And Trent?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

he could hear the other man’s smile in the silence over the phone and something bloomed in his chest.

“I love you too.”

#t rambles #ted lasso #trent crimm #tedependent fic #ted x trent #tedtrent fic #a look at if they did long distance #ted doesn’t use pet names in this cause henry could overhear #but I imagine he’s very affectionate and free with pet names for Trent otherwise #mark this under temptation Tuesday because it wouldn’t leave me alone

[aphroditestempleimagines]

The Obsidianite Jewel

A fem!reader x Chevalier Michel Fanfiction

Chapter 16 -> Chapters Masterlist

Words: 2268

Warnings: language

Summary: It all started when your fiancé, Prince Gilbert, brought you to the palace of Rhodolite. He hoped he would find the secrets of the princes. Instead, he lost your heart to the brutal beast. However, Gilbert is not going to let your heart wander away easily

"Hey sis", Jonathan gave you a sad smile, "Want me to bring you anything?"

You shook your head, never taking your eyes away from the orange hues that painted the horizon. "No thank you, I'm alright", you said softly.

Jonathan looked at your bare feet, toes scraping the wet sand as the waves kissed them. The hem of your dress, already wet by the ocean, was stuck on your calves as you dangled your legs under the rock on which you sat. Your eyes looked empty; your face remained expressionless when you did not have to face him. He had never seen you look this sad. Even when your heart ached in the past you always used to put on a show for the people you loved; now it was not enough to mask your pain.

"You'll catch a cold", he said, "Please come inside"

"I won't", you assured him, "I'll go back in in a bit. I just want to see the sunset"

Jonathan bit his lip. He wanted to cry. Eventually, he nodded and left you on the secluded beach, climbing back up the stairs to the castle. He rubbed his eyes. Before he knew it, he was standing outside the new King's office. He heard murmurs; then steps. He ran to hide in the shadows of the nearest column. The door opened.

"I appreciate it, Your Majesty", Gilbert stood proud at the height of an Emperor. He had announced his new title as soon as he and y/n returned to Istidor.

The moment Gilbert was gone, Emerich ran back to the office. He stood in front of the closed door until he gathered enough courage to knock.

"Come in", his father's rough voice came from inside.

It was a wonder how Jonathan kept himself from trembling as he stepped inside. King Edward sat on a large chair, his arms resting on the sides. His face was scared from battle, his hands were calloused from training. His longsword leaned against his desk, taller than half of Jonathan's height already. He was proof that some people were born to rule.

"Jonathan", he said as if addressing a soldier rather than a son, "What is the matter?"

His eyes were still glued on his paperwork as Jonathan approached his desk.

"It's y/n", he said, "I don't think she's alright".

The King raised his gaze along with one of his thick eyebrows.

"She doesn't love Gilbert", Jonathan continued.

King Edward let out a heavy sigh. "Love is a luxury for people like us. he said, "Marriage is built on things much sturdier than love. Things that come with time"

"But why can't she have both?", Jonathan took a step forward, "You're King now so our fates are finally in your hands. Chevalier-"

"You said yourself that that man's goal is to unite the continent under his name", the King intervened, "What he wants is our army and our gold. As a King, I cannot trust a sliver of my Kingdom to a man like him and as a father, I surely cannot concede that my daughter spends her days with someone who sees her as his key to power".

Jonathan covered his face with his hand. Those were his thoughts indeed. He had discussed the matter with his father when y/n first told him about her feelings for Chevalier. He never expected this escalation. But after speaking with Chevalier in person he had seen for himself that there was a heart behind those cruel eyes, and that heart bled from love. "I'm not so sure that is the case", he said quietly.

"I cannot base this decision on your instinct alone. I need facts. Gilbert loves her and I know he aims to build a new name for the Obsidianite Empire, one that is not a synonym of war. But all I've heard about Chevalier is his gruesome feats in combat and the countless assassins after him"

"Y/n is not stupid. She'd know if-"

"You're very smart yourself, Jonathan", the King interrupted him once more, "Yet you should know more than anyone how blinding love can be".

Jonathan lowered his gaze. His father was right. "I understand I'm not the best person to be speaking about judge of character", he said softly, "Still, wouldn't it be worth it to give it a chance? Don't you wish that y/n has what you and Mom did?"

King Edward leaned back on his chair. He brought his hand to his lips, taking a moment to consider his son's words. "Alright", he finally said, "You are right. Ruling is a hard and lonely job. If y/n has someone she loves by her side it will be a hell of a lot more bearable". He leaned closer. "Go find him. Convince him to speak to me. But don't tell him anything about my concernsof him", the King continued, "That said, Jonathan, I don't want you causing commotion either".

Jonathan frowned. "Of course I won-"

"I mean it", King Edgard narrowed his eyes, "Don't tempt any rumours and especially don't let your brother get too involved. We don't want another scandal"

Jonathan bowed his head. He nodded so that his father knew that he understood. "Yes father", he said, "Thank you"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sneak attack!", Clavis drew everyone's attention to him as he charged in the dining hall, sword in hand, heading straight towards his older brother. Everyone's attention but Chevalier's it seems, who continued to casually flip the pages of his book even as Clavis' sword stopped mere inches from his head.

"Clavis, are you insane?", Emma shrieked but Clavis ignored her.

"That could have killed you, you know", the jester prince smiled nervously.

Chevalier breathed a heavy sigh. "I don't have time for your adolescent nonsense", he flipped another page in his book.

"Clavis, put that thing away!", Leon got off his seat.

"You always have time for my adolescent nonsense when something is not bothering you", Clavis's gaze did not waver.

Chevalier finally tore his eyes away from his book to meet his brother's. He always pushed even when -no, especially when- Chevalier did not want him to.

"Rejoice! It's your birthday! And I know how to cheer you up", Clavis finally returned his sword to his scabbard, "I have a surprise for you!"

"I've heard enough", Chevalier pushed his chair back and headed towards the library, where he had resulted to spend his nights.

"You'll regret it if you don't come, I'm afraid"

"Clavis, is this another pitfall?", Yves's tired voice was heard from the other side.

"Gods no!", Clavis cheered, "Those are reserved for you, little brother, cause you just look so adorable all scrambled up!"

"Fine", Chevalier cut him off, "But if you waste my time be ready to meet the consequences"

"Oooh scary...", Clavis shook his palms before throwing an arm around his brother's shoulder. Chevalier looked at him with repulsion. "Don't worry, I am the best at giving people gifts"

Clavis led Chevalier to a secluded part of the garden. Anyone else would be crawling with nervousness, but Chevalier merely rested his hand on the hilt of his sword and waited for Clavis to reveal his card. He did not know why he entertained his foolishness but deep down he hoped that he had indeed found a way to make his days more bearable. Because if anyone would have noticed the cracks that ran through his heart no matter the pretence he put on to perform his royal duties, it would be him.

"We have arrived", Clavis said proudly as they reached the gazebo.

Chevalier raised his eyebrow; there was nothing here.

No. There was only a shadow. He had almost missed it.

He turned his head and that's when he saw him; showered by the darkness of the early night, Jonathan leaned against one of the gazebo's pillars. Chevalier's heart fell. No matter how unlikely he still hoped his eyes would meet the beautiful shine of y/n's under the moonlight.

"If you've come to kill me perhaps you should divert your attention to the actual threat", he told him blankly.

"Impressive", Jonathan smiled, "People don't tend to notice me"

"Say that after I find you when you didn't want to be noticed", the Rholoditian King climbed the steps to meet the foreign prince. "What do you want?", he asked.

Chevalier frowned. Why and how would he help him? His mind raced through the worst case scenarios. His brows furrowed in anger, "Did he do something?"

"No", Jonathan pushed himself off the column, "She's fine- well-".

The prince took a deep breath. He kept his head low as he shook it. He walked past Chevalier. The King suddenly felt lighter. He turned around; Jonathan had swiped the book he had been reading. Chevalier observed as the prince read the title, along with the inscription behind the cover. There was no chance he would not recognize one of his sister's books. She had left it behind before hurriedly returning to Istidor, and it was all Chevalier had been reading ever since.

"It appears your brother was right", Jonathan spared Clavis a look before returning it to Chevalier, "You're not well either"

Chevalier gave his brother an angry look. "Hey don't look at me", Clavis shook his hands,"I said I was happy to see you in pain"

"Clavis."

The jester prince responded with a heavy sigh to Jonathan's scolding. His amused expression gave way to a serious one, publicly for the first time in years. "I hate myself for saying this", he hesitantly muttered, "but you look like father".

That sentence reminded Chevalier that he owned a heart, because at that moment it sunk to the depths of the Earth. "I'm not him", he said, the feeling of y/n tears drenching his shirt after that man had assaulted her suddenly feeling once again all too real.

"I'm not saying you are but...".

Clavis shoved his hands in his pockets. He let out a heavy sigh and turned his head away. "Don't make me say it, you piece of shit"

"You two are gonna make me cry", Jonathan scoffed, "You look like shit and he's worried about you. And I worry about my sister"

"She made her own choice", Chevalier said firmly, "I have no right to-"

"Do you love her?", Jonathan interrupted. He took a step closer as Chevalier frowned in confusion.

"What?"

"It's a simple question ", Jonathan continued, "Do. You. Love. Her?"

Chevalier stiffened. He hated this question. He hated how it called on the feeling he once despised and now held dearer than his own life. And most of all he hated that he had to admit it for the first time to someone other than y/n; but he knew Jonathan would not take anything other than "yes" or "no" for an answer.

"You know I do", his voice came strangled.

Jonathan nodded. "Then fight for her"

"That battle was lost the moment we were born"

"That's not true. There's", Jonathan appeared reluctant, "Two things stand in your way: the King's council and the King himself. My brother can help you appeal to the nobles. But you have to speak to my father yourself"

"And your brother will help?"

"Well", Jonathan rubbed the nape of his neck, "I guess you have to talk to him too. I can come with, but he won't speak to me"

Someone else would have asked why. But it did not matter to Chevalier. "So where is he?"

"I....don't know"

"He's in Benitoite", Clavis reminded them with his melodious voice that he was still there. "What?", he shook his shoulders, "I like him so I keep tabs"

"That's concerning"

"Agreed"

Both Chevalier and Jonathan said. But there was no other option.

"You two geniuses think there is no way for you to be together", Jonathan remarked, "But did you even try to find one?"

Chevalier did not respond. The foreign prince was right. Going against y/n's choices was what he wanted least, but the moment she was ripped away from him his will to follow up on that notion became much weaker. If Jonathan was right, that she felt the same as him, and he could present her a path they could walk down together then he had to do it.

"Clavis", he said, "Fetch Four-Eyes"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Miles away, in the luscious land of Istidor, Gilbert threw an arm around his beloved's shoulders as he sat next to her on the couch. She did not push him away but neither did she cuddle closer to him as his arms enveloped her.

"What are you reading?", he rested his chin on her shoulders.

She flipped another page on the old and tattered book. "I just found it", she shook her shoulders, "It's poems. You wouldn't like it"

"I like poems", Gilbert reached for the book. He flipped to see the cover. "The romance of the rose", he read. Y/n pulled her legs to her chest. "Thus, if I ever knew the sickness of love, you will carry on with little sleep, throughout the night", Gilbert read, "And when you can’t bear your suffering lying awake in your bed, you will have to dress, put on your shoes, and adorn yourself. Then, whether it is raining or freezing, you will go in secret directly to the house of your sweetheart, who will be sound asleep, with hardly a thought of you "

"I think i'll just go to bed", y/n hurriedly put on her slippers and ran upstairs to the bedchambers.

"Oo...kay?", Gilbert was left dumbfounded, with only the book and the memory of her warmth as his company. Gilbert closed the book and checked the cover once again. He clenched his fist. He did not know the exact details, but he felt it in his bones that this was about Chevalier; it was always about Chevalier.

He threw the book away and covered his bare eye with his hand. He had won her hand back, but he could never reclaim her heart.

#the obsidianite jewel #ikepri #ikemen prince #chevalier michel #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri chevalier #ikepri gilbert #ikepri x reader #chevalier x you #ikepri chevalier x reader #ikepri gilbert x reader #gilbert von obsidian x you

[bullet-prooflove]

StolenMoments!Series Part Five: Gone - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader (feat: Sam Hanna)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @novamariestark @words-and-seeds

Part One: First Date - You and Nik have an unusual first date.

Part Two: Christmas in Afganistan - You and Nik reunite in Afganistan.

Part Three: Yours (NSFW) - Nik and you take the next step in your relationship.

Part Four: Last Words - Nik goes on the hunt after you're taken.

Sam finds you sitting alone on the edge of your bunk, your packed bag resting in the space alongside of you. You don’t look up when he enters, you’re too focused on the plush heated blanket that’s folded neatly upon your lap. Your fingertips toying with the edges of it.

“It was Sabatino’s.” You find yourself telling him. “He lent it to me when one of the generators broke.”

“I know you hate the cold.” He had murmured, his lips ghosting along the line of your jaw as his heated form covered yours.  “And I won’t be here over the next few weeks to keep you warm.”

You had told him that a lifetime ago, back when the two of you were sitting in a car watching Sidorov fuck his mistress. You’d been surprised he remembered. He’d laughed when you’d said that, his nose trailing over yours as he’d whispered.

“I remember everything my girl tells me.”

He’d made love to you that night for the last time. His hands threading through your hair as he kissed you. You’ll never forget the way he looked at you in that moment, like you were the most precious thing in his world, like he loved you more than life itself.

“He’s a good guy.” Sam says as he takes up residence alongside of you, his shoulder nudges against yours. “But you knew that anyway.”

You purse your lips together grimly before you tilt your head to look at him. You look like a horror show. The left side of your face is swollen, marred with hues of purple and blue. Your lip is split, and your right eye is bloodshot, the broken blood vessels stark against the white of your eye. Your nose has been reset by the medic on base and you have cracked ribs from the beating you had taken when the Taliban had first tried to interrogate you.

As soon as you had landed back at base you’d been triaged. Your injuries didn’t warrant a hospital visit. You’d been taken away to the medical tent instead while Sabatino was airlifted to Daoud Khan Military Hospital in Kabal for emergency surgery. The bullet had torn through his back and exited through his chest causing him to bleed internally, his lungs had begun to soak up the blood causing him to choke. It had been fucking devastating to watch, the man you love dying right before your eyes.

“I got word that he made it through the surgery.” Sam says quietly as he leans forward, clasping his hands together. “That man is one tough bastard.”

“He is.” You say with a small smile because the Sabatino you know never quits; it isn’t in his nature. “When can I see him?”

Sam doesn’t say anything and that’s when you realise the real reason he’s here. The words that he’s not saying.

“He’s already gone, isn’t he?” You say raising your eyes towards the ceiling as you inhale deeply.

“Yea.” Sam says quietly. “The CIA closed ranks, he was moved as soon as the surgery was completed. I don’t know where they’ve taken him.”

It’s a blow. Sam sees the impact of it as your grip on the blanket tightens, your knuckles whitening. You haven’t learned yet the sacrifice that comes with being involved with a CIA Officer, but you’re starting to. Their lives, they aren’t their own, they belong The Agency. They go where they’re told and they do the job. Sabatino, he’s an important asset, the connections he has, the operations he’s worked, the shit he knows, they can’t afford for him to be vulnerable. Sam knows it must kill you, it had killed him once upon a time when it happened with Michelle. The worst part is, he doesn’t think you understand what Sabatino was saying in the chopper, how he’s betraying the CIA by giving himself to you.

“You don’t know do you?” Sam says softly. “What he was trying to tell you in the helicopter.”

You shake your head.

He slips into Armenian sometimes when he’s emotional, when he’s in the throes of pleasure and he can’t find the words, he wants to say in English. He whispers them against your skin in the heat of the moment, saying the most beautiful things in a language you don’t understand.

“I love you.” Sam tells you in a low tone. “He was saying I love you.”

It hits you hard because in Sabatino’s final moments that’s what he would have wanted you to know, that he loved you. He had repeated it over and over again until he’d begun to drown on his own blood.

“He doesn’t know…” You trail off, your palms smoothing over the blanket.

“You never told him.” Sam states.

“No.”

Your eyes fucking sting, you pinch your brow to stave off the tears, but it’s been a traumatic twenty-four hours and right now, this conversation it’s more than you can bear. Sam’s hand comes to rest on yours, he squeezes it lightly before he sighs.

“If you go down this path, it’s going to be like this. It’s hard, loving someone like him, there’s going to be compromises, ones you don’t even see coming.” He warns you. You know he’s speaking from experience. His wife Michelle was a CIA operative when they met, she’d given it up when they had decided to start a family. “If this were a normal relationship you’d be going home to your man, he’d be taking care of you, helping you recover but it doesn’t work that way with them. They can’t be there when you need them. It hurts the both of you.”

“Was it worth it?” You ask him. “You and Michelle going through all of that?”

Sam smiles, because the years he’s had with Michelle have been the best ones of his life.

“Yea, but that included a lot of sacrifice on her part.” He tells you with a knowing look because that’s what it takes, commitment, endurance. He knows Sabatino is willing to go the distance, but the question is are you. “If you want this, write him a letter and tuck it in the folds of that blanket, sooner or later his belongings will find their way back to him.”

He raises to his feet, his hand coming to clasp your shoulder.

“You need to choose quickly.” He tells you, his eyes meeting yours. “Our ride will be here in an hour. We’re taking you home.”

Love Nik? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#erik palladino #ncis la #sabatino x reader #sabatino x you #Vostanik Sabatino #Vostanik Sabatino x reader #Vostanik Sabatino x you #sabatino #ncis los angeles

[llondonfog]

finally catching up to a lot of these tagged games, so thank you to @cozymochi & @oddberryshortcake & @memoryoflife & @sythesizehermuse ! <3

color palette of your name

i love how my name's colors are more vibrant/jewel toned and my blog is more pastel which accurately sums up my two warring aesthetics lolll

Last Line Challenge

A napping Silver is a cherubic one, all rosy glow and angelic hues. This figure draped over Lilia is shadowed and pale, all color stripped from his features as if he were a wraith of the darling child Lilia knows and loves. His trembling mind cannot begin to comprehend the strange dampness that coats his hand from where he grabs at the boy's limp and heavy limbs.

(coughs i was going down an awful thought on discord last night so...)

Three random facts

i never learned how to swim :')

i tried to train myself out of my arachnophobia in the third grade by deliberately forcing myself to do a project on spiders so i would have to look at pictures of them. i got an a, and i am still terrified to this day lol

i fractured my collarbone when i was 8 and tried to hide it from everyone by hiding in the couch and trying to push it back in place against the cushions ahahaha....

People you’d like to get to know better

1. Three ships: i tend to favor platonic stories over romantic, but if i had to choose— puzzleshipping (ygo), frodo/sam (lotr), royai (fmab)

2. First ever ship: puzzleshipping, i was 13/14? and writing for them on ffnet lollllllllll i still remember my username

3. Last song: a million pretty pieces - nightly, fleurie <3

4. Last movie: jjk 0 with a friend who hadn't seen it last night haha

5. Currently reading: the secret language of flowers - jean-michel othoniel

6. Currently watching: house on and off when i get a break to relax

7. Currently consuming: tabouli that my dad made for me <3

8. Currently craving: chocolate, i might go after the mint ice cream in my fridge soon haha

if anyone wants to steal any of these, go ahead!! i had a lot of fun!! <3

#tagged for lettie <3 #does this tag still work lol

[tiarascrowns]

A Vision: The Collection of Michelle Smith

Diamond, Colored Diamond and Sapphire Ring

of stylized floral design, featuring two old European-cut diamonds, one of yellow hue, a round Fancy Brownish Pink diamond, and a cushion-cut sapphire, accented by single and rose-cut diamonds

size 5¾

Sotheby's

#jewelry #jewellery #jewels #ring #rings #diamond #diamonds #colored diamonds #yellow diamond #pink diamond #sapphires #sapphire #blue sapphire #tiara crown #tiaras crowns #tiarascrowns #tiaracrown

[chaoslulled]

❛ what are you looking at? ❜ (from michelle to damien!)

she is magnetic in the way that she moves; he's seen her teleport hundreds of times now and he doesn't think he'll ever actually get over it.  there's something about the way that michelle owns who she is that draws him in  ––  that pulls him like a magnet toward her, that makes him want to get close.  getting close to people is something that damien's both good and bad at; he keeps himself at an arms length for the fact that he doesn't want to be used against anyone.  he's seen how easily he can break in the hands of sentinel services and he'll be damned if any of them go down because of him.  it's gotten harder though since michelle's quite literally fallen onto him.  as much as he wants to push her away, he can't deny that there's been that chemistry from the moment that they met.  he can't deny the fact that he would rather turn into one of their mutts than to give up her location.

he can't deny the fact that he'd love to take her back home to france, that he wishes he could hold onto his power longer at times so that he could give her a sense of normalcy.  there's the times when he's out and all he can think about is getting back to the compound, getting back to her, and he knows that he's in some deep shit.  he doesn't say it lightly, either.  there's no denying the fact either that he plays favorites and he's a little tired of the children grinning up at him, shoving them in close and pretending it's an accident.  there is nothing but pure mischief in their eyes when they do it; they're like the mom and dad of the group, and everyone can see it but them.

but today he lets himself have a moment.  he lets himself look; lets mismatched hues roam her red skin for a long moment as she moves crates onto a shelf from their latest supply run.  allows himself to pretend that they could be normal, that he could give her the world if he just let himself.  and when she catches him staring, he just gives her a grin.  one that fully reaches his eyes, no matter the ache in his heart that's telling him to run.  " just looking at the prettiest girl in the compound, that's all.  got a problem with that? "

#stcrforged #ic. ❝ cleaning out the cobwebs ⧽ ❪ answered ❫ #he's so in love with her help

[caniscathexis]

tagged by @terramosh to share five tracks, with any theme. since today is bandcamp friday i'll just go with stuff from the past year i've thought about recently that you can purchase there

track of the year

thanks to patrick st. michel's stellar japanese eoy list (and a vtuber's multiple covers) for getting me to sit down with the tableaux of this vocaloid artist's illumined hues

thanks to ron-ben tovim's very fun metal eoy list for making me aware that vastum had a new one out - death metal in monochromatic architectural imposition

from a world where i would happily only listen to vg soundtracks

GLASGOW NW FOODBANK FUNDRAISER I has said that Poly-Phonic Cosmos would be the last of the tape series I made available here but a load of people have asked for this one and hey, it's winter here, and also it's one of the toughest times for foodbanks. Any funds this raises will be massively appreciated.

might tag specific people for this if nobody sees it lol but definitely tag me if you do one!

[thechanelmuse]

This album is now 30 years.

Timeless as ever. Toni Michele Braxton put her whole foot in her album. Do we even need to discuss her rich, dark timbre and vocality? Out of all colors for a debut, they had her name in that bold hue like a rolled out red carpet of solidified status and notoriety. She has arrived. Unmatched. THAT's how you make an entrance and sustain a lane.

#toni braxton #ms libra