#<- just in case. even though they were in chap one

[saudianna]

💥 love is papaya orange ᝰ.ᐟ

ੈ✩‧₊˚ : word count : 1669 👅 ੈ✩‧₊˚ : synopsis : after oscar's first championship win, his ego clashes with you- lando's lifelong best friend—when they're forced to work closely at McLaren. what starts as hate turns into secret tension, messy feelings, and a tangled love triangle that neither oscar nor lando saw coming… until it explodes into something no one can control!! ੈ✩‧₊˚ : featuring : oscar x engineer!reader x lando ੈ✩‧₊˚ : author's note : ahh okay pt 4!! pt 5 soon aka final n um this is set in 2026 ੈ✩‧₊˚ : genre : smut, smut and more smut!! theres some fluff and angst in the midst of it all ੈ✩‧₊˚ : tws : just love triangle in this chap </3 also alot of teasing n oscar being as complete ASS !!!!

part 4. falling into place 🦊

The following day, you didn't really see each other much, but when you did, you could tell the cloud of dislike had lifted off.

"Hi," he said, smiling for the first time, instead of stupid smirks.

"Hey." you responded, a faint smile

"I was thinking about how to pay you back.." he muttered and rubbed the back of his neck, sitting down by the chair in front of your desk, manspreading and looking away nervously.

"Yeah?" you said confused, looking up from your laptop,

"I.. could take you for dinner..? he choked out.

"Oh um- Oscar i dont kno-" you were cut off by a loud cough-

"Platonically! Of course.. or professionally, whichever you prefer.." he looked at you and furrowed his brows as you looked a bit incompetent.

"Ah.. In that case sure, but shouldn't we invite Lando? You know, to make sure the paparazzi don't say we are dating?" you said,

"Oh- i hadn't really though about that. But i wouldn't worry about that.. I can book a very private dinner?" he said nervously, using his signature face, one sided smirk and looking to the side.

"Mmm... Alright. Is Thursday good?" and he nodded,

"Yup," the p popping off his tongue, "Perfect. I can pick you up at 8? Or would you rather me order you an uber?" he offered.

"Uh.. id rather uber myself. Thanks." You cleared your throat. 4 days till your dinner. You didn't really expecting your view of him to change all that much after this dinner, but you were willing to try anyway.

"Oh- Alright," he spoke, "Well I'll see you tomorrow, its home time for me." he turned away.

"Bye," you said clearly.

"Bye."

Over the past couple days, your view did change. He was nicer, politer, you finally saw the version of Oscar everyone raved about. His 'polite cat energy' and honestly even the 'boyfriend material' his fangirls always talked about.

On the day of the dinner, you didn't want to seem like you were trying too hard, but you were going to a very fancy restaurant one reserved by only famous people. Insured that paparazzi would not sneak their way around.

So you ultimately threw on a long black silk dress that hugged your curves, not too tight but didn't exactly leave much to the imagination.

Hair curled and fluffy, eyeliner snatching your eyelids, and lips a dark red.

Your uber was nice enough, comfy and a talkative driver, although a bit inexperienced.

But when you got to the restaurant, you were kind of embarrassed to be riding in an uber, you hoped that people just thought it was fancy, your own personal driver.

As you walked in, searching for the familiar face, but he spotted you before you could spot him, walking over to you and smiling

"Hi, thought you weren't coming for a second there." he laughed

"Yeah... My uber didn't really know his way around, sorry about that." You giggled a bit and he smiled

He looked you up and down, "O-oh and you look really beautiful by the way." he said smiling.

You blushed a bit and laughed nervously. "Ah- thank you.. you look really handsome." he smiled really big and took your arm, "Cmon' our tables over here."

You guys sat down and chatted for a bit before the waiter came to take your drink orders.

"Buonasera, have you made a choice on the drinks?" (good evening)

"I'll have a glass of Amarone please."

"Good choice sir, and for your pretty girlfriend?" the waiter said calmly and Piastri nearly spat out his water.

"Ah- She's not my girlfriend.." he muttered and the waiter looked surpised

"My dearest apologies, i just figured from the way you look at her mister, terribly sorry." and the waiter hung his head for a second.

You coughed, "Ahem um... I'll just get the uhh, ahem.. the Chianti.. please.." you said quietly..

The waiter nodded and said softly to you, but loud enough for the very flustered Australian to hear, "He'll ask one day madam."

Oscar coughed very loudly as he saw you very red in the face, "Please will you just go get our drinks..!"

The waiter walked away and the two of you made eye contact

"I'm sorry about that..." he muttered

"Ah.. its okay osc." he blushed at the nickname.

Over the course of dinner, you got to know each other more, you told him how you knew Lando, and he told you how he got into racing.

When you had finished your meals, you realised he really wasnt that bad. I mean, you really liked him. He was sweet, handsome.. but you couldnt get over the fact he was such a prick when you first met.

At the end of the night as you were laid in bed. He dropped you off instead of ubering, and you gave him a hug before you went inside, his touch lingering a bit too much around your waist, and you leaned into it too much.

But fuck, what were you supposed to do?

And now both McLaren drivers looked at you with a glint in their eye, and both for the same-ish reason, love.

I mean, you weren't sure if either of them were in love, i mean, Lando clearly thought you were hot and wanted you, but you didnt know if he felt the same way, as if you wanted to date, but didn't at the same time, in fear of ruining your 20+ year friendship.

And Oscar, i mean you have spent basically more than half of your time knowing him, hating him. And that wasn't particularly a good start.

But, i mean you liked both, what Oscar lacked in confidence, Lando had. And what Lando lacked in gentleman-ness, Oscar had.

And like... why not both?

The next day felt like static in your brain — fuzzy, unpredictable, uncomfortable. You couldn’t keep stringing Lando along, not when Oscar had actually made you feel something... real. Even if it was barely developing. Even if it was new.

So you told him,

You caught Lando just before the briefing that afternoon, cornered in the hallway with his cap on backwards and his classic cocky smirk — the one you used to love.

"Hey... got a sec?"

"Always," he said, leaning against the wall. That look in his eye again.

You inhaled. “Lando, I need to talk to you seriously.” His smirk faltered.

“This... whatever we’ve been doing—”

“You mean fucking?” he joked, but it was tight, like he already knew.

“Yeah. That. I don’t think we should keep it up. Not anymore.”

His brows furrowed. “Wait, what?”

You swallowed. “I like Oscar.”

The silence hit like a punch in the gut. His eyes flicked away for a second before landing back on you, a little colder.

“You like him?” he said, like it tasted bitter in his mouth.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to.. But I do. And it wouldn’t be fair to you if I pretended I didn’t.”

He scoffed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. Right, okay.” You reached out, but he stepped away. “I just— I thought you and me—”

“I know,” you said softly. “But you deserve more than half of me.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just nodded once, sharp and stiff, before walking away.

Later that evening, Oscar found Lando alone in the driver's lounge, staring at a monitor that wasn’t even turned on.

“Hey,” Oscar said cautiously. “You good?”

“Just fine.” Lando said sarcastically, still not looking at him.

Oscar hesitated, then sat beside him. “She told you?”

Lando’s jaw tensed. “Yeah. She told me.”

Oscar nodded slowly. “I didn’t mean for it to get complicated. I just— I like her. Like really like her.”

Lando scoffed. “Of course you do.”

Oscar frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lando looked at him, fire building in his throat. “It means I’ve been messing around with her for years man. Friends-with-benefits type shit. And now suddenly you get all soft-spoken and polite and she falls for you?”

Oscar blinked. “Wait. You and her—?”

Lando nodded once. “Yeah. We were something. Or at least... it felt like something. Until you came along.”

Oscar’s face fell, stunned silent for a second. “I didn’t know.”

“No shit.”

But then Oscar cleared his throat and looked away, red blooming up his neck. “For what it’s worth… I don’t think I just like her.”

Lando blinked. “The hell does that mean?”

Oscar looked at him — really looked at him. “You. You’ve been in my head too. And I hate it. And I don’t understand it. But it’s there.”

Silence.

Lando stared, like Oscar had just admitted to murder. His breathing slowed. He licked his lips, nervous. “Dude… are you saying you like me?”

Oscar swallowed. “I think I do.”

And then — blame the tension, the jealousy, the months of denial — Lando surged forward and kissed him.

Hard.

Oscar kissed back. They both breathed through it, hands grabbing shirt collars, lips parting, heat rushing in places they hadn’t even acknowledged until now.

It was messy. Rough. A collision of all the confusion and lust they’d buried.

But it didn’t last long.

They pulled away, panting, wide-eyed. And then, in perfect timing—

You walked in.

You froze.

They froze.

You blinked once. Twice. “Okay... what the fuck is happening?”

Oscar jumped up. “Wait, it’s not—”

“I mean, it is,” Lando interrupted, wiping his mouth. “But also… not what it looks like?”

You stared at them, dumbfounded, heart pounding. “So let me get this straight: I regretfully dump you and say that I like him, someone apolgized to someone and then you two decide to just make out instead?”

Neither of them had an answer.

“I— I don’t even know what to say,” you whispered.

Lando looked away. Oscar ran a hand through his hair.

It was silent for way too long.

Then you just burst out laughing. A short, hysterical laugh. “This is so fucking complicated.”

Oscar laughs, "We'll figure it out."

<- previous | part 4 | forwards ->

ੈ✩‧₊˚ : author's note : um so i had my first college exams guys, (im taking mechatronics enginerring!) and i did so well i think, so sorry this took so long, since its holidays for me soon ill be more active. and omg i think this fic is only gonna be 5 chaps.. i wanted in to be 10 but anyway. send me inbox's pls!! i alr finished my first, gonna release it ltr tdy but pls send more xx

[snailsand]

noticed the 3 total pippins fans flocking to my post from 2022 so i made some more food. as number one pippins fan myself im starving

[asoftsighh]

I’ve been feeling some Eddie Munson lately idk maybe something like meeting Wayne for the first time both have lots of nerves

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ eddie munson x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

you meet wayne for the first time

1k words

a/n - i’m realizing this is more focused on eddie than wayne😭😭 it's okay i still love it. thank you for requesting angel!!

By the third album Eddie has played for you, you are more convinced that he likes listening to screaming and loud guitar more than actual rock. You’d never say that to his face though, your relationship a bit too new and fresh for that amount of teasing. Maybe one day you’ll work up the courage. 

Eddie is saying something over the music, looking at you earnestly. You reach over the center console of his van and turn down the dial before you have to ask him to repeat it and he forgets it all. He does that often, acts like his mind is in ten different places at all times. You can’t help but smile at him now, his frizzy hair haloing his face like he’s been fighting the wind. (He really just stuck his head out the window while driving earlier.)

“I couldn’t hear you over the music,” You explain at his look. His confusion switches to something else entirely, his teeth shining beneath the nearby street lights. Something you have told him before is that he reminds you of the Cheshire cat when he smiles like this; full of teeth and frizzy hair. 

He huffs out a laugh, his breath rustling pieces of his hair. “I said..” He starts, and you know that you’re in for it. His head tips downward and to the side, his mouth finding your cheek. “That you should sleepover tonight.” A shiver shot down your spine; whether it was from his words or his warm breath against your skin, you weren’t sure.

Your breath hitches, just a little, before you can help it. Eddie must feel it, because he abandons his kisses to pull away to look at you. “Only if you want to,” He adds softly, yet you can tell he really wants you to. Even if you didn’t, you very much do, it’d be hard to say no to his pretty face. 

You nod, slowly, but not because you’re uncertain. More like that hesitance that still sits between you two, the one that comes with new relationships. Like you’re both trying to figure out the rules of a game you created. “Yeah,” you say quietly, “I want to.”

The smile he gives you is reward enough for your hesitation. He kisses you, on the lips this time, short and sweet and a little chapped. When he pulls away, you’re both smiling. 

The drive to Eddie’s trailer is short, since you’re coming from a gas station parking lot that’s only a little down the road. The windows are down, wind making his hair even bigger, if that was possible. When you arrive, headlights shining against the front door of the trailer, Eddie pauses after putting it in park. 

“My uncle is home,” he says slowly, a tone unusual, but not unwelcoming from him. He looks over at you, almost as if he’s bracing for something. 

“Oh,” you say stupidly, because that’s the first thing that comes out. You’ve never met his uncle, despite having heard a handful of stories about him from Eddie. “Is that okay?”

He nods, then shrugs. “Yeah I just.. wanted you to know. Just in case you thought we were gonna be alone.”

You decide he’s being a bit silly as Eddie pulls open for you both. You’ve been here a couple times, for afterschool hangouts and on the weekends. You’re actually more surprised that you haven’t met Wayne already.

“Wayne?” Eddie calls out, dragging out his name dramatically. “I’m home.” 

As you step deeper into the trailer, its familiar scent wafts into your nose; motor oil, cologne, and a little bit of cigarettes. You hear before you see a sitcom playing quietly on the small tv, and that’s when you see Wayne. He’s slumped on the lumpy couch, a beer in his hand resting on his thigh. He looked exhausted, but you don’t miss the softness in his eyes as he looks at Eddie; then his eyes land on you. He wasn’t an old man, despite his graying hair and even grayer beard. 

Eddie holds out a hand behind him, urging you forward gently. His hand moves up to rest where your neck and shoulder meet, giving you a comforting squeeze. He introduces you, saying your name like it’s the cure for some disease and he’s proud to show it off.

“Hello,” You say, giving him a smile that you hope doesn’t look as shy as you feel. Your heartbeat pumps in your ears, palms a bit slick with sweat. “It’s nice to meet you.”

After a moment, Wayne smiles at you; you get the impression that this isn’t something he does very often. He tells you to sit, offering you food or a drink; the only reason you decline is because you’re sure that he’d made Eddie to get up and get it for you. 

Wayne isn’t a quiet man, you realize. Not shy either, he’s able to hold conversation and eye contact, and asks you questions about school and your family. It’s Eddie that’s being quiet, a rare occurrence that usually only happens when he’s upset, overwhelmed, or he’s busy watching something. Or someone. The latter, you figure, is the reason for right now. Why he’s sat on the armchair diagonally from you and Wayne, not saying much. You catch his eye every once in a while, but he just smiles at you. Like he’s exactly where he wants to be. 

Wayne’s voice fades in the background as Eddie’s gaze lingers, studying the way you sit on his couch, feet tucked beneath you, hands curled in your lap. He can tell you’re still a little nervous, sitting in his space with his family, but everytime he smiles at you like that, you’re reminded why you’re here. Why you’re doing this for that boy, the one with a loud laugh, gentle hands, and silver rings. When you catch Eddie’s eye again, he doesn’t say or do anything. Like this, right here, is all he wants. 

criticism is welcome as long as it’s kind ✮⋆˙

i’m very new to writing ✮⋆˙

[angelbby555]

Chap stick Challenge

Summary: You and Bradley go through the ridiculous items your daughter carries in her unicorn pop-it purse. Word count: 1.2k

⋆. ୨୧˚⋆

"Daddy! Daddy! Can you hold my purse? I'm gonna go play in the bounce house!" Claire was already shoving the small unicorn pop-it purse in his hands before he replied.

"Yeah sure Claire bear. I'll keep it nice and safe for you." Bradley laughed. It was such a mature expression for a kid, who quickly took a sip of Kool-Aid from her juice pouch before running off. She constantly pushed her loose strands of curls out of her face as she quickly went to the pink inflatable house.

You were at Claire's classmate's birthday party. Which involved lots of sugar, chaos and your daughter freely running around. Meanwhile, you and Bradley sat at a table in Nora's backyard a bit secluded from the rest of the parents talking and being entertained by your daughter's behavior.

"What does she even keep it here?" Bradley chuckled pressing his fingers into the silicone dents, the familiar pop pop pop sound filling the space between you.

"I don't know I'm pretty sure she just carries it around to tie the outfits together." You took a sip from your can of soda and popped one of the bubbles on the fidget purse. "Or when she gets fidgety." You and Bradley laughed together. Bradley's hand slid casually on your thigh as he shook the silicone purse hearing the items rattle around.

"No, she got something in here." Bradley grinned ear to ear finding it very amusing that his 6-year-old daughter had essentials she needed to carry. He flipped the purse over and popped the other silicone indents into place.

"Okay lemme see, I'm curious now." You smirked sitting up in the foldable chair.

"It's not my place to snoop in a young lady's purse." Bradley bit the inside of his cheeks to prevent himself from smiling when he heard you scoff at his reply. "Claire told me to hold her purse and that's exactly what I'm gonna do."

"So what you're not gonna let me see what's inside?" You glanced at the bounce house where Claire was too busy trying to outjump the other kids to care what her unicorn purse was doing. Bradley's curiosity was his undoing, and he willingly handed you Claire's purse.

"Alright but remember if she gets upset this was your idea." Bradley watches you unzip the purse.

"Alright chill out it's not like we're reading her diary." You playfully rolled your eyes and pushed your hand inside the purse. The first item you pulled out was a small strawberry shortcake doll, Bradley chuckled fondly.

"What would Claire do without this!" Bradley sarcastically said placing the figure on the table.

"She wouldn't survive." You joked. Your hand reached back into the purse pulling out a mini squishy panda. "Stress toy, in case the pop-it purse isn't enough." You squeezed the panda and the foam toy rose back up slowly. You handed the toy to Bradley and dug further into the unicorn purse.

Bradley shook his head with a smile. "She’s got backups for her backups."

After you pulled out a Skittles-flavored Lip Smacker.

"What else?" Bradley impatiently asked.

"Mh about 8 different flavors of chapstick." You smiled glancing inside the purse. Claire's purse represented girlhood, because you were pretty sure at that young age you probably carried around the same things.

"She might as well back her whole toy chest in there." Bradley squeezed your thigh lovingly. Handing you the two mini toys back. Before you could place them back in the unicorn purse an idea struck your head.

"You wanna play the chapstick challenge?" You smirked at Bradley, while innocently batting your lashes.

"There's kids around." He said though the spark in his eyes betrayed him.

When you looked around the kids were heading out the pink inflatable house and scrabbling inside the house to cut the cake.

"We're gonna cut the cake!" Nora's mother announced to you and Bradley from the porch.

"Yeah well be there in a second!" You replied kindly turning back to your husband, still glancing at all the chapstick flavors in the multi-color purse. The rest of the parents went inside, leaving you and Bradley the only two people outside. The sun had set and the sky was changing to a dark blue.

"You can't be serious." Bradley shook his head at you and glanced at the screen door. You didn't care as you uncapped the tube and applied the chap stick to your lips. "What is this 2014? Come on let's go and have some-" You brought Bradley to your lips, by the collar of his tropical print Hawaiian shirt. You deliberately kissed him slowly so he would have a chance to guess the flavor on your lips. When you pulled away Bradley looked dazed.

"Wow. I liked that." Bradley chuckled placing his hands on the angles of your face.

"Guess the flavor." You impatiently demanded. Bradley still felt dizzy from the kiss he didn't even know what was going on, or where he was.

Bradley's voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't- I don't know." He let out a sheepish laugh. You kissed him again and Bradley's eyes fluttered shut. But you broke the kiss before it could get intense, leaving him chasing after your lips.

"Starburst?"

"Wrong, Skittles." You said with a victorious smile. Bradley didn't even care leaning in to steal another flavorful kiss from you.

The cutting of the cake was long forgotten and you started to play the game. Bradley couldn't get a single Lip Smacker right. He was too focused on the way you giggled against his mouth, how your lips felt warm and soft, and the little string of saliva that connected you when you pulled back.

Coca-cola, s'mores, Hershey, and orange juice he had completely all wrong. Completely giving up on guessing.

All the small kisses and pecks had Bradley readjusting himself in jeans. By the time the parents and kids were flooding out the sliding door, Bradley was frowning that you couldn't play anymore, with everyone around.

"One more." He whispered desperately. “I know I can get this one.”

"You said that the past 4 chapsticks ago." You laughed standing up from your seat, but Bradley tugged you back into the chair. Refusing to take no for an answer. "Fine." You laughed, letting your lips smooch against his --quick and teasing before pulling back with a smirk.

"Tasty." Bradley nodded.

"That's not a flavor honey." You giggled at his answer. Bradley licked his lips for the millionth time in 5 minutes before guessing.

"Butterscotch?"

"Nope, it was caramel apple." You zipped up Claire's purse and handed it back to him. Bradley wanted to taste your lips again but he was sure he was gonna end up laying you down and making out with you on the fold-out table.

"Whatever they all have some stupid name." Bradley brushed his fingers across his lower lip like it was sore from all the kissing. "You're gonna help me with my problem when we get home." Bradley readjusted himself in his jeans. "Since you caused it."

"Sorry, I don't help losers." You playfully made an L shape with your thumb and index finger before getting up again, to go inside for a slice of cake. Bradley would follow you but he was waiting for his erection to calm down.

"Well, you certainly love to kiss losers." He muttered. Claire finally came back to join him at the table. Her little smile lit up the dark sky.

"Can I have my purse back now Daddy?" She sweetly beamed up at him. Bradley couldn't resist picking her up and setting Claire down on his lap.

"Of course Claire bear." Bradley smiled knowing he would never let you dig through her purse unless he was ready to be tormented in public all over again.

Thanks for reading! Do you guys understand how annoying it is to find a picture of Bradley Bradshaw that matches the aesthetic of the other two pics? It's a nightmare!

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Snow Bunny | Azriel x Reader

Summary: After the bat boys enjoy their annual snowball fight, in which Azriel wins, he gets the best prize of all, a night alone with his mate.

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: Smut, fingering, p in v penetration, nudity, violent snowball rock assault (rip cassian), and tooth rotting fluff.

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing smut, so go easy on me lol, was just in another feening-over-azriel mood and needed to write, hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

It was a cold winter, though all of the winters in Night Court were cold. Compared to Illyrian winters, Azriel supposed that they weren’t too bad. Illyrian winters had everyone shivering and shaking and doing anything for the littlest bit of warmth. Night Court winters usually yielded a bit of snow, maybe a foot or two if the Mother was feeling generous, for the children, or in this case, grown Illyrian males, to play in.

The annual snowball fight began as usual, they built their snow forts, packed them densely, or at least Azriel always did, and went to work making snowballs.

He would admit that using his shadows to make snowballs for him did seem like cheating, but who is he to not use his resources?

Rhys and Cassian went head to head first, predictably, and after hurling snowballs densely packed at each other as hard as they could, their tanned skin was left tinted red and a few bruises. The killer blow was when Cassian hurled a final one at Rhys, and this snowball was packed full of ice in the center.

It knocked the High Lord straight out.

Cassian let out a whoop of victory, but a bit too early, as Azriel then launched a massive snowball with a rock in the center at him, payback, and a guarantee of victory apparently as Cassian then collapsed backward on the snow with a soft groan.

Both Nesta and Feyre came out, not too worried as they were very used to their mates’ shenanigans. Feyre helped drag Rhys into the house, while Nesta fought with Cassian, who was mumbling about how he was “perfectly fine”.

“Really…’m okay, jus’ a few more minutes..”

He mumbled, clearly out of it. Nesta grabbed his legs and began dragging him away.

“You are going inside. I am not letting you die because of a snowball fight of all things.”

Her stern tone rang out, dragging him into the house after Feyre managed to get Rhys inside. Azriel followed soon after.

*********************************************************

You went to the door to drag Azriel back inside but were instead met with the sight of him entering, and you ran smack into his chest. You shuddered slightly at how cold and wet he was. His lips were chapped, crusty, and dry. You pulled your tube of lip gloss out and applied a generous amount on his lips, before leaving a kiss on his forehead.

“I’m assuming you won?”

You asked in an amused tone, glancing over at Cassian and Rhys being dragged away by their mates. Azriel chuckled, the deep sound sending a thrill through your body, before replying with a little smirk.

“Yes, per usual.”

You rolled your eyes playfully.

“Quit being a cocky bastard, and let’s go get you in a hot bath. You’re freezing.”

He gave a little huff of laughter at your quip, before following as his mate dragged him off to their shared bedroom. Your intentions were far from pure, and you wanted much more than a bath, but only if he was willing to provide that. He might be tired.

“Are you sure you want me to take a bath?”

He asked, a knowing glint in his eye as he pushed the door to your shared bedroom closed, locking it painfully slowly, ensuring that the noise would echo through her brain and rattle it.

He began slowly stalking towards you with a predatory, feline grace, his wings flaring behind him in what you could recognize as a symbol of both dominance and desire. Even his shadows seemed eager, slithering up your body as far as he allowed them, their cool touch both soothing your skin and causing goosebumps to rise.

“Maybe a bath isn’t so necessary.”

You said, your voice more feeble than you’d like it to be, swallowing as you sat on the edge of your large bed, with him moving to stand right in front of you and look down at you with nothing short of a lover’s gaze.

“Good. I love our annual snowball fights, but do you know what I love more..?”

He asked in his rich baritone voice, smiling slightly as he pushed you gently back onto the bed, settling over you as he let his hands roam your soft, warm body. His hands went from your thighs, back up to your hair and face, then back to your inner thigh as his leg nudged your knees to open.

As any sensible person would do, you spread your legs for him easily. You'd gotten to a point within the mating bond that submitting to him was as easy as breathing.

“..No, what?”

You asked, your voice wavering slightly as your cheeks flushed, watching him with wide eyes. The arousal in both of your scents could easily be detected. His hand stopped around the waistband of your pants, tugging them off, and the rest of your clothing was soon to go.

Eventually, his large hands began palming your breasts, rubbing your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger. He leaned down near your ear, prolonging his answer as long as possible to build your curiosity and the tension before he spoke.

“My mate.”

He answered simply, his hot breath fanning against your ear, before his mouth moved down to latch onto one of your pert nipples, alternating between swirling his tongue around it and sucking. The sheer dominance and possession in his statement made your desire pool as your heavy breathing turned to light mewls and moans, whining to him.

His mouth then switched from your right nipple to your left, continuing his sinful sucking, before separating with a little ‘pop’ as he smirked up at you.

His hand had trailed down to his leathers, unbuttoning his shirt before pulling it off, if only to give you a little taste of the eye candy he truly was beneath his clothes. One hand reached down to your panties, and ran a finger over them, nearly purring in delight.

“Already so wet? I must've put on quite a show tonight.”

He murmured against your chest as one of his fingers hooked around the waistband of your panties and tugged them down, before throwing them onto the floor with the rest of your clothes. His fingers slid through your wet folds, before beginning to playfully taunt your clit, rubbing just enough for some pleasure, but never enough for any real friction.

One of his fingers slid over to your slit, gathering all the slick that waited there for him, and he coated his fingers in it before slipping it in, easily going knuckle-deep.

“I’m gonna stretch you out, okay? Gonna get you ready for my cock.”

He said with a small smirk in a soft, almost whispered voice, that had deep currents of lust and desire running not far under it. Soon, one finger turned into two pumping in and out, curling into that delicious spot while you whined because of the stretch. The whines soon turned to moans and begging him for more.

“Az, need more..”

You begged, your hips already starting to buck on instinct and try to grind against his fingers.

“I’ll give you more in due time, darling.”

He replied simply. And then a third finger was slipped in, his thumb still running sinful circles and applying just the right amount of pressure to your clit. In no time you were already slipping so, so close to the edge, and he let you get there, rubbing faster and harder until you fell apart around his fingers with a cry.

His fingers continued working you, prolonging your pleasure as much as possible before slipping out when the high had ended. However, you could hear the sound of his leathers slipping off, and when you opened your hazy eyes, you saw a glimpse of his cock, throbbing, the tip pink and leaking, begging for attention. He stroked himself a few times, hissing at the feeling, before running it through your folds thrice to get it soaked and ready.

“Ready? Take a deep breath for me and relax, darling.”

He whispered softly into your ear, and you could feel his tip prodding at your entrance before slowly inching in. No matter how many times you took him, the sheer size of his dick always managed to surprise you.

The stretch immediately took over your senses, making you whine against him. It was a mixture of pleasure and irritable pain that you didn’t want to admit how much you enjoyed.

After what felt like hours of soft, whispered reassurances and praise of how good you were doing for him, and how warm and tight you were, he had finally bottomed out. You immediately jerked your hips against him, breath leaving you at how delicious it felt.

“Please move, Az. Need you to.”

You said, your breathing already shaky. You weren’t going to last long, and from the way he was already groaning and throbbing in you, he wasn't going to either.

He pressed himself against you, beginning a slow and steady rhythm as he moved against you, groaning lewdly into your ear. His place turned to sloppy, loving thrusts as he just began going with instinct.

“You gonna cum with me, sweet girl? Yeah?”

He asked in a breathless tone, panting for air. The moment you hit your climax, your walls clenching and throbbing around his cock, letting you feel every particular inch and vein as it moved inside of you, he also came, thick ropes of his seed shooting deep into you, both of your moans and groaning making a chorus with the sounds of wet squelching and skin slapping skin as he painted your insides white.

You both just laid there for a moment, content to enjoy the afterglow, and as soon as it came down, Azriel was there for his usual godly aftercare.

“Bath?”

He asked, voice raspy and somewhat gruff from all his noises. You gave a wordless nod, and he picked you up, carrying you over to the bathtub and starting a warm bath, easing both of you into it.

He knew your entire haircare routine to the smallest details, and his shadows, still a bit pouty that he hadn’t let them participate in your session, seemed eager to help as you felt their cool touch against your scalp, then moving on to wash your body with your favorite scent of body wash.

You washed his hair, scrubbing shampoo in, then washed out and followed by conditioner, before the shadows helped you clean him off. A few of them helped ‘clean’ his very sensitive cock, causing Azriel to hiss at the feeling and tell them to stop, which only made you and the shadows giggle.

When you finally got out of the bath, you didn’t bother to put on any clothes, and neither did he. You enjoyed the moments of bare skin-to-skin contact with him.

Curled up in the bed, laying beside him with your arms around him, one of his arms around her waist, and his wings curled protectively around you, you whispered something to him.

“I love you.”

You whispered, voice soft and a bit raspy from earlier. He opened one eye, peeking at your serene face, before whispering back with a smile on his lips.

“I love you, too.”

[yume-joshi]

Barbatos' H-Scene!!

for all my lazy ppl or y'all who aren't at chap 7 yet, here's all of barb's scene transcribed below the cut!! if you'd like any other whb scenes or anything transcribed, just send in an ask :33 maybe I'll do this with gamigin's, too, if ppl like this.. 0_o

NOTES: if there is any text which differs from the game, just ignore it!! OCR's do NOTT do well with the mass amount of whb punctuation..

WARNINGS: pure smut, breeding kink, public/ outdoor sex, spoilers for whb (nothing new!), long post

EXTRA: want the visual? scroll to the bottom! :3

Before you and the devils of Hades' had even left the castle,

You found yourself stepping into a place you never expected (?) to see.

A garden bathed in warm sunlight, filled with the sweet fragrance of flowers, vibrant with hues of blue, red, and green.

MC: (In this dreary... no, desolate Hades, there's actually a place like this...?)

Whenever you entered Hades, it always felt as if the sunlight was insufficient, as if it had been dimmed by the very nature of the realm. But now, you began to wonder if this garden alone was being specially favored by the sun.

It seemed like a plausible theory, especially since the garden's owner was an ardent worshipper of the sun.

Barbatos: You know, all illnesses can be healed beneath the sun, MC?

Despite having poisoned you with his own hands, Barbatos beamed brightly, asking the question with a smile that almost felt too carefree.

MC: ...I'm not a doctor, and I don't know the rules of this hell, so forget about all that. Just put me down first.

You spoke with a bit of a pout, still feeling the lingering annoyance as you looked at Barbatos. Right now, you were in his arms like a child.

More specifically, it felt like a scenario at an amusement park, where a child was being carried by their father—his hands supporting your waist and hips, while you had one arm draped around his shoulder.

If you were holding a balloon in your other hand, it would've been perfect, but you weren't father and child, and this certainly wasn't an amusement park.

MC: ...All the devils are staring at us. Hurry up and put me down already...

Barbatos: I can't do that! Just a second ago, you were about to fall flat on your face, right? If I didn't catch you, you'd have definitely ended up eating the dirt!

Besides, didn't you say you were low on demonic energy? If that's the case, I can't just leave you hanging like this.

MC: What does that have to do with you?

You kept up the cold tone, but to be honest, it was getting harder to maintain the attitude.

Just a moment ago, when you were on the verge of collapsing from dizziness and shortness of breath, Barbatos instantly stretched out his arm to catch you.

What was more surprising, though, was the expression on his face—one that was uncharacteristically filled with shock and anxiety, as if the world itself were about to crumble.

MC: (Why is he making that expression...?)

It wasn't just the expression; his arm, hand, chest, and shoulder—all of it felt so steady, so undeniably masculine, giving you a sense of security.

In order to keep yourself from falling, you had no choice but to wrap your arm around the back of his neck and shoulder, your fingers tangling gently in his sun-kissed golden hair.

Moreover, you weren't a child, so with the way you were positioned in his arms, his face inevitably brushed against your lower chest and upper stomach.

MC: (...This isn't helping me calm down...)

You couldn't conceal the growing shortness of your breath as you struggled to steady your spinning mind.

But your erratic, heated breathing escaped, falling onto Barbatos' head. As a result, you ended up looking like you were the one seducing him. Barbatos, still holding you, reached the center of the rose garden and satdown. He didn't seem to care at all that dirt or dew might stain his clothes. As you both dropped to the height of the low flower bushes, the sweet scentof the blossoms, which had already been filling your nose, became even more overwhelming. But strangely, it felt as though Barbatos' own scent was even more potent than the flowers.

MC: ...Barbatos?

You called his name in a daze, and he gave you a smile you'd never seen before— warm and full of depth— as he leaned in closer.

Barbatos: Yes, MC. I'm here. In this beautiful garden, it's just the two of us now.

Barbatos leaned closer, his nose brushing lightly against your skin as though tracing your scent. His sharp, smooth nose pressed against your hair as he inhaled deeply, then leisurely descended to your forehead, tickling the strands of your eyebrows before pausing softly on your eyelids.

MC: Ah.. Stop, it tickles..

Barbatos: Ah, MC. Right now, you radiate the scent of the blazing, glorious sun. The smell of simmering flames is pouring out from every inch of you.

His words, almost lyrical, blurred the line between reality and indulgence. But your body burned, filled with undeniable heat. And his gaze, like a wildfire, only grew hotter, devouring you with its intensity.

MC: I... still haven't forgiven you.

Barbatos: Is that so?

Barbatos chuckled quietly, as if savoring an inside joke only he understood. Without pausing, his nose brushed further down, skimming along your trembling eyelashes. Each faint graze sent your lashes quivering, and his deliberate exhale spilledwarmth across your skin. It wasn't your lips he sought but the space between your jawline and cheek, where his heated breath landed. The sensation was maddening, a mix of torment and temptation.

MC: You tried to kill me.. So why are you acting like this now?

Barbatos: Haha, MC. Didn't you already answer your own question?

MC: What..?

Barbatos: I tried to kill you, but I didn't. Why do you think that is?

MC: ......!

His voice was sweet like honey, yet the underlying meaning was chilling. He was right. Someone like him could have ended you in an instant. The moment the realization struck, Barbatos's large hand, still holding your waist, slipped under your clothes. His fingers pressed against the bare skin of your back, trailing languidly upward, his touch both soothing and searing.

MC: Hagh...! Wa-wait...! What are you doing...!

Barbatos: Doing as I please, you say? Hmm, perhaps... but can you blame me? It's practically begging me to come in, crying out so sweetly.

Following the hand that entered your clothes and rubbed your back, the hand that was supporting your butt also took off your lower body and rubbed your panties. In the quiet garden where you couldn't even hear the sound of a butterfly fluttering its wings. The lewd sound of the water you spilled touching his hand resonated.

MC: Ugh, ah... ahh... uh..!

Barbatos: Ahh, MC. You smell better and better. Hotter than the sun, sweeter than flowers.. Then what's flowing here must be honey?

He spoke in an ecstatic voice as he thrust his finger deeper into your wethole. As his large, thick finger slid in hotly, you couldn't ignore the pleasure that started there. You felt like your reason was going to fly away and curled your toes pitifully. Your chin lifted up without you knowing it, and your head fell back. Barbatos didn't miss the opportunity and buried his nose in your smooth neck.

MC: Ah, ugh, aghhh..! No, no..! I think I'm going to.. ah..!

Barbatos: As much as you want.

As Barbatos held your trembling body tighter and pistoned his fingers down faster, you quickly reached your climax along with the feeling of electricity flowing through your entire body.

MC: Ha, ahh, ugh.! Urgh, urgh.!

As Barbatos pulled his fingers out in one breath, the love juice poured out like urine, and it soaked not only Barbatos' hands and sleeves, but even the lively leaves.

Thump, thump, thump.!

Your hot and rapid breathing followed your heart that pounded loudly as if your entire body had become a heart.

MC: Hahh... haa... ha...

Barbatos: I should be grateful that you watered my garden.

Barbatos smiled happily as he looked at you, red-faced and limply hanging on his shoulder.

Your entire body was stil ticklish and hot, but you barely came to your senses after a single orgasm, and continued the conversation you had earlier without forgetting it.

MC: ...Should I thank you for sparing my life? But you only did that because you thought l was useful to Hades, didn't you?

Barbatos: Who made that judgment, I wonder?

MC: Leviathan, of course...

Barbatos: Ah, yes, his orders are the ultimate commandment for us devils of Hades. But to say his will is always completely aligned with ours? That would be a lie.

With measured movements, Barbatos gently lowered your limp body on to the soft bed of flowers and grass. The faint sound of crushed petals rustled beneath you, and as your gaze fixed upward, the sun's rightful place in the sky was replaced by Barbatos' dazzling face.

MC: (It shines just as brilliantly... maybe even more...)

The thought slipped into your mind, unbidden, though you hardly recognized it, lost in the after effects of the moment.

Barbatos moved swiftly, peeling off his shirt in one smooth motion while you struggled to catch your breath, your body still slightly arched.

In the sunlight, his form was like a divine sculpture— impossibly beautiful and unreal, as if he belonged in myth rather than reality.

Barbatos: To think you can throw such cold words while looking at me with those eyes, MC. You remind me a bit of our Majesty.

He lowered his chest, his bare skin gleaming under the sunlight, and placed a deliberate kiss on your collarbone. His voice held a mischievous, almost petulant tone.

MC: I remind you of Leviathan..? There's no way.. Ah, agh..

Barbatos: The truth is, you're so honest like this. You're always so pleased whenever I touch you, yet you keep trying to push me away.

As the large hand that had been rubbing your waist and back roughly moved upward, your top was lifted up to your chest in an instant.

At the same time, Barbatos buried his lips in your chest, and you let out a high-pitched moan that surprised even you.

Barbatos: It's wetter than before, MC.

Because you were so focused on your chest, he had already taken off all of your pants, including your underwear.

Barbatos: You're so wet, it's for me? Right?

While he was teasing you with his strong arms and hands, revealing his manly body, Barbatos buried his lips in your chest as if he was being playful and asked. The soft flesh of your chest was strongly sucked into his lips, and when you felt it being sucked in to the point where it was a little painful, his lips fell off with a peck. He persistently searched for the pleasant spots like the inside of your chest, upper stomach, sides, and collarbone, and repeated the same process several times. Every time, you would gasp and convulse because of Barbatos, who would only tease you here and there on your body without touching the most important places.

Barbatos: Ahh.. On you, the flowers I made bloomed. MC..

Barbatos, who briefly raised his body and looked at your disheveled appearance, expressed his admiration.

MC: (Now, I don't know, I can't stand it anymore, I want to do it right now, with Barbatos's..!)

You, who had been passively feeling Barbatos's touch the whole time, couldn't stand it anymore and spread your legs wide, causing Barbatos to furrow his brows in a surprisingly nice way.

MC: (This is ridiculous.. You look better when you frown than when you smile..)

As you felt your lower abdomen and the space between your legs, and lifted your waist as if urging, Barbatos's brow furrows deepened, and soon his face, which had come down as if to pounce, bit your nipple. The moment his teeth sunk in, you trembled like a smal animal pricked by asharp rose thorn. The hand that had been resting on his head with nowhere to go reached outurgently and grabbed the back of Barbatos' head. The inside of the thick, curly hair that was wrapped between his palm and fingers was wet from excitement and heat.

MC: You're.. wet too.. ugh.. pretending to be fine.. hagh...

Barbatos: Ah, if I were to confess to the goddess of orchid while I'm at it, I'm already soaked here too...

Barbatos arched his back and rubbed something hard underneath you. You could tell without even looking what it was, stiff and shaking fiercely. You, who was desperate, shook Barbatos' hair in your hand like a horse's reins and squeezed his shaft so that it could touch you closer.

Barbatos: Agh.. MC.. you feeling better?

MC: Ye, yeeahh-!

Barbatos: What? I wish you'd answer properly. Are you feeling better?

He was mischievous, and he kept touching your tip just enough to tickle you and then pulling you back, forcing you to answer. In the end, you answered while putting strength into your toes and lifting your back, waist, and butt, covering his mouth with your chest.

MC: I-I for, forgive you...!

As soon as he heard your answer, Barbatos's body started to make bigger movements.

Whoosh-!

His large, hard, and hot pillar precisely found your wet hole and pierced it.

MC: Ah, Aghhh...

His pillar, which had a flexible shape like a rose vine, was slightly bent at the end and pressed precisely on the most pleasant spot deep inside you.

MC: Barbatos, Ah, It feels so, Ah..!

Barbatos: MC, MC.. My sun.. My rose.. Hagh... Ha...

Every time Barbatos roughly moved his waist, a thick fragrance wafted from the grass and flower petals crushed beneath you.

He really seemed to be more energetic and stronger under the sun than anyone else, his strange and light appearance was nowhere to be found, and he was devouring you with a scary, sexy, and exquisite manly face.

In that moment, your vision, which had been shaking wildly with your head tilted back, suddenly turned to the surrounding scenery, not Barbatos.

A place without walls or ceilings. In other words, this was completely outdoors.

MC:..! Ba, Barbatos, wa, wait.. ugh...?!

You belatedly came to your senses and tried to calm Barbatos down, but Barbatos, whose excitement had already surpassed his reasoning, seemed not to hear you.He moved his waist so fast and rhythmically that you couldn't even continue speaking properly, and you could only make sounds in syllables to match it.

Barbatos: Huh? MC, what's going on? Why are you suddenly getting tighter? Ah, are you also excited by this sunlight!

MC: Ah, ugh, ugh, that, ugh, no, ugh, huh, ha, ugh..!

Barbatos: Sometimes warm, sometimes hot, sometimes dazzling.. All of those great things are now in you, MC...!

Barbatos: Let's reveal it all, MC. Let the sunlight seep into every nook and cranny of your body and let the warmth linger...!

You wanted to tell him that someone might come, and that you guys would be showing them everything, but Barbatos didn't seem to care at all. He sucked the tip of your breasts like he was sucking honey that would never come out, and he thrust inside you so much that you could hear a thud sound from below, which showed no sign of calming down.

MC: (It's dangerous, dangerous, dangerous, really, I'm gonna..)

You had already climaxed several times with just his hand, and you had also felt shallow orgasms several times with his clone who kept poking you in the most pleasant places.

No, you were stil feeling it. Just as the sun staring down at you from above never sets until night falls, his excitement didn't seem like it would subside.You wanted to shake your hips and cry in this pleasure forever, but you two had a lot to do.

MC: (Go back.. and the seed of the Tree of Knowledge.....ah, I don't know... I don't know!)

You released the strength from your hand that was holding his hair, and reached over his head to grab his horn.

Barbatos: Ughhh..!

Barbatos's firm body gained strength once more, and his thing moved inside you with a bang!

A low growl rumbled from Barbatos' throat as you stroked his horn up and down in a similar rhythm to the way he slurped beneath you.

Barbatos: MC... Ah... In here.. In herer, I want to plant a flower that smells like you and me...

Barbatos, who always had a expression that was almost annoying, and with a face that was completely relaxed from excitement, pleaded.

Barbatos: I'll give you a lot of my seed, MC, in here, inside you, my seed...

Your mouth was watering because of the voice that was dripping with sexiness.

When his movements, the wet sounds, the sound of flesh coliding, and the rough breathing of the two finally couldn't be more passionate.

MC: Haghhh-!

Your one hand that had been gnawing on the poor grass grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him, and soon Barbatos' bright red lips were swallowed by you.

Gulp, gulp, gulp..!

At the same time, your saliva that had been collected flowed into his throat, and white, thick liquid burst out from the pillars above and below his head.

Flinch, flinch, flinch..!

The two of you, without even separating your lips or lower body, still exerted all the strength and greedily shared and swallowed the liquids that each other had vomited out.

Finally, the bright red excitement that had risen to the tip of your head gradually cooled down and your waist, which had been raised high without any shame, slowly lowered to the ground.

MC: Haa... Haa... Haa...

Barbatos: Hagh... Hagh... Hagh...

Rough breathing mixed between your lips that had not been able to separate that far because you were regretful.

A languid feeling of exhaustion was felt throughout their entire body and they couldn't move a single finger.

Before you knew it, the sun had already set a little.

MC: (How long did we do it..)

Thanks to that, you felt great and your body had completely recovered, but you felt embarrassed belatedly.

At that time, just like when you had just come here, Barbatos lightly touched his sharp nose to your skin and moved as if smeling every part ofyour body.

You whined, feeling ticklish, as if you were about to get excited again. Then, Barbatos muttered with a strange expression.

Barbatos: The sun is stil high above, but it feels like the scent of the sun has faded from you, MC.

At Barbatos' unexpected comment, you couldn't help but laugh out loud.

MC: You dummy, after you've been sucking and nibbling on me like that, of course it's not the sun's scent anymore, it's yours.

Barbatos: ..! My scent..!

Barbatos' eyes widened in realization, as if he'd discovered something important and profound. Then, like a satisfied cat, he narrowed his eyes, his voice smooth and alluring, almost vibrating from his heels to his neck.

Barbatos: MC, you've become a part of my garden, haven't you?

He gently brushed your sweat-drenched hair aside and smiled.

Barbatos: I've made you bloom, MC. A flower that now carries my scent...

MC: ...You once called me the sun.

Barbatos: You can be both. You truly are incredible! My rose, my sun!

With a laugh, Barbatos returned to his usual self, puling you into his embrace as he chuckled.

The weight of his body covering yours like a blanket, combined with his intoxicating scent, made you slowly drift toward sleep.

MC: (I said I forgave him earlier, but... I'll make sure to ask him about this later...)

As that thought lingered, you fell asleep, and Barbatos slowly rose, listening to the gentle rhythm of your breathing. Your body, marked with red and bite marks, now looked like a garden in full bloom.

He kissed the edge of your knee lightly before his eyes wandered to the wetness beneath you, gazing at it with a mischievous look.

Barbatos: (...One day, truly... my seed...)

Of course, this thought was one you wouldn't learn of for a long time.

[END]

[yey56]

I have been seeing your Harley X Reader stories and I would really like to see in the oneshot request as in what if the reader find out the higher ups turned Harley into a robot?

Maybe they might get really mad by this point to try to get Harley out of this situation? At least until the Hour of Joy happens and the Reader have to take cover to avoid being eaten by the Experiments. They were trapped in the factory fending off for themselves while searching for the remaining food to survive, at least until Yarnaby find them and take them to Harley, now revealed to be alive and decided to keep them safe.

I already have this promp ln the part 3 of my main fanfic of Harley Sawyer but if you like I can do it more on detail how they confront the other executives and add more detail in general.

Heavenly related to Chap 2:

AU (Y/N confronts the executives)

Y/N was going to the upper levels, with all of their belonging in a box. After being relocated under Leith Pierres command they weren't very happy either. The absence of Sawyer didn't help.

It wasn't like him to disappear. If he ever did that, he was found soon after in the labs or in some deeper levels of the factory.

That wasn't the case obviously, YN had searched for them even in Yarnabys cage. He was nowhere to be found, not even Dr Bruno White, his new superior, knew where Harley was.

While walking with heavy feet through the endless corridors to the elevator at the end of the hallway, Y/N stopped on their tracks after hearing a very interesting set of words.

"So, it's done right?" They recognised Eddie Ritterman's voice, cautious but cold "Sawyer is taken care of." A chill ran though Y/Ns back because they knew what they were talking about.

"I rather it be this way, he was getting... Out of control... He is unbearable." The soft but determined voice belonged to Stella Greyber, a coworker with wich YN actually got along.

"Oh he will be STILL unbearable even considering his condition"The focus on certain words was Leith's thing. "The only difference is that now we can shut him up" He seemed somewhat calm by the situation. As if he had taken care of a tedious task.

"What about Dr Y/L/N? They spent a lot of time down there with Sawyer and I bet my contract that they were close somehow. Shouldn't we take care of them as well?" The mood swifted immediately after Eddie's proposal.

Leith looked absolutely offended by the suggestion, as if it was some kind of stupid thing to conceive. "Dr YLN has already been relocated under my orders with he innovation team" He enfasized to Rittermann. "The investors are more confident to investing their money when a professional supports the new projects" Pierre readjusted his tie and straightened his red suit "Moreover, Mrs Greyber will also work besides Dr Y/L/N I'm home sweet home, there's not need to deal with them. They are under surveillance" He finished dry as if he didn't want the discussion to last longer

Stella seemed the most conflicted one out of the three of them. On the one hand, she liked YN well enough. They've shared some breaks together in her initials days and they were good friends. She knew YN as someone professional, stubborn but willing to respect boundaries with the children. That was something that a lot of employees seemed to forget while working at Playtime Co

On the other hand, she has seen you get more obsessive over your patients over the years. Ever since Bigger bodies was suggested. Stella blamed Harley for your obsession. She had seen it with her own eyes.

Dr Sawyer would be at first professional and maintained a distance and his characteristic coldness, just as always. But after months and even years of working together in the damned project she could see how Harley was getting more comfortable with YNs presence.

He would be found very close to them when supervising experiments. Once in an interview in which both of them entered together to talk to a child, she saw how event though your knees touched, he didn't move. At all

Stella started to notice how your little reunions in the lunch break we're replaced by your interviews with the 'toys'. She had started to resent the damn project because it was costing her the friendship she made with the psychologist.

That is the reason why she could understand the doubt of Eddie. YM had changed a lot throughout the project and they were getting more unpredictable each passing day.

"I think Dr Y/L/N should be given a chance to... Reinvent themselves" That was the suggestion Greyber proposed, and everyone agreed with it.

But before they could continue the conversation, the silent psychologist who had been listening the whole time bursted in the room, their belonging scattered on the floor.

"Under surveillance?" Was the first thing that came out of their mouth. Leith looked like a deer in headlights, Eddie looked afraid and Stella looked as pale as a ghost.

"You have some nerve 'take care of me'?... That's what you did with Harley? Take care of him? How so, may I ask?" The scariest thing wasn't being caught.

To the trio, the scariest thing at that moment was the demeanor of the psychologist. Even with their eyes covered with dark circles, the glasses displaced and the eyes almost out of their orbit due to the anger... The voice, the voice they had was what scared them.

It was calm, controlled, it almost reminded them to the tone the prototype used. Like a Storm at the verge of unleashing at any given moment.

A time bomb ready to explode....

Leith was the first one to talk. With all of the strength he had, he gulped the limp in his throat and began talking.

"YN, I'm sure you can understand, only if you'd let me-" Before his hand could touch their shoulder, Y/N grabbed it by the wrist and commanded to know where Harley was.

None said a word, even Pierre, who minutes ago bloated about having Harley silenced was silent.

They knew the hadn't killed Sawyer, they needed him for the operation so one way or another he must be alive.

Leith was going to speak again but before he could register what happend, Y/Ns fist met with his cheek. The punch was so strong that Pierre fell to the floor and his face started becoming an angry shade of red. His mouth slightly bloody.

Ritterman and Stella were absolutely still. Eddie didn't have any idea how to react. This behaviour had never been displayed by Dr Y/L/N and Stella felt absolutely horrified. She never likes violence or confrontation.

Pierre, was starting to get up, with an angry face but before he could, Y/N was on top of him again, grabbing him by the collar with both hands.

"What the hel-" The head of innovation looked furious over the punch

"If you appreciate your face in the slightest you are going to tell me where is Dr Sawyer" Y/N voice was getting more agitated. Usually they didn't react with physical violence, but after knowing that it was all planed but those three, they felt absolutely enraged.

Leith didn't put any resistance. "System room, Dr White will explain" He said as Y/N quicky got off him and went to the given location.

Leith cleaned his mouth of blood and accepted the tissue offered by Stella while looking at the door.

Ritterman looked angry with Pierre. He never understood the patience he had with YN. He could understand that they've known each other since the psychologist first started working there but still, the amount of things that Leith let go of both Sawyer and YN because of the psychologist was ridiculous.

"What do we do now?" Stella ask, uncertainty straining her voice. "They are not going to take it well" She murmured

"Leith, this has gone to far, we need to do something about them!" Eddie exclaimed while helping Leith to get up on his feet again.

"Damage control, that's what well be doing."Leith said. Cleaning his suit with his hand.

Even if Pierre appeared controlled and calm again, he was absolutely furious. His attempt of controlling Harley was complicating things more. Everything was getting out of hand.

Meanwhile, Y/N was impatiently waiting for the elevator to reach the laboratories. When the door finally opened, the Psychologist bursted into Dr Whites laboratory.

Dr White and his assistants remained still when Y/N bursted though the door. White already had an idea of why would they be here with a look that said more than words did.

He didn't put any kind of resistance, he was only a surgeon, he was not a confrontational person and he didn't want to face the anger of his colleague.

"Hes in the table right there" He murmured while putting his head down while he signaled to his assistants to get out discreetly.

Y/N looked at the table only finding a monitor, confused, they redirected their gaze to White "What is this?" They asked pointing to the object.

The voice of the psychologist was the thing that made the monitor turn on. A big purple and black eye appeared on the screen, apparently scanning the room until the pupil contracted at the sight of Y/N

"Y/N...Is that you?" The voice that sounded through the screen was robotic but it sounded just like Harley. In shock, you looked back at Bruno White almost as if you couldn't believe he had been turned onto a computer monitor.

"Harley?" You asked hesitantly before approaching the new Sawyer "Is this you? Really you?" You started touching the monitor and examining it.

You got close enough to feel the static electricity of the screen. "He is now attached to the main system of the factory. He is assisting us on the surgeries" White explained again, his voice still small, not knowing how to interact with you in this state of rage.

You looked absolutely shocked. You felt your head hurt a little and you could already image how Harley must be hurting with all of the new information flowing through him...

What will you do now?

Eddie's neck has turned out really weird :/

Heyyy, sorry for being inactive so long. I've been drawing, studying and I'm starting The Walking Dead. I'm on season 3 and I'm liking it a lot so I've been. Thanks for wanting and thanks for the support. It makes me happy that you guys like it.

-Unedited fanfic-

[ambrozjas]

johnny with a shy reader

johnny and ponyboy x shy!reader hc’s ꨄ︎

johnny cade x reader, ponyboy curtis x reader (separate)

✧˖*°࿐notes 🧸 ᰔᩚ

aaah!! loved this request!! i put my soul into these small blurbs 😭 i got two reqs for johnny and pony x shy reader so i just decided to kill two birds with one stone, yknow?

✧˖*°࿐warnings ᰔᩚ

mentions of scars in johnny’s, lmk if i missed anything!!

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

❥ first off, JOHNNY is also a little shy and quiet so you two would legit probably be the quietest people in the room

❥ i feel like youd guys would be very in tune with each other though, like even with just one look, you guys could understand each other

❥ like i could just imagine you and johnny sitting next to each other, you fiddling with his hands when nobody’s paying attention to you two

❥ like you guys can just understand each other, no words needed??

❥ do you get what i mean 😭😭??

❥ that being said though, if needed, johnny will come to your aid

❥ like, if dally’s bothering you an awful ton or you’re getting picked on, he’d def stand up for you in his own little way

❥ you both are quiet but nothing gets better than the late night whispers of affection you two exchange

❥ LIKEE..???

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

“how come you ain’t talk much either, johnny?” you asked the boy in front of you, who lay on his side in your bed, gazing into your eyes with that kicked puppy dog look as usual.

you and johnny were never chatty, who needed words when you guys could just understand one another just by a blink?

everybody used to joke how you guys could communicate telepathically, but sometimes that thought didn’t seem so silly. it was like you guys were telepaths, and you could just read each others mind at any time.

but even with few words, you two didn’t get bored. it was at night when all the words came out. which is where you were now, tracing johnny’s scars with a gentle hand, nothing but love and admiration coating your touch.

he seemed to think for a moment, eyes darting around your face as if to memorize every feature of your face in case one day he’d never see it again.

“only words i seem to ‘ave are f’you,” he paused, taking a second to lick his slightly chapped lips, “feels like you the only person who actually hears me.” he confessed, looking back into your eyes and almost wincing, waiting for the blows that never come. he waited for the insults that would never dare leave your lips, but when you didn’t say anything, it almost made his nerves worse.

“johnny cade.” you said his name, eyes not leaving his face once. “yeah..?” he whispered, almost inaudible.

“i love you.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

❥ you and PONYBOY are literally so cute together

❥ ponyboy is somewhat more talkative than johnny, so he’d be able to make more conversation, even if it’s awkward

❥ but sometimes ponyboy is a bit oblivious , so you might need to be a little more forward with how youre feeling

❥ sodapop always teases you both with how shy you are with each other

❥ would be more direct with telling people off for teasing you with ill intentions though

❥ you guys saw how bold he was for spitting at bob 😭

❥ AND UGH JUST IMAGINE HIM READING TO YOUUU

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡

your head was in ponyboy’s lap as he read one of his favorite books to you, ‘great expectations’. he was mid sentence before you dozed off, his hand buried in your hair and gently rubbing at your scalp with his free hand.

“.. and the clocks all stopped together. an e..ep—épergne, or center piece of some kind was in the middle of this cloth.’ did i say that right?” he had asked you, unaware that you had already nodded off.

“hey? you there?” he asked, tilting his head forward a little bit to check on your face, before taking notice of your sleepy state.

“oh—! shit..” he whispered. his hand still caressed your head, a soothing mechanism so you wouldn’t wake up. he couldn’t help but look lovingly at you in your serene state, how did he end up with such a perfect partner?

he smiled softly, before readjusting the book in his hand and continuing to read, still scratching at your scalp with his right hand. he didn’t mind if his legs fell asleep, as long as you got some sleep was all that matters.

boy, was ponyboy whipped.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ dkfkejddksk SORRY I HAVENT BEEN PUMPING OUT FICS THAT MUCH IVE BEEEN SOO BUSY WITH SCHOOLWORK !!

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[sexyandcringe]

Hopeless romantic

Part 2 ◇ Part 3 ◇ Part 4

Warnings: none, osamu feeling inferior to tsumu :(

Content: osamu x reader, Angst (to fluff in the next chapters), hurt/comfort

A/n: Osamu's POV! I swear i'm gonna continue the story-line in the next chap.!

All of his childhood, Osamu felt like he was divided in half because of his brother: half food, half clothes, and half affection from their parents. It was almost like people didn’t see him as his own person. To the world, they were “The Twins”, never just “Osamu” and just “Atsumu”.

Time changed, things changed, they each started to become their own person, dreaming of different futures and places to go to.

Osamu always felt like he was the shadow to the light named Miya Atsumu, but he loved him dearly, so much that even today he half-expects to find Atsumu tangled up beneath the sheets of their childhood bunker bed, only to be greeted by the disappointing sight of his mirror, where his reflection gets blurred with the lines of his twin brother.

Osamu loved Atsumu but he didn’t want to hurt people like Atsumu often did; he told his brother that he was never going to become like him, so he became a little less selfish, less stubborn and less greedy.

With you, though, he is greedy. And he wants all of you.

He wants to hold you while you two watch some stupid anime called Haikyuu that you’re obsessed with, he wants to listen to you rambling about your day and your disdain for Alice, the insufferable colleague of yours; he wants to cook for you and feed you with his own hands and he wants to wait for you in your shared bed.

Osamu didn’t want a lot of things in his life, except his restaurant and his family, but since the day he saw you walk in with wet hair and drenched clothes, he started to want a lot more than he could afford, from the most mundane acts of waking up together to the intimacy of making love to you.

He is patient though, he lets your relationship grow steadily.

He thought that he would be happy with the leftover crumbles of affection that you gave him, but when you stopped coming to his shop, Osamu lost it completely. 

He was waiting for you around 7 PM like every Friday, he was feeling confident that day and wanted to suggest a casual outing to the neighbouring town's food fair.

(Nothing like a date, just a friendly hang out, he told himself).

His resolve wavered when you didn’t show up, not for one, not for two, but for three weeks in a row. He thought of all the possibilities as to why you didn’t come for so long, and he tried his best not to imagine the worst-case scenario. That can’t be. Nope.

On the third Friday of your absence, Osamu was crumbling. He closed the shop earlier than usual and went straight into the supermarket to get his guilty pleasure: the Butter Cookies.

His grandma always used to get them for him and unlike many other children, he never found sewing tools or anything of the sort in the box; his grandma knew that that kind of disappointment would be far too great for a six-year-old, food-enthusiast ‘Samu.

Well, grandma, that kind of disappointment is too great for a twenty-six-year-old ‘Samu too, because the guy was nearly panicking when he couldn’t find the boxes of Butter Cookies at their usual place. 

He was positive, though, because even after searching everywhere and not finding them, he didn’t lose hope. They will be available in another grocery store for sure. He got his priority straight and redirected his steps to another store across the town.

Luckily for him, the store was still open for another hour and it didn’t take him long to finally see his comfort food, in all its glory, staring at him from the shelf in the second aisle.

He was just about to go and pay for his box when he caught a glimpse of your silhouette, halting him in his tracks and confirming that it was, in fact, you.

Concern etches across his features as he looks at your tired and empty eyes, wondering if you have been taking care of yourself. Did you eat enough? Sleep enough?

The desire to call out to you is strong, leaving him no time to think before he is already approaching you, “That one will go bad in like 2 days.”

You look like a deer caught in headlights, doe eyes staring at him in what he wants to believe is awe.  You smile timidly before saying: “Hi Osamu, long time no see.” 

Yeah, long time no see, indeed. Osamu wants to be mad at you for making him so worried, for not coming to his shop, for not letting him know if you were doing okay, but he is just the owner of a restaurant and you’re just a regular client.

At least, you used to be a regular client. He can’t force you to like his company or his shop, no matter how much he wishes it.

Despite this, he can’t stop the bitter remark that slips past his lips,“Yeah, because someone hasn’t been coming to my restaurant lately.” you visibly wince, though he can’t seem to care enough.

You stutter some poor excuse as he inspects the other vegetables in the aisle, handing you one with a clean surface that will last at least five days, per Osamu’s calculations.

His hands touch yours and it makes him blush like a middle schooler.

You both talk about nothing and everything and in between the mundane banter and playful jabs, Osamu finds himself agreeing to a cooking lesson at your apartment.

And he couldn’t be happier.

Reblogs are really appreciated!

Tags: @lees-chaotic-brain @writingsofanomnivore @pressuredtreasure @k4sumis0u

[fluffy0mallows]

THE STRABERRY SERIES

A Jinx x Fem! Reader fanfic

Warnings: Death, Violence, Cursing. Wlw content. Men and minors Dni

Chapter 1>

A sigh left her lips as she exited the cafe, letting Ekko take over her shift for the rest of the night. It was a tiring day, and she wanted nothing more than to buy herself some spicy noodles and snuggle into her warm cozy bed at home

Life alone was alright, just a tad bit lonely and all that

"I need thrill in this life, I swear—"

Pausing, Y/n stood, her blood running cold. In front of her, by a narrow alleyway, was men standing infront of a kneeling man, bloody and beaten.

Thump..

Thump..

Thump..

"Silco wird das nicht gefallen. Verräter werden bestraft."

And that's where she noticed her, a blue haired girl with long braids, standing confidently like she had all the power. And even though she looked quite short in contrast to the other men, it felt like she was the one commanding the room

"Silco ist der Verräter!! Ich bereue nichts!"

The without missing a beat, the girl snapped her fingers at the tall men behind her

"Beseitige ihn"

A loud bang shot through the air, making Y/n instictly slap her palm at her mouth, forcing herself to quite down.

But then her bag fell, the contents of it rolling into the wet ground

And then there they were, their eyes laid on the panicking girl, who felt like her feet was stuck

The blue haired girl's gaze was on her. Face unreadable, not uttering a single word. But then, the tall men dressed in black, began to approach her, and that's where her sense kicked back in

Sprinting with all her might, Y/n's breath picked up, when she heard rushing footsteps following hot in her trail. They were close

Taking a sharp turn, Y/n was stopped when the same blue haired girl was there, leaning on the wall, checking her nails casually, in contrast to the horror on Y/n's face

.

.

.

"Well, well....Didn't think I'd let you escape, did ya'?"

.

.

.

Her throat closed up, fear enveloping her veins. It didn't help that the men were now behind her, walking slowly, like they were taunting her

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Hold up, boys.....I think I wanna keep this one"

Just what will happen to you now?...

Mallow returns!!!

This is just a teaser y'all, might take me time to ACTUALLY finish the first few chaps, because I'm juggling this and my Wattpad fics as well. But the first and second chaps are secure. Just wanna give it a lil more time in case I wanna change sumthin

[mykingdomforapen]

It would be easier for Lu Guang to simply swallow it down and bear it. But it wouldn’t be right. 

In truth, nothing felt right. Heels of his hands pressed against his swollen, dry eyes, a crick in his neck, his heart trapped in his throat. One side of his head felt like it was being pulverized, the pain of the migraine stirring up trouble in his stomach. And Cheng Xiaoshi’s dulcet tones in his ear, his pleas no longer endearing. 

Lu Guang squeezed his eyes shut at Cheng Xiaoshi’s insistence. 

“Lu Guang, come on,” he said urgently. “We need to finish this.” 

This was a pile of photographs lined up across their coffee table, marked in chronological order, detailing the lifespan of a relationship between two cousins. The boys had grown up together like twins, Qiao Ling had told them when she outlined the case for them, but then grew apart after one of the cousins developed a gambling addiction. The last straw was when he stole money from his cousin’s mother to feed the insatiable beast, and the cousin cut ties. 

He suspects that his cousin also stole their grandmother’s jade, Qiao Ling told Lu Guang in preparation for the case. He wants us to help confirm if that’s true, and if so–if he sold it. 

Which would have been straightforward enough, if the gambling cousin was still alive. Unfortunately, he wasn’t. 

Hence, the ten plus photographs on the living room coffee table. 

Lu Guang shifted his hands from his eyes to his temples, giving them a sorry massage that only made him more miserable. He had been poring through photos for hours now, each of them a photo uploaded to the gamblin cousin’s cloud that the client had managed to pull, dating from five years ago–when the grandmother’s jewelry had gone missing–to five months ago, when the cousin had been found dead in his tiny apartment reeking of alcohol and debt. He scoured every interaction the cousin had with their elderly grandmother for any sign of theft, while Cheng Xiaoshi dived into any photo where he could root around the cousin’s apartment for proof. 

Even after five hours straight, they could neither confirm nor deny anything. The instant noodles that Qiao Ling had brought over to them had grown cold and untouched on the side. Lu Guang’s scalp scalded with the migraine, and Cheng Xiaoshi stank heavily of eucalyptus oil smeared under his nose to assuage the nausea that came from back-to-back diving. Lu Guang could smell its medicinal chill when Cheng Xiaoshi came too close to his ear. 

“Can you please back off?” Lu Guang said through gritted teeth.

Cheng Xiaoshi huffed as he threw himself backwards on the chair. Lu Guang avoided looking anywhere in his direction as he unscrewed a bottle of soy milk to ease his chapped throat. Cheng XIaoshi fared none better, but he had the self-perception of a goldfish to mask it. 

“We’re so close, though,” Cheng Xiaoshi said. “There were addresses to jewelry shops on his Baidu Maps search history. If we can find a photo that happened either right before or right after that one, I’m sure I can find more–” 

“Cheng Xiaoshi, we’ve been at this for almost six hours,” Lu Guang groaned. “Taking a break for at least thirty minutes won’t make a difference.” 

Cheng Xiaoshi huffed until his bangs flopped carelessly across his forehead. Lu Guang wiped his lips with the back of his hand, gagging slightly. 

“What if I forget?” said Cheng Xiaoshi.

Lu Guang exhaled deeply, teeth clenched and nostrils flaring so that it came more as the exasperated hiss of a steamer. 

“Then write it down, idiot,” he snapped. “Am I your mother?” 

Cheng Xiaoshi’s jaw clenched instinctively, just as Lu Guang’s did the same–for a moment, hesitating, ready to bite down on the words before they escaped his mouth. But they had punched their way through his teeth nonetheless, and at the end of the day, Lu Guang would have let them. Even if he knew that, while he never commented on it, it stung Cheng Xiaoshi. 

Because Lu Guang had said the same the first time they had this argument. 

-

The first time they had this argument, Lu Guang was still only twenty years old. He and Cheng Xiaoshi muddled through their abilities with curiosity and bravado. The only thing Lu Guang was afraid of was drowning, and it was abstract. 

The first time, Lu Guang grumbled at Cheng Xiaoshi. I’m tired, asshole, he said. Can’t you give me a break? Cheng Xiaoshi said something tone deaf–but you don’t even have to dive, you can just sit there and tell me what to do, it’s easy for you–and at that, Lu Guang stomped up to the bedroom, muttering it’s useless trying to argue with you to himself as he locked the door behind him. He burrowed himself angrily in the bedsheets and didn’t emerge until Cheng Xiaoshi cooked an entire apology dinner. 

I’m sorry, Cheng Xiaoshi said quietly when Lu Guang stuffed his mouths with softened carrots. Do you–do you want to talk about it? 

He said it with his back straight, even though his spine was shaking. Arguments rarely ended well in his experience–usually with a fist to the cheek, or a door slammed in his face while all the neighbors looked disapprovingly at him with full assurance that he was in the wrong. For Cheng Xiaoshi to be able to talk to Lu Guang took a bravery and a faith that he had to fight for, that he had to learn with blood, sweat, and tears to get through this life. 

Yeah, Lu Guang mumbled. I do, and they had finally laid their abilities on the table next to the pot of pork shoulder soup and small bowls of dipping sauce. This was new to the both of them, their magic of a great price, and they were learning their breaking points together. Lu Guang shared his needs to be met, Cheng Xiaoshi his fears of being of no help to others, opening their hearts to make space to grow, and at the end when Cheng Xiaoshi asked Are we okay now? Lu Guang said, Even better. 

So Lu Guang couldn’t grin and bear it, as much as he hated this frustration, this headache, the thought of tossing and turning on the top bunk with a heavy, hurting heart. He and Cheng Xiaoshi needed this moment where they grew so that the other could take up more space in their lives. Cheng Xiaoshi needed to learn that he would be loved even if he was upsetting. Lu Guang needed to learn to be honest. They were precious truths that would have carried them through the rest of their lives, if Cheng Xiaoshi had lived long enough for it. 

-

Except this was the second time Lu Guang was having this argument. Everything should be the same, but he wasn’t. 

He wasn’t because Cheng Xiaoshi was dead, and yet alive for now. Because Cheng Xiaoshi’s mission-driven stubbornness was what got him killed, and Lu Guang now could see the all bloodred flags leading up to September. Because Lu Guang could now name the anxiety that drove Cheng Xiaoshi into doing things now, before the wait of them consumed him alive, but Cheng Xiaoshi couldn’t yet and Lu Guang had to keep it to himself. Because he and Cheng Xiaoshi were plunging into the photos of a dead man over and over again, and every time Cheng Xiaoshi said something honest about it, Lu Guang had to swallow down how sick it made him feel. It’s so messed up, Lu Guang, Cheng Xiaoshi had said, that this guy has been dead for half a year, and I feel his heart beating in my chest. Lu Guang buried his face in his hands and tried not to cry, even when Cheng Xiaoshi was not here to see it. 

“Then write it down, idiot,” Lu Guang said, only realising belatedly he never said the last word the first time round. “Am I your mother?” 

Cheng Xiaoshi flinched. Lu Guang didn’t remember that. He thought Cheng Xiaoshi only gritted his teeth. There was a gleam in Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes that could either be tears or nausea, but Lu Guang knew better than to point it out. Any time Lu Guang pointed out where Cheng Xiaoshi was falling apart at the seams, he would dismiss them like they meant nothing, like they weren’t the reason Lu Guang couldn’t sleep at night, terrified of morning. 

“The hell is wrong with you?” Cheng Xiaoshi muttered. 

“I’m tired, asshole!” Lu Guang snapped. He didn’t need a script for this. He felt sick to his stomach. He felt like nothing was ever going to be right, and he didn’t know how to make it better. He didn’t know what to do. “Can’t you give me a break?” 

“But you don’t even have to dive!” Cheng Xiaoshi protested. “You can just sit there and tell me what to do, it’s easy for you!” 

Was it easy? Was it easy to watch Cheng Xiaoshi throw himself into the past over and over again and shrug off Lu Guang’s concern as unnecessary, until he ended up on the wrong side of the bullet? To try again and again to look for what went wrong in the past, obsessing over each detail and torn butterfly wing until he scrounged for the right answer? To feel old and young at once, helpless and culpable simultaneously? To constantly lie, even though he was supposed to have grown to be honest? 

Go upstairs, his memory urged him. Lock the door behind you. Go. 

But something fiercer, louder than his memory took hold of him, balling itself into a fiery pit in his throat and scalding its way out of him. 

“It’s easy for me?” Lu Guang choked out. “Is it? I’m the one who has to try and figure out how to fix everything! I have to fix everything, and you never think twice!” 

Lu Guang felt the tears bully their way to his lashes, no matter how much he tried to fight them back. He stared at Cheng Xiaoshi until his vision blurred with sickness and fury, the boy he was supposed to save and couldn’t help but fail. I don’t know what to do, his soul cried out. I’m the only one who can fix this and I don’t even know what to do. 

“Useless!” Lu Guang hurled. 

He didn’t know to whom he was shouting it, but he knew as soon as it landed that he aimed it at the wrong place. Cheng Xiaoshi froze, breath stuck midway up his throat, eyes wide as if he had been shot in the stomach, and Lu Guang knew that look too well. He went as still as stone, scarcely breathing as Lu Guang’s voice settled like the remains of an earthquake, leaving behind silent wreckage. 

Lu Guang caught up with his breath, dizzy with the catharsis, until its tingling numbness gave way to sudden realization. This was not how any of this was supposed to go.  

Cheng Xiaoshi blinked rapidly, looking away–the tightening of his jaw could not mask the way his lips shook. 

“Forget it, then,” Cheng Xiaoshi muttered. “Let’s just–yeah. Break. Sounds good.” 

He stood up from the seat and left the room quickly, shoving his hands into his jacket pocket. He hurried out the front door of the shop, the twinkling of the door bell the only thing keeping Lu Guang company as he was left behind in the sunroom.

[rhyrhy]

Vital signs ـــــــــﮩ٨ـ

Greys anatomy AU! Doctor- Abby Anderson

Mlist | moodboards I second chap (you are here) |

Two: Sink or swim 🩺

⚕️ summary: At St. Mary’s Hospital, the rules are simple. Saving lives, avoiding attachment, and never going overboard. However, staying within those boundaries is becoming increasingly difficult under the constant gaze of the head of cardio.

Your feet feel like lead in your shoes. Two hours ago, you found out that your planned one-night stand was actually the head of cardio at your hospital. And now, just when you thought your bad luck had peaked, fate decided to twist the knife. Because despite your best efforts to avoid Dr. Anderson, she was the resident on this case with you. So, you did everything you could by yourself. You pushed through rounds, meticulously checked vitals, double-checked scans. You weren’t about to look incompetent, not on your first shift. That wasn’t an option. You needed be that intern to get that first surgery.

But now… you’ve hit a wall.

Great.

Nine hours in, the morning has blurred into a mess of movement, orders, and adrenaline. Somewhere in between rushing from one patient to another, you and the other interns finally exchange names, though it barely registers. Everyone’s too exhausted to commit anything to memory beyond who’s in charge and where they need to be.

The sleeve of your white coat brushes against the empty desk as you sit hunched over Katie’s chart. The distant chatter of coworkers in the cafeteria barely reaches you, drowned out by the sound of your own thoughts. Your eyes burn from staring at the same scans, the skin of your fingertips dry from flipping through printed ink a million times. Nothing. How could there be nothing when she was clearly in pain? You can’t go back into her room without answers, you need to prove yourself.

At some point, Dina hurries over, eyes wide with barely masked panic.

“I need help. My patient’s O2 stats are dropping, and I have no idea why.” Jesse lingers just behind her, standing a little too close, like he’s waiting for an excuse to jump in. He’s always like that with Dina—hovering, teasing, toeing the line for coworkers.

You let out a long sigh, rubbing your temple. “Ugh, you too? Mine is driving me up a wall. It’s like a phantom pain—nothing’s showing up on these scans.” You glance back at the pages of Katie’s chart. Blood work, normal. Imaging, clear. Symptoms inconsistent. But she looks awful—tired, weak, barely able to sit up without wincing. Something isn’t adding up.

Without realizing it, the four of you have gravitated toward each other like lost kids at recess, huddling together like anxious penguins. Intern penguins.

Or, as General Marlene’s voice echoes in your head, “bottom of the surgical food chain.”

Marlene. Just thinking about her makes your shoulders tense. She’s the reason you got into St. Mary’s. The reason you had to pack up and leave home, leave behind the mess you were barely holding together. You told yourself it was for the best—fresh start, new city, clean slate. No more family drama breathing down your neck, no ex showing up at your doorstep with apologies too late to mean anything. But somehow, standing here, exhausted, drowning in charts and expectations, you’re already wondering if this was a mistake.

Then, as if summoned by your thoughts, a voice cuts through the group like a scalpel.

“Why are y’all just standing there?”

Marlene. She’s leaning over the railing above, arms crossed, looking unimpressed. The overhead lights cast sharp angles on her face, making her look even more intimidating than she did during rounds. Her voice halts conversation. You barely have time to react before she levels you all with an unimpressed glare.

“Rule five: when I say move, you move.” She rolls her eyes and waves everyone off.

A brief pause lingers. Then, after a few awkward head nods and quiet “thank yous,” for whatever help we’d gathered, like a bunch of scolded children, you scatter.

You let out a breath and head back to Katie’s floor. Maybe you didn’t ask enough questions. Maybe you were too focused on her stubbornness. How could your first case—a stomach ache, of all things—stump you this much? The world around you fades into white and black lettering, as you push your hair behind your ear, weaving through patients and doctors, eyes glued to the papers in your hands, praying there’s something you missed.

You press the cold gray button with the arrow facing up, waiting for the elevator. The doors slide open, and you step inside, still reading. A faint hello pulls you from your trance. You don’t feel conversational so You nod absentmindedly in acknowledgment before tilting your head back, letting the bright fluorescent light fill your vision. Your brain is fried. A five-second break won’t kill you.

Then, a familiar chime.

You glance over your shoulder, and there she is, hair pulled back, glasses hooked onto the collar of her dark blue scrubs. You’re still not used to seeing her in this environment. It feels like night and day, remembering the slightly clingy woman who had begged you to stay in bed with her just hours ago. Abby’s hand curling around your wrist under warm sheets, her hair messy, falling halfway over her face. The sleepy rasp of her voice: “Stay a little longer?”

You blink hard, forcing yourself back to reality. Trying to keep those thoughts to a minimum. She leans against the wall, arms crossed, looking way too at ease for someone who just spent six hours cutting people open. Nope. Not going there.

You straighten awkwardly. “Dr. Anderson.”

Her eyebrow raises at the formality, but she doesn’t comment. Instead, she hums. You snap your head forward, keeping your eyes locked on the silver doors, willing the elevator to move faster.

A beat of silence. Then—

“So…” Abby starts casually, like you didn’t wake up in the same bed seven hours ago. “You a hiker?”

“…What?” Your brows pull together, with a small squint of confusion. Was this her idea of small talk, you screamed internally for the universe to let up.

She shrugs, tilting her head slightly. “Utah. Mountains. People out here love hiking. Thought maybe you were one of those ‘find yourself on a trail’ types.”

You blink. “…That’s the most random thing you could’ve said just now.”

She hums, pretending to think. “Well, I considered leading with, ‘Hey, funny running into you here after last night,’ but I figured you’d prefer the small talk.”

Your jaw clenches. “Yes. Definitely prefer the small talk.”

She nods, barely holding back a grin. “Right. So, hiking.” Her gaze flickers downward for a fraction of a second, like she’s mulling over her own words before speaking.

She shrugs,“Just saying. Sounds like a good stress reliever. Can’t help but think they might be onto something.”

There’s a slight twitch at the corner of your lips. “Glad to see you’re adjusting well.”

She grins. “Mhm…Could be a team-building exercise.”

Your brow furrows. “What—are you inviting me—” You cut yourself off, looking away quickly. This was unprofessional. She was your superior. This woman is unbelievable, to say the least.

Moments of silence pass over you two, You don’t wait. The second the doors open, you’re out before she can respond. Just before they close behind you, Abby calls out—

“You let me know if you change your mind about the great outdoors!”

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch before you can stop them. But as the doors slide shut, you can feel her eyes lingering on you, the weight of her presence pressing against your back.

A dim-lit memory flickers behind your eyelids, The Bar—Abby’s fingers loosely curled around a whiskey glass, the way she leaned in when she talked to you, her eyes unwavering. Her cheek rested against her palm as she listened, intently, to your slightly tipsy ramblings.

“I just… I needed to leave.” Your voice had been quieter then, more vulnerable. “It felt suffocating. Like I was trapped in this version of myself I didn’t even like.” Abby had only nodded, slow, understanding. Watching you like you were the only thing that mattered. No judgment, or chiming in…just listening.

You shake the thought away. Not the time.

The hours tick by, the weight of exhaustion pressing against your shoulders. Your patient, Katie, had been a complete mystery symptoms not quite fitting any obvious diagnosis, test results coming back inconclusive. But now, staring at the latest scan, the pieces finally click into place.

Your breath catches. “Oh my God.”

You scramble for a pen, flipping through her chart, double-checking the notes, re-running the possibilities in your head. It has to be this. A rare complication, but one that makes perfect sense. Your heart pounds as you yank the file off the desk. You have to tell Abby. Now. You spin on your heel, practically jogging down the hall, dodging nurses and patients as your sneakers squeak against the freshly waxed floors. Almost there—

BAM.

You collide with something solid. Hard enough to knock the air from your lungs and send your patient file flying. “Shit—” A pair of hands grab your arms, steadying you before you can completely wipe out.

“Damn, dude. Where’s the fire?” You blink up at Ellie, who’s eyeing you with equal parts amusement and mild concern.

“I—” you shake your head, catching your breath. “I think I figured out what’s wrong with Katie.”

Ellie whistles. “Look at you, solving medical mysteries on your first shift. Next thing you know, you’ll be stealing surgeries from the rest of us.”

You huff, bending down to grab your scattered papers. “Yeah, well, first I have to survive telling Anderson.”

Ellie helps you scoop up the last of the notes, handing them over with a teasing grin. “Well, good luck with that. Try not to walk straight into her, too.” You roll your eyes but shoot her a quick smile before hurrying off. Abby was about to get an earful—whether she liked it or not.

The low hum of hospital machines fills the room as you stand just outside Katie’s door, patient file gripped tightly in your hands. Inside, her parents sit in stiff-backed chairs, her mother wringing a tissue between her fingers, her father rubbing at the bridge of his nose. Their exhaustion is palpable—the kind that comes from hours of waiting, of fear twisting in their stomachs. You take a steadying breath before stepping in. Abby is right beside you, her presence grounding even if she’s the reason you’re feeling twice as nervous.

Katie’s mother stands the moment she sees you. “Do you know what’s wrong with her?” Her voice wavers on the last word.

You exchange a quick glance with Abby, who gives you a small nod, silently urging you to speak.

“We do.” You clear your throat, stepping forward. “Katie has a rare complication called Pericarditis It’s uncommon, which is why it wasn’t immediately obvious, but now that we’ve identified it, we can move forward with treatment.”

Her father straightens. “A rare complication? But she was fine last week. She just had a fever—how does it turn into this?”

You nod, flipping open the file. “That’s a good question. What likely happened is that she had a viral infection—something that probably felt like a cold or mild flu. But instead of just running its course, the infection caused inflammation in the lining around her heart, making it difficult for it to pump properly. That’s why she’s been feeling weak and having chest pain.”

Katie’s mother clutches her husband’s arm. “But you can fix it, right?”

You hesitate, and Abby smoothly steps in. “We have a plan. We’re going to monitor her closely, start anti-inflammatory medication to reduce the swelling, and if necessary, we’ll drain any excess fluid. If she responds well, she could be feeling better in a matter of days.”

Katie’s father lets out a slow breath, nodding. “And she’ll recover?”

You soften. “That’s what we’re aiming for.”

You rub your temples as you finish scribbling notes into a chart, exhaustion already settling into your bones. It’s only your first shift, and yet you’ve somehow run across the entire hospital three times, nearly killed yourself tripping over an IV pole, and barely avoided making an idiot of yourself in front of Dr. Anderson—twice. Intern year was going to be hell.

You glance at the clock. Lunch. Thank God. As you step into the hallway, Jesse falls into step beside you, looking way too smug for someone who’s also running on fumes.

“You look like you just got hit by a truck,” he comments, elbowing you lightly. Scanning over your slumped shoulders.

You glance at him, Straightening up slightly. “Feel like it too.”

Ellie and Dina catch up, Ellie stretching her arms over her head. “At least you don’t have a patient who tried to bite you,” she grumbles.

Jesse snickers. “Pediatrics?”

“Worse. Old fart with dementia. Thought I was his ex-wife.” Ellie sighed, huffing a laugh at her own description.

Dina grimaces, with a shoulder pat that went on a bit longer than normal, or at least you thought. “Yikes Williams.”

As the four of you make your way toward the cafeteria, you let out a deeper sigh. “Honestly, I have bigger problems.”

Jesse raises an eyebrow, curiously spiking. “Bigger than almost getting bitten?”

“I need a roommate,” you admit. “My new place is way too big for just me, and rent is stupid expensive. I thought I’d be fine on my own, but at this rate, I might have to start selling my organs on the black market.”

Ellie smirks. “Dibs on your liver.”

Dina glances over. “Wait, you’re looking for a roommate?”

You nod. Dina nudges you with her shoulder. “I’m literally looking for a new place. My neighbor is wayy too loud at two in the morning. Two. In the morning.”

“Oh my God. Roomies?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“Roomies.” You agreed, it might not be such a bad idea.

Jesse groans. “Okay, this is ridiculous. If anyone should be Dina’s roommate, it’s me. I’d make a great one.”

Ellie side-eyes him. “Jesse, your car is a biohazard. I can only imagine what your apartment looks like.”

Dina snorts. “Yeah, sorry, man. I think I’ll take my chances with her instead.” She gestures at you.

You sink into your chair, letting out a deep sigh as the exhaustion from the day settles into your bones. Your scrubs feel heavier than when you first put them on, your feet ache like you’ve run a marathon, and your brain is dangerously close to short-circuiting.

So this really is your life now—running on fumes, chasing diagnoses, dodging Marlene’s wrath, and trying not to make a fool of yourself in front of Dr. Anderson.

Your eyes flick across the cafeteria, landing on Abby at a distant table. She’s deep in conversation with another attending, posture relaxed, fingers absently tracing the rim of her coffee cup. She looks just as sharp and confident as she did in the OR. Like she belongs here. And then there’s you—an intern who spent the morning nearly killing herself with nerves, playing medical detective for the first time, and figuring out how to navigate the fact that she accidentally slept with head of cardio.

Great first day.

Taglist: @sevyscoven

[graceisinthelibrary]

It’s my first time ever asking but since I love your writing so much I’m giving it a go! I’d like 15, 26 and 27 please!!😘

Here's the last one. Thanks for the amazing choice of prompts! The prompt was "There's a letter on the table waiting for you".

Siegfried operated on the apple with meticulous precision. He peeled, sliced, and dissected. He was a surgeon after all. He cut things for a living. 

The truth was, he concentrated on the apple at hand, because he couldn’t rip open the letter on the kitchen table. Lately the Royal Mail had become his nemesis. The telegram from Tristan and its vague announcement that had left him in a dark limbo between hope and despair for over twelve horrible hours. Edward’s Christmas Card, well intended, but a cruel tease that had caused more agony for days for Mrs Hall and everyone else who loved her. 

And now this. Again the letter was addressed to her and the sender happened to be an old friend. This case case “friend” was an euphemism for “Gerald”. As far as he was aware the chap hadn’t written to her in ages. Why now? 

By now the apple was cut in enough pieces to be used to cook apples sauce. With the harvest being good this year, his housekeeper had cooked a lot of it, because she didn’t want it to waste. She was ever so resourceful in everything she did. 

The backdoor opened and she came in, a basket over her arm and Dash at his leash. 

“Afternoon,” she greeted him, visibly pleased to see him. “You’re back early!” 

“Oh well…” He shrugged. “How was it in the shops? Anything left for us?” He asked, pointing at her basket. It was fuller than usual, which was a good sign. 

“For once I got everything I need,” she said, beaming with accomplished pride. “But it’s grim for some people out there.” 

“I know.” Only too aware how much the rationing and the ongoing fear for the life of the many soldiers were nagging at people, he hesitated to feed Dash with a piece of the apple, but eventually he did. The little beggar was just as lovely as his mistress, who was now taking off her jacket, revealing her grey short sleeved sweater. 

“There’s a letter on the table waiting for you.” 

He gave Dash another piece of the apple and the spaniel leaned against his leg, grateful and keen for more. He patted his side, marvelling how soft his fur was. 

“Oh…” She leaned over and took a look at it. “Oh,” she repeated when she noticed who had written it. There was no nervous flush, no sign of unease or joy. Just surprise mixed with a mild curiosity. He relaxed a bit. So she hadn’t been anticipating a message from him. Good. 

He watched her as she stored away the groceries and ate his apple, sharing every second bit with Dash. Then she put the kettle on and sat down. To his surprise she opened the letter in front of him and began to read. Another good sign. Whatever the homewrecker - that’s what he silently called him - wrote wasn’t a secret, at least not to her. 

As the next “Oh” reached his ear, he furrowed his brows. 

“Any news?” He asked as casually as possible, pretending not to know who the letter was from. 

“Kind of. He got married…” 

“Oh… Who?” 

Her eyes shot up, aiming at him. Her amusement was obvious and he blushed, caught red-handed. Why could he never lie to her? 

“Gerald,” she explained and made sure he knew that she knew. She just made her point silently and stabbed him with it. He should know by now that nothing escaped her notice. “He met an old flame of his. Ruth.” 

“Good for him.” Siegfried cleared his throat. 

“That’s what I think. Though…” She shrugged and he didn’t dare to ask why she had wrinkled her flawless forehead. 

“Don’t you think this sounds a bit petty?...” She leaned in a little and began to read, “I won’t say it was love at the first sight, but we know and understand each other. She’s a marvel and she likes Lilian a lot. It’s nice to come home to someone in the evening without wondering whether they will be waiting or not. I hope you will find whatever you’re looking for. Someone’s told me you’re a warden now and I wonder how little time you have left to put up your feet. Life here at the Lakes is a bit slower…” She broke off and Siegfried figured it took her a lot of willpower not to roll her eyes. She had always been very much in control when it came to the homewr… banker. As if she had never dared to be her true self in his presence. Maybe that was what he had hated mostly about the bloke. 

“I have everything I need!” 

“He sounds… wounded,” Siegfried said, trying to sound neutral. 

“Petty,” she repeated. The kettle whistled and Siegfried noticed that she spooned more leaves into the pot than the rationing allowed. 

“I think we deserve a little treat.” Feeding Dash the last piece of the apple, he rose and returned with a bottle of sherry. Dash, sensing, there were no more treats left, climbed into his basket and curled up for a well-deserved afternoon nap. 

“Let’s put up our feet,” Siegfried suggested upon his return. He poured them two glasses and placed them neatly next to their saucers. She chuckled. “Not exactly an ottoman, but thank you.” 

He settled down and looked at her, his eyes steady and beaming. “You’re a marvel. You keep us fed, you hold the fort, and you make us safe at night. Don’t let anyone tell you, that’s not enough or unheard of.”

Audrey, never able to accept a compliment, lowered her eyelashes. Now a tender flush built up in her cheeks. The silence became a bit embarrassing and she sipped her tea, and then from her sherry. 

“I love me life and me home,” she said, her voice steady. “I see no reason to change anything about it. And I’m not looking for anything…” 

“Brava.” He smiled, but felt a little sting in a corner of his heart. There was something he wanted to change about her life, about them. He ached to tell her that he loved her, more than the banker ever had. That he would never belittle her for caring for others or wanting to make a difference to their community. That his home was her home and that she had built it for them. There were so many things he wanted to admit but felt he wasn’t allowed to. 

“You’re making a difference every day,” he finally said. “Especially to me.” Three little words. He knew his voice had sounded shaky, even squeaky. 

Her eyes, right over the rim of her sherry glass, widened and then she smiled. Almost coy, she put down the glass and reached out. He took her hand without hesitation. Her fingers, so warm, a bit rough from the hard work, yet so well cared for, interlaced with his. “It means a lot to me to hear that.” 

In a moment of boldness he later described to himself as madness, he led her hands towards his lips and placed a kiss on her knuckles. 

From the way she stared at him, he thought for a moment she would faint. He didn’t know how many men had kissed her hand before, but he had the feeling the banker had never done it. So he did it again. 

“You’re daft,” she breathed, her eyes fixed on the place where his mouth had touched her skin. 

“No, my dearest. I’m in love. Quite a difference.” 

[ladysternchen]

The Aging Of Elves

In his later years, Tolkien spent much time and energy trying to explain the concept of aging regarding the Elves (read here: he needed to explain Círdan's beard and how he looked old). He came up with a whole lot of theories, one that said Elves age 1 year per x human years, one that talked about life-circles, others again that tried to determine when Elves reproduced- and ended up contradicting himself with every single one (though admittedly, the life-circle-one is the one that fits best).

Now, it is always difficult to contradict the author of a book, but given that Tolkien created not only a book but a whole legendarium, a history of an ancient world that is now lost, I think each of may try to explain what Tolkien in the end could not, and be it only because he ran out of time.

I, personally, go with the 'the life of the Eldar is bound to the lifespan of Arda', at the end of which they at last grow weary of life even in Valinor. But that is still eons away, and even then, would they show their age physically? I think not (partly because the age of their body isn't really relevant. An elf can die, probably even multiple times, and spend a varying amount of time in Mandos, and then be allowed to rebuild their body. Would that make them then somehow younger than someone who has never died? Hardly, would it?).

No, if you ask me, Elves do not change their physical appearance past their 100th year (which is the age by which all of them are full-grown). As for the infamous beards? Well, Círdan just liked it that way, maybe Ossë or Ulmo appeared in the form of a bearded being and he wanted to honour them (like Mahtan wanted to honour Aulë with his beard?). Or maybe it was just warmer with that beard. Like, chap spent almost all his life be the sea.

Why did the Hobbits think him old, then? Well, there's an easy explanation, one that has already been given by so many people over the years- Círdan's hair and beard were silver, which is a perfectly natural hair-colour for an elf and just something that runs in Círdan's family, but a sign of old age for Mortals. Bilbo and Frodo and Sam would probably have thought Olwë and Eärwen aged as well, given that their hair was completely white, even though they had spent their entire life (or in Olwë's case all his adult life) in Valinor, where things don't fade nor age.

That said, there can be no doubt that Elves did age nonetheless, only not physically (with one exception, but I will come to that later)- they are born, learn to walk, talk, sing and dance by the time they turn one (convenient, I call it), but then their (physical) development falls behind that of human children- or really, cannot be compared to the aging of Men anymore (which I think is the real reason Tolkien never found a formula that fitted). Because Mortals age by years. Elves, at least in my imagination, age by experiences made, or probably even by their choice. And many things that are affairs of adult life for Mortals (like marriage, the bearing of children, taking up rule etc) MAY fall into the period that would still be considered childhood- or else they may not, and wait with building their family until much later.

Also, do Elves ever really grow up? They are at once the wiser of the Children of Ilúvatar, and become skilled past anything that Mortals could ever hope for, and the more child-like ones, rejoicing in dancing and singing and losing themselves in the joy of arts and crafting, joking and feasting.

They are at once like happy children and bearing all the griefs of the world at once- Elves are no Humans, and cannot be compared.

But speaking of griefs- that is the thing that does make them grow older. Not physically, perhaps (with exceptions), but mentally. And maybe that also added to Círdan appearing old to the Hobbits- because they could see in his eyes all he had loved and lost. It was just his aura, if you like.

And then there are those instances where pain, torture and grief can physically change an elf- Gwindor is the most prominent example of that. Still, that fate may be reversible (at least if we take the other given example, 'Thingol's winter', at face value and believe that a real physical change came over him rather than 'just' depression*)

Plus, there is a fun-fact to just f**k with your minds today and the ultimate proof for myself that Elves can never be compared to Men- Fëanor and Maedhros were closer in age than Maedhros was with the twins (depending on which dates you believe, by quite a significant amount), and that was -if one believes the Laws and Customs Among the Eldar- by no means a rare thing.

So, to sum this headcanon or meta or whatever up, Elves age by what they live through. They may fall in love, marry and become parents when hardly past their own childhood, or they may do so after already living for a thousand years. Lúthien, despite being thousands of years old already, still very much acted a teenager when she met Beren (yes, no, sorry, Lúthien my dear, you did. You behaved like a child and were treated like a child, and to be honest, girl, for all your power, you never really grew up), while Gwindor, despite likely being a relatively young elf still, appeared as an old man when he returned from Angband. Círdan looked to Frodo old, while Celeborn and Galadriel, who were also both born during the Years of the Trees, showed no sign of age whatsoever. Elvish aging has no rule to it, and they don't age physically per default. And there is certainly no old elf in the FA.

*you'll never hear me say JUST depression ever again. I don't mean that mental illness is by any means less terrible than any physical illness or hurt, I meant the 'just' as in 'not visible'. And yes, it is important for me to stress that point!

[lyricswrittenbythesecretdreamer]

Haunted

“You remind me of a man I used to know.”  

I was watching the embers in the fire die, and the thought just came, out loud. The Ghoul chewed an unknown meat off the stick he’d skewered it on, not looking up to dignify my statement with even so much as a grunt. Maybe not then, I thought sadly. Maybe all the men like Cooper had died when the bombs dropped. I certainly hadn’t met a man like him since we’d said goodbye to each other at that party. Still, I continued.  

“He was a lot friendlier than you – though I suppose actors are predisposed to high levels of charisma.” I smiled to myself from behind the handkerchief covering my face, thinking of how simple the past now seemed in comparison to the present.  

“Actor?” It was first word I’d heard him speak since he told me to put out the fire that had cooked our dinner and it brought me from my daydream of my old life.  

“Yeah, actor. One of the good ones, most of the time anyway.” I chuckled to myself, remembering the tantrums he used to have on set if something wasn’t entirely accurate.  

“How would you have known an actor?”  

“Well, if you must know, I was-”   

I was cut off by a knife flying past my face and narrowly missing my eye, and then there was a body on top of mine, all flailing limbs and trying to stab me, grabbing a hold of my neck and head to hold me down. I grabbed the pocket knife hidden in my coat and wounded my attacker, before rolling the both of us over and pushing his face into the dying ashes. Their screams echoed out against the darkness of the wasteland, and I heard several gunshots. I took my pistol from my belt and shot whoever had tried to jump me in the back of his skull, letting him fall limply beside me.  

I look up through the dying light to see the Ghoul surveying our surroundings, before looking down at me and I realised with horror I didn’t have the handkerchief covering my face anymore.  

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Rosie Ryder,” he let out an audible laugh, “What are you doin’ out in the Wasteland?”  

My face went bright red, and I huffed.  

“Even after the apocalypse, people still just know me as the girl who played the hooker that got her titties out for Cooper Howard,” I rolled my eyes and sighed, “I’ve done other movies, you know.”  

“Yeah, you were great in Under the Covers,” he chuckled again, “although for you that film must have mostly been about shooting all that kissin’ you did to the poor bloke. I bet his lips were chapped at the end of every day!”  

“You a fan of Cooper Howard?” I asked, looking him up and down, “this get-up of yours seems pretty inspired by his work.”  

“You could say that, Little Miss Ryder.”  

I laughed bitterly and gestured down at the three bodies around us.  

“We should probably find somewhere else to sleep tonight, in case anyone heard the gunshots.”  

I checked the pockets of the bodies but couldn’t find anything other than a couple of caps and a gun with some ammo still left in it.  

“No chems?” he asked, and I shook my head.  

“No chems.”  

*** 

As we continued in our direction, the Ghoul became more talkative.  

“So, if you were Little Miss Rosie Ryder, you must be at least two hundred and something years old,” he began, “So how are you here right now?” 

I shrugged.  

“It’s a long, long story. We don’t got that much time, Ghoulie.”  

Eventually we came across a shabby-looking shack that looked just about safe enough for the night and might potentially keep us safe from any radstorm that might decide to descend onto us. And maybe from any raiders, too.  

The Ghoul went in first, checking the inside whilst I set a bear trap up in front of the door, before following him inside. It seemed as if someone might have been living here for a bit – there was a sofa and a little table, as well as a small counter with what looked like to be a broken-down hob. No signs of life anymore, though. Everything had a thick layer of dust coating it, and any essentials seem to have been hastily removed when the last occupier had left. 

“The walls seem pretty sturdy and the roof’s secure,” he said, “did you put a bear trap outside the door?”  

“Yeah, don’t wanna take the risk we did earlier.” I sighed. “Still, can’t help but think we’re still sitting ducks if someone breaks in. We’re not exactly in the safest area – I know at least two Raider groups who have bases nearby.” 

“They’ll break in and come face to face with my pistol aimed at their skulls, sweetheart.”  

“Oh, I’m ‘sweetheart’ now, am I? Now that you know what I look like under all these clothes?”  

The Ghoul stepped closer to me, the shadow of his hat towering over me.  

“Maybe I jus’ appreciate those actin’ skills of yours,” he murmured, “on top of that fine figure.” He stepped back from me and sat down on the sofa, slouching.  

“I’ll take first watch, Little Miss Rosie. I’ll wake you in a few hours and when the light comes, we’ll continue, and you can tell me that long, long story of yours.”  

*** 

Susie Wellington was coiffuring my hair for my first scene, as I sat tugging on my cotton skirt trying to psyche myself up for the scene ahead. We’d rehearsed it a bunch of times in table reads but this was the real thing – closed set and all.  

“Susie, I think the leading lady’s hair’s done up enough for now,” came a voice from the corner, “and you should be making your way back to the dressing rooms. I’m sure Little Miss Rosie Ryder here doesn’t want another cast member staring at her tits.”  

I looked up in relief as Cooper appeared beside us, cigarette in hand. Susie didn’t look to happy about having to leave her creation as it was, but only pursed her lips and bid me goodbye.  

“You excited for your first scene, Little Miss Rosie?” he asked, and I felt a strange sense of deja vu come over me at his words. I ignored it and put a shaky smile on my face.  

“I’m excited to get the nudity outta the way, that’s all I’m gonna say!” I giggled a bit, and he laughed alongside me.  

“Well, there’ll be a barrier in place of everythin’ and that dress of yours ain’t comin’ off completely. Gotta keep them perverts on their toes.” He winked at me, and I tried to keep the smile on my face, but under it all, I felt as if this was very dangerous.  

As he kissed me softly in front of the cameras and rolled his eyes playfully as the director asked him to push my dress up to show more of my skin, I felt something lurking in the shadows. Once this was shot, there was no going back and for some reason, I felt completely doomed.  

*** 

I woke up with a start, flinging my body forward. From the sofa, the Ghoul shushed me, holding a gloved finger over my mouth.  

I could hear something outside, and I assumed that was what woke me up. It was a strange sound, of someone dragging their feet through the dirt and the mud. We sat there in silence for a full half an hour, until the dragging sound moved away from the hut and back out into the darkness.  

“You mind takin’ the next watch, Sweetheart?” he said, “I need to get a couple hours kip in before we set off tomorrow.”  

“Sure,” I say tentatively, pulling out my pistol. “I’m glad you finally trust me.”  

“Well, I’m a huge fan.” He laid heavy emphasis on the ‘huge’, winking at me through the dusk light. I rolled my eyes, but inside I felt a little proud for some stupid goddamn reason.  

Back when I started acting, I didn’t think I’d have any living fans – never mind a half-dead irradiated man from 200 years in the future. Is he half-dead? It’d never been explained to me at the brothel – I’d just done my service and taken the RadAway. None of the others had ever stuck around to tell me their life story.  

We switched places, I sat myself down on the sofa and the Ghoul lay down on the bedroll on the floor.  

“Damn, this shit is fuckin’ uncomfortable.” I heard him say, and I let out a laugh under my bed.  

“I didn’t complain,” I whispered, and he made a grunting noise. I wasn’t sure if it was meant to be an insult or not, but I just chuckled quietly and pulled out my pistol, aimed at the door ready for anyone who tried to force their way through.  

The sun rose quickly after that, and by the light of the sky, I was able to get a better look at the Ghoul’s sleeping face. There was something so familiar about him, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I decided it was the cowboy look – it reminded me of the niche I’d almost fallen into after my three-month contract with Cooper’s team. The audience had loved our chemistry on screen in The Man from Calabasas, and the studios knew they’d get a lot more money if we came as a package deal – so we shot Under the Covers, City of Starlight and Valley of the Gun together. It took me back to the last film I’d shot, the one I hadn’t finished shooting.  

I looked down at my clothes – the same clothes I’d been wearing 200 years ago on set. The ‘Western Hooker’ dress, of which there had originally been five different versions. The hat, which I’d stolen from my co-worker as a joke, but had still been on my head when we’d been told to start running. For a moment, I could still smell the food that they’d made us on set. I could still smell the horse manure, and the flashing of lights.  

I looked back at the Ghoul, awake now, and almost came to a realisation.

Part 2

[lalune9x]

S-Classes novel SPOILERS chapter 470

some thoughts after translating this chapter. as I've translated this arc, I've become fully convinced that the confession/rejection subplot was intentionally presented in parallel with sung hyunje 'breaking up' with yoojin in order to repeatedly bash the reader over the head with the funny narrative device of "you think he's saying all this romance and heartbreak-related stuff about a woman, but he's actually thinking about sung hyunje!!"

I already explained how the korean word for 'getting rejected' also means 'getting broken up with' (차이다). so when the characters mention yoojin being rejected (by chloe), you could also read it as him being broken up with... and because korean often leaves out pronouns and the subjects/objects of actions and requires readers to fill the meaning in by context, it makes the ironic ambiguity even stronger. the story is repeatedly prompting the reader to fill in for themselves who yoojin is really heartbroken over.

then this section in chap 470 is wild, because WHY is it structured like this?

"[...] I still think it's fine to like whatever or whomever you want. No matter how it turns out." Because liking people and things brought joy and could even bring comfort. It was a positive feeling, in any case. Of course, you could also struggle because of it. I had. But even then, I didn't think I would regret any of it. Even if I were to lose it all once more, if I went back, I'd still end up liking them all again. I mean Sung Hyunje, too… He wasn't bad… well... he had put me through some crazy situations. Still, there'd been fun times too. That one time it had been delicious, yeah. That other time it had also been tasty. That one restaurant had suited my palate well. Naturally, Myungwoo's cooking was the best, but he fussed too much about my health. Though it really was amazing that healthy food could still taste that good. "Of course, I shouldn't go falling head over heels and giving up my heart on a silver platter," I said. "But I'm going to do what I like." It wasn't a big change, but how should I put it? I guess I would focus more on prioritizing myself. At my words, Yoohyun's expression became gloomier. "I understand, hyung. She's a foreigner, anyway." "…What?"

like what is the logical connection between these thoughts for yoojin that isn't 'I might have romantically-inclined feelings for this guy I keep thinking about'? how else am I supposed to read it? he's been comforting himself about how it's okay to like people, says he would like the same people even if he had to do things over again, and the one example of those people he brings up is... sung hyunje? he starts reminiscing about hyunje... cooking for him? (he doesn't even specify that the "delicious" things he's talking about are food at first)

and then right after those reminiscences about the fun times he had with hyunje, yoojin says he won't go too far in loving people, but he'll still do what he likes? he'll prioritize himself, aka act selfishly? the very thing he said he was going to do by refusing to let sung hyunje go? the story really smacks you in the face with the conclusion it wants you to draw.

also of course yoohyun misunderstands that yoojin's talking about chloe, because all of his sung hyunje-focused thoughts are internal!! even yoojin himself is confused at who/what yoohyun is even talking about at first because all yoojin's been thinking about is sung hyunje! (and maybe because in korean yoohyun doesn't specify 'she', so yoojin's thought process might've been like mine, thinking "huh, can shj really be called a foreigner?" before understanding yoohyun's just not privy to yoojin's gay inner monologue).