#Featuring a scene from EN!

[apocalypticpsiboys]

(Nesscas Week!!) Day 3 || Comfort 🌙

“Do you think anybody was following us?” Ness asked.

Lucas didn’t say anything for a moment, but when he did he turned to Ness with a smile. “How about I stay up and you get some rest? I’ll keep an eye out.”

[dreamer-milore]

—misinterpretations.

// first meetings with our beloved deliverer

IN WHICH • You firmly believe a certain Chrisos Heir has his eyes on someone, and it's definitely not you, based on the numerous times you've seen him with the Prince of Kremnos. You conclude that they're in a secret relationship. Or perhaps you've misinterpreted everything all along? (You're fully convinced Phainon is attracted to Mydei).

FEATURING • Phainon

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

You've seen enough for you to come to a conclusion. You have visual evidence, so you're not being unreasonable. And your claim is completely logical and rational.

That blue-haired knight you keep seeing is homosexual, who may or may not be in a secret relationship with the Prince of Kremnos.

You don't know that knight's name, but you are sure that he's well accustomed to the perils of the battlefield.

Well, if you were being honest, you barely know anything about Okhema. You were just a refugee who came from a distant city-state that was now in ruins thanks to the Black Tide.

You arrived just a few weeks ago, bruises and cuts littered your body--the marks of a warrior, they say-- and you're sure you'll be decorated in scars after a few weeks.

But that'd be the case if you do manage to last, and you did, otherwise you wouldn't be witnessing the secrets of that certain knight.

(You don't know the name of that blue-haired knight, so you just gave him the nickname 'knight.')

You didn't bother to ask for his name, since you're a hikikomori and you'd much rather prefer to stay within your living quarters. The Black Tide just had you in a 'cowardly' state. You find comfort and security within the confines of your home, believing that the place not within the walls of your house is dangerous.

Though, there are times where you did step out of your home, but the occurrence is rare, and the duration of your visits to the outside world is short. Not lasting more than a few hours. (The most you've done is 2 hours).

During these trips of yours, you would sometimes catch glimpses of the knight with an ash blonde-haired individual who you learned was Mydeimos, Prince of Kremnos. And during those times, you always, always, saw the two in a very close distance--one that you could not just dismiss as that of friends.

This continued on, with each and every one of your trips, you would accidentally spot those two.

One instance, you saw the two really really close to each other, as if they just finished a kissing scene. (They were whispering about top-secret confidential case. You just saw it wrong).

And you also take note of the trust they put into each other, which you observed via eavesdropping on them, but you could only make out very few lines.

You're sure those two are in a secret relationship. So when rumors broke out that of a certain knight asking a florist for courting rituals, you concluded that the lucky girl, or more accurately, the lucky guy, was Mydeimos.

You knew someone who's been crushing on Phainon for a while now, and you can't deny that you feel bad for them sometimes. But it's not like you could do anything. I mean, you can't just tell her to confess, since Phainon will definitely reject her, and you don't want that happening, so you end up discouraging her instead. You know it's a grim method, but you suppose it's still helpful, right?

So when you got called to the Council of Elders, you had no choice but to abide by them. You went there, begrudgingly, and it seems like it's for a mission to save a group of refugees that are en route to Okhema.

You are aware of how dangerous the outside of Okhema is, so you don't mind why the Council takes the matter seriously. Since you were a former knight yourself (of course you have trauma), you were deployed to handle the mission, along with some others. (You didn't want to go, but you have to abide by it. And it's also kind of obligatory.)

That was the case, until one member argued that Okhema is running low in manpower, and there are various other matters to attend to, so they suggested that a Chrisos heir should handle the current mission, accompanied by you.

The Chrisos heir they wanted to deploy? The 'knight.' More accurately, Phainon. You learned his name is Phainon.

The Council agreed to the member who gave the suggestion.

(The Chrisos heirs are the chosen ones from the prophecy, no? Shouldn't it be fit that they handle things like these? If you view it from this angle, it seems about right. It's objective. The Council is just being rational and objective. Totally not because of their disdain for the Chrisos heirs. And how considerate of them, for putting you into this mess. How truly kind.

As agreed by the Council, you were sent to the borders of Okhema to meet up with Phainon, so the two of you could start the mission. You two made your way to the location of the refugees, carefully navigating through the outside lands of Amphoreus.

You barely spoke a word to him, so he, too, didn't say much in return. It was only when you both reached the location did he start being a little bit more talkative. He'd tell you some snippets from his life, and whatnot. And it wasn't just you, but he also talked to the refugees to ease their worries.

Just from that alone, you can tell Phainon is a really good guy, and now you know why people seem to like him.

When monsters emerged, you were quick to shoot them down with your gun. Though you're not very skilled in close combat, sniping with your gun is where lies your true talent. Even Phainon heavily complimented this talent of yours. (It saved him, after all.)

It took a while, but you slowly began to talk more to him, and to the refugees too.

At last, you reached Okhema safely, with no harm done to the refugees.

After that mission, you and Phainon helped the refugees get settled in. Afterwards, the two of you reported back to the Council. The Council was delighted, and dismissed you two.

(Finally, one less thing to worry about.)

You walked outside of the Council's place, with Phainon at your side. You've grown to be acquainted with him, and the same can be said for him. Only that, his might be a little more complicated.

You already bid him farewell, but he cut you off and asked you if he could treat you for lunch. You were taken aback, but said nothing. (You can't really say no to free food now, can you?)

As much as possible, Phainon wants to prolong this. He finds something akin to comfort while he's in your presence. With you, he doesn't need to act strong and brave, nor feel the need to act according to his title--Phainon, the Chrisos heir, Phainon, the Deliverer.

He's just Phainon. And he likes it that way.

He has no explanation for this phenomena, but he suppose it can be attributed to that one time you saved him. You've met before, a few weeks ago, when you first came to Okhema. Clones of Nikador attacked the Holy City, therefore a battle ensued. But this time, he was on the losing side. Heavily injured, with barely any comrades to aid him, Phainon fought with the best he could do. And when he was cornered, he fell to his knees, and prayed for a savior. His prayers were answered, in the form of a refugee with one heck of an expertise with guns--You, in short.

Shortly after, Mydei and the others came, but by the time Phainon was well, his savior was no longer around to be thanked.

Phainon is not sure if you still remember.

But he'll definitely make it up to you.

"Hey, I actually have this friend Aglea. The demigod? I just need to talk to her after. Do you mind tagging along?" Phainon asks you, his tone light as always. Or at least, that's what you think, when actually, he's been meaning to tell you that minutes ago. He can't help but choose his words carefully out of nervousness.

You nod with a hum. "I don't mind. You're already treating me to food, so why not?"

True to his words, Phainon indeed treated you to lunch, at a quite expensive-looking eatery, which made you raise an eyebrow at him. His eyes consistently stayed glued to your face, staring and gazing as the two of you talked. Mostly about the battlefield, since it's a shared aspect between the two of you. Barely anything personal, really. Phainon takes note of that. Maybe you weren't as open as he thought you were. He will absolutely make sure you'd gradually loosen up to him, someday.

After the two of you finished lunch, you accompanied Phainon to the bath house, where Aglea is. You notice how the people there (Phainon's Chrisos buddies) kept looking at you. Strange, so you made sure to keep your guard up. You finally bid farewell after that.

When you got home, the first thing you noticed was that your bedroom door was slightly ajar. You could've sworn you closed it before your departure. But oh, nevermind.

Consecutively, Phainon kept visiting you without fail for the past few weeks. He even introduced you to the rest of his friends. Including Mydeimos, or Mydei.

So there are friends but are secretly in a relationship? That must mean the others don't know, you thought.

Well, what you didn't know, was that your conclusion was absolutely wrong. You found this out in the most unimaginable way possible.

"Hey Phainon, is that the girl you've been crushing on?" A little girl with red hair, asked.

All of Phainon's friends stared at the little girl, shocked and defeated for unearthing the 'secret' they've been keeping for a while now.

(Phainon told everyone about you. It was always you that he could yap about the past few weeks, ever since you saved him. And since then, he's also made sure to keep a really close eye on you, watching you from a distance. Or from the window of your home.)

You look to Phainon, whose face was burning red. He catches your gaze for a second, his mind short-circuits as he looks away.

"So, uhhh... Tribbie..." Phainon managed to say, "this is (Name)."

Wait, so he's bi?

[ourdawnishotterthanourday]

Oh Baby — Kim Mingyu

✧ Teamwork makes the dream work (and a baby) ✧

Plot: Picture this… your and Mingyu’s dream of starting your own family is finally coming true. 

🎥 Starring: fem!reader x husband!Kim Mingyu 🎥 Genre: domestic au; fluff, established relationship 🎥 Word count: 0.9k 🎥 Warnings: swearing, pregnancy 🎥 Notes: no angst this time but some sweet tooth-rotting gyu fluff 🤭 with a tiny bit of crack 🎥 Shout out: thanks pookie @nothoughtsjustfic for being the best beta bestie 🥰

♡ REBLOGGING AND/OR FEEDBACK WOULD BE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED — DON'T BE A STRANGER PLS ♡

Set The Scene Masterlist —  Masterlist

“If you squeeze my hand any tighter, we're going to have a serious problem, Gyu.”

“Oh, shit! Sorry, baby. I'm just nervous,” he mumbled, gently rubbing his thumb over the area he'd been close to crushing. 

“I am too.” You sighed, leaning to the side to rest your head on Mingyu's shoulder as you wiggled your fingers to stimulate the blood flow. “We've been trying for months now with no success. What if there's something wrong with me?”

That shook your husband right out of his nervous state. He turned to you and grasped onto your chin to tilt your head upwards with his thumb and index fingers. 

“Hey, listen to me.” His eyebrows furrowed. “There's absolutely nothing wrong with you. We both got checked and everything is fine, remember?”

“I know bu—”

“No buts. I don't want to hear you say that ever again. We're in this together and we're both doing everything we can to make this happen. It's just taking a little more time than we expected. So no matter what the results say, promise me that you won't think any less of yourself.” 

His voice was stern, which told you that he was dead serious. And you were not going to argue with Mingyu when he was all determined like this. Besides, he was right, after all. There was absolutely no indication that something was wrong with you.

“Alright, I promise,” you whispered, offering him a small grin. 

“That's my girl.” He returned the grin before leaning down to plant a kiss against your lips. As he pulled back, a worried expression replaced his cheerful features. “Fuck, how much time is left on the timer?!”

He looked around frantically, moving pillows and blankets aside to look for what you assumed was his phone. It was quite an amusing sight, you had to admit. But you didn't want to make the situation worse by adding more stress.

“Gyu!” You giggled, reaching out to stop him before he was about to lose his damn mind. “Would you please calm down?” You held his phone out for him to take, the display showing that there were about forty seconds left on the timer. 

“Oh, thank god,” he heaved and plopped face-down onto your bed. ”If this takes any longer you might have to revive me, baby. I can’t fucking handle this.”

You rolled your eyes at your dramatic husband but moved to lay down beside him anyway. 

“That makes two of us,” you mumbled, soothingly running your fingers through his black locks while you waited for the seconds to pass. 

The moment the alarm went off, the two of you made brief eye contact, and then you were both off the bed, racing towards your en-suite bathroom. At least, you were until you decided to freeze on the spot when you were halfway through the door. 

Mingyu, who was right behind you and luckily paying attention, was able to stop himself from barreling into you by quickly grabbing a hold of the door frame with both of his hands.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” he asked when you swiftly turned his way, your eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

You shook your head. ”I don’t know if I can look.”

“Yes, you can. We’re doing this together, remember?” Mingyu cupped your cheeks in his hands. 

Your eyes slowly opened to see him already looking at you. The affectionate expression on your husband's face made you feel all warm inside, and if you were honest, you didn't even know why you'd been so worried in the first place.

No matter what, he'd be right there by your side. 

“Together.” You nodded and accepted the hand he offered before tugging you towards the sink where you’d laid out the four pregnancy tests. 

A moment of silence passed between the two of you as your gazes trailed over each of the sticks. 

Holy shit.

“Am I dreaming?” Mingyu squeezed your hand.

You swallowed, picking up one of the tests to look at the tiny screen up close. 

“No,” you breathed, feeling tears start to prick your eyes. “This is very real. Oh my god!” you squealed excitedly, a big smile making its way onto your face as you threw yourself at your husband. 

“We’re having a freaking baby!” he exclaimed just as excitedly as he spun you around, all while kissing the shit out of you.

To go from being disappointed again and again for months on end, to now finally getting the results you’d been longing for was everything you could have wished for and more. And being able to share this moment with your husband, the love of your life, the man who would go to hell and back for you, made it feel all the more special.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” Mingyu mumbled against your lips. “I’m gonna be a dad!“ He pulled back abruptly, eyes widening at the sudden realization as he put you back down. “Oh shit! I’m gonna be a dad!”

“Yes, a damn good one.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. You’re a natural with kids,” you answered with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Mingyu moved a hand to your stomach. “You’re right. I think our baby will be just fine with us.”

You placed your hand over his and glanced down at your joined hands. “I think so too. Plus, with so many uncles around, I’m pretty sure the little one will have everything a child could want.” 

Your husband sucked in a breath. “That reminds me. The guys are definitely going to fight for the title of best uncle. We need to come up with a game plan before things get nasty.”

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad, Gyu.” You chuckled but it quickly died down when you spotted the serious expression on his face.

“I’m serious, baby. We better come prepared because someone is going to end up crying, and it’s not going to be our baby.”

“Oh boy.”

🎥 Join the Set The Scene taglist: @wonuilu @choco-scoups @whoisbaek15 @vixensss @babycaratdeul

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[gloomwitchwrites]

Hola dulce!! Me encanta lo que escribes, por eso pensé en enviarte este video donde las chicas latinas responden “you too, papi” a sus novios/esposos.

Me detuve a pensar cómo reaccionarían los chicos de COD.

Disculpa el español!! Gracias por leer, espero no molestarte. 🩷

Hola chica! I know you sent this in a while back (and I'm so sorry for the wait). I did play around with the prompt a little bit, expanded it slightly beyond just boyfriend/husband, and kept the "you too, papi" both literally and in spirit. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Latina!Fem!Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, flirting, banter, brief alcohol use, suggestive themes, pregnancy mention, established relationship

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John smooths the front of his suit jacket. It’s a formal occasion, and it’s clear that he’s completely uncomfortable. This isn’t his sort of scene.

You turn your body toward him, replacing his hands with yours, smoothing out the wrinkles and adjusting the lapels. John sighs, his brow softening as his gaze focuses on you. Your wedding ring sparkles under the light, shimmering with each movement.

“You look dashing,” you murmur.

John chuckles, and takes your hand, bringing it up to his lips, kissing the knuckles. “Behave yourself tonight.”

“I always behave,” you say with as much innocence as you can muster.

This time, John cracks a genuine smile.

“I mean it,” he whispers. “Be good.”

“I will,” you insist. “And you be good too, papi.”

John groans. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Call me papi. Not here. You know how it makes me.”

That’s you, always on your worst behavior.

“Whatever you say,” you murmur. Then, after a beat, “papi.”

“Bloody hell, woman,” he growls under his breath. “One more time and I’m finding the nearest broom closet.”

Just to be a tease, just to cause a little stir, you playfully push off from his chest. “Papi,” you mouth silently, winking.

John "Soap" MacTavish

A hazy smoke lingers overhead. The air is thick with humidity. Music blares from speakers.

Tonight is a night for celebration, of dancing and drinking and flirting, of going home with someone. But you’re parked behind the bar, serving shots and watching from afar.

Los Vaqueros.

They’re out tonight, celebrating. Those faces you recognize, but you don’t know who the quartet are sitting next to their leader, Alejandro Vargas. They’re a mystery.

Until one of them approaches.

“Have anything other than tequila?”

His accent is thick. British—no. Scottish. He’s cute. Has a charm about him.

“Course we do, papi,” you grin, leaning on the bar, and forcing your breasts a bit higher.

His eyes immediately fall there before quickly snapping up.

“Papi?” he repeats, and you laugh.

Instead of whiskey, you present this stranger a few other options. “Whisky? Vodka?”

He licks his lips. “Whiskey. Please.”

You wink, and pour him the whiskey. “On the house, papi.”

Those cheeks of his darken into a lovely shade of pink. As if catching himself, he coughs, clearing his throat. “Thank you.” He glances around. “Enjoy yourself.”

You raise your hand, and wiggle your fingers as he backs up. “You too, papi.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Leaving is always bittersweet.

Simon drops his packed duffle bag next to the front door. He’s dressed, ready to head to work to prepare for another mission. He hasn’t been briefed yet, and Price didn’t say much over the phone. He only said to come.

“Come here,” he murmurs, reaching out to you.

You melt into his arms, resting your chin against his chest, looking up at him. Simon takes this moment to admire you, to remember your features, to lean in for a few gentle kisses.

“Love you,” he says.

“Love you,” you reply.

Simon grins, going in for one last kiss.

“Be good,” he chuckles. “No misbehaving.”

“You behave too, papi,” you croon, head titling in invitation.

Simon accepts, leaving you momentarily breathless.

“Say that again. I liked it.”

“What?” you ask innocently.

Shifting his arm downward, Simon grasps a portion of your upper thigh and the curve of your ass.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

You lick your lips. “Papi.”

“Again,” he growls.

You do, and Simon hooks is arm at your waist, pressing you against the wall.

“One more.”

“Papi.”

Groaning, Simon looks at his watch, and shrugs. “Price won’t mind if I’m a little late.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“No. No.”

Kyle places a hand against the wall, leaning against it as he stares you down. You blatantly ignore him, remaining on the steep stool.

“You don’t need to do this,” he says.

“Dios mío!” You shake your head, the hammer poised to come down on the nail in the wall. “I told you to hang the picture!”

Kyle takes a deep breath. “I said I would do it.”

“That means now.”

“And here I am,” he replies. His tone is calm, but you hear the strain in it. You’re always testing his patience.

“I can do it myself.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Why?” you snap. “Because I’m a woman?”

“Because you’re pregnant,” he says, deadpan.

The two of you stare each other down. Kyle cocks his head and then nods at your rounded belly that touches the wall.

Without speaking, you descend and offer up the hammer. Kyle takes it.

“I love you,” he says. “But sometimes you make my heartrate spike.”

“Back at you, papi,” you mutter under your breath.

Though your back is to him, you hear the exasperated sigh. “Go have a snack.” Kyle brings the hammer down on the nail. “Or maybe a nap.”

[namonamm]

[ID: Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint fanart done in black, white, and red. Kim Dokja's hand opens a thick book which is floating in space. The left page features the definition of the French phrase "mise en abyme" and its definition, "placement at the escutcheon's center : depiction of the escutcheon itself within an escutcheon : image within an image : story within a story", along with a description taken from Wikipedia.The other side shows a deep cut-out in the book which reveals that the book contains a room lined with books that a young, bandaged Kim Dokja is standing in. Young Kim Dokja clutches a book to his chest and looks up distrustfully, standing in a pool of blood and casting the shadow of a Demon King. On his desk is a book open to the same scene depicted by the art. End ID] (Described by: @princess-of-purple-prose.)

[isat-script-project]

ISAT's script is finished!

With this page, one year and nearly three months after it began, we're officially concluding ISAT's script. It's done. (Hopefully) every single ounce of text to be found on ISAT has been dutifully transcribed and put up for your reading pleasure.

Is this the end of the ISAT Script Project?

In short: No!

In long: Not for a while yet. We've still got START AGAIN: a prologue left to cover, and there's been interest at looking at In Stars and Time DEMO as well, since that features some exclusive scenes that may be interesting to all.

In addition to that, Gold has been looking into whether we can make the site bilingual, and also host the japanese script! Newcomer to the squad LunarDusk has been hammering out the search engine you've all been waiting for, and I no longer have any excuse to put off my fantranslation of ISAT into german. (Though that wouldn't be on this website, exactly.)

So you're stuck with us a little longer! Just a moment longer, a second longer... Hehe.

Thank you, everyone, for all your love and support in this project!

It cannot be understated how motivating it was (and is) to know how the fandom has come to love this project. Just seeing stray screenshots of it, seeing fanworks quote obscure game text en-masse, and to know we've helped you love this wonderful game even more by picking it apart, warms my heart.

This is, statisically speaking, the most impactful thing I have ever made, in my life.

And now, it's perhaps time for me to stop hogging the spotlight and let the other wonderful folks without whom I wouldn't have gotten this far speak:

From @goldstargloww (aka: Gold), who is responsible for the site looking as pretty as it does:

this has been really fun :D! i love that despite my social anxiety i'm somehow fine dming random people on the internet asking them questions, because that's exactly what i did here, and it's gotten me involved in some really cool projects :> i've learned a lot coding-wise and i've been able to make things i'm proud of and it's overall just been really fun. i love seeing the script project in the wild it's so fun, i love being part of projects that help a lot of people and make them happy, this is also probably the most impactful thing i've done in my life and it's been really fun and i've learned a lot :D

From @onenightbreak (aka: Wren), who is responsible for many wonderful beautiful pages:

ISAT defeated!!! the other folks on the script project have been lovely to work with, and i've had a lot of fun crawling through isat and contributing to the project! skill acquired: it student now knows how to use git XD i have to agree with feli and gold, seeing the script in the wild and knowing how widespread it is for the fandom is crazy, and it's been amazing being part of this <3

Many thanks also to @candycoatedrox (aka: Molly) who made a huge chunk of pages alongside Wren, and without whom this all would've taken much longer than it did. And thanks to Vixia Raine, for catching so many typos and random mistakes. Just. So many.

[connorsui]

In the Quiet Afterhours

Zayne x reader

Synopsis: In the quiet of afterhours, you and zayne find solace in the intimacy of simple acts of care, your love unspoken yet deeply felt through the tenderness of shared moments.

Genre/warnings: pure fluff, silence of intimacy, zayne wanting to drown himself in your warmth, you are the light in this manz life, no warnings tho …zayne has suffered enough

note: I just wanna take care of him...like plz let me give my man his needed care..

w.: 1,180

There was, perhaps, no greater feeling than the quietude of love that existed in those moments where words fell away, leaving only the hum of companionship to bind two souls together. Zayne had always been a man of few words—practical in his pursuits, level-headed in his judgments, and ever the picture of self-possession. Yet, beneath that stern exterior, there was a tenderness reserved solely for you, a tenderness that revealed itself not in grand gestures or fervent declarations, but in the subtleties of shared moments, and the warmth of a gaze lingering far longer than propriety might allow.

This evening was no different, save for the weariness etched into his fine features, the faint shadows under his hazel-green eyes telling the tale of a long day spent in service to duty. He returned home as he always did—quietly, with little fanfare, his shoulders still squared despite the obvious weight that pressed upon him. And yet, when his eyes found yours, there was a softening in his expression, the firm lines of his brow relaxing as though the sight of you alone was enough to ease the burdens he carried.

"Welcome home," you murmured, the warmth of your voice drawing him nearer.

"Hello, love"

Zayne, ever pragmatic, offered a small nod, but it was the way his hand rose to brush a stray lock of hair from your cheek that spoke volumes more than any pleasantry could. There was an intimacy in that touch, in the way his fingers lingered against your skin as though reluctant to part, as though you alone were the balm to his tired soul.

He said little as you coaxed him toward the shower, his resistance nonexistent, for he had learned, in these quiet moments, to let you care for him. It was a remarkable thing, this unspoken understanding between you—a partnership built on the most delicate threads of love, trust, and respect. You, in turn, had come to know that behind Zayne’s pragmatic exterior was a man who cherished the simplicity of your presence, a man who allowed himself to be vulnerable only when the world outside had no claim on him.

The warm cascade of water was a gentle relief, steam curling in the air as you worked the soap into your hands, your fingers gliding over his tense shoulders. The muscles beneath your touch, though firm, betrayed a quiet exhaustion, and as you began to wash him, you could feel the faint tremor of relief in his body, the tension slowly unraveling.

He closed his eyes, his lips parting in a near inaudible sigh, and for a moment, he was not the stoic officer, nor the pragmatic strategist. He was simply Zayne, a man who found comfort in your touch, in the way your hands moved with careful precision over his skin, tracing the curves and lines that you had come to know so intimately.

In another’s eyes, this scene might have seemed mundane, but there was an indescribable beauty in the familiarity of it all—a beauty that lay not in grandiose acts of affection but in the quiet devotion with which you attended to one another. It was a love that needed no embellishment, no flowery language to justify its existence, for it was rooted in something far more profound.

When your hands drifted lower, the soap lathering between your fingers, Zayne’s eyes fluttered open, and there it was again—that look of quiet reverence that always seemed to accompany his gaze when it fell upon you. It was not the gaze of a man merely admiring your physical form, but the gaze of a man rediscovering you anew each time, as though the sight of you was enough to set his soul alight in ways words could never adequately express.

He said nothing, but the faintest upward curve of his lips betrayed him. “Spoiling me again?” he murmured, his voice low, teasing in a way that would have seemed foreign to anyone but you.

“And why shouldn’t I?” you replied softly, smiling as your hands worked the soap along the lines of his body. “You work so hard... At least let me take care of you.”

There was a moment, brief yet timeless, where Zayne’s eyes softened even further, the weight of his exhaustion giving way to something deeper, something far more tender. It was in these moments that you truly understood the depth of his affections. He would never speak them outright, for it was not his nature to indulge in the overt declarations that many sought in love. Yet, in the way he stood before you, allowing you to see him in his most vulnerable state, you knew. You knew that his heart, so often guarded, was entirely yours.

When it came time to wash his hair, Zayne bent forward with practiced ease, his dark hair falling over his brow as you lathered the shampoo into his scalp. You laughed, as you always did, at the way his hair fluffed beneath the suds, your amusement drawing a faint smile from him.

“You look cute like this,” you teased, the lightness in your voice a welcome contrast to the quiet of the room.

He glanced up at you, one eyebrow raised in mock indignation. “cute?...another word for you to describe me...” he echoed, his voice dry, though the glint in his hazel eyes betrayed his amusement. “If you could see how I invision you, the roles would be reversed"

Yet he made no protest, content to let you have your moment of playful teasing. For all his stoicism, Zayne had always had a soft spot for the way your laughter lit up the room, and though he would never admit it aloud, he found your teasing far more endearing than he let on.

When the roles reversed, and it was Zayne’s hands that worked the soap into your hair, he was as gentle as ever. His fingers moved with a precision that was unmistakably him, careful to ensure no soap slipped into your eyes. “I know you say I deserved to be spoiled but allow me to give that in return, ten times fold ” he murmured, his voice a quiet caress, his touch so tender it felt as though you might melt beneath it.

You didn't argue.

Once the water had washed away the last traces of soap, he reached for a towel, and in the same unhurried manner, began to dry you off with the utmost care, as though each motion was imbued with the love he so rarely spoke of. It was in these moments, in the quiet spaces between words, that you truly understood the depth of Zayne’s love for you—a love that, like the stars themselves, was constant, enduring, and far more profound than words could ever convey.

Even after the task was complete, he lingered, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close in an embrace that spoke of more than just comfort. It was connection, the unspoken promise that even in silence, his heart was yours.

His breath, soft against your neck, mingled with the warmth of your skin, and there, in the quiet afterhours of the day, there was no need for words.

Just the two of you alone.

Gimmie a tired zayne I would take care of him

[vigilxntesht]

𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 — kang sae-byeok x reader

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 — kang sae-byeok x f!reader

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 — 1k

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 — this is for @belliexpog !!🤍

𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚

after a long day, you come home expecting silence, but instead, you find sae-byeok waiting, candlelight flickering around her. she’s never been one for romance, but tonight, she’s trying. and that means everything.

you trudged up to your doorstep after a long, exhausting day at work, the cool night air weaving through your hair. the rhythmic crunch of the pavement beneath your feet was the only sound accompanying you in the quiet of the night. you sighed, already picturing your girlfriend, kang sae-byeok, curled up in bed like usual, fast asleep by the time you got home.

rubbing your tired eyes, you unlocked the door, anticipation of seeing her warming you despite the chilly breeze outside. you unlock the door and step inside. while taking off your coat, you call out from the hallway.

“sae, i’m home!”

silence.

frowning, you kick off your shoes and make your way into the living room—only to stop dead in your tracks.

the entire room is bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, flickering shadows dancing across the walls. in the middle of it all stands sae-byeok, a red rose in her hand, her expression unreadable.

she shifts uncomfortably, eyes darting to the floor as she fidgets with the sleeves of her sweater. “...hi,” she mumbles, voice barely above a whisper.

your breath hitches as you took in the scene, heart pounding with disbelief. she has done all this? for you?

sae-byeok has never been the type for grand gestures—she’s awkward with affection, hesitant, always unsure of how to express what she feels. and yet, here she is, standing in the middle of a room she’s carefully decorated, waiting for you.

your mouth falls open.

“i… uh, i’ve got dinner ready.” her voice is soft, tinged with uncertainty and your heart swells. there she stands, a little stiff, hands clasped in front of her. her eyes dance around the room as if she’s bracing for your reaction. your gaze traces her features—the adorable, countless freckles on her cheeks, her messy hair that she always wears so effortlessly… but tonight, there is something more: a hint of vulnerability. a hint of nervousness that makes your heart ache for her.

“you made all this?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

her cheeks flush a little as she nods, stepping forward, but her eyes don’t meet yours.

“i, uh… wanted to do something nice for you. i know i’m not good with… the usual romantic stuff, but…i thought this would be okay?” she trails off, waiting for your response.

your lips curl into a smile.

“i love it,” you reply, your voice tender. “i love it so much.”

her eyes shift slightly, a look of surprise flickering across her face. “really?”

“really.” you say, stepping closer to her. “i love that you did this for me. it’s perfect.”

you can the see the walls around her starting to ease, her posture softening as she lets out a small, relieved chuckle.

“i wasn’t sure if you’d like it. i, uh… wasn’t sure if i was doing it right,” she admitted, her voice still small but now filled with more warmth. you gently reach out to touch her arm. she looks down at your hand for a moment before she lets out a small breath and meets your eyes.

“i just… i wanted to give you something special.”

you smile. “you’ve already given me something special by just being here. i don’t need anything else.”

for a moment, you both stand there, simply looking at each other. then, sae-byeok smiles—a small, hesitant smile, but it makes your heart flutter all the same.

“okay… but maybe we can eat now?” she says with a quiet laugh. you chuckle and nod as you sit down at the table, but not before pressing a quick kiss on her cheek. the warmth of her skin lingers on your lips. she shuffles off to the table, her steps a little too quick, as if she can’t quite figure out where to put her nervous energy. you can’t help but smile at how endearing she is.

the table is perfect. the dim glow the candle casts soft shadows, and the food—well, the food is certainly… interesting. it’s the most random combination of food you’ve ever seen. sae-byeok has never been much of a cook, and it shows. you look at the assortment of dishes that don’t go together at all: some overcooked, others with a strangely questionable texture. but as you look closer, realization hits you.

every single dish is something you’ve mentioned loving in the past.

she remembered.

she settles across from you at the table, still fiddling with the hem of her sweater, unsure of what to say. you can’t help but laugh softly, breaking the silence.

“you know, you don’t have to be so nervous around me.” you say, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with hers. “i’m your girlfriend. i’m not going anywhere. you’ve got me, always.”

her hand squeezes yours tightly. “i’m… glad. i just want to make you happy,” she says, her voice soft.

“you already do.” you whisper.

there’s a long pause before she finally speaks up again, her voice quieter than before. “i… i like being with you. a lot.”

you lean forward, planting a sweet kiss on her lips. she relaxes into the touch.

“thank you for tonight,” you whisper against her skin. “it means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

she smiles—an unguarded, genuine smile that makes you blush. “i’m just glad you like it.”

and so, the night passed. the two of you sat there, savoring the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. there were no grand speeches, no sweeping gestures. but in that simple moment, sae-byeok’s efforts felt so much more meaningful than any of those things. and in that stillness, you realized she had already given you all you could ever want.

and it was perfect.

[satanforbrains]

Are You Sure?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (she/her)

Summary: Bucky has some pre wedding jitters.

Warnings & Features: Soft Bucky, Maid of Honour!Yelena, Best Man!Sam, Bridesmaid!Ava, the nicknames "babydoll," and "baby," anxious Bucky, groom!Bucky, bride!reader, kissing, little bit of pining

Word Count: 2,046

A/N: I fell in love with this idea the second it popped into my head, I think it's so cute. I like writing soft Bucky a lot. This is set post-Thunderbolts but before the post credit scene; set sometimes in the 14 months between those two for the sake of the characters but there's no spoilers. Enjoy!! <3

The morning is hectic. You're supposed to be getting married today. You and your husband-to-be decided to keep it traditional, and not see each other before the wedding. Ava had yet pick your dress up like she said she would and the caterers were running late. Those three things combined made you less than happy, but, you didn't want to be a "bride-zilla" and ruin your own wedding day.

You're sitting in the hair and makeup chair when someone knocks on the door. "Who is it?" You shout.

"It's me," Sam, Bucky's best man calls from the opposite side.

"Excuse me for a moment?" You ask the woman doing my makeup. She nods and you open the door to my hotel suite, where we all were getting ready. "Is everything okay?" You ask as you step out into the hall with Sam.

"Slow your roll," he says, noticing how tense you are. "Everything's just fine. I was just sent to give this to you."

"Oh?" You ask as you take the envelope that Sam handed to you. "This is from Bucky?"

"No, it's from an alien," Sam says, deadpan, earning a chuckle and a playful eyeroll from you.

"Thank you."

You glance down at the envelope as Sam walks away. It had your name written on it in handwriting that couldn't possibly be anyone else's but Bucky's. Smiling to yourself, you go back into the hotel room and open the letter as you sit in the hair and makeup chair to finish your glam.

"Babydoll," the letter reads, instantly putting a smile on your face.

"I miss you so much. I can't wait to see you, and I can't wait for you to be my wife. I bet you look amazing.

Be good.

Love,

Buck."

You smile to yourself, letting your eyes flick across the words on the paper, scrawled in black ink, in Bucky's handwriting.

"Can you get me a piece of paper, a pen, an en envelope?" you ask Yelena. "Please? I have some in my purse in the closet."

She nods and wordlessly goes to get what you'd asked for. She hands it to you and you start writing a note of your own to your husband to be.

"James," you write in your own handwriting that Bucky had come to adore. He's obsessed with every. single. thing. about you. Once, you'd caught him practically ogling at you with hearts in his eyes, even though all you were doing was reading a book. He kissed the ground you walked on and it was all he'd ever need to die happy. His words, not yours.

"I can't wait to be your wife. You've no idea how long I've been dreaming of this. I'm so excited to see you. Hang tight, and don't cause any trouble.

Yours,

Y/n."

You know exactly what you're doing, ending the letter with "yours." It was a subtle detail, but one you know Bucky would deeply appreciate. Any time you called yourself his, at any capacity, it drove him mad.

You finish writing the note, put the in the envelope, address the envelope, and hand it to Yelena.

"Will you deliver this to Bucky, please?" You ask, looking up at her.

"Of course," she nods and heads to deliver your note to the groom's suite, on the opposite side of hotel floor.

"Thank you!" You call as she leaves.

When your Yelena walks out, Ava finally comes in with your dress.

"I'm here!" She shouts as she walks into the suite, holding your dress and her own.

"I was starting to think you weren't coming!" you tell her as she comes to stand next to you in the chair.

"I will always come," she with a slight smirk.

"Thank you for getting my dress."

--

While you, Ava, and the rest of your bridal party continued to get ready, Bucky, Sam and the his groomsmen were getting ready, too.

Bucky's morning was a lot more docile, but, as the hours ticked by, he grew more nervous.

"Man, sit down," Sam urged him as he paced across his suite, making it impossible for his hairdresser to fix his hair. "You're gonna make yourself late to your own wedding."

Bucky sighs and sits down, letting his hairdresser fix his hair.

"What if this is a mistake?" He asks, looking up at Sam with some vulnerability in his eyes he very seldom showed.

"What the hell do you mean, 'what if this is a mistake'?" Sam retorts, raising an eyebrow.

"I mean, what if she can do better? What if I hurt her? What if I'm not what she needs?"

"She loves you, man. You're perfect together. She needs you just as much as you need her. I get why you're in your head, but, you don't have to be," Sam tells him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Before Bucky could respond, someone knocks on the door of the groom's suite.

"Who is it?" Bucky calls.

"Yelena! I have something for you."

Bucky doesn't say anything else but he gets up to answer the door.

"Y/n asked me to give this to you," Yelena tells Bucky as she hands him the envelope with the note you wrote to him in it.

Bucky softens immediately as he looks at the envelope. You'd written "James," on it in big, elegant handwriting that you saved for special occasions.

"Thanks," he says with a slight smile, closing the door after Yelena nods and starts to head back to the bridal suite.

"What's that?" Sam asks, nodding to the envelope in Bucky's hands.

"It's from y/n," he mutters as he opens it carefully. Sam all but deadpans him.

"You're worried about being good enough for her, yet here you two are treating me and Yelena like homing pigeons," Sam chuckles, his statement blunt, although not harsh.

Bucky doesn't say anything else and just rolls his eyes as he unfolds the paper, reading the note. Despite himself and his anxiety, he softens slightly at your words scrawled across the page.

Coupled with his anxiety, he's also vibrating with excitement, not only at seeing you, but finally making you his wife, too. He hadn't seen you in what felt like a hundred years. The next time he did, you'd be his wife. He knew he wanted to marry you from the second he laid eyes on you.

Sam plucks the paper from his hands after his eyes flick over the words a few times, as if he was stuck on them ~ stuck on you.

"See this?" Sam asks, waving the paper.

"Give it back," Bucky grumbles, snatching the paper from Sam.

"She's obsessed with you, man. You've got nothing to worry about."

Bucky shrugs as he reads the note one more time, simply enamoured, before folding it and tucking it into the watch pocket of suit coat.

"It's almost time. You've got to get out of your head."

"Alright, alright, I get it," Bucky mutters as he puts on his watch and cuff links.

Despite telling Sam his nerves are settled, he still paces across the room as he fixes his collar for what feels like the thousandth time.

Sam grabs him by the shoulders, stopping him in his tracks in an attempt to ground him.

"You have to relax. She wouldn't have agreed to marry you if she didn't think you were good enough for her."

"I know, Sam," Bucky replies, his tone almost annoyed.

"Then act like it," Sam tells him.

Bucky opens his mouth to reply but the wedding coordinator knocks on the door to let him, Sam, and the other groomsmen know that it's nearly time to head to the venue.

At that time, you had already gotten there, to make sure that the two of you don't run into each other before the first look.

--

You'd asked for some time alone in a room off to the side of the venue whilst you waited.

Everything was perfect. You and Bucky decided to keep it small and intimate; neither of you were big on extravagance, but, it was very elegant, nonetheless.

You and Bucky stuck to natural colours, with white ribbons, fairy lights and white wisteria flowers. You looked around quickly when you'd arrived; it was everything you've ever dreamed of. You looked like a princess in your dress and you could not wait to show Bucky.

Your bridal party helps to make sure everything is set up before heading to a room to wait in before the ceremony starts.

During the ride to the venue, 20 minutes after you and your bridal party had arrived, Bucky's more anxious now, than he was ever was. His knee bounces faster than the speed of light as he adjusts and readjusts his watchband.

Of course, Sam does his best to calm Bucky's nerves, but, that doesn't go as well as he wishes it did.

As soon as the car Bucky and Sam arrive in stops, Bucky bolts.

"Where are you going?" Sam asks, but, Bucky's already way too far away to be able to hear.

"Where is she?" He frantically asks the wedding coordinator.

"But, Mr. Barnes-." The coordinator starts, but, he cuts her off.

"I don't care, please just tell me where y/n is," he says, his voice softer and more intense.

The wedding coordinator nods and leads him inside.

"Down this hall, the last room on the right," she tells him, pointing down a corridor.

"Thank you," Bucky says and heads down the hallway.

You're clipping your veil in when you hear a knock at the door. Not thinking anything of it, you open the door and freeze when you see Bucky standing on the other side.

It takes you a few seconds before you quietly scold him. "Bucky! You're not supposed to see me yet!"

His jaw falls open upon seeing you in your dress with your hair and makeup all done. He doesn't even process your words because all he can focus on is how perfect you look - how you're the perfect bride.

"James!" You say a bit louder and gently push on his shoulder. This causes him to snap out of his daze, and that sense of urgency returns to his voice.

"I know, babydoll, I'm sorry, I just... I needed to see you."

You could immediately tell that something was wrong and soften immediately, stepping aside to let him in the room.

"Hey, it's okay," you assure him softly and take him to go have a seat. "What's wrong?"

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Your eyebrow flies to your hairline at his question and you lean in to cup his face in your palms. "Do what?"

"Marry me."

"I've never been more sure of anything. Why? Are you having second thoughts?" You ask, trying to hide the way your heart dropped at the thought.

"No, never," he says quickly, knowing that the thought would rip you to shreds. "But what if I can't be the husband you need to be? What if I hurt you?"

"Oh, baby," you say softly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "All I need you to be is yourself. You don't have to be anything but you. I love you unconditionally, exactly as you are, and nothing in the world could change that. I want nothing more than to become your wife today. As long as you're you, I'll be the happiest woman alive."

"What if I hurt you?"

"What if I hurt you? I'm no less capable of it than you are. If it happens, it happens. I know you'd never do it on purpose, arguments are inevitable sometimes, and I trust that we love each other enough to work through whatever happens."

"Really?"

"Yes, really, baby," you assure him again before placing another kiss to his forehead. "I love you so much."

"And I love you, babydoll."

"I can't wait to be your wife."

"I can't wait to have you as my wife," he mumbles softly, turning his head to place a kiss on your hand.

"Let's go get married now, hm?" You ask, with a playful smirk on your face.

"Yes. Let's go get married."

[sfstranslations]

what's your process on TLing? like how do you do it? I've always wondered what its like TLing stuff

Disclaimer that it's probably different for everyone, obviously, but for me it usually goes something like this:

(Got long, so under a cut. Minor bonus at the end for My S-Ranks fic writers!)

Get the raws (obviously, LOL).

When I start a TL session, I usually read back a little just to get the context of what's going on, because otherwise you risk getting some of the contextual information wrong.

Time for the actual translating! Read the sentence.

Break it down as best as I can—pick out grammar structure (is XYZ the subject or object etc.), pick out what words I know, cobble together a partial sentence from that. Ends up something like, "Character A {??ed} loudly and lifted their {right? left?} hand."

Look up the words I don't know in the KR-EN dictionary (usually Naver, but also Wiktionary as a backup, both English and Korean) and fill in the blanks. My Korean vocabulary is minuscule so I have to do this for at least one word almost every sentence… I also like to double-check the meanings of some words I'm not fully sure of (see right/left dilemma above 😅), or to see if there's other verified translations that would fit the sentence better if the one I think of doesn't flow well.

Addendum to the above point: If there's a word that doesn't really fit the scene or means some random off-the-wall thing, go on a research spree to figure out why it's showing up here. If this takes longer than 5 minutes, put a pin in it to come back to later and move on; otherwise I risk getting distracted or burning all my energy on research instead of translation, and sometimes the next few lines help me figure out what was being said anyway. Generally I mark these with the {???} from the example above, with a note on what confused me about the bit in question. (These are usually the things that require footnotes!)

If I completed the sentence, read over it to check that it actually makes sense. Sometimes it doesn't and I have to go back over grammar to redo it. Subject/object/topic markers my beloathed

Then once the meaning of the sentence is worked out, check that it flows with the rest of the scene. (If it doesn't, 70% chance it's a quote or reference to something, in which case, again, research or put a pin in it for later.)

Rinse and repeat until the end of the chapter.

First pass complete! 🎉

Go back and do all that research I saved for later :( (Chiyul is niceys to me and only uses odd or flowery wording that I can work out given enough time, but Geunseo is so mean about this. Stop referencing poets from the Tang dynasty who don't have easily accessible online translations for their works. What the hell) (Sometimes they'll reference something obscure and then make an oblique reference to THAT reference instead of the source material because they loooove having characters use injokes which I do love. But it is also majorly harshing my groove. Please have mercy)

Read over the chapter again, Korean then English, paragraph by paragraph, to make sure the translations actually line up and I didn't mess anything up during the first pass. Also for English editing purposes—grammar, punctuation etc. So combination quality-checking and editing.

Pass the baton to other team members for a second round of combination QC/edits; sometimes gets skipped, it depends

Clean the chapter (i.e. deleting all the Korean and running some final checks via regexes for miscapitalizations and the like)

Pick a good excerpt, tag all featured characters, and post! Aaand back to the grind for the next chapter. (…Bit of a simplification. What I actually do is just keep translating until I run out of energy/thinking power for the day. Chapters get cleaned and prepped for posting in batches of 10 only when the last batch have all been posted; e.g. we're on 390-something for S-Ranks right now, so when I'm about to post chapter 400, I'll edit and clean 401–410, and so on.)

Some more notes I wasn't sure where to fit in, below.

Besides quotes/references to external media and language/culture quirks, I also sometimes add footnotes when characters quote other characters from chapters that were posted quite a while ago. This is in part because it's probably helpful to readers but largely because it's helpful to me specifically (I have a terrible memory 😔) (if I don't do it then when I'm rereading the chapter for editing/cleaning I always end up going "they literally didn't say that though…? Is that a mistranslation?" and then it turns out they did say that but it was more than a chapter ago so I forgot. Sighs.)

Disclaimer that I don't translate from MTL anymore!! Quality is worse than translating by hand!! But sometimes if a chapter is really confusing then I'll slap the whole thing into Google Translate so I have an English version I can skim for the context. It's helpful because Google Translate gives extremely bad TLs in terms of English readability so I don't adopt its phrasing into my own TL, but it also gets juuuust enough right that I can identify what the gist of events is. Like if a chapter cold opens on a fight scene and only five paragraphs later clarifies the location of said fight, then the rough MTL lets me know whether I should be translating something as a wall (indoor fight) or barrier (dungeon fight), for example. Also helpful for pronouns, since Korean doesn't use those the way English does; if the character isn't named right off the bat, I don't want to be writing every sentence like "[PRONOUN] looked at [PRONOUN]self in the mirror, noting the dark circles under [PRONOUN] eyes", then have to go back to fill in the blanks 5 minutes later, you know?

I also make style guides for every story I'm translating, which I refer back to while working so I can keep the translations consistent. Whenever we're in a new setting or something gets brought up for the first time, I add it to the style guide for future reference. There's a lot of stuff in the guides that's probably only mentioned a few times, but at least I don't have to translate from scratch each of those few times!

The general style guide has stuff like number/unit formats, honorifics, and notes on spellings I mix up often (I try to use American English for consistency, although personally I prefer a combination of American/Commonwealth spellings (USA you are just wrong about worshiped, it's worshipped!! Do you say shiped?? Huh????)).

The story-specific style guides let me keep track of special names—places, characters, and more—but also things like system message formats. For My S-Ranks, I also have separate sections for the regions with lots of unique terminology (the VR dungeon and China so far, more to come).

Below are some examples from the general style guide and the S-Ranks-specific one.

Oh, one part of the style guide might also be helpful to any S-Ranks fic writers out there—here's the special characters I've been using for system admin messages such as "η๐┰ ሃ๐∪ዩ բმ∪┗┰" from chapter 53. (No replacements for B, J, K, M, Q, V, X, and Z because those haven't been needed so far. Added those in anyway for future-proofing!)

A: მ

B: ß

C: င

D: Ð

E: ∈

F: բ

G: ₲

H: ዞ

I: 𝔦

J: ຽ

K: ƙ

L: ┗

M: ៣

N: η

O: ๐

P: የ

Q: ዊ

R: ዩ

S: ડ

T: ┰

U: ∪

W: ￦

X: ㄨ

Y: ሃ

Z: ☡

Anyway! Hope that sheds some light on the translation process, at least the way I do it. Let me know if you have any more questions or requests! This was fun.

[pulletsimblr]

Edgewave 2025 Fest Simblr Resources!

@salemssimblr just released T-shirts and wristbands for Edgewave! ¡Salemsimblr acaba de estrenar estas camisas y pulseras para Edgewave! [op]

@salemssimblr created a blender scene based on the stage! ¡Salemsimblr hizo una escena para blender de el escenario! [op]

@azeternasims offered to make band merch for Edgewave! ¡Dice que quiere hacer mercancías para Edgewave! [op]

@madebycoffee made some deco sims for the crowd! !Madebycoffee hizo unos sims falsos para el gentío! [op]

@kirsicca made a ticket template for Edgewave! ¡Hizo una plantilla de boleta para Edgewave! [op]

@kirsicca made a ticket CAS accessory for Edgewave that can be used with this pose from @lantsovsims. ¡Hizo un boleto CAS complemento que se puede usar con un pose hecho por @lantsovsims! [op]

@elderwisp made a poster object for Build and Buy featuring posters from Edgewave Rock Music Festival 2025! ¡Hizo un objeto de un cartel para el modo de construcción y compra con carteles de Edgewave Rock Music Festival 2025! [op]

@candycottonchu made a second wave poster objects for Build and Buy featuring posters from Edgewave Rock Music Festival 2025! ¡Hice un cartel para el modo de construcción y compra con carteles de Edgewave Festival de Música Rock 2025! Estas son del segundo ronda. [op]

@salemssimblr is making a lineup poster for Edgewave. I will update the link when it's released! ¡Salemssims está haciendo un cartel de participación para los grupos músical para Edgewave. ¡Pongo el enlace cuando lo desarrolla! [op]

@simdertalia offered her band merch set for recolors! ¡Simdertalia ofreció su mercancía de grupo musical para editar o cambiar para el evento! [op]

@simdertalia also has a tag on her CC page for CC finds that are suitable for the event. ¡Simdertalia también tiene una etiqueta de CC capturas que complementan el evento! [op]

@blackeyedaliens made a Simlish Edgewave logo! Blackeyed aliens hizo un logotipo en Similish para Edgewave. [op]

@pulletsimblr recolored some hats for Edgewave! Hize unas gorras! [op]

@pulletsimblr released Edgewave merchandise (inc. teddy bears and other standard festival "fare") and festival decor. Hize un montón de cosas para Edgewave. [op] [op]

@simdertalia posted her interview template so you can interview your bands in style! ¡Publiqué su plantilla de entrevista para que puedas entrevistar a tus bandas con estilo! [op]

@occultradio released some t-shirts. Bajo algunas camisetas.[op]

I've gone through every Edgewave post this year, both tags, as of 6/15/25 (5:19 PM ET) to create this list of resources. These still have the translations on them (as I translate everything in Spanish on my blog. Sorry, if they clutter something for you.) I will update this post or maybe make a second one if we get more things together for this. He pasado por cada publicación de Edgewave este año, las does etiquetas, desde 15/06/25 (5:19 PM ET) para componer está lista de recursos. Esta lista todavía tienen las traducciones (ya que traduzco todo en español en mi blog. Lo siento, si desordenan algo para ti). Pongo esta publicación al día o tal vez haré otra si bajan más recursos para el evento.

Event by/Evento de: @aniraklova

Post Last Updated: 06-19-2025 @ 5:11 pm ET, US

[celli-ohs]

and scene!

A seven-part written series taking place at EN High School, featuring Enhypen, with supporting roles from Tomorrow x Together, &Team, BoyNextDoor, Le Sserafim, and Illit. Loosely based off of Enhypen's official series En-Drama.

Author's Note: this is going to be a rollercoaster folks! I wanted to basically make a crack/fluff version of En-Drama. I thought the stereotypes they put the members in were cute and fitting of them, but was like "what if I made them all losers lol" and that's how this series was born! disclaimer, the plots for my works are not the same as En-Drama, this is all just for shits and giggles! btw, everything is connected, so stay tuned for each member! lmk who you're most excited to read!!

Status: ongoing

ATTENTION: reply/comment for taglist

and scene! masterlist

I Can't, I Have Rehearsal

socially awkward!park sunghoon x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

What happens when you get seated right next to the most handsome boy in your entire grade? Well you thought it'd be a great excuse to get to know him better, but the guy won't even talk to you! After a mishap in the science lab, you come to find out that Park Sunghoon, the cold-hearted prince of EN High, isn't in fact rude, he's just afraid of women.

Show Must Go On

secret softie!park jongseong x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

When you told the waitress to give your compliments to the chef, you didn't expect the chef to come out and thank you personally, and you really didn't expect the chef to be your classmate Park Jongseong. Realizing how bad this could be, he has you keep it a secret. That shouldn't be too hard for you to do he thinks, but you're full of surprises- and slip ups.

Lights, Curtains, Action!

popular!sim jaeyun x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

You weren't a very sociable person. Sure you had some friends, but you preferred to stay home on your days off. Your family has other plans though, and you're forced to explore the great outdoors during summer break. On your adventure, you never thought you'd find rowdy Sim Jaeyun, otherwise known as Jake, sitting patiently at the docks waiting for a single fish to bite his line. You also never thought he'd reel in your missing shoe before an actual fish.

All the World's a Stage

younger!kim sunoo x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

You've known Kim Sunoo since middle school when your friend Jaeyun introduced him to you as his 'little brother'. He was a sweet and funny boy. But over the summer, something changed with Sunoo and suddenly you feel your heart skipping a beat every time he looks your way. You'd think he's finally grown up and matured, but there he goes again, quoting some random romcom and you're reminded he'll never see you the way you do him. Or does he?

Tough Act to Follow

loser!lee heeseung x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

This had to be a mistake. It couldn't be true, how could you end up being seatmates with the biggest loser in school, Lee Heeseung?! You can feel your social status plummeting with every word he speaks to you. But on a late walk from the convenience store, you witness something that changes your view of Heeseung drastically. And maybe he's right, the Sonic the Hedgehog movie is actually kinda good.

Break a Leg

tease!nishimura riki x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

Nishimura Riki was the bane of your existence. You can't tell where your hatred for him begins and ends. Every day is a constant battle of teasing between the two of you, and you have had it. One day after an accident, Riki shows his true colors and now his insults start to make your heart race, and it's not because you're angry. Surely you've caught something, right?

No Business Like Show Business

student body president!yang jungwon x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

When you flunked that math test, you didn't think it was that serious- until your teacher assigned you a tutor: Yang Jungwon, student body president. Honestly, you didn't really know the guy, he seemed like the type to be strict and responsible. Except he isn't, Jungwon is just some guy. You'd argue he's even worse at math than you. His friends thought it'd be funny to elect him as president when the poor boy fell asleep during class. So now you're wondering if you should get a tutor for both of you.

[verstappensrealwife]

Just Friends - Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

[ lando norris masterlist  / f1 masterlist]

ʚɞ in which... they go from friends to lover. ʚɞ fluff  ⋆⭒˚.⋆ 2300 words ʚɞ warnings: drinking alcohol, mentions of drunkness, kissing.

-୨♡୧-

You have known Lando practically since the day you took your first breath—well, maybe not quite that early, but close enough. He was barely two when you entered the world, your mothers having been friends since their school days. So, it was only natural that he made an appearance at the hospital with his mother to welcome you into the world.

His first reaction upon meeting you was a mixture of surprise and disappointment, his innocent query about your gender met with tears when your mother revealed you were, indeed, a baby girl. It's a story you never fail to bring up whenever he expresses admiration for you.

"Y/N, you're such an amazing person," he mumbled, his words slightly slurred from the alcohol, as you practically carried him through the pulsating lights and booming music of the club. His arm draped heavily over your shoulders, you were on a mission to save him from humiliating himself with an ill-advised karaoke rendition of a Queen song.

"You didn't think I was this great when I was born," you quipped, your own sobriety a stark contrast to his inebriated state. In fact, you hadn't planned on being in the club at all. It was Lando who had insisted on your presence, summoning you to "rescue him from this esteemed establishment!"

Today, Lando, you and a few others found yourselves dining together. The evening air was balmy, with the soft glow of summer casting a golden hue through the windows, illuminating your face in a particularly enchanting manner.

He won’t deny looking at you a little longer sometimes, and quickly coming to his senses by stopping immediately. Just a friend.

You found yourselves amidst the lively celebration of a friend's engagement, nestled by a large window that framed the enchanting evening sky. The restaurant exuded a cosy ambiance, with lush greenery draping the walls and vibrant artwork adorning every corner. Across the room, the exposed brick walls added a touch of rustic charm to the eclectic space.

The table before you was a veritable feast, adorned with an array of delectable dishes and overflowing drinks—empty glasses serving as a testament to the spirited revelry that had unfolded. Amidst the cheerful chatter of your companions, you found yourself engaged in a spirited discourse with your friend beside you, passionately expounding on the intricacies of drink measurements, though your slightly slurred speech betrayed your less-than-sober state.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the scene, you settled your portion of the bill and rose from your seat, bidding farewell to each friend with warm hugs and heartfelt kisses. Exiting the restaurant alongside Lando, you were met with the cool night air and the anticipation of your awaiting ride.

With the Uber en route and a mere seven minutes away, you and Lando stood side by side in comfortable silence, the faint glow of his phone illuminating his features as he scrolled through Instagram. Occasionally, he would eagerly show you a post, finding amusement in the most obscure content, prompting an amused quirk of your eyebrow or an incredulous shake of your head.

When he insisted on the hilarity of yet another post, you regarded him with mock incredulity, your eyes silently questioning his sense of humour. His playful insistence only served to deepen your amusement, eliciting a hearty laugh that bubbled from deep within your chest.

The video showed himself as “Lando Norizz”.

"I do have ‘rizz’, you know," he declared with mock indignation.

“As if,” You snorted, “Prove it tough guy.”

Drawing closer to you with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. The proximity of his body, the warmth of his breath against your skin, and the intensity of his gaze should have rendered you speechless—if only you were sober. Instead, you couldn't help but burst into laughter, the sound ringing out into the night air.

Apologies tumbled from your lips between fits of laughter, though any offence Lando might have felt had quickly dissolved into shared amusement. Chuckling together, you settled into the Uber, the echoes of your laughter filling the night as you made your way home.

As you stumbled through the door of your apartment, Lando in tow, the weight of laughter and shared moments still lingering in the air, you tossed your keys onto the side table with a careless flick and collapsed onto the inviting embrace of the couch. Without missing a beat, Lando joined you, his presence a comforting anchor in the whirlwind of the night. With an affectionate eye roll, you nudged him playfully as he settled beside you, the warmth of his body a familiar presence against your own.

He reached for the remote, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down your spine. He flicked on the TV, the ambient murmur of the characters serving as a gentle backdrop to the two of you being occupied by other things. Despite the lure of the TV screen, your attention remained steadfastly on the book you were reading, Lando’s on his twitter feed.

"Was my charm really that terrible?" he queried out of the blue.

You glanced up, eyebrows knitting together in contemplation before offering a nonchalant shrug. "It wasn't horrendous," you admitted.

"So... any pointers? What went wrong?" he pressed, a hint of curiosity lacing his words.

"Because I was a tad more drunk thirty minutes ago, and besides, we're friends," you replied matter-of-factly, returning your attention to the book you had been engrossed in.

As the weight of your words settled between you, Lando felt a pang of realisation pierce through him like a dagger. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a truth he had been oblivious to until that moment. The casual dismissal of his attempts at charm stung deeper than he cared to admit, a stark reminder of the invisible barrier that separated them. With a heavy heart, he watched you return to your book, the distance between you feeling more pronounced than ever before. In that fleeting moment, Lando's gaze lingered on you, his heart aching with the silent acknowledgment of what could never be—a realisation that left him feeling more alone than he had ever felt before.

He coughed awkwardly, the sound breaking the tense atmosphere like a fragile thread snapping under pressure, and rose from his seat with uncharacteristic haste. "I- um- I'm gonna go to bed," he mumbled, his words stumbling over each other in a clumsy attempt to fill the silence.

"Alright," you replied, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you watched him retreat. "No funny business in my spare room!" you called after him, injecting a note of levity into the moment.

His laughter echoed in the hallway, a bittersweet melody that lingered long after he had disappeared from view, leaving behind a lingering ache in his chest as he wrestled with the realisation that his unspoken desires would forever remain unfulfilled.

The next morning, as you nursed your slight hangover with a steaming cup of coffee, you sought solace in scrolling through TikToks in the comfort of your kitchen. The first few videos passed by in a blur of mundane content, until your own face suddenly appeared on the screen.

You weren't a celebrity by any means, but being known as Lando's friend had its consequences, as evidenced by the video capturing the previous night's awkward encounter outside the restaurant. Your groan echoed in the quiet kitchen as you watched the clip unfold, realising with a sinking feeling that your innocent moment with Lando had been misconstrued by the watching world.

He was mere centimetres away from you in the video, his gaze unmistakably fixed on your lips with an intensity that made your cheeks flush with embarrassment. It was clear to anyone watching that his intentions had been misinterpreted, yet the damage had already been done. As the video looped, each replay serving as a painful reminder of the misunderstanding, you couldn't help but wonder how something so innocent had been twisted into something else entirely.

As you read through the comments, a curious mixture of amusement and surprise washed over you as you noticed a recurring theme emerging: shipping you and your friend, Lando. At first, you couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, scoffing at the playful speculation and fanciful theories concocted by strangers on the internet. But as you delved deeper into the comments, something shifted within you.

With each passing remark, you couldn't shake the nagging sense of recognition that began to take hold. You found yourself reflecting on the countless moments you and Lando had shared together— the inside jokes, the late-night conversations, the unwavering support through thick and thin. And as you considered the undeniable bond that existed between you, you couldn't help but acknowledge the striking parallels between your friendship and that of a romantic relationship

Suddenly, the playful banter and lighthearted teasing that had once been the hallmark of your friendship took on a new significance, leaving you grappling with the realisation that perhaps there was more to your connection with Lando than you had initially realised. With a newfound sense of introspection, you closed your phone, the words of the commenters lingering in your mind as you pondered the possibility of something more between you and your friend.

As the minutes ticked by and your thoughts swirled with newfound clarity, a profound realisation settled within you like a weight in your chest: you wanted him. Wanted him in a way that transcended the boundaries of friendship, in every conceivable sense. You wanted his laughter to be the melody that filled your days, his warmth to be the comfort that enveloped you in moments of doubt, his presence to be the anchor that grounded you amidst life's storms.

Yet, amidst the fervent desire that pulsed through your veins, a gnawing uncertainty gnawed at the edges of your newfound revelation. Did he feel the same? Did he see you as anything more than just a friend? The questions lingered, casting a shadow of doubt over your burgeoning feelings, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of apprehension at the prospect of laying your heart bare.

With a heavy sigh, you leaned back against the kitchen counter, the weight of your newfound realisation settling upon you like a mantle. The path ahead was uncertain, fraught with the potential for heartache and rejection, yet amidst the swirling tumult of emotions, one thing remained clear: you couldn't ignore the undeniable truth of your own heart any longer.

As he strolled into the kitchen, the sight of him shirtless and clad in joggers that seemed all too familiar sent a jolt of warmth coursing through you. Yet, as you met his gaze, the weight of your realisation pressed heavily upon you, urging you to confront the truth that had been swirling in your mind. "Did you know people shipped us?" you blurted out, unable to contain the urgency in your voice.

He shrugged nonchalantly, a flicker of something unreadable flashing in his eyes before he masked it with a casual indifference. But you knew better. You could see the subtle tension in the set of his jaw, the guardedness in his expression. He had known—had felt the weight of those speculative gazes just as keenly as you had. "I guess so," he replied with a noncommittal shrug, his tone carefully neutral. "Why?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications, and you found yourself grappling with the sudden urge to lay bare your heart before him, to confess the depth of your feelings and the tumultuous journey of self-discovery that had led you to this moment. But as you met his gaze, the uncertainty that clouded your mind held you back, leaving the words trapped on the tip of your tongue, unspoken yet pulsing with a fervency that threatened to consume you.

Without a word, he took a step closer, the distance between you shrinking until you could feel the heat of his body radiating against your skin.

In that charged moment, with the weight of unspoken words pressing down upon you, you felt something shift within you—a primal urge to seize the moment, to bridge the gap between friendship and something more. And so, fueled by the fire of your newfound realisation and the palpable tension that hung between you, you closed the whole distance between you in a single, daring move.

With a trembling hand, you reached up to cup his cheek, the warmth of his skin electrifying against your touch. And then, with a surge of courage that bordered on reckless abandon, you pressed your lips to his, the kiss a declaration of desire and longing that transcended words.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the intoxicating sweetness of the moment, the taste of him searing itself into your memory with every brush of his lips against yours. And in that fleeting instant, as the world fell away around you, you knew with a certainty that resonated deep within your soul: this was where you were meant to be.

As you pulled back, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you met his gaze with a newfound sense of clarity and certainty. And in the quiet understanding that passed between you, there was no need for words—just the simple, unspoken acknowledgment of the bond that had always been there, waiting to be embraced.

With a soft laugh and a tender squeeze of his hand, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it together, hand in hand, hearts entwined in a love that was as simple as it was profound. And as you leaned in to rest your head against his chest, basking in the warmth of his embrace, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement for the journey that lay ahead—a journey that promised to be filled with laughter, love, and countless moments of simple, unadulterated joy.

El fin.

this is the best thing i have ever written in my many years of life. thank you me.

[fayes-fics]

The Wonderful Unexpected: Chapter 2

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (future chapters), Modern AU

Chapter Summary: Who are all these people? And how did you end up someone's fiancee?!

artwork by me

Warnings: none, really... character is in a coma, but injuries are not life-threatening.

Word Count: 3.2k

Author's Note: Chapter 2 of our story. After the mugging, Anthony is in hospital, and there is a confusing development as the Bridgerton clan arrives en masse. In this AU Violets father, Lord Ledger. is still alive and I’ve given him the first name Victor. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis. Thank you to @colettebronte for slogging through two versions of this; seriously, she's my hero. Please enjoy! <3

Everything is a blur when you arrive at St Thomas’s Hospital. The ambulance was on the scene so fast - the lack of traffic on Christmas Day likely helped with that to no end. Before you know it, you are being told to step aside as medics swarm around his stretcher.

“What’s his name?” A hawkish man in scrubs rapidly fires at you as he checks pupil reactivity.

“I um, l-l, l don't know,” you stumble as they wheel him into Casualty. 

“You don't know his name?!”

“I… I..”

“Are you family?” His brusque tone just makes you even more halting. “Family only.”

“No, you don't understand, l was…”

“You cannot come further if you are not family. Wait out there.” He snaps tersely, jabbing a finger towards the waiting area, looking at you almost angrily. 

Feeling helpless, you catch a final glimpse of your Prince Charming being wheeled beyond some double doors.

“Oh, l was gonna marry him….” you sigh under your breath. 

The next thing you know, a friendly-looking nurse with Dorset on his name badge is guiding you to the waiting area.

—

“Miss? Please come with me…”.

You startle awake, not realising you had drifted off. Mildly discombobulated, you get up and follow Nurse Dorset on instinct, hobbling slightly, your body stiff from napping on the hard, uncomfortable plastic chairs. It doesn't even occur to you to ask where he is taking you or why. 

You are led down the corridor and, a few minutes later, ushered into a fancy-looking wing you never even knew existed. Then on into a private ICU room. There, among a raft of beeping machines, is your Prince Charming. He looks so peaceful, even with an ugly bruise on his forehead and a small cut on his stubbed lower lip.

“Come on, over here,” Dorset beckons with an encouraging mien as you hover close to the door. “Let him hear your voice.”

Before you can even say anything, Dorset is called out of the room, and you are left alone for a few seconds, staring at the man who has been the star of your spicier dreams for months now—with no idea what to say.

—

“Is that the woman who saved his life?” The doctor queries, staring through the porthole in the door at the back of your head.

“Yep. But it’s even better,” Dorset grins gleefully. “She’s his fiancee…”

—

“Hi... I…”  you reach for your man’s hand, an instinct to comfort.

Anything else you might say is interrupted as the door sweeps open and a doctor strides in.

“Hello, Miss, I'm Doctor Samuels.”

“Hi, I'm....”

But your response is cut off, this time by a large gaggle of people barging into the room.  

“Where is he? Where is my son?” An elegant woman in her fifties harries.

“You can't come bursting into this unit!” A harassed-looking medical receptionist bustles in after them. Who they all seem to roundly ignore.

“This is my son,” the lady addresses the doctor, her elegant features looking pinched with concern. “How is he?” 

“He'll be alright? Right doctor?” A handsome man with a smooth voice queries, wrapping an arm around the lady, seeking reassurance for her.

“What happened? What's going on?” An elderly man who looks vaguely confused about his surroundings peers around them.

The doctor signals to the receptionist all is okay with a nod then turns to the gathered crowd.

“He's in a coma….” they begin.

“On Christmas Day?!” The elderly man interjects lamentingly.

“He is stable. His vital signs are strong, and his brain waves are good," the doctor continues as the man mouths a concerned ‘brain waves?’ at the lady, looking very worried. “We are running tests, but the prognosis looks promising so far. We believe he is going to get through this.”

“He’s such an idiot….”

“How did this happen?”

You can't even keep up with who is saying what anymore. They are all talking over each other. 

“He was mugged in the street,” Dorset pipes up in answer to the last question.

You didn't even see him re-enter the room. It is like you are watching a film unfold right before your eyes, forgetting momentarily that you are actually in the room with them. Well, that is until the next person speaks up.

“Who's she?” A stately looking slightly older woman queries, standing apart from the rest, her eagle eye on you, pointing at you with the tip of her cane.

“She's his fiancee….” Nurse Dorset responds, looking puzzled.

All their heads whip towards you, comedically in sync.

“His fiancee?” A teenage boy scoffs. You hadn't even seen him until now.

“Anthony's fiancee?” The first lady who spoke - his mum - looks at you in utter disbelief.

“Anthony's engaged?” The elderly man, likely her father based on the family resemblance, echoes.

Well, at least your Prince Charming has a name. Anthony. Somehow, it really suits him.

“Yes, I thought….” Nurse Dorset seems just as perplexed as they are, and you know you need to intervene.

“No, you don't understand….” you try again, but you are drowned out in the chaotic scene.

“Wait. Whaaaaaat? Why didn't he tell us?!” The teenage girl has a look of complete glee about the unfolding drama.

“He should have told us.” The lady with the cane corrects, tapping it on the ground, looking peeved.

“Maybe he was busy?” The younger of the men shrugs.

“Too busy to tell his own mother he's getting married?!” The first woman outbursts, staring down at Anthony as if expecting an answer from him.

“Don't shout at him!” The old man scolds.

“I'm not shouting at him, Papa,” she snaps before tilting her head back and sighing. “If only Benedict were here…”

There are a few moments where they just bicker amongst themselves, almost as if you are not in the room again. Then, in the midst of all the commotion, the old gentleman suddenly grabs the end of the bed frame, his complexion paling, as the teenage girl reaches for him.

“Grandpa?”

“Is he alright?” The doctor looks up from the chart and at him askance.

“He's got a heart problem,” the lady with the cane mutters, trying not to be overheard. “He's had three attacks already.”

The old man seems to rally a touch, shooting her a disagreeing glance. “They were not attacks, Agatha. They were episodes,” he disputes.

“Nothing wrong with his hearing,” Agatha asides, and you suspect there must be some history between them.

“Excuse me, Doctor. What is she doing here?” 

It's the man from before in the scrubs, staring disapprovingly at you. The one who would not allow you to accompany Anthony earlier. Just the latest entrant into this merry-go-round of people in the room.

Nurse Dorset scowls at him. “ She saved his bloody life, Cowper, remember?”

“You saved his life?” Violet looks at you anew, eyes wide.

Before you can reply Agatha cuts in. “l thought he was mugged?”

“He was. They knocked him out, stole his watch. Left him in the middle of the road. She dragged him to safety, avoiding the street sweeper.” Dorset explains, grinning at you proudly. He must have gotten the story from the ambulance crew while you were napping.

“You dragged him out of the road?” Marcus looks just as incredulous now, sizing up how you could have moved a six-foot athletic man.

You go to answer, but as practically expected by now, you aren't even able to start your sentence.

“Doctor, it's supposed to be family only,” Cowper sneers.

“She IS family.” Violet attests, stepping forward purposefully and looking steely at him.

Something warm spreads in your chest at the very thought, but you also cannot lie anymore.

“Okay, look, l-l'm sorry. You, you don't understand…” you begin to protest.

Before you know it, she has grabbed you and pulled you into a motherly embrace. She smells of fresh cotton and lilacs.

“I'm so sorry, my dear. Anthony is a complete workaholic. We haven't seen him for a long time, so we didn't know he had a new relationship...” She apologises softly into your hair as she squeezes you so tight. 

You should be the one asking forgiveness for this complete mix-up. But there is a lump in your throat that steals your voice. Something about her motherly embrace makes you incapable of replying.

“I always wanted him to find a nice girl,’ she smiles, cupping your jaw. “I'm just so glad he found you.”

Oh fuckity fuck.

—

A few minutes later, you finally manage to escape and catch up to Nurse Dorset, grabbing his sleeve.

“Why did you say that?! I'm not his fiancee!”

He looks shocked. “Why did you tell me that you were?!” 

“I didn't! I've never even spoken to him! Not really. I just pulled him out of the road, that's all!”

“But…but when you arrived, you said, you said you were gonna marry him?” Dorset counters.

And you suddenly realise where all this confusion started from—your silly, offhand comment.

“Bloody hell,” you exhale, “l was just… talking to myself…”

“Well, next time you talk to yourself, tell yourself you're single and end the conversation,” he suggests, rather unhelpfully.

You exchange looks for a beat.

“Excuse me, nurse. Is there a pharmacy in the hospital?” Agatha materialises next to you.

Dorset buffers briefly before inquiring: “What do you need?”

“Victor. He wants nitroglycerin.”

“Oh, for his heart problem?”

“Problem? Problems, my dear, plural…” She replies sardonically before she turns her attention to you. “l think you saved his life. In fact, l think you saved the whole family,” she states somewhat enigmatically before tapping her cane. “Why don't you come with me?”

It's said in a tone that brokers no argument and so dutifully you follow.

—

By the time you are back in the waiting room, a much fancier one in this private wing, Agatha has explained who everyone is. You learn that Anthony’s mother’s name is Violet. That Marcus is her partner. Victor is indeed her father, and the teenagers are her youngest - Hyacinth and Gregory. Anthony is apparently her oldest child, and you can see it. She must have been very young when she had him. Agatha doesn't elucidate her relationship to the family, and you don't pry, guessing she might be related to Marcus somehow.

Just as you sense she is about to grill you, to your relief, the others spill into the waiting room while Anthony is taken for more tests.

“So, tell us the story of how you two met…” Victor grins as he drops into a soft chair, his relief at being seated palpable.

“I doubt she wants to talk about that right now,” Violet contends diplomatically as if intuiting your desire to stay quiet.

“Why not? We could all do with a nice story while we wait,” Victor shrugs.

“How do you know it’s nice?” Agatha needles him.

“Of course it is. Why shouldn't it be nice?” He contends, shooting her a somewhat flirtatious look. Which she pretends to ignore, but you don't miss the ghost of a smile twitching her lip.

“What about that other one? What's her name? The one we bumped into him with outside The Ivy?” Agatha frowns, gesturing to Violet as if she can help with her recall. “Do you remember? He got all sheepish. Couldn't wait to get her away from us.”

“What's that got to do with the price of apples?” Victor throws out.

“Siena Rosso,” Marcus answers, pulling a face as if the name itself is an insult to his sensibilities.

“Marcus..!” Violet chastises softly.

“What? All l know, my love, is that she was a tad conceited for someone who makes their living dancing on TikTok,” he comments drily. 

“Well, he has a nice girl now,” she dismisses, smiling benevolently and grabbing your hand, squeezing it gently. 

There’s that lump in your throat again.

“So, did you-- did you steal him from Siena?” Hyacinth’s face is impish and gossip-hungry as she flops onto the seat next to you, raising an eyebrow.

“l bet it was love at first sight.” Victor smiles at you avuncularly. “l have a sense about these things.”

“Grandpa, let her speak,” Hyacinth whines, rolling her eyes.

“She is telling it.” he counters, shooting you a wink. “l bet he picked you up in that Aston Martin.”

“What was it about him that first caught your attention?” Violet asks, looking almost doe-eyed. You can tell she is a romantic soul, and you have to answer without artifice.

“It was his, uh, smile,” you admit, your tone wistful as you recall the first time you saw it, knowing your cheeks are heating.

“His teeth are fake,” Gregory chips in, looking up from his phone for the first time.

“No, they aren't,” Violet hushes him before turning her attention back to you, her hazy blue eyes so expectant, willing you to go on.

“Well, um…” 

You feel your heart thumping as all of their attention is on you now—his whole family, a loving, spirited, close-knit bunch. You find yourself again not wanting to lie. You will just have to be vague. 

“We saw each other, and, um, he smiled. And, well, l knew that my life would just never be the same…”

You are mildly impressed with your own ability to fudge the details, but then your dreamy look whenever you think of him undoubtedly helps. They all smile and settle back into their chairs, seemingly happy with your answer. You take a sip of your lukewarm tea and stare up at the tiny TV hanging from the ceiling in the corner, silently playing The Snowman, and you swallow hard.

How on earth am I going to tell them the truth now?

—

It's 6pm by the time you get back to your flat, an hour’s walk away from the hospital. There’s no Tube or buses on Christmas Day. Despite the dreary cold, you actually think the long walk helped. It gave you time to decompress from the most dramatic Christmas Day you’ve ever had. But it got you no closer to working out what you can do to tell Anthony’s family the truth. You feel you have to tell them but have no idea how to even broach the subject now.

Alby is in the hallway when you open the door, a novelty Santa hat perched on his head, the smell of food and the sounds of a dispute leaking out from the doorway to his flat. He had mentioned his dad’s relatives would be coming over to keep him company on his first Christmas alone. He, however, appears to be attempting to glue the hallway table back together. 

“Escaping for a few?”

Your guess startles him from his reverie, but he looks inordinately pleased to see you.

“Y/n! Happy Christmas! There’s some big argument about the best way to roast potatoes,” he rues. “So I thought it best to deploy myself elsewhere.”

He gestures to the table. The fixed leg looks, well, not great. Botched really. It’s definitely uneven now. 

“What do you think?”

You don't have the heart to be truthful.

“It looks as good as Christmas Day…” you offer opaquely, aiming for breezy.

“Thanks!” he beams and gives a double thumbs up as you ascend the stairs. 

He doesn't need to know its apt metaphor for the complete shitshow this Christmas Day has been. You can already hear Chairman Meow’s loud protests that you have dared to leave him alone all day.

—

After the delight of Wallace and Gromit over a microwave meal, you head to bed. But it’s a sleepless night of tossing and turning, haunted by sudden flashes of the mugging, imagining awful versions where you are not able to help him. So around 5am, you give up, knowing the buses will start running soon; you throw on your coat and head back to the hospital, something in you needing to see him safe, to know he is being cared for.

The ward is quiet, apart from the rhythmic beep of machines when you arrive. As you get to his room, you leave the door propped open. Collapsing into the chair at his bedside, you watch his handsome face, so peaceful in repose, for a few moments before speaking. 

“Hi. I guess you're wondering what I'm doing here?” you open with an ironic smile before continuing. “Well, l thought l should introduce myself properly. I’m y/n. You might vaguely recognise me; I'm the one who sometimes makes your daily espresso. Anyway, sooooo, a bit of a mix-up. Your family - they are lovely by the way - they think we're engaged. Dunno about you, but never been engaged before. Not sure about this ring?” 

You hold up your bare left hand jokingly and laugh incongruously at the absurdity of the situation before changing tack.

“l came back here to tell you the truth. Yep, I know that's silly because you probably can't hear me. But I couldn't sleep and needed to tell someone. So you are that someone. Lucky you, eh? Anyway, l didn't mean for any of this to happen. I just wanted to check you were okay after the mugging. And then things all went a bit pear-shaped. Still not quite sure what happened myself, if I’m honest, but… here we are. Y’know, if you had any inkling of self-defence, we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. Sorry. Not blaming you. But, okay, well, I sort of am…”

You reach out to pat the back of his hand reflexively in apology for your gallows humour, but you linger. His skin is so soft and warm under your fingertips. It's been a while since you touched a man’s hand, and it makes something jolt in your gut. Perhaps it’s the lack of sleep after a crazy day, or maybe it’s just something about him, a sudden compulsion to tell him more about yourself. 

“I guess I’m like so many people my age: still confused about where my life should be. Trying to be a filmmaker, but that is not really going anywhere, as you can no doubt tell from my stellar barista skills.”

You chuckle sarcastically and sit back in the chair, crossing your legs.

“I can’t really complain. My life is not bad. l have a cat, Chairman Meow; he's the best animal in the world, and I will accept no evidence to the contrary. I have the aforementioned job, which just about covers the heating bill and my Deliveroo addiction. l have a flat all to myself thanks to some inheritance. Which means sole possession of the remote control - very crucial. It's just... well…”

You pause, not sure you should voice it, but seem unable to stop the truth from spilling out.

“If you tell anyone this, I will have to kill you, but… okay, yes, I'm a little lonely. I’ve never met anybody that l could laugh with, share the sofa with, hell even the remote with. Just sitting together in a happy silence? I want that. That person who just… knows you…”

The wistfulness has you staring at his long, dark lashes, almost willing his eyes to open.

“Now all that person has to do is dump the perfect dancer that they are with,” you jest pointedly, recalling the Siena his family mentioned earlier. “And realise that you are, in fact, the one that they just want to be, well, boring with.”

That last line gives you the mortifying realisation of how ridiculous you sound, even to yourself, talking to a comatose man predawn on Boxing Day. You definitely need some sleep.

“Have you ever been so alone you spent Christmas confusing a man in a coma?” You deadpan as a parting line, deciding it's best to leave this poor man and his family alone. You can just be a strange anecdote they talk about for years to come: the unknown woman who turned up on Christmas Day claiming to be his fiancee and then just disappeared. 

But as you stand up and pull on your coat, what you do not see behind you in the doorway is Agatha Danbury, a look of understanding washing over her face. 

She heard every word you said.

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[yingdu-lover]

I am a fucking idiot- ahem. But first,

People, we need to talk more about The Tides. I am so serious. Apart from The Eye and Lull this season, The Tides (I want to yap more about its cinematic brilliance) explicitly supports shiguang canon. While other OP and ED of the first two seasons have a variety of themes entangled together, the whole point of The Tides is drawing a clear parallel between the old man with the time machine trying to go back in time to save his beloved wife (and his wife's photo is shattered by gunshots) and whatever the heck is going on with Lu Guang (Now, after Yingdu, add parallels of Shao Yuanyuan's attempt of saving her husband and Xia Fei's resolution of finding the culprit who caused Vein's death. You are welcome.)

I want to talk specifically about this scene

first,

We see Lu Guang is the one holding a sketchbook (safe to say it belonged to that man) and he is gazing into the sketches. He assumes that man's position (also the fact that Lu Guang has a personal diary where he might not draw but keeps a lot of information about timelines).

And...

This brilliant rack shot.

Idk why I didn't notice it before (I have seen it multiple times but today I just 'got' it).

So, in the first shot, let's see what constitutes the mise-en-scene : Cheng Xiaoshi, a portrait of the lady (whose hands are only shown) and the statue of the lady. It's not white light all over, rather there is a little play of light and shadow. The background wall as well as the statue is green. Overall, there is a green tint. Film nerds and enthusiasts, please explain the lighting and colour palate further if you can find some significance.

Now,

in the first shot, Cheng Xiaoshi is in the focus. He has a strange (pensive) look and he is looking at the statue. Then, the focus shifts to the statue and everything else fades into the background. In this simple editing, you realise that- Cheng Xiaoshi and the statue of the lady are somehow connected, connected by the same fate. I can't really explain how but the cinematography establishes the relation beautifully.

Edit 1 : Hi, I wanted to add a few things. Thanku @whispersoflullaby for engaging with it

also, please read @psychopomp-namine their repost.

A few reflections I didn't elaborate before

The woman's face in the portrait is absent in the frame and the lifelessness of the otherwise beautiful statue is intensified by the (intentional) lack of the eyes. So Cheng Xiaoshi's presence in the frame balances this out. Face is the most important part of someone's identity and eyes are one the most important features of someone's face. Eyes also have a higher level of significance in Link Click, associated with power activation, sense, perception, past, future, memory. And ofc, Cheng Xiaoshi's death scene and power (trust/life) transfer to Lu Guang - there is a HUGE focus on the eyes, extreme close ups. And this brings us to the second point,

Consciousness, subjectivity, perspective, reliable/unreliable narration .

My interpretation of the colour green here is unreliable narration or lack of subjectivity, with a feeling of something changing. Cheng Xiaoshi's pensive look makes us think that he knows something, something unsettling but we can't quite grasp that. His subjectivity is yet to be known. His vision is literally shared (and commanded) by Lu Guang and a big portion of Cheng Xiaoshi is constructed out of Lu Guang's perception of him. How would Cheng Xiaoshi write back to that? Cheng Xiaoshi is a mystery and The Tides prepares us for his development in season 3.

[lesservillain]

strange lights masterlist

summary: everything goes wrong. twice.

cw: sexual tension, fighting, reader breaks their hand

wc: 7.9k

The annoying lack of street lights down on this road, coupled with the fact you haven’t been to Lover’s Lake since you were eight years old was making it near impossible to figure out where the hell you were supposed to be going. Heather told you to pull into Crystal View where the lake houses and vacation cabins were to find a place to park, but she forgot to mention where the party was in proximity to the small subdivision. 

After turning down the radio to see better, you drive for the third, maybe fourth time down the same road in search for a sign of life in the trees. When the almost full moon decides to peak out from behind the clouds you’re able to see smoke above the treeline. Throwing your car into park in front of an empty cabin, you make the trek towards the smoke. Thankfully someone was playing music so loud that you could hear it at the edge of the wood, so you follow it like a siren song until light started breaking through the thicket. Voices could be heard even over the music, yelling and laughter giving away that this party was packed. 

When you finally break through into the clearing you’re instantly overwhelmed. There’s no way that there were only members of Hawkins' young adult scene in attendance with the sheer amount of bodies that were present. And, my god, did it absolutely reek of weed. Not that you care if people partake in a little devil’s lettuce, but damn. Pushing through the crowd of people looking for a familiar face, a hand lands on your shoulder and makes you jump. Turning around, fully prepared to shrug a creep off, you’re relieved to see Jonathan Byers instead.

“Oh, shit, hey,” you say, going in for a quick hug, “I didn’t know you’d be here. Didn’t take you for a party type.”

He gives you a quick pat on the back, nodding his head, “Thanks, call me a loser more subtly next time.”

“No, no that’s not what I meant!” 

He pushes your shoulder, giggling like an idiot. “Nah, man it’s cool I know you’re just joking.”

“Oh my god, Jonathan Byers are you fucking high right now,” you laugh, pushing his shoulder back.

“Pfft, no you’re high right now,” his slur makes you think he might actually be cross faded. Little shy Jonathan Byers who used to sit by himself at recess was high as a kite in front of you right now. It looks like he’s about to say something else, but a guy standing behind him gets his attention. His brown curls and soft features seem familiar to you, but you can’t place who you’re looking at. 

You don’t get to ponder on it much more when your name is called from across the party. Heather is jumping and waving from where she’s mingling with a small group of people, Barb being one of them as she stands behind her. You give Jonathan a quick see you later and make your way over to Heather’s waiting arms.

Immediately she brings you in for a tight hug, and you can smell the Smirnoff Ice on her breath when she squeals in your ear. “Oh my god, I’m so glad you came!” She pulls away, grabbing your arms to turn you towards her circle of friends. “Guys, this is my new coworker that I’ve been talking about!”

Doing a quick scan of the circle, you don’t seem to know anyone. However, when you look past the guy directly in front of you, you pick up on the other three that you saw at the diner that say. Steve Harrington talking to -- or rather being talked to by some super sloppy drunk frat bro as Tommy and Carol make out at the bench they're sitting at. Even from where you stand you can tell that he’s completely checked out.

“This is Tammy,” Heather places a hand on your shoulder to get your attention. You introduce yourself to Tammy, her southern accent reminding you of your neighbors in Arizona that had moved in from Texas. The three of you talk for a bit. Well, you stand there listening to them talk about whatever came to mind. They both have so much energy that you can barely get a word in anyway. 

A cup being placed in your hands pulls you out of the conversation. Barb stood next to you, a knowing expression on her face as she takes a sip of her own drink. “You know you’re being stared at right,” she says after a moment, her eyes looking behind you. 

Following her line of vision, you’re surprised to find a pair of hazel eyes staring you down. No longer being entertained by the belligerent college student, Steve leans against the bench, annoyance written all over his face. You expected him to look away when he realized he’d been caught, pretending that he was looking at anything else but you. Instead he pushes off the bench and makes his way straight to you. You watched as some of the party goers moved out of the way as he walked, anticipating his approach and cowering away.

Between his behavior at Benny’s back at the beginning of the summer and the way his presence seems to instill a fear in those around him made you wish he would just walk past you right now. Maybe you could make a break for it before he got to you, if you just pushed through the crowd--

Oh. What’s that smell? 

It’s strong, musk maybe, with a hint of sweetness that reminded you of the natural smell of mint or maybe eucalyptus. It made your head feel fuzzy.

“Hey.”

He was so close. You could faintly smell the beer on his breath as he spoke in your ear. His voice was slightly fried and it sent little sparks throughout your body. With his close proximity you realized that the smell was coming from him as it flooded your nostrils. It didn’t have that chemical smell that you’d gotten used to from men’s cologne over the years, so whatever he was wearing must be expensive. It made sense, Heather always referred to him as King Steve with the way he ruled the high school when he was in attendance leaving a trail of broken hearts behind him with every girl (and guy according to some rumors) that fell under his spell. Another reason why you should be trying to run away, but your body wasn’t cooperating with your brain at the moment.

“Hi,” you didn’t recognize the voice that came out of your mouth, “Can I help you?”

His smile made your heart flutter, and his laugh made you feel weak at the knees. He towered over you, his solid athletic frame silhouetted as he blocked the light from the fire behind him. He ran a hand through his hair, letting it rest on the back of his neck. When he says your name it makes you straighten up. You realize he’s asking you a question.

“Yes, yeah, that’s my name,” you stutter, dying inside from embarrassment. He nods, “I thought so. It’s a pretty name, fitting for a pretty girl.” His words hit you in the face like a brick, and suddenly you could turn into a puddle at his feet. You mutter a thanks, eyes looking anywhere but his face in an attempt to regain your composure.

“I wanted to, uh, apologize for the other day. At Benny’s. I’m sorry if I came off as a jerk.” You look up at him again, his expression soft, sincere. 

“It’s okay, I understand,” you place a hand on his arm, “Jonathan said you had a rough morning. Something about your breakfast not agreeing with you. Don’t worry about it.” 

“My breakfast…” You watch as he turns towards the party, neck craning to a stop where you can see Jonathan sitting in a circle with the guy he was talking to earlier and a couple others. He looks over in your direction, clearly high out of his mind as he waves at the two of you. You let out a snort, and Steve shakes his head as he turns back to you.

“Either way, I should have introduced myself better,” he looks you up and down. It made your clothes feel tight the way his eyes wandered over your body. You started to second guess your choice of attire for the evening.

“Well, maybe we can start over?” you suggested, looking up at him through your lashes. He crosses his arms, the sleeves of his polo squeezing his biceps. He leans into you, bodies almost touching as he takes up your entire vision. “I think I’d like that,” he says, eyes looking at your lips.

“Hey, Steve!” Both of you turn as his name is called, Tommy and Carol pushing their way through the crowd towards you. “We got trouble. Leech at 10 o’clock.” Steve takes a couple steps back, looking between you and something off in the distance. Tommy and Carol stand behind him, and suddenly Jonathan and his group are there as well. Slowly you turn, eyes on the tree line with theirs. You start to feel uneasy, unsure of what they’re waiting on to emerge from the cover of the trees.

Not a moment later you watched movement coming from the brush as a body became illuminated by the moonlight. You had to do a double take when you saw who it was, brown curls bouncing in as he fought his way through a bush. He came.

“Eddie!” You called out for him. You could see his smile from where you stood when he heard you. As you went to go to him a hand grabbed you by the arm stopping you. Steve stepped in front of you, eyes locked on Eddie in a fierce scowl. Eddie stopped just a few feet short, smile reaching his eyes.

“Hey, there, princess,” he addressed you, ignoring Steve’s presence, “Sorry I’m late. Had some stuff to take care of.”

Steve huffed a laugh, “Stuff? Can’t even come up with a proper excuse, huh?”

Eddie finally looks to Steve, eyeing him up and down. “Sorry, when I said princess I was referring to her,” he nods his head to you, “But if you want me to call you princess, too…I think we could make that happen.” 

Jonathan and his crew let out little giggles at Eddie’s words, and Carol swats at them to stop. When you look at Steve, you are expecting him to be furious, but his expression reads almost flustered for a moment before shaking it off. “S-shut up, freak. What the hell are you doing here, anyway? You know you’re not welcome here.”

You step in front of Steve now, facing him as you stand between him and Eddie, “What? Why isn’t he allowed to be here?” Steve’s mouth opens slightly, looking between your eyes as he tries to conjure the words to say. 

“H-he’s…he’s just not.” Unsatisfied with his excuse, you turn on your heel with a humph, walking over to join Eddie. You stand next to him, grabbing his hand. It’s cold to the touch, like it could melt from the heat of your palm. Eddie looks to your hands, then to your face, but you don’t react, keeping your attention on Steve. 

“Well, he came here to see me,” you state, standing your ground. Eddie’s eyes light up, and he looks at Steve smugly.

“Yeah, she invited me.”

You watch as Tommy, Carol and the rest all look at Steve, the party around them completely oblivious to anything happening. Steve shakes his head, puffing out his chest, “You know the rules. No leeches on this side of the lake.”

You scoff, pulling Eddie closer to you, “Fine then. Let’s go, Eddie.” He lets you guide him, waving his free hand over his shoulder as you head back towards the brush. Steve’s panicked voice calls for you to stop, but you ignore him, the two of you pushing further into the woods until the sound of the party starts to sound far away. 

When you come to a stop, you drop Eddie’s hand and grumble in frustration. “Ugh, what a fucking ass hole.” You turn to look at Eddie to find he’s looking very intently at the hand you were holding, a goofy grin plastered on his face. You hold your own hand, feeling the slight chill that lingered from his touch. “I’m sorry,” you say, and he finally looks up at you, “I’m sorry he was being such a jerk to you.”

Eddie dismisses you, waving a hand flippantly, “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m used to it by now.” He takes a few wide steps, closing the gap between you. Big, honey brown eyes look down at you, almost glowing with the way the moon light hits them through the cracks in the trees. 

Standing with him like this, just the two of you alone in the woods, you think about how many times you’ve been told to stay away. That the man standing in front of you is dangerous, a monster. And from what you’ve seen, what you’ve felt…maybe he is. But, in this moment, you’ve never felt more safe. 

“I do appreciate you stepping in to save me from the big bad wolf.”

“It’s no big deal,” you say with a shrug, “I guess…that makes us even for the car thing…”

He goes quiet for a moment, just looking at you like he’s trying to find something written on your face. It starts to worry you, you hope you didn’t take things too far. You didn’t want him to run away from you again. 

“Can I show you something?” His question surprises you, but you nod with excitement. He takes your hand in his, and you take notice that it feels warmer than before. He doesn’t give you much time to think about it before he’s leading you along through the woods. As the two of you bob and weave through the trees, you decide to take advantage of the situation and try and crack open his shell.

“So, what beef do you have with Steve that you’re banned from Loch Nora parties?”

He chuckles, tilting his head a bit, “It’s not anything personal with Steve. He pretends to hate me more than he actually does…” He trails off for a moment. You watch the way he sticks his tongue out as he thinks and laugh to yourself. “Remember how I told you this town doesn’t like my family?” You nod, he smiles, “Well, it’s mostly because the top dogs that stay in Loch Nora are the ones who hate us the most. There are other people who hate us without the assistance of the House Wives of the Loch spreading rumors at their little club meetings and in line at the grocery store. But, the majority of this town looooooves to gossip.” You’re not sure if it’s purposeful, but he keeps squeezing your hand as he talks.

“That’s not a good enough excuse for me,” you shake your head in frustration, “He was being a dick because, what, someone else told him he should not like you? Stupid.”

“It is stupid in most circumstances,” he shrugs, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “But, you never know. Maybe some of the rumors are true?” 

Your mind immediately goes to your conversation with Heather and Barb. “Well, there’s no way the rumors I’ve heard about you are true.”

“Oh, really? Well now I want to know what you’ve heard,” he says, eyebrows lifting into his bangs. There are times where he’s walking so fast you feel like he’s going to start dragging you, but he slows down when he notices you struggling to keep up. 

“Funny thing, Heather is convinced that you’re, like, a vampire or something,” you try to say as nonchalantly as possible. He’s quiet for a moment, but you hear him covering his mouth with his hand as he laughs. “Whaaaat,” you start to laugh with him.

“I’m sorry that’s just so stupid,” his hand runs over his curls. He looks at you with that million dollar smile and you feel your knees get weak. 

“Yeah, I know, right?” You say, trying to cover up that you may have believed it a little bit. The two of you walk a little bit further until you see trees starting to clear at the top of a small hill. Once you reach the top, you take in the sight of a huge rock with strange shaping to it. It sits amongst smaller rocks, creating a small gap underneath. He lets go of your hand, much to your dismay, and approaches the structure. 

“This is skull rock,” he says as he pats the side of the largest rock. You walk closer to it, the size of it only seems to grow as you approach it like an optical illusion. 

“Wooooow, it’s huge,” you say in awe. He lets out a snort, trying to stifle a laugh. “Oh my god, you are so immature,” you say as you try to fight your own laughter.

“Sorry, sorry,” he clears his throat, “that, uh, that's probably not the first time someone has said that here, though.”

“Really,” you say with curiosity. You take a step towards him. 

“Oh, yeah. Kids back in the 80’s used to come out here to mess around all the time. You know they call it Lover’s Lake out here for a reason.”

You take another step closer. “So you’re saying that, hypothetically, if someone were to bring another person out here…” You’re directly in front of him now, practically pressing into his chest with your own. You don’t miss the way he swallows. His eyes aren’t on your face, but just below it. He doesn’t back away. “That they might have a ‘motive’?”

His eyes jump to yours, and you swear you see the ring of honey disappearing as melted dark chocolate takes over his irises. It’s tense, the staredown between the two of you. Like a game of chicken to see who would make the first move. But the moment you let your eyes wander down to his lips, he’s on you. 

Faster than you can comprehend, his hands are cupping your face and his lips crash into yours. You gasp at his quick movements, but immediately reciprocate once you get your bearings. Your hands are on the lapels of his vest, trying to pull him even closer to you as you lick his bottom lip. There’s a slight hesitation on his end, but he obliges, parting his lips and letting his tongue mingle with yours. 

Eventually you need to pull away for air. You expect him to do the same, but instead he moves to kiss down your neck. Not hard enough to leave marks, but with just enough pressure to make the heat start to spread in your body. Your fingers tangle in his curls, eliciting a low groan against your neck from him. Slowly, you let your free hand wander down his chest, surprised to be able to feel a chill through the fabric. It’s only when you reach the waistband of his jeans that his skin feels normal again. You can’t even begin to describe how badly you want to ask about what you’re feeling, but you don’t want to risk ruining this moment with him. 

Suddenly his hands are only your waist, pulling you back with him into the shadow of the rock. He’s looking around, and you’re not sure what he’s trying to find. Not liking his attention being off of you, you push against him, guiding him down to sit on the ground below you. His eyes are almost black now, glazed over watching you as you lower yourself in his lap.

“Hi,” you whisper, fluttering your lashes at him. 

“Hi,” he says back, a goofy grin spreading across his face. You lean in, letting your lips collide with him, picking up the pace to get back to the mood you were in before. In your new position you’re able to grind down on his lap, his hands flying to your hips as you do with a tight grip. As you roll your hips, you feel the hardness of his cock in his jeans through the swimsuit bottoms under your dress. There’s a moment in your mind where you think about how hard it is, almost like rubbing against a rock, but brush past it as his teeth scrape against your neck. A whine escapes you, feeling yourself getting wetter as his hands start to guide you with an iron grip across his length. He nips at your skin just below your ear, and your hands go flying to his hair, breathing out his name as his tongue rolls over the spot. You can feel your heart beating in your chest as you’re getting closer and closer to tipping over the edge.

Everything happens all at once. One second you’re about to reach your peak, the next you’re flying backwards and landing on your side, letting out a shriek of pain when you hit your bruised rib. You roll over onto your back and put your hand on your side to try and soothe the pain. When you finally look at Eddie, he looks like a wild animal. Eyes wide, fingers digging into the ground on either side of him. As his chest heaves, you think that this may be the first time you’ve seen him breathe.

“What the fuck was that,” you finally bark out after a moment, a strain in your voice from the pain. He doesn’t say anything, scrambling backwards further away from you under the rock. You wait a moment to see if he will respond, but his silence only makes you furious. Slowly you stand up, hand still on your side as you brush the dirt and leaves off you with the other. 

You give him one last chance to speak up, waiting for him to say anything to explain himself. But when he covers his mouth with his hand you know you’re wasting your time. “Fuck you, Eddie,” you say as you turn on your heels, walking back into the woods.

“W-wait,” you hear him choke out, but you ignore him letting yourself disappear into the treeline. Pulling out your phone, you look at your location on the maps to see that he’s taken you way out from where your car was parked. “What the fuck,” you whisper to yourself. You knew that you had followed him for a bit, but it would probably take you more than 30 minutes to get to your car. You sigh and begin your trek, keeping an eye on your location dot to make sure you’re going in the right direction. You don’t want to let it bother you, but you can’t help but feel like a pair of eyes are on you the whole way. “Eddie, you better not be following me,” you shout out into the woods, but you get no response. For good measure you grab your keys from your dress pocket and position them between your fingers.

By the time you make it back to civilization your feet are aching. And when you finally get to your car, you could almost cry as you slide into the driver’s seat. You plug your phone in and find something to listen to as you pull off of the street. Even with the music turned up and your speedometer reading over 60 miles an hour, you still can’t shake the feeling of eyes on you. The feeling follows you all the way home, only going away once you walk through the front door of the cabin, closing it behind you.

“You’re home early.” You turn away from the door to see your dad sitting on the couch, the light from the tv illuminating his frame where he had clearly fallen asleep.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you, dad,” you say with a quiet voice.

“No, no I wasn’t sleeping. Just resting my eyes,” he says as he sits up. You just roll your eyes as you walk to your room. You grab your shower stuff and your night clothes, making your way to the bathroom to wash the total shit show of a night from your skin. As you begin to undress, you notice something on the skin of your neck. Getting a closer look, you see right below your ear a little blood trail that’s recently dried up just above a hickey.

It’s a bleak and uneventful day. You’re by yourself all morning now that Eden is back in school, left to unload a truck that came in at the start of the day on your own. You couldn’t complain, though, because it at least gave you something to do. Most of the foot traffic had been in the Starbucks, Barb and Heather busting ass to make coffee for all of Hawkins since the store in town was closed for renovations or something. 

The door chime rings for the millionth time, and you shout an annoyed greeting over the bookshelves as you put away a box of action figures on a shelf.

“Rough day,” a familiar voice calls. You turn, eyes landing on Steve as he makes his way towards you, hands tucked into his jeans pockets. If you weren’t annoyed before you were now, especially when the smell of his cologne grows stronger as he approaches you. Damn it, he smells good.

“Not until you showed up,” you place a Darth Vadar figure on the shelf before crossing your arms, “I’m surprised to see you here. Didn’t expect you to be the type who can read.”

“I’m not,” he stops a few feet in front of you. “I mean,” he closes his eyes as he realizes what you said, “I can read. I just don’t do it, like, often, I guess.”

You hum, nodding slowly. “Well, maybe you should. I’m sure we have a book on manners in the For Dummies section.” His head drops, shoulders slumping at your insult. You hear him mumble something to himself and you step closer to him. “Sorry, what was that?”

He looks up at you with a grin, “I said you’re lucky you’re so cute, or else that might have hurt my feelings.” You can’t help the heat you feel in your cheeks at his compliment, but you’re set on being mad at him so you opt to give him a dirty look in response. It doesn’t seem to phase him though as he takes a few steps towards you. Your back hits the shelf as he closes in on you, his body towering over you as his arm leans against the bookshelf. That fuzzy feeling you got when you talked to him the other night comes back as his smell fills your nostrils.

“Listen, I know I was a jerk the other day, but I want to make it up to you. We’re having another party, it’s at the same place, but it’s a Locha Nora exclusive party. Invite only. And we know if someone isn’t invited.” He looks between your eyes as he waits for your response. 

“Seems like your last party was exclusive in a way, don’t you think?” 

He nods, biting on his lower lip, “Yeah, you got me. Again, I’m really sorry about that. But, the thing with Eddie, it’s…something bigger than you think it is.” 

“Really?” You look at him dubiously, scoffing at his attempt to make things more complicated than they needed to be. “Because Eddie seemed to explain it to me pretty well. All of you stuck up Loch Nora residents have beef with his family because they don’t want to be part of your drama bullshit. Seems to make sense to me.”

“That’s what he told you,” Steve asks with a brow raised. “That’s hilarious. Sure, if that’s what you want to believe then go for it. But, you’re only getting one side of the story if you do.” He pushes off of the wall, standing straight in front of you. “Or, if you want to hear my side-- our side of the story, then my invitation still stands.” 

As much as you don’t want to admit it, you probably should talk to him about what happened. If the party is as low key as he’s making it sound, then you might be able to get more perspective on this whole confusing situation. The fact that you’re mad at Eddie right now totally isn’t having an influence on your decision.

“Will Jonathan be there,” you ask, giving in on your attitude a bit. The look he gives you makes you think he’s not super fond of Jonathan, but he nods reluctantly anyway. You uncross your arms, smiling up at him, “Are you asking me to go as a date, Harrington?”

“God, yes,” he says without hesitation.

You pull out your phone from your pocket, “Put your number in my phone so you can give me the details later. I think I’m about to have a customer.”

To say he was excited was an understatement. He made himself a contact in your phone, sending himself a text to make sure it went through. He handed it back with a smile, giving you a goodbye before leaving the store.

After you ring out your customer, Heather slams her hands on the counter, her expression wide with excitement. “Oh, em, gee, what was that earlier? Was he flirting with you? Did he give you his number? Are you going on a date? Details, I need details!”

You laugh at her desperation. You hadn’t gotten the chance to tell her about what happened that night, so you fill her in on what happened when you left. Leaving out the details with Eddie, telling her that he just walked you to your car and talked for a bit. 

“That explains what happened then,” she says with her head in her hands as she leans on your counter.

“What do you mean? What happened?” you asked.

“Oh you didn’t hear,” she straightens up, “It must have been right after you left, because I saw him talking with Tommy and Carol and the Byers guy and he seemed super heated. Then all the sudden he started like, thrashing around and acting like he was going to take off or something. It took Tommy, Carol, Byers and his little group to hold him down. They ended up carrying him off and the party kinda died down after that. It was a total bummer.”

You look at her blinking in disbelief. You start to second guess your decision to go to this party with Steve, having to tell yourself that you still want to hear his side of the story with everything. Jonathan being there made you feel a little better, giving you  an out in case you want to get away from Steve.

“Wow, you look-”

“Watch it, Harrington,” your dad shouts from the kitchen where he’s packing his lunch for his overnight shift. 

“Don't mind him,” you say with a roll of your eyes, “Now what were you going to say?”

He laughs, running a hand through his hair before gesturing at you, “I was just going to say you look beautiful. I hope that’s not too explicit of a compliment.” There he goes again making you feel all fuzzy. You’re not even dressed up really, maybe a step above casual. But he makes you feel like you stepped out in an evening gown on the red carpet. Your dad grunts.

“Okay, well I’m going now,” you call back to him, “I’ll be back later tonight. Have a good night at work, pops.” He gives you a quick “be safe” as you step out, closing the door behind you. Steve walks you to his car, a shiny new BMW that looks out of place next to your beater truck and your dads cop car. He opens the door and helps you in, buckling your seatbelt for you.

“You don’t have to be so formal, Steve,” you say as he slides into the driver’s seat, “It’s not like you’re taking me to Enzo’s.”

“Do I have to take you to Enzo’s just to treat you like you deserve?” He does that thing where he has one hand on the wheel, the other on the back of your seat, and his neck craning to look out the back window as he backs out of your driveway. Why that’s hot, you have no idea.

“No, I guess not.” 

You notice that the more you drive, the more his car smells like his cologne as if he sprayed it inside. Not that you’re complaining, but it is a little overwhelming and it makes your body feel warm. “Hey, what cologne do you use?”

He looks at your confused, “I don’t wear cologne? Why do you ask?”

“You don’t?” You question. “But every time I’m around you, you smell like a fancy cologne.” 

“Really?” He asks with a curious chuckle. “What, uh, what do I smell like to you?”

“Um, like, woodsy? With a mint or something…” You feel stupid for even bringing it up. But he seems to be enjoying the way you describe his scent.

“And you like those smells, yeah?”

“Well, yeah, I do,” you look out the window to hide your face at your admittance. 

“Good…” 

When Steve pulls into the Loch Nora entrance, you’re in awe at some of the houses hidden away from the street the further you go in. Why anyone with this level of money would want to stay in small town Hawkins rather than a state, or even just another city without the perpetual overcast was beyond you.

After a few turns, getting deeper into the wealth of Hawkins, Steve eventually pulls into a roundabout driveway to what you assume to be his house. From the outside you could see that it was huge,so you could only imagine what the inside must look like. 

Your door opening ceases your gawking on the house, Steve offering you a hand as you slide out of the beemer. You think he’s going to lead you to his home, but as he takes you past the house and through his back yard you realize the house is quiet, dark with no signs of life inside. 

“We just have to go past this bit of brush. It’s a bit of a walk, so if it gets to be too much for you let me know, I don’t mind carrying you.” He sends a wink your way, and you roll your eyes at him. 

“I’m stronger than you think I am, Harrington,” you say as you flex your arm at him. He ducks his head, pulling you close so that he can talk lowly directly into your ear, “So am I.” Goosebumps rise on your neck where his breath fanned the skin. You want to say something snarky back, but the tight patterning of the trees took over your attention as you walked deeper into the woods. It was a miracle that you hadn’t ran into any scary wildlife with how much you’ve been in the woods lately. You kept your grip on Steve’s hand tight just in case.

After walking for maybe 15 minutes or so, Steve lifted a branch of the way for you as you passed into the opening. The large branch snapped off, and you just looked at him as he held the heavy wood in his hand. He looked at you with a funny smile. “Whoops,” he says as he shrugs, “Hey, guys, I got some more firewood.”

His free arm wraps around your shoulder, waving the branch with the other as he leads you over to the fire. It was much more tame compared to the last party here. Only a handful of people sat around the fire, some familiar, but a majority of them were strangers. You wave when you spot Jonathan, his little group from the last party sitting around him, you give him an enthusiastic wave. He ducks his head, eyes shifting from you to Steve before he gives you a sheepish wave back. 

Steve stops in front of a set of empty folding chairs, like the ones you see people sitting in at sport games and tells you to get comfortable. You plop down awkwardly in the chair, everyone either staring at you or talking quietly to each other with shifting glances. The heavy thump of the tree limb hitting the ground had you whipping your head around. Low laughter rises from the circle, and you hear a low “show off” in Jonathan’s group’s direction. You don’t really understand how no one is freaking out over Steve carrying a heavy ass branch that looks more like a log the more you stare at it. But the chatter quiets as he takes his seat next to you.

“Hey, do you want a beer,” Carol asks from her seat next to you with an unopened bottle in her hand. 

“Yeah, thanks,” you say as you take it. “Oh shit, anyone got a bottle opener?”

“Sorry, my bad,” she says, taking the bottle back from you. You’re fully expecting her to grab a bottle opener from the cooler, but instead she pops it off like a twist top. She hands it back to you, and you want nothing more than to ask how the hell she did that, but you’re interrupted by the sounds of laughter across the fire. 

“What the hell is so funny over there,” Steve yells. The laughter lets up only a bit, some of the boys barely holding it together.

“Patrick said he saw two of the leeches at the store today,” one of the boys says. 

“Don’t know why they bother going out in public,” another one says.

“What were they even there for?” Your head snaps to Jonathan, shocked to hear him speak up.

“It looked like balloons and shit. Like for a birthday or something,” the one you assume to be Patrick says.

“You can’t be serious,” one of the girls laughs, “What are they celebrating, their deaths?”

You look up at Steve, who seems to be just as confused as the rest of the group. You nudge your elbow against his arm, and he looks over to you with his full attention. “Sorry, uh, hey guys. No more leech talk,” he yells, nodding his head towards you. 

“Oh, no, don’t stop on account of me,” you say as you wave your hands, “I was just going to ask who you guys were talking about. Who are the leeches?” You had an idea of who they were talking about, recalling the confrontation at the last party where “leech” was thrown around when Eddie showed up, but you wanted the confirmation before you assume anything.

Everyone’s eyes are on Steve now. You feel embarrassed for even saying anything now. Steve takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “I guess you can get our side of the story now,” he says as he straightens up in his seat. “The leeches are the Brenner’s. I think you know by now that we, uh, don’t exactly get along with their kind.”

“Their kind,” you ask confused, “What do you mean by that?”

Steve breathes out through his nose, “It’s hard to explain because of…reasons. But, you have to trust me when I say that they’re no good.”

“They’re dangerous,” one of the boys in Jonathan’s group chimes in.

“Yeah,” another girl adds, “They can’t be trusted.”

Carol leans into you, “We can’t explain much…yet,” she gives Steve a knowing smile before looking back to you, “but trust me, when we can tell you, you’ll totally understand where we’re coming from. For now, it would just be better for you not to get involved with them.”

“Well, it’s really hard to believe you guys when you won’t tell me anything. Eddie was at least up front with everything when I asked him about it.”

The air went cold around the fire. There was an uneasiness amongst the group; seats shifting and glances being shared. “Relax, relax,” Steve says in an attempt to ease the party, “He didn’t tell her the truth. He told her, what,” he looks over to you, “that we just start rumors about them because they don’t want to be in our drama or something, right? That all the little housewives of Loch Nora have nothing better to do than hate a family of freaks over not wanting to join their book club.”

“I mean, my mom did say something about trying to get one of the girl ones to join her book club.”

“Shut up, Garreth,” Tommy says, throwing a bottle cap at the boy's shaggy curls.

“Hey,” Jonathan turns in his seat, fully facing Tommy with his full chest.

“What,” Tommy laughs at Jonathan’s bravery, “got something to say, reject?”

Jonathan’s fists flex, and you silently root for him to just deck Tommy in the face, but he moves back in his seat, arms crossing and sight set on the fire. It makes your blood boil to see Jonathan back down so easily. Standing from your seat, you walk your happy ass right in front of Tommy, who looks up at you with more fear than is probably warranted.

“Don’t call him a fucking reject,” you speak down to him. He flinches as you speak, but it pisses you off more that he keeps looking over to Steve. So you shift your body to block his view. “Don’t look at him. Steve isn’t going to save you.”

“Believe me, I know,” he says quietly. 

“Tommy,” Carol urges, eyes avoiding yours as she looks at him with wide eyes. He gives her a look back, breathing in before standing up in his seat, almost chest to chest with you. “D-don’t tell me what I can or can’t do, outsider-”

Your fist collides with his face, his head only moving slightly from the impact. And, unfortunately for you, it felt like you had just full force punched a brick wall. 

“What the FUCK,” you squeal, grabbing your hand and pulling it close, doubling over in pain. There’s commotion from behind you, a flurry of movement as everyone is getting up from their seats. When you look behind you, almost every single person is holding Steve back, his name being repeated over and over in hopes to get his attention. Tommy falls back over his chair, and Carol is moving to help him up as he backs away from you. It happens so quickly, but the pain in your hand is preventing you from really taking in the sight before you. 

And before you can really register anything else, you feel your body lifting off the ground as your body is thrown over the shoulder of one of Jonathan’s friends. Him and the rest of Jonathan’s friends start to take off with you, heading straight into the brush.

“Hey, man, let me see your hand,” Jonathan says as he trails behind the man carrying you. When you show him, the look on his face makes you feel like you’ll be making another trip to the ER. “Jeff, can we take your car to the hospital?” Jonathan asks his other friend, who nods his head. “Garreth-”

“Already on it,” Garreth says with his phone against his ear. “Hello? Hey, Mrs. Byers, you have the chief’s number, right? Yeah, um,” he looks back towards the direction you came from. Suddenly the sound of coyotes fighting can be heard in the distance. It makes you jump, and Grant’s pace picks up. “I think everyone will be okay?”

Jonathan grabs Garreth’s phone from him. “Mom, she punched Tommy in the face.” A pause. “Yeah. Yeah. We’re about to take her to the hospital. Yeah I think her hand is broken. Okay, I’ll tell her. Love you, too, bye.” He hands Garreth his phone back and looks to you, “Mom is calling your dad on his cell.”

“Fuck,” you sigh, “I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

“Why the hell did you think it would be a good idea to punch Tommy Hagan in the face?” Your dad paced back and forth in your hospital room. 

“He called Jonathan a reject,” you shrug, rubbing your hand over the cast on your dominant hand, tired from all the pain medicine that you’ve been given. 

He hesitates for a moment, but continues on anyway. “Even if he did say that, you still didn’t need to resort to breaking your hand on his jaw.”

“You make it sound like I knew his jaw was made of titanium or something. It felt like hitting solid rock, dad. And he barely flinched.”

“Well…maybe we need to check to see if you have a vitamin deficiency. Or maybe you need to start hitting the bag I left in your room.”

There was a pause between the two of you, smiles creeping on both of your faces before you both burst into laughter.

“I only hit him because he stepped up to me,” you defend, “I couldn’t let them think that the police chief’s daughter was going to let some bully talk down on her.”

“Ah, yes, because the two of you are still in high school and not adults in their early twenties,” he looks at you with a raised brow. “Next time, just call me. I think I could do a little more damage.”

The curtain to your room opens and Dr.Brenner walks in with his clipboard, eliciting a moment of deja vu. “Alrighty, I think we’ve got all your discharge paperwork here. Just make sure you look at this very important part right here.” He walks over you you, handing you the packet of papers, where on the bottom of the page in pen “I promise not to come back again in 6 more weeks with another injury” is written with a little “x” and a line drawn for you to sign on. You take the pen with a smile and sloppily sign with your non-dominant hand. “Good, now that includes punching any more dogs in the face,” Brenner says with a chuckle.

“Dogs?” You look at him confused. He looks at you like a deer in headlights. 

“Sorry, I meant boys. Slip of the tongue.”

“There won’t be any more of that,” your dad says as he pats your back, “Thanks again, Martin. I appreciate you always being available. Now, go home and get some rest, you’re looking a little pale in this lighting.”

Brenner looks at you, then nods. “Of course, Hop. Will do.”

When you finally get home you quickly get ready for bed, beat from all the events of the evening. When you crawl into the bed, you plug your phone in and see that Steve had texted you. You go to open it, but decide that you’d rather deal with him later. 

That night you have another dream.

thank you for reading!