#so I am sending the best vibes to you all and hoping you have an amazing day

[rainforestakiie]

one more to go for the Adamsapple Harvest Month ! I am looking forward what you have been cooking for this, since it's a free choice day !

Love all your stories ! Sending Adamsapple vibes 💕💕

aww, thank you so much! your support throughout harvest meant so much for me! i didn't think i would have gotten so many of them done! i tried my very best to make each one different!

AdamsApple Month Harvest!

Free Day~

Part 01 - Part 02

this took me so long to settle on. i had so many different ideas and thoughts. in the end, i tried to do something new and different. i hope you like this! i hope you all like this!

@adamsappleweek

The woman's scream tore through the silence of the night, a harrowing sound that pierced even the suffocating darkness. Above, the midnight sky roiled with thunder, as if the heavens themselves shuddered at her anguish. Inside the sprawling, dimly lit manor, the air was thick with murmurs. Maids in crisp black-and-white uniforms scrambled through the halls, their skirts swishing as their polished boots clattered against the wooden floors. They carried steaming bowls of water, towels, and freshly laundered sheets, their whispers weaving a tapestry of unease as they darted between the master bedroom and the washroom.

In the heart of the chaos, the lady of the house wailed, her cries echoing down the long, shadowy corridors. The flickering gaslights buzzed, their unstable glow casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. When the grandfather clock struck midnight, her screams abruptly ceased, leaving behind a dreadful silence that seeped into every corner of the house.

The servants moved like ghosts, their heads bowed, eyes averted as they passed the master of the house. He stood in the corridor, his face carved from stone, his hands clenched into trembling fists. The whispers rose around him, faint but persistent, carried like a curse through the air.

The young master is a monster, they said. The words slithered from one mouth to another, infecting every ear. The newborn is a freak.

The master clenched his jaw as his advisers urged him to dismiss the servants' gossip, but the words gnawed at him, relentless. Upstairs, his wife lay pale and weak in their grand four-poster bed. Her once-vivid curls were now limp, splayed across her pillow like wilted vines. The maids hovered around her, cleaning her, changing her gown and the blood-stained sheets. She opened her eyes only when her husband entered the room.

"Where is my baby?" she whispered, her voice trembling like the last note of a dying song.

The master said nothing at first. He knelt beside her, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead.

"I’m so sorry," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Her breath hitched, her frail hand clutching at his. Her wide, red-rimmed eyes darted to the empty cradle beside the bed. The absence of her child was a gaping void, a silent accusation. When he tried to soothe her, stroking her hair, she turned away, her body shaking with silent sobs. The master rose, his chest tight, and left the room without another word. Behind him, her grief erupted, a raw sound that reverberated through the house.

Down the corridor, he stormed past servants who scurried out of his way, their whispers like the hiss of snakes. A monster, they said, a freak. Their words followed him to the nursery, where he threw the door open with such force that it banged against the wall.

The baby cried, a thin, fragile wail that pricked the air like needles. An elderly woman, seated beside the cradle, glared at him.

"I just got him to sleep," she snapped.

Ignoring her, the master approached the cradle, staring down at the bundle of blankets that obscured his son.

"This—this cannot be," he muttered, his voice thick with revulsion.

The old woman—his mother—sighed and began to rock the cradle gently. "He's a baby, not a monster. He just needs love, Nathaniel."

A scoff came from the corner. "Love?"

The adviser, a man with sharp features and a colder demeanour, leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. "Love won’t hide what he is. The boy’s existence is a stain on your name, Nathaniel."

"Enough!" Nathaniel barked, his voice cracking through the room like a whip. He turned to the doctor, who stood by the rain-streaked window, twisting his hands nervously.

"How did this happen?" Nathaniel demanded. "You told us nothing was wrong!"

The doctor hesitated, his eyes darting to the floor.

"I—I did inform you," he stammered. "The condition is rare, but it happens. It's not genetic; it can occur in any family. Your son has... Phocomelia."

"Phocomelia?" Nathaniel repeated, the word foreign and bitter on his tongue.

The doctor nodded, explaining haltingly that the condition affected the baby's limbs, leaving them underdeveloped. He spoke of challenges, of a life that would be different but not devoid of meaning.

But Nathaniel’s face grew darker with every word. "This is not what I expected," he said coldly. "This is not my son."

"You haven’t even held him," his mother spat, rising from her chair. "You look at him as though he's some cursed thing, but he is your flesh and blood!"

The adviser sneered. "Flesh and blood? He’ll bring nothing but shame to this family."

"Do not speak of my grandson that way," the old woman snapped, her voice shaking with fury.

Nathaniel leaned over the cradle, peeling back the blankets with trembling hands. The sight of the baby—tiny, fragile, and undeniably different—seemed to drain the colour from his face.

"No," he whispered. "This... This cannot be my child."

"Then give him to me," his mother said, her voice thick with disgust. "If you cannot see him as your son, I will take him."

But Nathaniel ignored her. His hands shook as he picked up the baby, the child’s cries filling the room again. His mother screamed for him to stop as he stormed out, the baby clutched tightly in his arms. He ran through the rain-soaked streets, the icy drops drenching him as his mind raced with dark, unthinkable thoughts.

At the river’s edge, he stopped, staring at the dark, swirling water.

"You were supposed to be perfect," he murmured, his voice cracking. "Not... this."

But he couldn’t do it. Something inside him faltered, and instead, he turned and stumbled to a nearby bus stop. Placing the baby in a small wooden box, he wrapped the blankets around the child one last time. The baby whimpered, his tiny face crumpling, but Nathaniel couldn’t bear to look.

"Forgive me," he whispered, before walking away.

The rain fell harder as a woman, hurrying home, spotted the box. Her sharp intake of breath cut through the storm as she lifted the crying baby, her heart aching at the sight. She looked around the empty street, but no one was there.

Hugging the baby close, she whispered, "You’re safe now. I’ll take care of you."

The rain had soaked the small bundle through by the time the woman found him. Her trembling hands carefully lifted the wooden box, and she gasped softly at the sight of the newborn. The baby's cries were weak but insistent, his tiny face scrunched up against the cold. Pressing him close to her chest, she shielded him from the relentless downpour with her threadbare coat.

As she hurried home to her crumbling flat, her mind raced. Who could abandon such a fragile life? It wasn’t until she reached the safety of her dimly lit apartment and carefully unwrapped the blankets that she understood. Her heart clenched painfully as her eyes travelled over the tiny form: no arms, no legs—just the delicate torso of a child struggling to exist in a world that already seemed against him.

She wept then, not out of horror but out of heartbreak. How could anyone look at this innocent life and see only what he lacked? To her, the child was perfect, as if he had been entrusted to her for a reason.

"Adam," she whispered softly, cradling him close. "I’ll love you. I promise."

Life with Adam was not easy. The woman, whose name was Clara, worked tirelessly to care for him. Her rundown flat, with its peeling wallpaper and drafty windows, was barely a home, but she made it warm with her love. Adam grew, a curious and bright boy, but his care required more than Clara could often afford. Medical bills piled up alongside rent, utilities, and the cost of even the most basic groceries. Clara took on four jobs—cleaning houses, working nights at a diner, mending clothes for neighbours, and even scrubbing floors at the local church. She rarely slept, and exhaustion painted dark circles beneath her eyes, but she never once considered giving Adam up.

Her brother, Marcus, saw things differently. From the moment he laid eyes on Adam, he recoiled.

"You can’t do this, Clara," he told her during one of his visits. He avoided looking at Adam, even as the boy’s laughter echoed from his corner of the room, where he played with his few toys. "You don’t make enough to care for yourself, let alone a child like... that."

Clara’s jaw tightened, and she clenched her fists. "He’s not that, Marcus. He’s my son."

"He’s not your son," Marcus snapped, his voice sharp and unyielding. "And if you don’t face reality, you’re going to ruin yourself—and him."

As Adam grew older, the strain deepened. Clara found herself sacrificing meals to ensure Adam had what he needed. Every passing month brought more heated arguments with Marcus.

"You have to do something, Clara," he insisted, his frustration mounting. "You can’t keep this up. Look at you! You’re wasting away, and Adam—"

"Don’t you dare," she interrupted, her voice trembling but firm. "Don’t you dare say anything about Adam. He’s happy. He’s loved."

"Love doesn’t pay the bills!" Marcus slammed his hand on the table one evening, a newspaper clenched in his other hand.

"Look." He smoothed the page out and jabbed a finger at an advertisement. "He’ll fit in here."

Clara leaned forward, her stomach twisting as she read the bold black letters: Unique Acts Wanted! Join the Grand Circus!

"No." Her voice cracked, and tears blurred her vision. "I’m not giving up Adam. I can’t."

"He’s not yours, Clara," Marcus said harshly, leaning in closer. "He’s not your real son, and this—this circus will take care of him. They’re offering good money, Clara. You can finally breathe. You can get out of this hellhole."

Clara shook her head violently, her tears falling freely now. "I love him. He’s my son, Marcus! How can you even suggest this?"

"Because you’re drowning!" Marcus shouted. "Your bills have tripled, and I can’t keep bailing you out. Do you think I like this? Do you think I want this for you? For him? But you’ve left me no choice."

He slammed the newspaper shut. "The circus has already offered a pretty penny, Clara. They’ll be here in an hour."

The room fell silent. Clara stared at him, her chest heaving as the words sank in.

"You already made the deal," she whispered, her voice hollow. "You sold my son before even asking me."

Marcus didn’t flinch, though guilt flickered across his face. "You couldn’t keep him, Clara. You know that. It’s for the best."

When the circus master arrived, dressed in a shabby brown suit that reeked of damp wool and cheap cigars, Clara couldn’t bear to watch. She locked herself in her tiny bedroom, burying her face in her hands as Adam’s voice, bright and trusting, called out, "Mama? Mama!"

The sound broke her, and she sobbed into her hands, guilt and despair washing over her like a tidal wave. The door creaked open behind her, but she couldn’t look. She couldn’t face the moment when they would take her son from her.

Adam’s cries grew louder as they carried him away, his small voice calling for her one last time. "Mama! Don’t let them take me! Mama!"

The door slammed shut, and the apartment fell silent except for Clara’s muffled sobs. She couldn’t forgive herself—not now, not ever. Outside, the circus master handed Marcus a stack of bills, tipped his hat, and disappeared into the night with Adam.

Adam was only seven years old, and the last thing he saw as they bundled him into the wagon was the faint outline of the flat where his mama had hidden from him, her love buried beneath the weight of her guilt.

Fred saw Adam as nothing more than a grotesque goldmine. From the moment the boy entered the circus, Fred wasted no time in parading him onstage as the "Freak Child." Audiences gasped and whispered behind their hands as Adam was brought out, crawling clumsily across the stage. He would tumble and roll, his tiny, limbless body performing involuntary acts that Fred framed as entertainment. The crowd erupted in laughter, but it was a cruel, hollow sound that echoed like mockery through the circus tent.

Adam didn’t understand why they laughed or what they wanted from him. Fred told him, again and again, that if he worked hard enough, he could earn his way back to his mama. That promise was the tether to which Adam clung, the single thread of hope that kept him going. So, he smiled as best he could, dragged himself across the stage, and endured the taunts of strangers who saw him as nothing more than a curiosity. Fred counted the profits, pocketing thousands as word of Adam spread. People travelled from far and wide to see the "freak show child," and Fred’s pockets grew heavy with gold.

But as Adam grew older, the novelty wore off. The laughter faded, and the crowds thinned. Adam tried to do more, to sew costumes for himself or add flair to his appearances, but it wasn’t enough. Fred, once gloating and indulgent, became cruel. When Adam asked about returning home, Fred sneered and spat venomous words.

"Your mother doesn’t want you," he snarled. "Why do you think she sold you to me?"

The words shattered Adam’s fragile hope, leaving him trembling with disbelief.

"That’s not true," he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks. "She loves me. She said so."

"Love?" Fred barked a bitter laugh. "If she loved you, she’d be here. Face it—you’re nothing but a disappointment."

When the audiences dwindled to nothing, Fred’s patience ran out entirely. He began locking Adam away between shows, confining him to trunks or cupboards like a discarded toy. The other performers, jealous of the attention Adam had once received, delighted in his misery. They stuffed insects into his hiding spots, laughing cruelly as Adam screamed and thrashed in fear.

The performers’ cruelty escalated. They told Adam that if he could learn real tricks—balancing on a ball, juggling—Fred would forgive him and send him back to his mama.

"You want to see her, don’t you?" they cooed mockingly.

Desperate, Adam begged them to teach him, clinging to the shred of hope they dangled before him. They agreed, but it was all a cruel prank. They had him perform ridiculous stunts, like spinning aimlessly or pretending to dance, things that only drew eye-rolls from the sparse audiences.

Their taunts grew sharper. "Look at you!" they sneered. "Even Fred doesn’t want you now."

Adam’s spirit crumbled under the weight of their ridicule. He became more isolated, barely able to move, spending his days crawling about like a shadow of the boy he once was.

Then came the prank that changed everything. One night, the performers drugged Adam, carrying him to a mechanic under the pretence of "fixing" him. They told the mechanic to give Adam what he needed to "truly perform." The mechanic, unburdened by ethics, created something monstrous: a spider-like lower body of sharp, mechanical legs and two grotesque, human-like arms grafted to Adam’s torso. When Adam awoke, he screamed, the pain of his transformation overwhelming him. He stared in horror at his new body, unable to comprehend what had been done to him.

When Adam stumbled back to the circus, the performers recoiled in terror. Screams filled the tent as Fred confronted him, his face twisted in rage.

"You can’t stay here," Fred growled. "You’re scaring the customers away."

Rocks flew through the air, one striking Adam’s face and drawing blood. Broken and defeated, Adam fled into the streets, his new legs clattering awkwardly beneath him.

The world was no kinder. Wherever Adam went, people screamed, throwing stones or kicking him when he stumbled. Groups of children tormented him, pushing him into the mud and calling him a monster. Adam learned to avoid the streets altogether, hiding in shadowy alleyways where the world couldn’t see him.

One bitterly cold winter evening, Adam caught sight of her. Clara, his mama, walked down the street bundled in a worn coat, her breath misting in the icy air. Adam’s heart leapt.

 "Mama!" he called out, his voice raw with emotion. He shuffled closer, the mechanical limbs hidden beneath his tattered cloak.

Clara turned, her eyes widening as she recognized the voice.

"Adam?" she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. She ran toward him, her arms outstretched. "Oh, Adam! My boy, I’ve missed you so much."

She cupped his face, her hands trembling. "I’m so sorry. I never should have let them take you."

Adam’s heart swelled with joy.

"Mama," he said softly. "You still love me?"

"Of course, I love you," she said, smiling through her tears. "Come home with me. Please."

Overwhelmed with relief, Adam stepped forward, his mechanical legs emerging from the shadows. Clara’s smile froze. Her eyes darted down, taking in the grotesque appendages, and her face twisted in horror. She stumbled back, her hands flying to her mouth.

"Stay away from me!" she screamed, her voice sharp and panicked. "You’re a monster!"

Adam’s chest tightened, his voice trembling. "Mama, it’s still me. I’m still Adam. Please—"

"No!" she cried, backing away. "My brother was right. You’re not my son anymore. You’re a freak!"

Her words stabbed into him like knives, and as she turned and ran, Adam collapsed onto the cold, wet pavement. He watched her retreating form disappear into the night, his green eyes overflowing with tears. For the first time, Adam truly believed the world’s cruellest lie: that he was a monster.

“Mama!” Adam cried out, his voice cracking in desperation as his mechanical limbs scraped against the cobblestones. Rainwater pooled beneath him, chilling his exposed skin as he dragged his new, unwieldy body forward.

“Mama, please! It’s me!”

His heavy, spider-like legs clattered awkwardly, the sharp edges catching on broken bricks and discarded trash. He pushed through the pain, his mind spinning in confusion. Why had she run away? Why had her warm embrace turned to horror? He kept calling, his voice hoarse and shaking.

 “Mama, don’t go! Why are you running? What’s wrong with me?”

But she was gone, her footsteps lost in the sound of the night’s cold wind. Adam came to a halt, his body trembling as exhaustion took hold. He panted, the weight of his altered body bearing down on him. For the first time, a terrible thought crept into his mind: Am I… terrifying?

He turned his head slowly, and his breath hitched in his throat. In the cracked and dirt-smeared windows of the alleyway, he caught his reflection—and froze. His pale, gaunt face, streaked with tears, looked back at him. But beneath it, his body was something out of a waking nightmare. The twisted mechanical legs writhed like the limbs of a spider, their movements unnatural and jagged. The human-like mechanical arms dangled stiffly at his sides, their sharp joints clicking with every tiny motion.

Adam’s lips parted, a small, broken sound escaping him before it grew into a guttural scream. His cry echoed down the alleyway, raw and filled with anguish. He stumbled backward, his mechanical limbs tangling and twisting around one another. The reflection seemed to sneer at him, its grotesque form mocking his existence.

“No! No, no, no, no!” Adam screamed, clawing at his face as though he could tear away the monster he’d become.

He backed into a pile of trash bins, the loud clatter startling him, but he couldn’t stop. He fell into the heap, his body writhing as he tried to escape his reflection. His vision blurred, the alley spinning as tears clouded his eyes.

And then, amidst the chaos in his mind, he heard it.

Laughter.

At first, it was faint, like an echo from the farthest corners of the night. Then it grew louder, twisting into cruel murmurs that seemed to fill the alleyway. Adam’s eyes darted around, searching for the source, but there was no one. Yet the voices came closer, surrounding him, suffocating him.

“Look at it,” a voice sneered, sharp and cold.

“Such a hideous thing,” another whispered, mocking and vile.

Among the voices, he swore he heard Clara’s. Her gentle tones, now laced with disgust, hissed through the darkness. “That’s not my son. That’s not my Adam. He’s just a monster.”

“No! No, Mama, it’s not true!” Adam cried, clawing at the ground as if he could pull himself out of the nightmare. But the laughter only grew louder, the whispers more venomous.

The last thing he saw before his body gave out was the faint reflection of the monster in the window, its twisted limbs still moving as if alive on their own. His vision darkened, the noises fading into a distant hum as he collapsed fully into the trash heap. For the first time in a long time, unconsciousness claimed him—a mercy, a reprieve from the endless torment.

Adam awoke to the dim, grey light of early morning. Frost clung to the edges of the alley, and his breath came in shallow, visible puffs. The cold seeped into his skin, aching deep in his bones. He blinked slowly, his vision clearing to reveal the broken remains of the trash bins around him. His body ached, bruises blooming across his torso where his mechanical arms and legs had dug into him during his frantic movements.

He tried to move, but pain shot through him, forcing him to stop and gasp. He lay there for a long moment, the memories of the night before swirling in fragments. Laughter, whispers, the reflection in the window… His heart clenched as he thought of Clara, her scream of horror and the words that had crushed him.

But there was a fog in his mind, a haze that blurred the worst of it. He couldn’t quite piece together what had happened after he’d seen himself. Perhaps it was a blessing. Perhaps it was the only kindness the universe would grant him: the chance not to remember.

As the sun rose higher, Adam slowly pushed himself upright, his mechanical limbs clanking beneath him. The alley was silent now, but the chill in the air matched the emptiness he felt inside. His green eyes, dulled with grief, stared blankly ahead. There was no one waiting for him. No home to return to. No warmth left in the world.

For the first time, Adam realized he was truly, utterly alone and in so much agony that he couldn’t see straight…

~#~

Adam’s blurry vision struggled to adjust as he awoke again, the dim, watery light of early dawn piercing through the cardboard boxes that formed his makeshift shelter. His body ached—burning, twisting pain radiated from where the mechanical spider limbs connected to his small, frail frame. His arms trembled, the muscles raw and overused, while the grinding of his prosthetic appendages sent jolts of agony up his spine. Every movement was a reminder of his existence as a patchwork creature, a monster forced into a form not his own.

As he shifted, the faint, cruel laughter from a distant group echoed through the alleyway. He stifled a whimper and pressed himself further into the shadows, pulling a torn olive shawl closer around his body. The fabric, stained with rust and streaked with dried and fresh blood, clung to him like a second skin, hiding most of the horrors beneath. Yet, no matter how much he tried to cover himself, the grotesque clicking and buzzing of his mechanical limbs always betrayed him.

This time, though, something was different.

A shadow fell across the alleyway, long and unnervingly human, but twisted at the edges as if it didn’t quite belong. Adam’s button-green eyes blinked, staring at the figure emerging from the fog—a man clad entirely in black. His form was lanky, almost skeletal, with an impossibly tall top hat that added to his already looming presence. A feather striped in lime green and maroon jutted jauntily from the hat, swaying as he moved. His cloak, lined with vibrant green accents, swirled like smoke around his legs, which were clad in leather pants tucked into knee-high boots that clicked softly against the wet stones.

Adam squinted through his haze of fear and exhaustion, trying to make sense of the figure’s face, but it was shadowed beneath the brim of the hat. Only a pair of eyes, unnervingly sharp and glowing a vibrant lime green, pierced the darkness, their gaze locked onto him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“Well, well, well,” the man said, his voice warm yet unnervingly buoyant, as though every word teetered on the edge of a laugh. His accent was unfamiliar, an odd melody of lilting tones and sharp consonants that Adam couldn’t place.

“What have we here? The infamous spider monster of the alleyway. My, my… the stories didn’t do you justice.”

Adam froze, his limbs locking in place. The man’s gaze swept over him, lingering on his mechanical appendages. He whistled low and slow, crouching slightly to better inspect Adam’s hunched form. “Fascinating. I’ve never seen anything like this before. You’re a marvel, my boy—a true masterpiece of horror and ingenuity.”

Adam flinched, his shoulders hunching as he tried to shrink back further into the darkness. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice cracked, and the words died in his throat.

The man raised a hand, waving dismissively. “Ah, no need to speak! It’s fine, really. Don’t strain yourself. I’ll do the talking.”

His grin widened, teeth flashing unnaturally white in the gloom. “I’ve heard all about you, you know. The monster that lurks in the shadows, kidnaps children, and haunts the nightmares of this miserable little town. Quite the reputation, eh?”

Adam’s eyes widened, and he whined softly, shaking his head in protest. The man chuckled, the sound low and rich, like a cat purring after a cruel joke. “Oh, I know it’s all rubbish. A load of bollocks, isn’t it? People love their scary stories. Makes their mundane lives feel a little less dull.”

He tilted his head, his grin softening, though the glow of his lime-green eyes remained sharp. “But I couldn’t help myself. I had to see the ‘monster’ for myself. Imagine my surprise when I discovered… you.”

Adam stared at him in confusion, his button eyes reflecting the faint light.

The man straightened, clasping his hands together in exaggerated delight. “You’re Adam, aren’t you? The boy from Cowshuff Circus—the little crawler who used to scuttle across the stage for the crowd’s amusement? Oh, yes, I’ve heard the stories. That’s you, isn’t it?”

Adam recoiled slightly, a sharp cough escaping him as the man’s breath—strange and sickly sweet, like overripe fruit—wafted too close. His limbs clattered as he tried to pull away, but the man only laughed again, his voice tinged with childlike glee.

“I want you to join my circus,” the man declared suddenly, throwing his arms wide. “The Hazbin Circus! It’s going to be the most spectacular, shocking, dazzling show the world has ever seen, and you, my dear boy, will be its first star. The first Hazbin! How exciting is that?”

Adam said nothing, his silence more telling than words. He stared at the man with an expression that hovered between disbelief and exhaustion.

The man’s grin faltered slightly, and he crouched again, this time meeting Adam’s gaze on his level. His voice dropped; the cheerful tone replaced by something softer, almost tender.

“What do you want, Adam? Tell me. What is it you truly want?”

Adam blinked slowly; his button eyes glossy with unshed tears. He hesitated, his voice cracking as he finally whispered, “I… I want to go home. I want the pain to stop.”

The man tilted his head thoughtfully, his grin creeping back onto his face. “Ah, yes. The pain. Of course.”

He stood suddenly, clapping his hands together. “We can work something out. You perform for me—just one show, maybe two—and I’ll take away the pain. And as for going home… we’ll see about that. What do you say?”

Adam tilted his head, his mechanical limbs shifting uneasily beneath him.

“You… can make the pain stop?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

“Absolutely,” the man said, his grin splitting his face in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. “Trust me. Just come to my Hazbin Hotel—well, mansion, really—by dawn. It’s where all the magic happens.”

Before Adam could ask more, the man turned, sweeping his cloak around him as he strode to the alley’s exit.

“I am your new ringmaster, Zestial,” he called over his shoulder, tipping his hat. “It will be my pleasure to assist you.”

The building loomed before Adam like a sleeping giant, its spires piercing the ashen sky. He felt insignificant, an insect scuttling beneath its oppressive shadow. Towering and labyrinthine, the mansion seemed to shift as he stared, its silhouette flickering with an almost predatory stillness. Thousands of glassy windows stared back at him, cold and unblinking. On the left, the panes shimmered with vivid, kaleidoscopic colors, a cascade of stained glass depicting fragmented, unknowable scenes. The right wing was a stark contrast—its tall, arched windows shielded by intricate Victorian iron bars, as though guarding secrets too terrible to escape.

It was a house out of one of his mama’s storybooks, a fairytale palace draped in magic and menace. Six floors stretched upward, each crowned with mismatched tiled roofs, the central section morphing into a towering clock face that ticked solemnly, its hands crawling forward like prisoners of time. Above it, a thin bell tower rose into the mist, its enormous brass bell swinging with each deep, resonant chime that rippled through the gardens like a command. The sound didn’t just fill the air—it seemed to seep into Adam’s bones, vibrating against his mechanical limbs as if urging him closer.

Sprawling gardens encircled the mansion, like sirens beckoning him to explore. The front garden was a sea of ruby-red roses, their petals so vivid they seemed to bleed into the night. They were unnervingly perfect, not a single leaf out of place, their thorns glistening as though freshly sharpened. For a fleeting moment, Adam was captivated. He wanted to see more—the other gardens, the hidden corners of this enchanting, ominous estate—but the sharp tug of his mechanical prosthetics snapped him back to reality. The weight of the monstrous appendages dragged at his thin body, their grinding and clicking a constant reminder of the unnatural pain tethered to his every step.

Exhausted, Adam dragged himself toward the double doors. Each scrape of his spider-like limbs across the pale stone echoed unnaturally in the cold air, the sound a metallic scream that seemed swallowed by the mansion’s silence. His mechanical hands, jittering with every motion, reached for the ornate rose-carved handles. The glass within the doors shimmered faintly, its surface etched with thorny vines and blooming roses that almost seemed to shift under his touch.

He hesitated, staring up at the doors. His shawl, once a deep olive, was now a ragged patchwork of rust and bloodstains, draped over his battered form. Beneath it, layers of filthy, yellowed bandages clung to his limbs, wrapping him like a grotesque gift. They hid the worst of him—the jagged scars, the wounds that never seemed to heal—but they couldn’t hide the spools of white thread embedded in his back, tiny reminders of the puppet-like horror he had become. He didn’t dare look too closely at himself; even the faintest glimpse of his reflection sent a shiver of revulsion through his body.

The pain was always there, a cruel symphony of burning nerves and grinding joints that turned every breath into an effort. His insides churned, twisting as if they were being wrung dry by unseen hands, but Adam had learned to endure. What other choice did he have?

Summoning the last of his strength, he knocked on the rose-carved door. His mechanical hand struck the wood with a dull, rattling thud. Nothing. Silence greeted him, stretching longer than seemed natural. He lifted his hand again, only for the door to groan open on its own, the sound like a sigh from the house itself.

The air inside the mansion was cooler, heavier, as if the building was alive and breathing around him. Unlike the rose-themed exterior, the welcome lounge was a shrine to the moon. Deep purples and shimmering blues dominated the space, painting the room in a twilight haze. The walls were adorned with murals of night skies and crescent moons that seemed to shift when Adam wasn’t looking directly at them. Stars glittered faintly in the painted voids, their soft glow mirrored by the crystal chandeliers that hung precariously from above, dripping with silver and glass like frozen tears.

The floor was obsidian, polished to a mirror-like shine that reflected distorted fragments of Adam’s spider-like limbs as he hesitantly stepped forward. A grand staircase dominated the far side of the room, its banisters carved from ebony and inlaid with glowing lunar motifs that pulsed faintly as he approached. Velvet drapes framed the tall windows, their fabric swaying ever so slightly despite the air being still. It was beautiful, hauntingly so, but there was an unmistakable tension in the air, an invisible weight pressing down on Adam’s shoulders.

His mechanical appendages buzzed and whirred, their noise jarring against the stillness of the room. Each sound seemed louder, sharper here, as though the mansion amplified it to remind him of what he was. Adam froze, unsure if he should move further. The room felt like it was waiting—watching. He didn’t belong here, that much was certain, but Zestial had told him to come.

The man’s words echoed in his mind as he stepped cautiously into the lounge, the faint, unnatural hum of the mansion’s air pressing against his ears. Each step was delicate, his movements slow and deliberate, as though one wrong move might awaken something he couldn’t face. And yet, despite the unease that crawled over his skin, there was a strange pull to the place—a magic he couldn’t ignore, one that whispered promises too tempting to resist.

Adam wobbled further into the dimly lit lounge, the soft hum of his mechanical limbs a steady reminder of the unnatural state of his existence. Each step sent a jolt of pain radiating through his fragile frame, yet the beauty of the place urged him onward. The small corridor widened, its walls narrowing and then blooming into an expansive space that took his breath away.

At the centre of the room stood a round table carved from dark, polished wood, its surface gleaming faintly in the faint moonlight streaming through the high arched windows. On either side of the table, grand spiral staircases wound upward, their twisting forms like frozen whirlpools of dark iron and lacquered oak. The intricate railings above formed a fence of smooth wooden beams, each panel bearing carvings of the moon’s phases. Crescent, full, waning, waxing—their intricate designs seemed to shimmer with a faint glow. Adam imagined how moonlight or sunlight filtering through the upper windows might cast enchanting patterns across the room below, making it a shifting, celestial dance of shadows and light.

As Adam neared the table, the faint scent of flowers reached him, a soft, earthy contrast to the mechanical oil and rust he had grown used to. His green button eyes fell upon a delicate vase resting at the table's centre. It was slender and graceful, made of deep blue glass that caught and refracted the light like trapped starlight. Arranged within it were six flowers, each striking in its solitary beauty: a dahlia with layered, jewel-toned petals; a cheerful, golden sunflower; a marigold that burned like embers; a drooping bluebell, quiet yet captivating; a clematis vine with its elegant, twining stems; and the black bat flower—dark, unsettling, and impossibly alluring.

The flowers seemed placed with intention; their vibrant petals almost glowing against the dim surroundings. Adam stared at them in silent awe, a pang of something he couldn’t name tugging at him. They meant something. He didn’t know how he knew that, but it was certain. The colours, the arrangement—it was no random decoration. It whispered a story he couldn’t yet decipher.

One of his mechanical arms twitched and jerked as he reached out, the movement accompanied by a harsh clinking sound. He stopped abruptly, his eyes catching on a series of faintly scratched words along the base of the vase. Tilting his head, Adam squinted, his green button eyes narrowing as he struggled to read the inscription.

The dahlia is a dancer.

Adam���s gaze lingered on the dahlia’s layered petals, their vibrant colours fanning out like the skirts of a performer mid-twirl. It exuded elegance, artistry, and grace, a flower that could only belong to someone who danced with their soul.

The sunflower, a happy clown.

He traced the sunflower’s cheerful face with his gaze, its bright yellow petals bursting outward like a painted grin. It radiated joy, a beacon of laughter and light, reminding him of the clowns who once brought audiences to tears of mirth.

The bluebell, a sad clown.

Adam’s gaze fell to the drooping bluebell. Its soft, melancholy shape tugged at him, its quiet, understated beauty carrying a sorrowful weight. It spoke of hidden sadness, of smiles that masked pain.

Clematis, an acrobat.

The vine twisted and curved, its structure effortlessly elegant. It climbed and reached as though in defiance of gravity, much like the acrobats who once defied the odds, bending and contorting themselves in graceful displays of agility.

The marigold, a lion tamer.

The fiery marigold stood out, its bold hues suggesting a courage Adam had only ever seen in tamers who dared face the ferocity of beasts. Its brightness felt like a challenge to the dark, a fierce defiance.

Adam’s gaze faltered as he reached the final flower.

The black bat flower, a spider crawler.

His lips trembled as he read the words, biting down hard to silence a whimper. The strange, spidery petals of the black bat flower with its long, filaments resembled something out of a nightmare. Its dark, unsettling beauty spoke of creatures that lurked in shadows, creeping with unnatural grace. It was him. It was what he had become.

He froze, his breath caught in his throat as a heavy silence settled around him. The flowers were no accident. Each was a role, a story. They were meant to be here, just as he was, and yet they felt like a judgment—an accusation. His trembling arm retreated, the mechanical joints clinking loudly as he pulled it back.

He stared at the black bat flower, the shadow of its petals stretching like claws across the polished wood of the table. Something deep inside him stirred, a cold, inescapable truth. He was the monster of this story, the spider crawling at the edge of the stage. And no flower could mask that.

The round table was draped in a ghostly, netted fabric, its edges fraying like cobwebs in the dim light. Arranged upon it in a perfect half-moon arc were six keys, each adorned with a delicate flower charm. They gleamed faintly, like tiny fragments of secrets bound to the unnatural air of the mansion. Adam’s green button eyes zeroed in on the black bat flower key almost instantly. His breath hitched as a deep, hollow ache settled in his chest. He didn’t want it—he knew it was his. It was always meant to be his.

Adam’s mechanical arms jerked as he tried to reach for it, their grinding and clanking loud in the oppressive silence. He froze mid-motion, a sharp grunt escaping his lips as a surge of pain shot through his frail body. His face twisted into a grimace, tears stinging his eyes. His nerves felt like they were on fire, the pain relentless, an unending torment that made his very existence unbearable. He sniffled softly, his chest heaving, the urge to collapse into the darkened corners clawing at him.

“Zestial promised,” Adam thought desperately, clutching at the thin thread of hope. “He promised the pain would stop if I came here. If I performed in his circus... If I did what he wanted.”

Zestial had promised him something else, too—he would send Adam home. But the pain... The pain was still there, alive and writhing under his skin like a thousand needles.

His spider-like prosthetic legs trembled, buckling under him, until at last he crumpled to the cold, hard floor before the table. A strangled wail tore from his throat, echoing in the vast emptiness of the room. He bowed his head, his button eyes squeezed shut against the endless, gnawing agony.

Then something rolled off the table above him. It struck the crown of his head with a hollow thunk and bounced to the ground. Adam flinched and let out a pitiful whimper, his mechanical hand awkwardly rubbing the sore spot. He glanced down and froze.

A bottle.

It was large and heavy, its smooth surface split into stark halves of white and black. Strange, unreadable words spiralled around its surface, but Adam’s focus was immediately drawn to a single detail: a medical sticker plastered on the side. His name was printed there, bold and unmistakable.

Adam.

The sight of it made his blood run cold. His throat tightened as he picked the bottle up, turning it over and over in his hands. It was for him? How could it be for him? His spider-like limbs clinked and wobbled as he forced himself upright, his body trembling with the effort. On the table now, two pieces of paper caught his eye—one crisp and ornate, the other small and yellowed. Adam frowned, his gaze flickering between the bottle and the yellowed scrap of paper before his mechanical hand reached out to grasp it.

The note was short and simple, but the words sent an icy shiver down his spine.

‘Adam,

Take three pills in the morning and in the evening. It will take the pain away. You can take them with or without food or water.

Oh, and another thing Adam. Let’s keep the pills between just the two of us. We wouldn’t want anyone finding out about them.

Signed, Zestial.’

Adam stared at the note, his lips trembling. His hands shook as he folded the paper, sliding it into the hidden recesses of his tattered shawl. With hesitant fingers, he shook the bottle, the sound of rattling pills echoing like tiny bones in a crypt. The lid was stiff, refusing to yield at first, until his prosthetic hand managed to wrench it free. Three pills spilled onto his palm, their yellow colour sickly and unnatural. He brought them closer, sniffing cautiously, but they gave off no scent.

The constant, gnawing pain in his body left him with no room for doubt. What else did he have to lose? Slowly, almost ritualistically, Adam tipped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry. The taste was nothing, the act mechanical. He waited.

Seconds passed. Then minutes.

Nothing.

The pain still raged through him, as relentless as before. His body burned, his joints ached, and his veins felt like they were filled with shards of ice. Adam whimpered, clutching the bottle to his chest as though it might offer him solace. Zestial had said the pills would work. They had to. Maybe by tomorrow, he’d wake up without the pain. Maybe by morning, he would be whole again.

Shoving the bottle into one of the many hidden pockets in his shawl, Adam’s gaze fell back to the black bat flower key. He reached for it with trembling hands, the charm’s delicate petals stark against the crude, jagged edges of his prosthetics. The key itself was strange, its shape irregular and unsettling, as if it had been carved from something ancient and half-forgotten. He chewed his bottom lip nervously, the sharp taste of blood faint on his tongue.

A sudden wave of dizziness crashed over Adam, gripping him with an invisible force. His knees buckled slightly as he staggered sideways, one mechanical hand rising to clutch his head. His spider-like prosthetic legs scraped and skittered against the polished floor, struggling to anchor him upright. The mansion’s lounge twisted and spun around him, a disorienting kaleidoscope of deep purples, blues, and glinting moonlight patterns. He wobbled unsteadily, bumping into the left staircase with a sharp clang.

Adam let out a soft, pained whine, his green button eyes fluttering as he fought to steady his vision. For a moment, it felt as though the world might slip away entirely, dragging him down into an abyss he feared he would not escape. But slowly, the spinning ceased, the edges of his sight sharpened, and the looming sense of vertigo ebbed.

Breathing heavily, Adam sniffed, a flicker of relief breaking through his panic as he glanced around the room. Everything seemed to have returned to normal. Or so it seemed.

That fragile sense of relief shattered in an instant.

The string-like hairs on Adam’s patched and scarred skin prickled with sudden unease. The air in the room turned cold, and an eerie creak cut through the silence. His gaze snapped toward the double rose-themed doors just as they began to groan and shift, their intricate glass panes glowing faintly in the dim light.

They moved.

On their own.

Adam’s breath hitched, and a gasp escaped his lips. His mechanical limbs jerked into motion, dragging his weary frame toward the darkened space beneath the staircase. Desperation clawed at him as he pressed himself into the shadows, his heart hammering like a drumbeat against his ribcage. He huddled there, his stitched shawl brushing the floor, as the doors swung open with deliberate slowness, revealing...

A figure.

Slim and lithe, the figure stepped through the doorway with an air of quiet surprise. They paused, one hand resting on the rose-carved handle, tilting their head as they regarded the peculiar way the doors had opened.

“Huh,” the figure muttered softly, the sound rich and lilting, sending a shiver down Adam’s spine. They tested the handle, wiggling it experimentally. “I wonder what trick this is.”

Adam stared, his button eyes wide and unblinking.

The figure appeared to be a man, though his appearance was far from ordinary. His skin was smooth and pale, almost porcelain-like, with rosy cheeks that seemed to glow faintly under the cold light. His hair—stingy yet soft-looking—was a peculiar combination of pale blonde and coral streaks, slicked back into a ducktail hairstyle with one playful tuft rebelliously sticking out.

But it was his eyes that ensnared Adam. They were unlike anything he had ever seen: light yellow on the outer edges, but fading into a deep, burning red at their centers. The strange, fiery hues radiated an unearthly beauty that made Adam’s chest ache, though he could not say why.

The man’s mouth, however, was something out of a nightmare. His lips were stitched at the corners with white thread, the stitches pulling his mouth into a wide, almost mocking smile. Behind that unsettling grin, Adam caught a glimpse of sharp teeth, glinting like tiny daggers.

His clothing was no less strange—a jumpsuit adorned with chaotic diamonds in bold reds, yellows, blues, and blacks. Around his neck was a grand Elizabethan ruff, as white as freshly fallen snow, and his wrists were framed with frilly cuffs. A leather belt cinched his waist, a small pouch resting on one side. Something about him suggested danger, a trickster’s chaos barely contained beneath the flamboyant attire.

Yet, despite the eeriness of his stitched smile, his eyes held a flicker of something else curiosity, perhaps. Or mischief.

Adam swallowed hard, the noise audibles even to his own ears. He’d seen doll-like figures before, plastered on posters and advertisements. They had grinned from cracked television screens, promising thrills and wonders in the hazy neon glow of carnival lights. But this man—this doll person—was real. And he was here.

And Adam? Adam was nothing special. He wasn’t a doll, wasn’t a marvel of craftsmanship. He was a monster now—stitched together, broken, twisted into something barely human.

The figure’s yellow-red eyes flicked toward the staircase, scanning the shadows with a precision that sent Adam’s heart into his throat. It felt as though those eyes might pierce the darkness, find him cowering like a wounded animal, and drag him into the light.

“I know you’re there,” the man said softly, his voice a silken thread that wove through the air with unnatural ease.

Adam froze, every nerve in his body screaming at him to stay silent, stay hidden. But his mechanical limbs betrayed him, releasing a faint, telltale whir.

The doll man’s lips curled into a sharper smile, his stitches tugging slightly.

“Come now,” he coaxed, his tone a playful melody tinged with something darker. “Hiding doesn’t suit you. And besides—”

He crouched low, his sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. “I don’t bite.”

He paused, then chuckled, the sound low and disarming. “Well, not unless you ask.”

Adam trembled, his spider limbs clicking nervously against the cold stone floor. He didn’t know whether to run or crawl forward. Every instinct in him screamed for flight, but something in the man’s tone... something in the way he spoke...

It felt as though the man were a part of this place, an extension of its strange, surreal beauty. And for reasons Adam couldn’t explain, a part of him wanted to know what would happen if he stepped into the light.

Adam drew in a shaky breath, the weight of inevitability settling over him like a damp shroud. There was no point in hiding now—the doll man had already spotted him, his strange, burning eyes scanning the shadows with unnerving precision. Resigned, Adam’s gaze fell to his own form, his patched-together frame a grotesque patchwork of scars, wires, and the mechanical limbs that whirred softly at his sides. A swell of dread churned in his chest. Would this man—no, this legend—be repulsed by him? Would he recoil, disgust etched into his too-perfect face?

Steeling himself, Adam’s spider-like limbs clicked against the floor as he began inching forward, his movements halting and unsteady. The mechanical joints released a faint hum with every step, a sound that seemed deafening in the vast, silent lounge. Slowly, he emerged from the shadows, his green button eyes fixed on the floor, refusing to meet the doll man’s gaze.

As he stepped into the light, a dreadful realization sank in, cold and heavy.

This wasn’t just anyone.

It was Lucifer Morningstar.

The name hit Adam like a slap, and for a moment, his legs threatened to give way beneath him. Lucifer Morningstar—star of the Hullabaloo Circus, a name spoken with reverence and awe across the circuit. He was a dazzling performer, famed for his silk-blond hair and infectious charm, a man whose blue button eyes had never betrayed an ounce of sorrow despite the horrors he’d survived. After the disaster that destroyed the Hullabaloo Circus, Lucifer had become a legend, a tragic figure whose sole purpose was to find the one responsible for the devastation of his home.

And now, he was standing here, in the Hazbin Circus.

Adam felt small. Worthless. He was no one, just a broken thing cobbled together by desperation and pain. Compared to Lucifer, he didn’t belong here. And yet, there was no turning back now.

Lucifer’s button eyes widened slightly as Adam stepped fully into view. There was no immediate revulsion on his face, but Adam kept his gaze firmly averted, unwilling to risk meeting the other man’s fiery stare.

“M-my name is Adam,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, strained and trembling with uncertainty. “I’ve heard a lot about you, M-Mister Morningstar, and, um...”

Lucifer tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. He shuffled one foot against the carpet, the faint scrapes an oddly human gesture from someone so otherworldly.

“Oh, Adam,” he murmured, as if tasting the name on his tongue. His voice was melodic, a strange mixture of curiosity and detached amusement. “What... what are you doing here?”

Adam hesitated, forcing himself to glance up at Lucifer’s face. The doll man’s expression wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t warm either. It was as if he was weighing something about Adam, a calculation hidden behind those bright, stitched features.

“Ah, um... I-I’m... flattered?” Adam muttered, fumbling for the words. “The host invited me to... uh...”

He trailed off, his nerves catching up to him. The reality of why he was here pressed down like a lead weight: he had to perform. To survive. To escape this pain that gnawed at him endlessly.

Lucifer arched a brow, his curiosity sharpening. “Honoured to perform, are we?”

Adam nodded quickly, his movements jerky. “Y-yes... that’s right. I was... invited to join the Hazbin Circus.”

His voice faltered, but he pressed on. “Um, this was left f-for us... this play for us. I haven’t had a chance to fully read it yet, but it—it’s on the table. M-maybe we could prepare together? I-I mean...”

Before Adam could finish, Lucifer turned sharply on his heel, striding toward the table with a grace that seemed almost theatrical. He snatched up the parchment and unfurled it, his mismatched button eyes scanning the inked words with an intensity that made Adam’s chest tighten.

“Five children go to the park,” Lucifer read aloud, his voice tinged with an edge of intrigue. “They arrive excited but leave with long faces.”

He lowered the parchment, glancing at Adam with a wry smile. “This is certainly... interesting. But, you see, it’s already quite late.”

Adam nodded automatically, his voice small. “Of course, of course... t-tomorrow, perhaps?”

Lucifer held the parchment out to him, his expression thoughtful. “Adam, this play needs at least five actors. There are only two of us here. We can’t hope to perform it alone.”

Adam’s hands trembled slightly as he took the parchment, his green button eyes skimming the cryptic words. His voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible. “They’ll come. Someone will come. Why don’t we wait until everyone is here?”

Lucifer hummed softly, plucking a matchbox from the table. He struck a match with practiced ease, lighting the candles one by one. As the flickering flames illuminated the space, his gaze fell to the vase of flowers at the table’s centre. He pinched the clematis flower between his fingers, scoffing softly.

“Useless,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes before turning his attention back to the room. Picking up a freshly lit candle, he wandered past Adam, his curiosity piqued by the sprawling mansion.

“I plan to explore this place tomorrow,” Lucifer said, his tone lighter, almost playful. “We’ve never lived in such a grand place before, have we?”

“That’s true... M-Mister Morningstar,” Adam stammered, glancing at him nervously.

Lucifer turned back, fixing him with an amused smile.

“It’s Lucifer,” he corrected gently. “You can call me Lucifer.”

He gestured toward the parchment in Adam’s hands. “If you’re not interested in a tour, why not pick a role and practice? The last child... that one would suit you.”

Adam’s gaze dropped to the parchment again, the inked words swimming before his tired eyes. The final role did seem... easier. Less time in the spotlight. Less time for others to laugh at him.

Lucifer bowed slightly, his movements as graceful as a dancer’s. “Good night, Adam. It was nice to meet you.”

Adam’s heart clenched painfully.

“N-nice to meet you too,” he murmured, his voice barely audible as Lucifer turned and ascended the stairs.

Before disappearing from sight, Lucifer glanced back one last time, bowing fully with the flair of a true star.

“Good night, Adam,” he said softly, his voice lingering like the fading notes of a lullaby.

“G-good night, M-Mister Morningstar—uh, I mean... Lucifer,” Adam whispered, watching until the doll man vanished into the shadows above, leaving him alone once more in the cavernous lounge.

Adam waited in the heavy silence, his eyes fixed on the faint golden glow of Lucifer’s candle as it flickered out of sight. Only when the last glimmer disappeared did he let out a trembling breath, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion. Every inch of his patched-together body ached, a dull, gnawing pain that never let him rest. He wanted nothing more than to lie down, to sink into unconsciousness and hope that, by morning, the relentless burn and throb would ease.

But instead, his gaze fell back to the parchment on the table. The script. Their script. Zestial’s instructions were clear—this was the play they were to perform. Adam reread the lines, his mechanical limbs softly humming as he leaned closer. The final child. That role was a mirror of his reality—a figure twisted by their reflection, monstrous and malformed. It was a role meant for someone like him, someone grotesque, someone who belonged in the shadows.

And yet...

Adam’s button eyes lingered on the description of the paired children. Childhood lovers, their bond unbroken even in the face of darkness. Something deep within him ached, an unspoken wish clawing to the surface. He wanted that. Not the ridicule, not the disgust, but the tender devotion those characters shared. It was a foolish hope—he was no romantic lead, no beloved figure worthy of affection.

He whimpered softly, lowering his head in shame. What was he even thinking? Dreams like that weren’t for creatures like him. The final child, the broken one—that was his fate. It always had been.

The sound of a voice startled him, soft and almost hesitant.

“Excuse me? Is anybody here?”

Adam’s whole body jerked, his mechanical legs clumsily skittering as he scrambled away from the table. His limbs caught on the carpet, and he nearly toppled over in his rush to hide. He glanced toward the rose-themed doors just as they closed with an ominous thud, revealing a slender figure standing in the entryway.

A doll.

She was breathtaking, her pale porcelain skin glowing faintly in the dim candlelight. Golden, thread-like hair cascaded down her back, braided neatly to her ankles. Her large button eyes, cross-stitched with fine black thread, glimmered with an eerie depth. Mascara streaked her cheeks like faint tears, and her lips, painted in a soft pink, curved in a delicate expression of surprise. She wore a rich purple-and-pink fur coat, a coral pink leotard with intricate golden details, and satin slippers laced with gold trim. Yet her beauty was marred, her left forearm and right leg torn to reveal cotton stuffing spilling from within.

The moment their eyes met, her button eyes widened in fright. She released a shaky breath and stepped back, her movements halting and uncertain.

Adam froze, panic clawing at his chest. He tried to retreat further, but his mechanical limbs betrayed him, bumping against the table and sending the vase of flowers tumbling to the floor. He let out a broken whine, fumbling desperately to gather them up. His trembling hands and erratic limbs made the task nearly impossible.

To his shock, the doll did not flee.

Instead, she stepped forward, crouching gracefully to help. Her movements were delicate, as though she feared breaking something fragile. She picked up the fallen flowers and gently placed them back into the vase.

“I know you,” she said softly, her voice like a faint melody as she stood. She adjusted the vase carefully before turning her gaze back to Adam. “We met once, at Cowshuff Circus.”

Adam blinked, his green button eyes widening as the memory stirred, faint but familiar. His voice was hesitant, barely audible. “L-Lilith?”

Her expression didn’t soften. There was no smile, no spark of warmth. Instead, she raised a slender hand and pointed at him with a slow, deliberate motion. “You scared me, Adam.”

Her gaze swept over his mechanical body, lingering on the awkward joints and exposed wires. She took a cautious step back.

Turning her attention to the table, her eyes landed on the flower keys arranged neatly across its surface. She picked up the dahlia key and held it delicately.

“Adam,” she said, her voice quiet yet steady, “Were you also invited to perform?”

Adam swallowed hard, nodding quickly.

“Y-yes, I was. The h-host left this play for us to follow...” He held out the parchment with trembling hands.

Lilith—or was it still Lilith?—took the script carefully, holding it near one of the lit candles to read. “They want to ride the roller coaster, but there are only four seats...” she murmured, her stitched brows knitting together. “This is the play the host wants us to perform?”

Adam nodded again, his voice thin and anxious. “Y-yes... I think so. I was just trying to familiarize myself with the parts.”

A faint frown touched her lips. She tapped the edge of the parchment thoughtfully. “Hmm. It reads like a folk rhyme. For it to become a real play, we’ll need to adapt it... carefully.”

Adam’s breath hitched. “O-oh, it’s such an honour, Lilith.”

His mind flickered with fragmented memories from his time at Fred’s Circus—half-forgotten faces, endless ridicule, and the suffocating dark of the storage trunks where he was locked away. But he remembered her. Lilith. She and her partner had once visited Fred’s Circus. He’d never met her partner, but Lilith herself had been dazzling, kind even. When they left without joining, Fred had been in a foul rage, taking his anger out on Adam with brutal kicks and curses.

Lilith’s button eyes darted back to the table. “Has someone not arrived yet?”

Adam followed her gaze, his voice soft. “Um... y-yes. There’s still one more key, but... there are six flowers in the vase. I-I think two people might have arrived before me.”

She tilted her head, muttering something under her breath.

Adam blinked, leaning forward slightly. “Um, d-did you say something, Lilith?”

She shook her head, handing the parchment back to him. “It’s nothing. Just a thought. Let me consider how we can arrange all of this.”

Without another word, she turned and began climbing the staircase.

“G-good night, Lilith,” Adam called weakly.

She paused halfway up, glancing back over her shoulder. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. “Adam, by the way... I am now called Margara, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Adam’s mechanical legs shifted nervously. “Y-yes, Margara... W-what a beautiful name. Just as pretty as Lilith... G-good night.”

Margara nodded once before continuing up the stairs. Adam watched her until she disappeared into the shadowed landing, the faint sound of her steps fading into silence.

And he was alone again.

Adam was alone again. The silence of the lounge pressed in around him, cold and suffocating. Lucifer and Lilith—no, Margara—had been kind to him. At least, kinder than most. They hadn’t hit him. They hadn’t kicked him. But Adam wasn’t naive; he had seen it in their button eyes—the flickers of judgment, the hints of disgust, the undertones of fear. It always lingered, no matter how polite their words were.

He turned his gaze to the table where the final key still lay untouched, its glimmer a quiet reminder that someone else was meant to join them. Adam squirmed uneasily, his mechanical limbs clicking softly as they shifted. His green button eyes flicked to the staircases, looming and grand, and then down to the metal spider-like appendages attached to his frail, patchwork body.

There was no way.

The stairs were impossible for someone like him. His oversized, grotesque anatomy would never fit, let alone allow him to ascend. The thought of struggling halfway up, only to get stuck, made his chest tighten with dread. His buttons glistened as tears welled up, spilling over in hot, silent trails. He turned his head to look over his shoulder at the hulking mass of metal fused to him, its polished, unyielding form so alien, so hideous.

Once, he had been small. Fragile, yes, but whole. Human. Now, he was a monstrous thing, stitched together with wires and screws. A mockery of what he used to be. His body, once his own, had become a cage.

A soft, broken whimper escaped his lips as he sniffled, dragging himself forward. The lounge was vast, its towering shadows swallowing him whole. He scuttled awkwardly, the mechanical legs clinking and scraping against the floor as he moved toward one of the massive doorframes. He peeked through, but it was pitch black beyond—a void.

Of course, he couldn’t see in the dark. His grotesque transformation hadn’t granted him any spider-like abilities. Not that he would have wanted that, anyway.

Adam twisted back, his gaze returning to the staircases. The left one caught his eye, its shadowy alcove revealing another door. Maybe... just maybe.

Dragging himself closer, he leaned his weight against the door, testing it with his shoulder. The wooden frame groaned but gave way, sliding open just enough to reveal a narrow, cramped storage cupboard. The faint smell of dust and old wood met his nose, and the shadows inside seemed less daunting than the abyss beyond the larger doors.

The space was small—just enough to hold a few boxes and scattered odds and ends. It would be tight, suffocating even, but it was better than risking the stairs. Better than being found stuck in the morning, humiliated and helpless.

Adam inhaled deeply, steadying himself, and began squeezing his bulk into the cupboard. The mechanical limbs scraped and folded awkwardly as he maneuverer himself inside. At last, he managed to turn around, lying down as best as he could. He crossed the sharp, mechanical arms over his chest and rested his head atop them, his shiny, tear-streaked green buttons reflecting the faint sliver of moonlight spilling through the small window above.

The moon was beautiful, shimmering like a beacon in the darkness. Adam stared at it, his thoughts drifting to another time, another place. He had grown used to sleeping in tight spaces—dumpsters, alleys, cardboard boxes—but this felt heavier somehow. The weight of the silence, of his monstrous body, pressed down on him like never before.

His throat tightened as he sniffled, a quiet sound that barely broke the stillness. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be this. The thought of home crept into his mind—his real home.

‘Mama... will you still love me?’

His voice trembled in his head as he fought back the sobs rising in his chest. Would she accept him? Would she still see the boy he used to be beneath the layers of metal and despair?

Adam’s eyes grew heavy, the overwhelming exhaustion finally overtaking him. As his mind began to slip into restless dreams, a single tear slid down his porcelain cheek, pooling where it fell. The last thing he saw before sleep claimed him was the moonlight, a fleeting comfort in the suffocating dark.

Whining softly, Adam stirred as a sliver of light streamed through the cupboard’s tiny window, landing on his face. His button eyes fluttered open, groggy and disoriented, but it wasn’t just the light that had roused him—it was the voices.

Raised voices.

Nearly arguing.

“See? I told you! Most people might miss this performance, but not our superstar, Lilith! Oh wait—sorry, it’s Margaretha now, isn’t it?” Lucifer’s mocking tone rang through the space, sharp as a blade.

Adam blinked, his curiosity piqued and his heart pounding. What was happening? His head lifted slightly, the dull ache in his mechanical limbs momentarily forgotten as he strained to hear.

“Running off again, Lilith?” Lucifer’s voice rose, dripping with accusation and scorn.

“That’s all over now, Morningstar!” snapped a sharp voice from above—the unmistakable edge of Lilith, though the anger in her tone made her sound almost unrecognizable. “Move on, like the rest of us! Stop clinging to the past!”

Lucifer released a sharp, humourless laugh, bitter and venomous.

“No. It won’t ever end, you shameful liars, deserters—” He paused, his voice a venomous hiss. “Murderers.”

The word struck like a thunderclap, reverberating in the silence that followed.

A door slammed upstairs, rattling the walls. Adam jumped at the sound, his mechanical legs clinking noisily against the wooden floor of the cupboard as he scrambled to steady himself. His breath hitched, his entire body stiffening with fear.

The tension in the air was suffocating. He dared not move, afraid to draw attention to his hiding place. What was Lucifer talking about? Liars, deserters, murderers. The words repeated in his mind, icy tendrils of unease wrapping around his thoughts. He’d always known something terrible had happened at Hullabaloo, but this? Could Margaretha—Lilith—have been part of that same catastrophe?

“Hmph,” Lucifer’s voice broke the silence again, colder now, almost distant. “Same as ever, Joker. Always lurking in the shadows, aren’t you?”

A soft hum came from across the lounge, and a voice Adam didn’t recognize—delicate, feminine—spoke hesitantly. “You... you shouldn’t speak to her like that. She doesn’t deserve it.”

Adam froze, his button eyes widening in curiosity. Who was that?

“Oh?” Lucifer’s tone twisted, laced with mocking incredulity. “And what should I call her then? A charlatan? A deserter? Or perhaps...”

“Don’t.”

The stranger’s voice cut him off, firm but low, trembling with restrained anger. “She’s none of those things. Don’t call her those names!”

Lucifer exhaled sharply, a sigh of frustration. “Joker—or should I say Eve? I understand she’s your friend, but—”

“She’s not just my friend!” Joker—Eve?—interjected fiercely, her voice trembling but resolute. “I wasn’t there, Lucifer! Steve sent me out that day for procurement. You knew that! It was Sentience Day—my presence wasn’t needed there. You can’t put this on me!”

Adam squinted through the crack in the cupboard door, his curiosity overtaking his fear. From the shadows, he could just make out the speaker: a petite female doll standing stiffly, her posture defensive.

She was unlike anyone Adam had seen before. Her pale skin bore scuffs and stitches, her tangled red curls spilling in chaotic waves. A single tear of black mascara streaked her cheek, her grey button eyes glinting faintly with sorrow and defiance. She wore a peculiar ensemble—part mime, part soldier—a black vest over a grey blouse, a red scarf with white polka dots draped loosely around her neck. Her right leg was entirely metal, a clinking prosthetic that glinted as she shifted her weight. A tiny black top hat sat askew on her head, a daisy poking cheerily from its ribbon, a stark contrast to the bitterness in her voice.

Adam’s gaze lingered on her in fascination. Joker? Or was she Eve? Lucifer had called her both, and neither name seemed to fit perfectly.

“None of us were innocent,” Lucifer’s voice softened, tinged with an edge of bitterness. “Not you, not her. Not me. But you can’t expect me to forget what happened. Not after—”

“Enough.” Joker’s voice quavered, but there was a finality to it. “Don’t pretend you’re the only one who lost something, Lucifer. I may not have been there, but do you think that spared me from what came after?”

The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging thick in the air. Adam’s heart thudded in his chest, confusion swirling with dread. He didn’t understand half of what they were talking about, but the pain in their voices was unmistakable.

Lucifer let out a sharp exhale, and his footsteps echoed as he moved toward the door. “Believe what you want, Joker. But don’t expect me to forgive her—or you. Not yet.”

Squeezing his button eyes shut, Adam braced himself, expecting the familiar burning agony to ignite through his veins as he moved. He stiffened, waiting for the pain—but instead, there was only a dull, throbbing ache. Hesitant, Adam cracked open his eyes, blinking in confusion.

He glanced down at his body, then craned his neck to inspect the mechanical spider limbs that bound him. Tentatively, he moved one of the spindly metal arms, touching its cool surface with his small hand. There was no fiery pain, no stabbing sensation that usually accompanied movement. Instead, just a strange, muted pressure.

A shaky breath escaped him. His mechanical hand flexed, fingers moving smoothly, almost easily. It shouldn’t feel like this, but somehow, it did. Adam blinked rapidly, rummaging through his shawl until his fingers found the familiar bottle of yellow pills.

His breath hitched as he stared at the bottle. These pills—could they really be responsible for this strange relief? Hope flickered, fragile as candlelight. He fumbled with the lid, his hands trembling.

Before he could pry it open, the front doors burst open with a thunderous crash, the icy wind howling through the lounge. Snow swirled inside, glittering in the faint light, the freezing air biting at Adam’s skin.

“Damn, it’s freezing out there,” came a deep, unfamiliar voice.

“Michael?” Lucifer’s gasp was one of pure surprise, his voice lifting in genuine delight. “Good heavens, it’s splendid to see you again!”

Lucifer’s tone was unrecognizable—warm, even joyful. Adam stiffened, his button eyes darting to the edge of his hiding spot as Lucifer’s words took on a buoyancy he had never heard before.

“Lucifer,” the stranger—Michael—replied, his voice softer now, touched with relief. “I’m happy to see you too. Did you receive an invitation as well?”

“Something like that,” Lucifer laughed, brushing snow from Michael’s shoulders. “Is the snow heavy out there?”

Michael nodded, his expression shadowed with concern. “It’s not letting up. We’d best stay here until it eases.”

“That might be... problematic,” Joker’s voice broke through, quiet but weighty. She stood apart, her hands folded tightly in front of her, eyes downcast. “I’ve checked the kitchen. There isn’t much food left.”

Michael turned toward her, his expression softening. “Steve? Wait—no, Eve. I barely recognized you—it’s been so long.”

Joker nodded briefly, her movements stiff and guarded. “It has been a while, Michael.”

Lucifer shifted, throwing a casual arm around Michael’s shoulders, though his gaze flicked uneasily toward Joker. “Don’t fret about supplies. We’ve been reunited, and that’s fortune enough.”

Michael’s face brightened with a smile, but his tone carried hesitation. “And how is everyone?”

Joker’s posture tightened, her shoulders drawing inward.

 “It’s nearly lunchtime,” she murmured, retreating a step. “I’ll prepare something in the kitchen. I was always good at cooking.”

“Wait, Eve—” Michael started, reaching toward her. But she was already slipping through the doors leading to the kitchen, vanishing without another word.

Michael turned to Lucifer, confusion clouding his button eyes. “Lucifer, what’s happened? Did I say something wrong? I’ve been gone for so long...”

Lucifer sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as though the question weighed heavily on him. “It’s... complicated.”

Adam barely registered their conversation, his focus consumed by the pills in his hand. He wrestled the cap off, spilling three pills into his trembling palm. Without hesitation, he swallowed them, chasing the hope they offered, the promise of dulling the ache.

But as the pills dissolved, his vision began to blur at the edges. A strange haze settled over his mind, muffling everything like a thick, dreamlike fog. He reached into his shawl again, pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment—the play he was supposed to study.

“Moon, River, Massacre,” he read aloud, his voice wobbling, a giggle slipping free. “That’s what they called it! The massacre! A lunatic slaughtered everyone!”

His laughter grew louder, uncontrollable. His mechanical legs twitched and jerked as he stumbled out of his hiding place, twirling clumsily into the open.

“Everyone, everyone!” Adam sang, his voice lilting with an eerie, childlike melody. “Oh, did I frighten you, Michael? I was frightened too! Wasn’t it convincing? My performance?”

Michael stared at him, bewildered, his expression flickering between concern and alarm. He glanced at Lucifer, who pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated.

“Adam,” Lucifer said sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. “Enough.”

The command stopped Adam cold. His laughter died in his throat, and his green button eyes widened, glimmering with sudden hurt. He hunched over, his mechanical limbs retracting slightly as though trying to make himself smaller.

“A-alright,” Adam stammered, his voice trembling. “I’ll say no more. I’ll leave now... It’s dreadful, isn’t it? My performance... I’m sorry, Lucifer.”

His spider legs scraped softly against the floor as he backed away, folding in on himself. A laugh threatened to bubble up again, but he bit it down, his vision swimming with glittering pink and blue.

Michael’s jaw tightened as he looked at Lucifer. Without a word, he stepped forward and crouched beside Adam, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Adam,” Michael said softly, his voice steady and warm. “Don’t be frightened. Lucifer is just... unsettled. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

The warmth in his words broke through the fog clouding Adam’s mind. He nodded hesitantly, letting Michael’s touch guide him toward the kitchen. The doors creaked open as Michael led him through, but Adam didn’t look back. He couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever awaited in the kitchen, in Joker’s quiet sadness, held secrets far heavier than the snowstorm raging outside.

Michael lingered by the doorway, casting a long look at Lucifer. "I'm sorry, Luci. I didn’t know..." His voice was quiet, a tender apology weighted with years of distance.

Lucifer offered a faint, wistful smile. "It’s alright, Mike. Truly, I’m fine. You should check on them, though. After all..."

His gaze shifted, his expression softening. "No one here knows how to survive in these conditions like you."

Michael hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Alright.”

He patted Lucifer’s shoulder and turned, following Adam into the kitchen.

Adam was already marvelling at the towering cabinets and polished counters, his mechanical legs clicking softly against the tiled floor as he spun around. His button eyes gleamed, shimmering like wet glass under the warm kitchen light.

Joker was by the counter, her hands moving deftly as she tried to scrape together something edible from their meagre supplies. She glanced at Adam, her red hair a tangle of shadow and fire under the faint light. Her lips pressed into a thin line, wary of the excitable doll bounding toward her.

Michael, however, crouched slightly, his tone soft. "Adam? What do you think of the kitchen?"

Adam beamed, his lips curling into a wide smile as his spider-like limbs clattered behind him. “It’s so big! Bigger than me! And look! Look at all the pots!”

He pointed with one of the mechanical arms, which wobbled unsteadily. “Do you use them all at once? Are they magic pots? Ooh, do they sing songs?!"

Joker blinked, caught off guard by his childish enthusiasm. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Michael chuckled, stepping closer. “Not magic, Adam. Just regular old pots.”

Adam giggled, spinning on one heel, his shawl fluttering slightly. "Pots! Pots everywhere! Ooh, Joker, is that your name? Is it because you make jokes? Can I tell you one? What do you call a spider with no legs? A raisin!"

Michael stifled a laugh, but Joker’s lips twitched.

“That’s... an interesting one,” she murmured, her voice hesitant but not unkind.

Adam tilted his head, his green button eyes wide. "Do you like jokes? I bet you do, you have funny hair! It’s all red and wild, like fire! I like fire... but it hurts sometimes, doesn’t it?”

His voice trailed off into a whisper, and his gaze briefly clouded before brightening again.

Joker blinked, startled by the sudden shift, but Michael placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. She glanced at him, his warm smile encouraging her to relax.

“Adam,” Michael began, crouching to meet him at eye level, “Have you eaten today?”

Adam froze, his mechanical legs stilling as he hummed thoughtfully. “Eaten? Ohhh, that’s a funny word! Eaaaaten! Eee-eee-aten!”

He twirled in a quick circle, his giggles ringing like chimes. "Nope! Don’t think so. Or maybe? Hmm, I don’t remember!”

Michael’s smile faded, concern creeping into his expression. “You don’t remember?”

“Nope!” Adam chirped, stopping mid-spin to gaze up at Michael.

“But I’m not hungry, promise! I’m just... exploring!” His eyes sparkled with childish wonder as they darted around the kitchen.

Joker stepped forward cautiously, a plate of crackers in her hand. “Adam, maybe you could try just a little something?” Her voice was softer now, her walls lowering slightly.

Adam shook his head vigorously, his shawl slipping slightly. “No thank you! Not hungry!”

His tone was cheerful, but there was a nervous edge to his movements.

Michael frowned. “What about water? Have you had any?”

Adam blinked, tilting his head like a curious bird. “Water? Nope! Don’t need it! I have lots of energy! See?”

He darted across the kitchen, his limbs clicking erratically as he bounced from one end to the other.

Joker started to step forward again, but Michael stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. He shook his head silently, his expression one of quiet understanding. Joker hesitated, her lips parting in protest before she relented with a small nod, her gaze dropping to the floor.

“Alright,” Michael said, his voice steady. “But let us know if you need anything, okay?”

Adam nodded enthusiastically, already distracted by the gleaming counters and flickering light fixtures. “Okay, Michael! Bye-bye!”

Before either of them could stop him, Adam clattered out of the kitchen, humming a soft, tuneless melody as he wandered into the hallway.

The hallway was dim, but Adam’s vision blurred and sparkled, the edges of his sight tinged with pink and blue hues. He giggled to himself, his mechanical legs moving erratically as he explored.

His button eyes landed on a series of portraits lining the walls. He gasped, stepping closer. The faces were exquisite, painted with delicate strokes that made them seem almost alive. The colours swirled and shimmered in his drugged haze, each portrait a kaleidoscope of beauty.

“So pretty...” he whispered, reaching out with one of his mechanical arms. But the hand hovered awkwardly, far too large and unwieldy to touch anything without risk of damaging it.

Adam pouted, lowering the arm as his gaze shifted to a cluster of painted handprints further down the wall. Bright reds, blues, and yellows stood out against the pale surface. He placed one of his mechanical hands against the wall, comparing it to the prints.

They were so small, so delicate. His, by contrast, was monstrous—cold, sharp, and grotesque.

“I’m too big,” he murmured, his voice tinged with disappointment.

For a moment, the haze cleared, and sadness flickered in his green button eyes. But then the melody returned to his lips, and he spun away, his humming growing louder as he continued his aimless journey through the strange, endless house.

Adam wandered the corridors of the mansion, his mechanical legs clicking rhythmically against the ornate wooden floor. His vision sparkled, the edges of his sight tinged with candy-coloured hues. Everything felt magical, larger than life. He tilted his head, humming a soft, tuneless melody as he ran a mechanical hand lightly along the walls.

Paintings, vases, mirrors—each thing he passed captured his attention with its strange beauty. But as he turned a corner, his gaze fell on a grand window framing the gardens outside. His button eyes widened, green threads catching the faint light.

“Flowers!” he whispered, almost reverently. “So many flowers!”

He pressed his face close to the glass, his breath fogging it. The gardens sprawled out in a maze of colour, each bed bursting with blooms in pinks, yellows, blues, and reds. The sight tugged at something deep within him—a longing he couldn’t name.

Reaching for the latch and eager to step outside, when a noise from a nearby room pulled Adam’s attention. He turned, curiosity overriding his plans, and shuffled toward the slightly ajar door.

Inside, a figure stood with his back to Adam, the air around him humming faintly with an otherworldly energy. The man turned as Adam entered, revealing a sharp grin filled with rows of emerald-green teeth. His hair fell in messy, ink-black waves, and his piercing eyes seemed to glow faintly.

“Zestial!” Adam cried, his voice bright with excitement. He hurried toward the man, his mechanical limbs clicking erratically.

Zestial’s grin widened as he held out his hands. “Adam, my boy! Come here.”

Adam grabbed Zestial’s hands eagerly, his small, stitched fingers dwarfed by Zestial’s long, clawed ones.

“I’m so happy to see you!” Adam gushed. “You’re here! You’re really here!”

Zestial chuckled, his voice smooth and laced with mischief. “I am indeed. And look at you, all full of energy. How are you feeling? Any pain?”

Shaking his head vigorously, Adam’s green button eyes shining. “Nope! None at all! And it’s all thanks to you! You took it all away!”

Zestial’s grin grew wider, almost predatory. “Good, good. You’ve been taking your pills, haven’t you?”

Adam nodded. “Three in the morning, three in the evening, just like you said!”

Zestial leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Double promise?”

Adam giggled, crossing his heart with a stitched finger. “Cross my heart and hope to die!”

Zestial snorted in amusement, patting Adam’s head. “Careful with those words, little one. Now, tell me—do you like my mansion? Hazbin’s a special place, isn’t it?”

Nodding his head fervently, Adam held tightly to Zestial’s hands as they began to walk down the corridor. The faint glow of pink lights framed their path. “I love it! It’s so big and pretty! But, um...”

He hesitated, glancing up at Zestial. “I’m too big to go up to my room! My legs don’t fit on the stairs. But I found a hidey hole!”

Zestial chuckled, his grip firm yet oddly comforting. “A hidy hole, you say? Well, perhaps I’ll sort out a proper room for you on the ground floor. How does that sound?”

Adam’s face lit up. “Really? Oh, thank you, Zestial! You’re the best!”

Smirking, Zestial steered Adam along the hall. “Now, about the play. Have you picked a part yet?”

Shrugging, Adam’s mechanical legs clicking softly as they moved. “Everyone keeps saying I should be the last child. I don’t know why, but I’m just happy they’re letting me join! I want to do a good job so I can go home!”

Zestial’s grin softened, a shadow of something unreadable passing over his face. “And you will, Adam. Once the performance is done, I’ll make sure you get home to your mother.”

Adam beamed, his excitement bubbling over. “Really? Oh, thank you, Zestial!”

As they walked, Zestial’s tone grew contemplative. “Do you like the others? Lucifer, Lilith, Eve... Michael?”

Adam tilted his head, his voice dropping slightly. “I guess so. Lucifer yelled at me today, though. I think I made him mad...”

Chuckling darkly, Zestial patted Adam’s hand. “Ah, Lucifer. Always the temperamental one. And Lilith... she’s got her own demons to wrestle. But tell me, Adam, are you aware of the fifth member?”

Adam blinked up at him, confusion knitting his button brows. “Fifth member? Who?”

“Steve,” Zestial said, his grin returning. “Though some might say Steve looks an awful lot like Eve—or Joker, as you know her.”

Adam frowned, his mechanical hands twitching slightly. “Joker’s name is Eve, not Steve. Steve’s someone else!”

The grip on Adam’s hand tightened slightly, though Zestial’s tone remained light. “Perhaps. But wouldn’t you like to find out? Call her Steve next time, won’t you?”

Adam pouted, his childish frustration bubbling up. “Why won’t you just tell me?”

Ruffling Adam’s hair, Zestial laughed. “Because it’s more fun this way. You’ll do it, won’t you?”

Adam huffed but nodded reluctantly. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

 “That’s my boy.”

As they reached the end of the corridor, Zestial paused, gesturing to a set of glass doors that led outside. “Now, Adam, do you want to see the gardens?”

Adam’s face lit up with uncontainable joy. “Yes, yes! I really do!”

With a dramatic flourish, Zestial pushed the doors open. “Then go on. Explore. There are greenhouses, too, if you’d like.”

Gasping, Adam’s mechanical legs clicking erratically as he darted forward into the sprawling garden. The cold air was crisp against his fabric skin, and the colours of the flowers shimmered in his drugged haze like living rainbows.

“Zestial!” he called, turning back to share his excitement. But the doorway was empty.

“Zestial?” Adam called again, his voice quieter this time. He stepped closer, peering back into the mansion, but there was no sign of the man.

The wind rustled softly through the garden, carrying the faint scent of flowers. Adam hugged himself, his mechanical arms folding inwards as a faint, inexplicable unease settled over him.

“Zestial?” he whispered one last time, but the only answer was the rustling of leaves.

he heavy double doors to the garden creaked open, the sound slicing through the mansion's eerie stillness. Adam peeked out, his glowing eyes scanning the snow-blanketed world beyond. His heart raced with a longing that felt almost painful. He wanted to go outside—no, needed to. The flowers, the bare trees, the animals that might brave the cold—he yearned for the solace they promised. The chill in the air pricked his exposed skin, yet something was wrong. The world beyond the threshold was empty. Hollow.

"Zestial said it was fine for me to go outside," Adam whispered to himself, as if reassuring the nagging doubt in his mind.

The spider-like limbs of his prostheses hummed softly, the mechanical joints releasing faint clicks and buzzes as he stepped forward. One clawed hand gripped the doorframe, steadying him, when suddenly a voice, sharp and alarmed, shattered the quiet.

"Adam!"

He flinched violently, stumbling back as his glowing eyes darted around in panic. His movements were clumsy, spinning twice in search of the voice's source. Finally, he spotted Lucifer descending the winding staircase, his face twisted with urgency.

"Lucifer," Adam mumbled, barely audible over the quiet hum of his prosthetics. He hadn’t even noticed those steps when Zestial had led him to the back of the mansion earlier.

 Reaching towards him, Lucifer’s porcelain-like face contorted in a mixture of concern and frustration. His red and gold button eyes, glinting with an otherworldly light, focused intently on Adam.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and strained.

Adam pouted, his hand gesturing toward the open doors.

“Going outside,” he replied simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Lucifer’s brows furrowed deeply. His voice rose, the tension unmistakable. “What? Are you out of your mind? You can’t go outside, Adam!”

The reprimand stung, and Adam recoiled slightly. The earlier fight from this morning still lingered in his mind, and the hurt bubbled up in his chest. He squared his shoulders defiantly.

“I want to see the gardens!” he yelled back, his voice tinged with a childlike petulance.

Freezing for a moment, Lucifer’s jaw working soundlessly as if wrestling with words that wouldn’t come. His gaze flickered between the open doors and Adam, then hardened. Without another word, he strode to the threshold, slammed the doors shut with a thunderous echo, and stretched upward to lock them with a swift motion.

“You can’t go outside, Adam,” Lucifer snapped, turning back to face him, his frown deep and unyielding. “It’s snowing. Heavily.”

“Why not?!” Adam countered, his voice trembling with frustration.

Lucifer exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair as though searching for patience. “Adam, I don’t know exactly what your prostheses are made of, but they look mechanical to me. If you go out there in that storm, the cold will freeze them. They’ll ice over, and... and you could die. Don’t you understand how dangerous it is for you to be out there?”

Adam’s defiance faltered. He glanced down at his spindly mechanical limbs, their once gleaming surfaces dulled by time. Shame curled in his stomach as he mumbled, “Yes, yes, you’re right.”

Lucifer’s tense posture softened ever so slightly. A breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding escaped him. He crouched down in front of Adam, his sharp gaze scanning his face.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, his tone careful, almost gentle.

Blinking, Adam was taken aback by the question. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

Frowning, Lucifer clicked his tongue softly. “It’s just… you’re different from last night. The way you’re talking, acting—something feels off.”

Adam snorted dismissively. “I’m fine! Completely fine!”

“Alright, fine. You’re okay,” he muttered. Lucifer straightened, his expression sceptical but resigned. “Can’t blame a guy for being concerned.”

Expression darkened, and Adam muttered bitterly, “Like you care anyway.”

Lucifer froze, his button eyes narrowing. “Of course I care. I wouldn’t have stopped you if I didn’t.”

“You yelled at me,” Adam said, his voice cracking. “You hate me. You find me disgusting, like everyone else.”

Lucifer’s mouth fell open, genuine shock flashing across his face. “Adam…”

His voice softened. “I don’t even know you well enough to hate you. And I certainly don’t find you disgusting.”

“Everyone does,” Adam whispered, his voice barely audible now. His mechanical limbs creaked faintly as he drew them closer to his body.

For a long moment, there was silence between them, thick and heavy. Then Lucifer sat down on the cold floor, directly in front of Adam.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you earlier. That was wrong of me.”

Lips quivering, but he didn’t speak. Adam’s stubborn, childlike demeanour began to crumble as Lucifer continued.

“I don’t hate you, Adam. Nor do I find you disgusting. Your prostheses… sure, they’re surprising, but that doesn’t make you any less than anyone else. You’re you, and that’s enough.”

Adam’s eyes, filled with a flicker of hope, met Lucifer’s.

“Really?” he asked, his voice fragile.

Nodding, the tension easing from Lucifer’s features. “Really.”

The snow outside howled against the windows, a haunting melody that seemed to echo Adam’s turmoil. Yet, in the quiet warmth of Lucifer’s gaze, there was an unexpected promise of something Adam hadn’t felt in a long time—acceptance.

Tilting his head thoughtfully, the tension from their earlier exchange dissipating as he observed Adam’s childlike pout. His mechanical limbs twitched faintly, betraying his nervous energy. Lucifer decided to try a softer approach, one that might coax Adam out of his shell without pressuring him.

"Hey," Lucifer began, his tone light. "Why don’t we play a game? Something fun."

Blinking, Adam’s luminous eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“A… game?” he asked hesitantly.

Lucifer grinned, sitting cross-legged on the floor as if to prove he wasn’t going anywhere. “Yeah. Ever played Twenty Questions?”

Adam tilted his head like a curious bird, the unfamiliar name sparking something in him. “What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s easy,” Lucifer explained. “We take turns asking each other questions—any questions we want—and we have to answer honestly. It’s a way to get to know each other better.”

Brow furrowing, Adam’s mechanical limbs twitching faintly as he considered this.

 “Nobody’s ever played games with me before,” he admitted softly, his voice tinged with an odd mix of sadness and wonder.

Lucifer’s chest tightened at the confession, but he smiled warmly. “Well, then, I guess it’s about time someone did. I’ll go first. What’s your favourite colour?”

Perking up at the simple question, Adam’s expression brightening. “Oh! I like yellow. It’s warm, like sunlight. What about you?”

Chuckling, Lucifer was pleased by the enthusiasm. “Hmm… I think I like red. It’s bold, like fire.”

Humming thoughtfully, as though committing this information to memory.

“Red suits you. You’re like fire. You’re warm too,” he said matter-of-factly.

Lucifer’s grin softened. “Your turn.”

Twiddling his fingers, Adam’s excitement bubbling over. “What did you do in your circus? Did you juggle? Did you do flips? Did people clap for you?”

Lucifer laughed at the barrage of questions, his button eyes glinting with fondness. “One at a time, Adam. Yes, I juggled. And yeah, people liked what I could do. They used to call me ‘The Cute Juggler,’ if you can believe that.”

Jaw dropping, Adam’s childlike awe shining through. “Cute? You?!”

He tilted his head dramatically, studying Lucifer as though trying to find the "cute" hidden in him.

“Hey!” Lucifer said with mock offense, playfully poking Adam’s arm. “I was pretty popular back in the day, you know.”

Adam giggled—a sweet, airy sound that made Lucifer’s chest ache in an oddly pleasant way. “What do they call you now?”

Hesitating, a shadow of uncertainty crossing Lucifer’s face. “I… don’t know, honestly. Haven’t thought about it.”

Adam’s face lit up with an idea, his tone brimming with pride as he declared, “Acrobat! You’re like an acrobat now, with all those moves you do.”

Lucifer chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “Acrobat, huh? You’ve got a talent for naming things, Adam.”

Puffing out his chest proudly, clearly pleased with the compliment. Adam beamed cutely.

“What did you do in your circus?” Lucifer asked, his tone softer now. “What was your performance like?”

Adam’s smile faltered slightly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I was with the Cowshuff Circus,” he muttered.

Eyes brightening up, Lucifer nodded thoughtfully. “That’s right. I remember. The ringmaster was Fred, wasn’t it?”

Adam seemed to shrink in on himself, his shoulders hunching. “That’s right… Fred.”

Leaning forward, and lowering his voice to a gentle whisper. Lucifer spoke. “Did Fred… kick you out of the Cowshuff?”

Adam didn’t answer, his gaze fixed firmly on the tiles beneath him. Lucifer hesitated before trying another approach. “The mechanical spider limbs you have now… were they his idea?”

“I don’t like to perform,” Adam blurted suddenly, his voice cracking with emotion.

Lucifer blinked, taken aback. “You… don’t like to perform? Then why—why did you accept the invitation to join the circus?”

Lowering his head, Adam’s expression heartbreakingly similar to a scolded child. He didn’t answer, and Lucifer bit his lip, uncertain how to proceed.

“I just… I figured you loved it,” Lucifer admitted quietly. “The way you’re acting now… I thought the stage was where you wanted to be.”

Adam’s glowing, pink-and-blue-tinged vision flickered as he stared at the floor. Something was off—Lucifer could feel it in the way Adam’s movements seemed sluggish, his responses disconnected. He tilted his head, trying to meet Adam’s eyes.

“You know,” Lucifer began softly, “I saw you perform once.”

Adam’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You… you did? You saw me?”

Grinning widely, a hint of nostalgia in Lucifer’s expression. “Sure did. I was just a kid at the time, but I remember thinking you were amazing. Cute, even.”

Adam recoiled as though the word had physically struck him.

“I was not cute!” he huffed, his voice rising with indignation.

Lucifer laughed, the sound light and teasing. “Oh, you absolutely were.”

Muttering something unintelligible under his breath, Adam’s cheeks puffing out in a childish pout as he stood abruptly. He wandered past Lucifer, heading back toward the mansion.

“Hey, wait!” Lucifer called, scrambling to his feet. He hurried after Adam, his boots echoing against the cold tile. “Don’t just walk away!”

Adam didn’t respond, his mechanical limbs clicking faintly as he moved. Lucifer caught up to him, falling into step beside him. The unease from earlier returned, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. Something wasn’t right with Adam, and Lucifer wasn’t about to let him retreat into solitude without finding out what.

The group entered the living room, the crackling of the fire casting a warm, golden glow across the space. Adam gasped, his mechanical limbs twitching as he hurried toward the fireplace, his glowing green button eyes fixated on the dancing flames. He lowered himself beside it, his spindly hands reaching out as though to touch the warmth without risking the frostbitten cold of his mechanical parts.

Michael stood near the fireplace, smiling warmly. “I thought this would make the room a bit cozier.”

Glancing toward the window where the snowstorm outside howled and roared. Michael sighed. “It seems the storm has only grown fiercer.”

Entering the room, Lucifer’s gaze sweeping briefly to Joker, who stood awkwardly by the wall, before landing on Adam. He exchanged a look with Michael—one of silent understanding—before leaning casually against the fireplace’s stone mantle.

Breaking the quiet, Joker cleared her throat and stepped forward hesitantly. “I’ve… I’ve been practicing my act…Would you like to see it?”

Adam perked up immediately, clapping his mechanical hands together with audible enthusiasm.

“Oh yes! I’d love to see it, Joker!” His excitement was contagious, his button eyes practically glowing as they darted between her and the others.

Smirking, Lucifer crossed his arms. “Sure. Let’s show each other what we’ve got and decide what to put on stage for the play.”

Michael clapped a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, his grin wide. “Brilliant idea! It’ll be good to see how we can work together.”

Adam beamed, fishing a crinkled parchment from the folds of his shawl.

“The play!” he exclaimed. “I can’t wait!”

As Joker began to perform, her movements graceful yet tentative, the atmosphere in the room shifted to one of focus and anticipation. Adam and Michael shared a smile, clapping their hands in time with the rhythm of her act. Adam’s expression was alight with joy, his attention locked onto Joker as she twirled and spun.

Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, he blurted out, “Oh, Steve! You’re so wonderful!”

The room froze. Joker stopped mid-spin, her hands lowering to her sides as she stared at Adam in shock. Lucifer pushed off the mantle, his button eyes narrowing.

 “Adam?” he said, his voice low but sharp. “What did you just call her?”

Blinking his bright green eyes wide with confusion. Adam clocked his head, his voice was small, uncertain, as his gaze darted between them. “Steve? Oh no, that’s not right, is it?”

Joker took a shaky step back, her expression wavering between surprise and discomfort. She turned slightly, her eyes catching movement near the door.

“L-Lilith?” she stammered. “It’s me… Joker.”

All eyes turned as Lilith, who had been quietly watching from the doorway, froze. Her large button eyes widened in fear as she stumbled back, tripping over her own feet and landing hard on the floor.

She threw up a trembling hand. “No! Stay back! Don’t come any closer, you… you monsters!”

“Lilith!” Michael exclaimed, rushing to her side. He gently helped her up, his voice calm and steady as he asked, “Are you alright? It’s okay, Lilith. Steve isn’t here. Adam just made a mistake. That’s all.”

Lilith’s breathing slowed, her wide eyes darting to Adam before glancing away.

“Y-yes,” she murmured, her voice distant. “Of course. It’s my fault…”

Shrinking back, Adam’s head bowing as guilt weighed him down. “I-I’m sorry, Lilith…It was just a mistake. I didn’t mean to upset you. I won’t do it again.”

Lilith barely looked at him, her hand clutching the edge of her dress tightly.

“It’s alright,” she whispered, though her tone remained detached. She turned to Michael, her voice soft and strained. “I… I’m tired. I missed lunch. Perhaps I’ll eat something in the kitchen and then retire to my room.”

Michael nodded kindly. “Of course, Lilith. You need to take care of yourself. Joker saved some food for you.”

Stepping forward, Joker offered a shy smile. “Yes, that’s right, Lilith. I cooked. There’s a plate waiting for you.”

Lilith managed a faint smile in return. “Thank you, Eve.”

She hesitated. Her gaze flicked back to Adam, her expression softening slightly. “I’m sorry, Adam. I’m just… a bit out of sorts. Let me eat and rest, and we’ll look at the performances later.”

Adam’s face lit up again, his earlier tension dissipating. He clapped his hands together. “Oh, that’s wonderful, Lilith! Thank you, thank you… Oh, um, I mean, Margarethe—”

Lilith shook her head, letting out a faint laugh. “Lilith is fine. I imagine it’s hard to keep track of all the names.”

Adam’s relief was clear as he nodded eagerly. “Thank you, Lilith.”

As the group began to leave the room, Adam’s short but lumpy form lumbered after them, his parchment slipping unnoticed from his shawl to the floor. Lucifer spotted it immediately, scooping it up with a swift motion before Adam could turn back. He glanced at the scrawled writing before slipping it into his pocket. When Adam turned, his head tilted in curiosity, Lucifer offered him a quick smile, one that Adam returned without question.

Lucifer’s fingers brushed the parchment in his pocket as they walked. Whatever Adam was carrying, it wasn’t just a script—it was something more. Something important. Something he needed to understand.

Adam’s mechanical legs clicked softly against the floor as he moved, his steps hesitant yet deliberate. The food he left behind sat untouched, smeared and rearranged to feign an attempt at eating. He couldn’t remember the last time eating felt natural. The spider suit’s unforgiving design made it a chore. Drinking was easier, but even then, his thirst was fleeting, almost non-existent. His button eyes blinked dimly as his vision sharpened, like breaking through a dense fog. Yet, clarity came with a price—pain, dull and creeping, spreading from his lower back into his limbs. The ache was a slow burn, a reminder that evening was drawing near.

And evening meant more pills.

He glanced back toward the others at the table. They were engrossed in conversation, voices rising and falling in a comfortable rhythm. They wouldn’t notice if he left, would they? They might assume he was wandering again—like he often did. Adam paused at the thought, his mechanical body stiffening. Why had he acted so irrationally earlier? His lips pressed into a thin line. It had to be the medication. Zestial hadn’t mentioned side effects, but…what else could explain it? Still, it was worth it. All of it was worth it. The pills dulled the agony that had once consumed him. Painlessness was worth any price.

Without a word, Adam turned from the table and headed toward the double doors. He noted the details as he moved—the pristine white tablecloth draped over the table, the ruby red runner cutting through its centre like a streak of blood. Golden candle holders lined the middle, their polished surfaces gleaming in the flickering light. Around the table were eight chairs with cushions, gilded and plush. One chair had been shifted to accommodate him—a gesture that should have made him feel included but only underscored his difference. Adam hadn’t sat in a proper chair since…since before.

As he pushed through the doors, the sound of his limbs creaking faded into the background. He didn’t notice Lucifer’s eyes following him, a flicker of concern crossing the juggler’s face. Lucifer leaned forward in his seat, his body tilting precariously as he tried to keep Adam in his line of sight. But when Adam disappeared through the doors, Lucifer’s balance gave out, and he tumbled unceremoniously to the floor.

Lilith snorted, barely hiding her amusement. “Still the same old Morningstar. Nothing ever changes.”

“Watch it,” Lucifer grumbled, glaring at her as he scrambled back into his seat. He smoothed his shirt with exaggerated nonchalance, ignoring the grin Michael shot him.

Meanwhile, Adam had reached the solitude of an empty hallway. His trembling mechanical hand fished the small bottle of pills from a hidden pocket, the lid clinking softly as he twisted it open. His fingers shook as he tried to tip the pills into his palm, and the bottle slipped. Time seemed to slow as it hit the floor, bouncing once, twice—then spilling its contents in a scattered mess of yellow.

“No,” Adam whispered, his voice tight with panic.

His button eyes filled with unshed tears as a hot, sharp pain flared up his spine, searing through him like molten fire. He clutched his side, his body shuddering as he lowered himself to the floor. His mechanical legs screeched faintly as they struggled to support him.

“No, no, no…”

One by one, he painstakingly picked up the pills, his trembling hands working against him. Each retrieval was an effort, his flushed face contorting with frustration and pain. He missed a single small pill that rolled beneath a nearby cabinet, unnoticed as he finished gathering the rest into the bottle.

With three pills left in his palm, Adam paused. His throat worked against a lump of pain and apprehension. He knew he needed them—needed the relief they promised. He tipped them into his mouth and swallowed them dry, wincing as they scratched his throat on the way down. His trembling subsided slightly, the promise of temporary reprieve easing his mind.

He sat there for a moment, his breathing uneven. A soft sound broke the silence—a shuffle of footsteps. Adam snapped his head up, button eyes wide and wary. From dining room doors, Lucifer emerged, his expression a mix of curiosity and worry.

“Adam?” Lucifer’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “What’s going on?”

Adam’s hands instinctively curled around the bottle, clutching it protectively.

“N-nothing,” he stammered, his voice a shaky echo of his usual childlike tone. “I just…dropped something.”

Lucifer took a cautious step closer, his button eyes narrowing as he studied Adam's hunched form.

“Do you…need help picking up whatever you dropped?” His voice carried a careful balance of concern and nonchalance, as though he didn’t want to spook Adam further.

Adam stiffened, his mechanical limbs clicking faintly as he turned slightly away, shielding himself from Lucifer’s probing gaze. He quickly shoved the small bottle back into his shawl, the fabric bunching awkwardly around the hidden object. His hands trembled, but he forced a weak smile to his lips.

“No, no. I’ve got it,” he said hastily, his voice high-pitched and almost sing-song.

Lucifer tilted his head, his arms crossing loosely over his chest as he leaned against the doorway.

“You sure? You seem…off,” he pressed, though his tone remained gentle. “You’ve been acting strange all day.”

“I said I’m fine,” Adam snapped suddenly, his voice cracking. He winced at his own tone, his button eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to reset himself.

“Sorry,” he muttered, softer this time. “I didn’t mean to… It’s just—I’m fine, Lucifer. Really.”

Lucifer hesitated, watching Adam’s trembling frame with growing unease. He knew Adam wasn’t telling the whole truth, but something about the doll’s fragility stopped him from pushing further. Instead, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Alright,” he said, his voice light but sceptical. “If you say so.”

Adam offered a quick nod and shuffled awkwardly on his mechanical legs, desperate to escape the weight of Lucifer’s concern.

“I’ll just…go rest for a bit,” he murmured, moving toward the hallway with jerky, uneven steps.

Lucifer stayed rooted in place, his eyes following Adam’s retreating figure. He didn’t believe him—not for a second. Adam’s behaviour wasn’t just strange; it was alarming. The tremors in his movements, the shadows that lingered behind his button eyes, and the way he clutched the shawl like a lifeline all painted a picture Lucifer couldn’t ignore.

As Adam disappeared into the dim corridor, Lucifer let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping. His instincts screamed at him to intervene, but he knew better than to corner someone who was clearly unravelling.

“He’s hiding something,” he muttered under his breath, his fingers tapping against his arm in thought. “And it’s not just whatever he dropped.”

He straightened, his jaw tightening with determination. If Adam wouldn’t tell him, Lucifer would have to find out another way. For now, though, he would let the doll have his space—just enough rope to either find his footing or hang himself with his secrets.

With one last glance toward the corridor, Lucifer turned and headed back to the dining room, his mind already churning with plans. Whatever Adam was hiding, it was only a matter of time before the truth spilled out.

Adam darted toward the dim recess beneath the grand staircase, his mechanical legs clicking faintly against the worn floorboards. His little hiding spot—a sanctuary amidst the chaos—waited for him. Just as he crouched to slip inside, a cold realization prickled down his spine.

The script. It was gone.

His spindly fingers clawed at his frayed shawl, searching frantically, but the parchment wasn’t there. He must have dropped it somewhere—somewhere out in the sprawling, ominous corridors. Dread unfurled in his chest, a twisting serpent that coiled tighter with every second. The air around him seemed heavier, pressing in as a familiar haze of pink and blue swam across his vision. The pills—always the pills. Their effects crept in, disorienting him further.

“Oh dear… oh no…” Adam’s voice trembled as he whispered the words to himself, barely audible over the thrum of his own panic. “I’ve lost it. I’ve lost the play script.”

His mechanical hands rose to his button-eyed face in a dramatic gesture, the childlike movements betraying the maelstrom of anxiety within. “They’re going to be so mad at me!” His voice quavered, rising to a high-pitched whine.

The spider-like appendages sprouting from his back buzzed to life, their metallic joints clicking and clanking as Adam spun in a wild, frenetic circle. His button eyes darted left and right, scanning the dim corridor as he muttered feverishly, “It’s here. Somewhere. Somewhere around here! It has to be—must be!”

The empty hall offered no answers, only shadows that seemed to ripple and shift in the flickering lamplight.

From beyond the double doors at the end of the corridor, muffled voices seeped through. Familiar, grounding.

“...When the snow lets up, we should head into the woods,” Michael’s voice rumbled, calm and thoughtful. “Maybe we can find some food.”

Adam froze, his frantic movements halting. He hummed softly to himself, a giggle escaping his lips despite his panic. Michael. Admirable Michael. His voice was like a tether, pulling Adam from the brink of his spiraling fear.

“I’ll help chop firewood,” Joker chimed in, her voice gentle, tinged with warmth.

Adam tilted his head, wondering briefly if Eve truly knew how to wield an axe.

“That’s right,” Michael continued, his tone thoughtful. “Remember, back in the day, you, me, and Luci helped Zestial fix his tent? You were the only one who could figure out that blasted saw.”

At the mention of Zestial, Adam’s green button eyes widened. He glanced around the corridor as if expecting the man to appear from the shadows. Of course, no one came. But... they knew Zestial too?

Michael’s voice carried on, steady and measured. “We’ll need tools first. The trees here are thick—ancient. Joker, do you think you still remember how to use a saw?”

Peering through the ajar doors, Adam’s gaze darted to the group within. They sat around a long, weathered table, bathed in the flickering glow of candles. Michael, poised as ever, leaned forward slightly, his arms crossed in contemplation. Joker’s delicate smile lit her face, her hands resting in her lap.

Lilith, regal and otherworldly, sipped tea from a fine china cup, her movements unhurried and graceful. Adam’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, entranced by the eerie stillness of her doll-like features.

And then there was Lucifer. Slouched in his chair, one arm propped on the table, he gazed into the flickering flames with a distant, almost haunted expression.

“What’s wrong, Luci?” Michael asked gently, turning his attention to his silent companion.

Adam’s curiosity burned. He tilted his head, watching as Lucifer slowly stirred. His fingers brushed his face, as though wiping away an unseen weight, before he leaned back once more. Something about him was different tonight. His usual bravado seemed dulled; his movements sluggish. A shadow flickered across his face—an emotion Adam couldn’t quite name.

Adam pushed the door open just slightly, inching closer. He couldn’t stop himself. His fear of discovery was dwarfed by the magnetic pull of their conversation, the need to understand what lay behind those haunted eyes.

Adam burst into the room, his movements erratic and flustered, a picture of desperation. His voice trembled as he spoke, childlike and pleading. “This is just awful! Has anyone seen the playbill? I... I think I’ve lost it! I must have dropped it somewhere around here. Please, please don’t be mad at me!”

The room fell into a heavy silence. Lilith, seated primly in her chair, turned her porcelain face toward him, her lips curving into a crooked frown. Her lavender-scented aura lingered, soothing yet cold.

“Oh, Adam,” she said, her tone light but faintly tinged with pity. “We wouldn’t be mad at you for that.”

Adam gasped sharply, his head whipping toward her, button-green eyes wide with disbelief. “Really?”

Joker, her hands folded delicately on her lap, gave a soft, hesitant nod. “It’s alright, A-Adam. We’ll help you look for it. Right, Lilith?”

Lilith’s gaze lingered on Adam before she offered a faint nod of agreement.

Across the room, Lucifer lounged on a yellow-cushioned chair, his red and yellow button eyes gleaming like mismatched jewels in the dim light. With deliberate slowness, he leaned back, holding up the missing playbill between his fingers. His expression was unreadable, his gaze laced with an almost playful challenge.

Adam froze mid-spin, his mechanical hands clapping nervously against one another. The childlike exuberance that had fuelled his movements faltered, his body seeming more sluggish now. A flicker of relief crossed his face.

 “Oh, thank goodness! You found it!” he exclaimed, rushing toward Lucifer. “Thank you, Luci. Where did you find it? Perhaps we can—oh!”

As Adam reached for the script, Lucifer’s arm darted upward, yanking the parchment away and holding it just out of Adam’s reach. It dangled mockingly, too high for his spindly spider-like prostheses to grasp.

“I just borrowed it,” Lucifer said nonchalantly, tilting his head to meet Adam’s gaze. His voice was soft, but his words carried an edge that felt almost like a dare. “I was going to give it back, Adam. But look at this—it’s... weird.”

Lilith, with an elegant grace, rose from her chair. She glided across the room, her fingers brushing against the edge of the table as she circled it, her movements deliberate and measured. Reaching Lucifer, she plucked the script from his hand, examining it with a furrowed brow.

“What is this?” she murmured, her voice cool and thoughtful. “Another nursery rhyme? I think I’ve heard this before…”

Before she could finish her thought, Lucifer sprang to his feet with a burst of theatrical energy, his sudden movement jarring. His hand snatched the parchment from her grip, and he twirled dramatically, his arms thrown high above his head as though conducting an invisible audience.

“It is a nursery rhyme,” he declared, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mock reverence. “The same kind Steve used to adore.” His lips twisted into a wry smile.

“But this—” he tapped the parchment with a long finger, “—this must be a clue.”

Adam’s confusion deepened, his small frame retreating slightly, his mechanical spider limbs emitting a soft, whirring whine. “A clue?” he echoed, tilting his head. “A clue for what?”

Michael stepped forward then, his presence steady and grounding. He placed a warm, reassuring hand on Adam’s shoulder, sending a fleeting sense of comfort through him. Michael’s gaze shifted to Lucifer, his tone calm but probing.

“What type of clue are we talking about?”

Lucifer swayed slightly, his weight shifting from one foot to the other. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across his angular features, deepening the tension that seemed to thrum in the room like a barely audible hum.

“Who was it,” Lucifer murmured, his voice low and sinister, “that killed everyone and then ran away?”

Lilith’s porcelain face twisted with frustration, her crimson-painted lips curling into a sharp glare.

“What are you talking about, Lucifer?” she hissed, her voice low and crackling with tension. “You’re not going to dredge up that old spiral of madness again, are you?”

Lucifer’s eyes rolled dramatically, the glow of his mismatched button eyes flashing with irritation. He exhaled a breathy, theatrical huff, spreading his hands wide. “Why are you even here, Lilith? What did the organizer promise you this time? Money? A leading role? Don’t tell me you actually think we’re here for a simple performance?”

Lilith let out a deep, weary sigh, her shoulders sagging as though under the weight of his accusations. “Lucifer, you need to let this go—”

He cut her off with a sharp, sardonic laugh that sent a chill rippling through the room. “Take a good, long look around, Lilith.”

His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as he gestured toward the room with a flourish. “We were all invited here—every last one of us—to the Hazbin Circus. You don’t find it the least bit suspicious? All the survivors of the Hullabaloo massacre, gathered in one place?”

Lilith’s mouth opened as if to argue, but she hesitated, her jaw snapping shut. Her hands clenched into trembling fists at her sides.

“Adam wasn’t part of the Hullabaloo Circus, Lucifer,” she said through gritted teeth, her tone laced with forced calm.

Lucifer groaned, spinning away from her with a frustrated laugh that felt hollow and strained.

“Fine. You’re right. Adam’s the exception. I have no idea why he’s here. But you? Eve? Michael? Me? That is suspicious, don’t you think?”

Michael stepped forward, his hand outstretched as though attempting to calm a tempest.

“Luci,” he said softly, his voice warm yet firm. “You need to sit down and—”

Lucifer slapped Michael’s hand away with a sharp crack that echoed in the tense air.

“No! I need an answer!” His voice rose, filled with a trembling anger that bordered on hysteria. “The name of the one who destroyed our home! The playbill—”

He jabbed a finger at the crumpled script, “—it says the murderer who killed everyone is among those who ‘got away.’ Someone doesn’t want us to know the truth.”

Lilith’s fists tightened until her nails dug into her palms, her voice slicing through the air like a razor. “You’re mad, Lucifer Morningstar. You’ve always been mad.”

Her heels clicked against the floor as she turned to leave, but Lucifer darted in front of her, his movements unnervingly quick and fluid.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he said, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Not so fast, darling. Today, we all give our accounts of what really happened on that night.”

Lilith’s lips twitched, her expression flickering between rage and something more fragile.

“I’ve already told the investigators everything I know,” she said coldly, the tremor in her voice betraying her.

Lucifer shrugged, his hands lifting in a mocking gesture of surrender. “Ah, yes. The mysterious ‘man in black’ who slipped into the tent? Is it even possible to craft a leakier lie than that?”

Lilith’s sharp gasp filled the room, her hand rising instinctively to her chest. “So, you suspect me, do you?”

Her voice wavered, teetering on the edge of anger and despair. “Everyone knows I was preparing for the performance that night. I couldn’t possibly be the murderer. I have no reason to lie—not to the investigators, and certainly not to you.”

Lucifer’s grin faded, his expression hardening into something colder. “You hated that place, Lilith.”

“And we all did, Lucifer Morningstar!” Her words lashed out like a whip. “Every single one of us, except you!”

He flinched at her words, but Lilith pressed on, her voice rising with venomous intensity. “And no wonder why. Mister Popular! Zestial’s little golden boy!”

She shoved past him with enough force to send him stumbling a step. Without another word, she stormed from the room, her footsteps echoing like gunshots in the silence.

“Lilith!” Joker called, her voice filled with alarm as she rushed after her.

His mechanical limbs twitching as Adam processed the sharp exchange that had just erupted in the room. The tension crackled in the air like an electric storm, heavy and suffocating. His green button eyes flicked nervously between Lucifer, who still clutched the play script with a triumphant yet manic glint in his mismatched gaze, and the door through which Lilith and Joker had disappeared.

“Luci…” Michael’s voice was soft but firm, his towering presence exuding calm. “That was uncalled for. You’re pushing too hard.”

Lucifer turned to him with a sardonic grin, spreading his arms wide in mock innocence. “Uncalled for? Oh, forgive me, Michael. I didn’t realize seeking the truth about who destroyed everything we had was such a faux pas.”

Sighing heavily, Michael placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder, offering the trembling doll a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re scaring him,” he said pointedly.

Lucifer’s sharp gaze flickered to Adam. His grin faltered for a moment before he sighed, tossing the script onto the table like a discarded toy.

“I’m not trying to scare anyone,” he muttered, running a hand through his unruly hair. “I just want answers.”

“I…I don’t understand,” Adam murmured, his voice quivering. “What does the playbill have to do with…with what happened at Hullabaloo?”

Lucifer turned to him, crouching slightly to meet Adam’s wide, button-eyed stare.

“Everything, Adam,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s a piece of the puzzle. Don’t you see? We were all brought here for a reason, and it’s not just to put on some whimsical circus performance.”

Hands clutching his shawl tightly, Adam’s confusion deepening. “But why me? I wasn’t part of Hullabaloo. I don’t even know what happened there…”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Lucifer his gaze softening as he studied Adam’s earnest expression. “Why you?”

Michael, sensing the brewing storm, stepped between them. “That’s enough for tonight. We’re all tired, and this snowstorm isn’t helping anyone’s mood. Let’s regroup in the morning.”

“And you?” Lucifer asked, turning towards Michael. “What do you make of all this?”

“What? Did I hate that place too?” Michael repeated.

A laugh escaped Lucifer. “No…no, I mean the play. The script.”

“…” Michael shrugged.

Opening his mouth to argue but stopped himself, Lucifer’s gaze lingering on Adam’s trembling form. With a dramatic sigh, he waved a dismissive hand and turned toward the fire.

“Hey, Adam. I apologise for my rudeness earlier.” He spoke softly. “I didn’t mean to frighten you…”

“I-It’s okay.”

Adam lingered for a moment, his mechanical legs hesitating to move. He glanced at the script lying on the table, the mysterious rhyme still echoing in his mind. He didn’t understand what was happening, but the weight of it pressed down on him like a lead blanket.

As Michael gently guided him out of the room, Lucifer stared into the flickering flames, his mind a whirl of suspicion and fragmented memories. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the past was clawing its way back, and that Adam, innocent as he seemed, was somehow at the centre of it all.

Outside, Lilith stormed down the dimly lit corridor, her breath coming in sharp, angry bursts. Joker struggled to keep up, her small frame hurrying to match Lilith’s determined stride.

“Lilith, wait!” Joker called, her voice breathless and pleading. “He didn’t mean it—he’s just…”

“A madman,” Lilith hissed, her fists curling tightly at her sides as if she could crush the very thought of him in her grasp. Her button eyes glinted in the dim light, hard and unyielding. “He’s always been a madman, dragging us into his twisted delusions, and now he’s doing it again.”

Joker hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor as if the wooden boards might provide some answer.

“Maybe…” she said, her voice wavering like a delicate thread ready to snap. “Maybe he’s not entirely wrong. About the invitation, I mean. It’s strange that we’re all here, isn’t it?”

Lilith froze mid-step, spinning to face Joker with a glare sharp enough to cut through steel.

“Don’t you start with this nonsense, too,” she snapped, her tone trembling with both frustration and something deeper—fear. “We left Hullabaloo behind. That place is nothing but ash, and good riddance. Digging up its ghosts will only lead to more pain.”

“It’s just…” Joker faltered, biting her bottom lip as if trying to stop her words from escaping. Her button eyes flickered nervously; their vibrant hues dimmed by unease. “I’m worried…”

Lilith’s expression softened at once, the sharp edges of her anger melting away. She stepped closer, her movements deliberate and gentle, like approaching a frightened animal.

“What’s wrong, Eve?” she asked, her voice tender now, coaxing.

Joker stiffened at the sound of her real name, her breath hitching in her chest. Lilith reached out, her slim fingers curling around Joker’s hand with a reassuring squeeze.

“Tell me,” Lilith urged, her gaze locking with Joker’s. “What’s wrong?”

Joker raised her head slowly, meeting Lilith’s gaze. Her voice came out in a trembling whisper. “It’s just… the play.”

“The script?” Lilith asked, her string-threaded brow arching in curiosity.

Joker nodded, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “The nursery rhyme. It talks about five children… then four children because…”

“Because one wandered off and got eaten by the Big Bad Wolf,” Lilith finished, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You think it means something?”

Joker swallowed, her grip on Lilith’s hand tightening. “I think it means one of us is meant to die,” she said quietly, her voice laced with an intensity that made the air feel heavier. “And… I’m scared it might be you. Out of you and Lucifer, you’ve always been the ones at the centre of everything. It would make sense, but…”

Her voice cracked, and her button eyes shimmered faintly. “I just… I don’t want it to be you.”

Lilith’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Joker’s voice. She released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and tightened her grip on Joker’s hand.

“Hey,” she murmured, stepping even closer. “Nothing is going to happen to me, Eve. Nothing bad is going to happen to any of us. I won’t let it.”

Joker hesitated, her lips trembling as though she wanted to argue but couldn’t find the strength. Finally, she gave a small nod, though her doubt lingered in the way she glanced at the floor.

“Tell you what,” Lilith said, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “Why don’t you sleep in my room tonight? Just like old times.”

Joker blinked, taken aback. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” Lilith coaxed, a teasing lilt in her voice. “It’ll be fun. Like when we were younger. Remember all those sleepovers we had?”

Joker gave her a flat look, her brow raising slightly. “Before Steve, you mean.”

The mention of the name hit Lilith like a sudden gust of wind, her playful expression faltering. She flinched, her gaze dropping away as guilt clouded her features.

“I’m… sorry, Eve,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Really. I didn’t mean to leave you alone. I never wanted to…”

Joker sighed, her button eyes narrowing with regret. “No, no. I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair of me to bring Steve up like that.”

Lilith glanced back up, her eyes shimmering faintly in the low light. She offered a small, hesitant smile. “We’ve both been through a lot. But we’ve got each other now, right?”

Joker hesitated before nodding. “Right.”

As they continued down the dim hallway, their hands still loosely clasped, neither noticed the shadow that had slithered silently from the corner. It lingered in the dark, its unseen eyes burning with a fierce intensity as it watched them. The faintest flicker of movement betrayed its presence before it disappeared, swallowed by the shadows once more.

The dim corridors of the mansion stretched endlessly, the faint glow of flickering lights casting eerie shadows on the peeling wallpaper. Michael walked with measured steps, his warm gaze shifting often to Adam, who shuffled beside him. Adam’s ghostly white skin almost seemed to glow in the dim light, his fragile, bulbous body moving awkwardly under the weight of his limbs. The soft click and scrape of his mechanical appendages echoed faintly, the sharp front blades dragging slightly on the uneven floor.

"Careful now," Michael said gently, his voice as steady and reassuring as the warmth of a hearth on a cold night. He reached out, his hand brushing against Adam’s shoulder to guide him around a splintered edge of a doorframe. “These old halls can be tricky.”

Adam nodded, his button eyes blinking with uncertainty. His spindly back limbs twitched, adjusting his balance with every step.

“I… I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice tremulous, barely louder than the scrape of his own limbs. “I’m slowing you down.”

Michael chuckled softly, the sound light and comforting. “You’re not slowing me down at all. We all need a steady hand sometimes.”

He paused, waiting for Adam to maneuverer past a particularly narrow section of the hall. “Lucifer wasn’t always like this, you know.”

Adam’s movements faltered; his curiosity piqued. He tilted his head, his button eyes glinting in the low light. “He… wasn’t? What was he like?”

Michael smiled wistfully, his gaze momentarily distant as though peering into a brighter time.

“Lucifer,” he began, his voice touched with a tinge of nostalgia, “was the golden boy. The star of the show. And not just because he was eye-catching—though, let’s be honest, he was.”

He chuckled, his tone softening further. “No, it was something more than that. He had this… magnetism about him. An allure you couldn’t quite put into words. He could light up the stage, draw the audience in with just a smile and a wink. He had this way of making everyone feel like they were the most important person in the world, even if just for a moment.”

Adam’s fractured frame leaned forward slightly, his interest palpable. “He sounds… amazing.”

Michael nodded, his expression tinged with both pride and sadness. “He was. And in some ways, he still is. But…”

His voice trailed off, his brows furrowing. “Well, life has a way of wearing people down. Sometimes, what’s left doesn’t look much like what used to be.”

Adam was quiet for a moment, his limbs twitching nervously.

 “I… I think I understand that,” he said softly, his voice almost inaudible. “Maybe too much.”

Michael slowed, turning to face Adam fully. His warm brown eyes studied the younger man, his expression softening further. “I’m sorry if Lucifer frightened you earlier,” he said gently. “He’s… not himself, but he means well. I promise.”

Adam hesitated, his button eyes lowering. “Is… Is he alright?”

Michael let out a soft hum, his hand resting lightly on Adam’s shoulder. “Trauma does frightening things to people, Adam. It twists memories, reshapes the way we see the world—and ourselves.”

Adam sniffled quietly, turning his button eyes away.

“I… I get that,” he murmured. His mechanical limbs creaked slightly as he shifted his weight. “Maybe… more than I should.”

Michael tilted his head, his curiosity flickering to life. He hesitated for a moment, his lips parting as if to ask a question, but then he stopped himself. His gaze flickered to the spider-like contraption enveloping Adam’s body, but he bit down on his tongue, forcing the words back.

Noticing the silence, Adam looked up, his button eyes narrowing slightly in confusion.

“Michael?” he asked hesitantly.

Michael blinked, then smiled, ruffling Adam’s wiry hair gently. “Nothing, kiddo. I just remembered—my companion’s waiting for me outside. I should hurry to him.”

He paused, glancing down the dim corridor. “Will you be alright getting to your room from here?”

Adam nodded mutely, though his limbs twitched with a faint tremor. “I… I think so.”

Michael gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Good. Take care, alright?”

He stepped back, his smile lingering as he turned away, disappearing into the shadows of the hall.

Left alone, Adam stood still for a moment, his button eyes reflecting the dim light. The scrape of his limbs echoed as he finally turned toward his room, the soft, distant echoes of Michael’s voice still warm in his mind. But in the deep shadows behind him, something else stirred—a faint rustle, a whisper of movement, watching, waiting.

The mansion’s dim corridors gave way to a hollow silence as Adam crept toward his little hideaway beneath the grand staircase. His limbs, both natural and mechanical, clicked and whirred softly in the quiet, his hulking, fractured form stooping to avoid hitting the low arch. His hidey hole, a cramped nook stuffed with discarded blankets and broken furniture, was all he had managed to claim as his own. It wasn’t much, but it felt safe.

Adam was about to settle in when a peculiar sound broke the silence—a faint, almost imperceptible hum. He froze, his large button-green eyes blinking as he listened intently. The sound came again, distant and ethereal, like the tinkling of glass chimes carried on the wind. It seemed to come from the back of the mansion, toward the door leading to the gardens.

He hesitated, his spindly limbs twitching uncertainly. Lucifer’s furious words echoed in his mind from the first time he had tried to sneak outside.

“Don’t you dare! It’s dangerous out there, Adam! You’ll break yourself—or worse!”

Adam bit his lip, the green buttons of his eyes darting toward the staircase. He should stay. He knew he should stay. Yet something about the sound tugged at him, like an invisible thread drawing him closer. Before he could stop himself, his limbs moved, skittering softly against the floor as he made his way toward the back of the mansion.

The heavy door to the gardens loomed before him, frost curling at the edges of the glass panes. Snow piled high against the doorframe, the faint shimmer of moonlight reflecting off the drifts outside. Adam hesitated, one of his spider-like front appendages tapping nervously at the door. He glanced over his shoulder, his thoughts tangled between fear of upsetting Lucifer and the overwhelming urge to see what lay beyond.

Just as he was about to turn back, his eyes caught movement—a flicker of something outside in the snow. His curiosity sparked like a live wire, and before he could think better of it, he unlatched the door and pushed it open.

The icy air bit at his pale skin as he stepped out into the snow. The storm was quiet at first, snowflakes drifting lazily down to rest on his mechanical limbs. Adam’s button eyes shone with a childlike wonder as he took in the maze of garden gates ahead. Each gate seemed to lead to a hidden world of its own, shrouded in white and mystery. He longed to explore them all, to uncover their secrets.

But as he moved deeper into the snow, the chill began to gnaw at him. His emaciated artificial limbs stiffened, the joints freezing with each step. The spider suit let out faint pings and buzzing sounds, but Adam paid it little mind, too captivated by the allure of the gardens.

Until he couldn’t move.

A jarring creak brought him to a halt. Adam blinked in confusion, his front limbs jerking uselessly as he tried to move forward. The buzzing grew louder, a desperate sound of strain, as his joints locked tight. Panic flickered across his face as he struggled to understand. The freezing snow had begun to bite deeper, seizing his mechanical body in its icy grip.

A worried squeal escaped his lips as he fought against the immobility, his back limbs thrashing. The suit wouldn’t budge. Instead, a new kind of pain crept in, dull at first but growing sharper as his body began to succumb to the cold. Adam shivered violently, his ghostly skin flushing a faint bluish hue. His breath hitched in short gasps, the storm around him suddenly feeling like a living thing, suffocating and relentless.

“Help…” he croaked, his voice barely audible over the rising howl of the wind.

Snowflakes blurred his vision, and he squinted, trying to see through the storm. A dark figure loomed ahead, faint and distant. Relief surged in him.

“P-please…” Adam’s voice cracked as he tried to call out, but the words caught in his throat. The figure grew clearer, but instead of approaching to help, it lunged forward with terrifying speed.

Adam gasped, his body jerking back, but his frozen limbs couldn’t defend him. A sharp blow struck him, sending him sprawling into the snow. The spider suit cracked and splintered under the force, the long legs shattering at the joints. Adam crumpled, his fragile body slumping forward as the snow engulfed him. His vision blurred further as the dark figure walked past him without a second glance, vanishing into the storm.

Time seemed to stretch into an endless haze of cold and pain. Adam’s breathing was shallow, his body trembling uncontrollably. But then, a new presence appeared—a large brown boar, its fur patched and tangled with dry leaves, its button eyes wide with alarm. The creature let out a whine, rushing to Adam’s side and pressing its warm bulk against him.

The boar huddled close, its body shielding Adam from the worst of the storm. The snowstorm raged on, but the boar stayed firm, letting out soft, mournful sounds as it tried to keep the broken boy alive in the unforgiving cold.

The next morning, Lucifer woke with a knot of unease twisting in his stomach. He had expected Lilith to avoid him after their confrontation, but the absence of Adam was far more troubling. Adam hadn't even shown up for breakfast, something that, while not entirely uncommon, now felt ominous.

Lucifer paced the corridors of their shared space, eventually finding himself in the lounge. It was where Adam seemed to spend most of his time, nestled in his peculiar spider-like contraption, with its buzzing servos and faint clanks filling the air like an unsettling metronome. But today, the lounge was eerily silent. Lucifer frowned, the absence of those sounds feeling wrong. Adam never ventured far, and Lucifer couldn’t recall ever seeing him on the upper floors.

He sighed, making his way upstairs. Passing his own room, he stopped in front of the door adjacent to it—the one with Adam’s name etched delicately on a brass plate. Raising his hand, he rapped on the wood, his knuckles echoing softly in the corridor.

“Adam?” he called, voice low, almost hesitant. “It’s me, Lucifer. Uh… I’m coming in, okay?”

No response. Not even the faintest whir of mechanical limbs. Lucifer felt the unease grow heavier in his chest as he twisted the ornate black bat-flower handle and pushed the door open.

The room was small but inviting, its walls painted a warm shade of cream. A double bed was neatly tucked against the far wall, untouched and perfectly made. A simple desk stood beneath a large window, its surface spotless, as if no one had ever sat there to write or think. A modest fireplace directly opposite the door remained unlit, its hearth clean and free of ash. The room was pristine, utterly devoid of life, and cold in a way that wasn’t just temperature.

Lucifer’s eyebrows knit together as he scanned the space.

“No signs of life at all,” he muttered. It was as though Adam had never set foot in this room, let alone lived in it for weeks.

“Lucifer?”

The voice behind him startled him, and he turned sharply to see Michael peeking through the doorway, his expression one of mild confusion. “What are you doing in here? Is Adam with you?”

Lucifer shook his head, stepping aside so Michael could enter. “No, I was looking for him. Come in and—tell me what’s wrong with this picture.”

Michael stepped inside, his button-like eyes flickering around the room. A slight frown tugged at his stitched mouth.

“It’s… too cold,” he said after a moment, his tone soft but heavy with worry. “Too clean. It’s not lived in.”

Nodding grimly, Lucifer crossed his arms. “And Adam… he can’t even get up the staircase, can he?”

Michael’s head tilted, realization dawning. “Oh, no.”

Lucifer groaned, running a hand through his dark hair. “Of course, he can’t. How did I miss that? He’s probably been sleeping somewhere downstairs this whole time.”

“He’s always in the lounge. He must have found somewhere nearby.”

Determined now, they left the untouched room behind and descended the stairs in silence. Their search brought them to the cupboard beneath the staircase, a tiny space that felt more like a grave than a home. As they opened the door, the smell of dampness hit them, and their eyes took in the cramped quarters. Blankets, haphazardly folded, lined the floor, while a few small trinkets and personal items sat forlornly on a makeshift shelf. It was cold. Miserable.

Making a distressed sound, Michael paled. “Why didn’t he tell us he couldn’t go upstairs? We would have found him somewhere better than this.”

Lucifer didn’t answer. His chest ached as his gaze lingered on the sad little nook. He stood abruptly, eyes narrowing.

“Where is he, Michael? He’s not here. I thought he would be, but…”

Michael looked up at him, his worry reflecting back. “I don’t know, Luci. He’s not here.”

Lucifer clenched his fists. A wave of guilt and panic swept over him. The image of Adam, fragile and quiet, burdened with both his mechanical limbs and whatever internal scars he carried, weighed heavily in his mind. Where could he have gone? Why hadn’t they noticed sooner?

“Michael,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper but taut with determination. “We need to find him. Now.”

The mansion felt suffocating as Lucifer and Michael tore through it, calling out Adam’s name in every hall and room. Each shadow, each creak of the old wood, sent their hopes rising only to dash them cruelly. The cold silence of the house pressed against their ears, and with every empty corner, Lucifer’s anxiety grew.

When they finally met in the grand foyer, their expressions were mirrors of each other—haunted and worried.

“Seen anything?” Lucifer asked, his voice tight. His eyes darted toward Michael, searching for any sign of hope.

Swallowing thickly, Michael’s button eyes dim with worry. “No sign of him.”

Lucifer bit his bottom lip, teeth catching the soft fabric nervously. “Where could he have gone?” His voice cracked, his hands twitching at his sides.

Michael reached out and patted his shoulder gently. “We’ll find him, Luci. I promise.”

Before Lucifer could respond, an icy gust swept through the foyer, making both of them shudder. The chill wasn’t just cold—it felt unnatural, piercing. They turned their heads in unison, their eyes widening in horror at the sight of the mansion’s back door hanging ajar. Snow and frost crept in through the frame, painting the stone floor in a slick, frigid glaze.

“You don’t think…” Michael’s breath hitched audibly.

Lucifer’s face drained of colour, and he staggered forward, his knees threatening to buckle.

“Adam!” he shouted, his voice raw with desperation as he bolted toward the door.

Michael yelped and sprinted after him, struggling to keep pace. “Lucifer, wait!”

The pair burst into the blinding whiteness outside, snow swallowing their legs nearly to their knees. The storm had subsided, leaving a quiet, oppressive stillness in its wake. The entire estate was blanketed in a thick, unbroken layer of snow, turning the gardens into an alien, desolate expanse.

“Adam!” Lucifer shouted again, cupping his hands around his mouth as he pushed forward. His voice echoed, but no response came.

A sudden high-pitched whine broke the silence, followed by a jerky movement in the snow ahead.

“My companion!”

He dashed toward the source of the noise, Michael’s feet slipping and sliding in the deep snow. The small boar bounded toward him, its legs struggling against the icy terrain.

“Where were you last night?” Michael murmured, dropping to his knees as the boar nudged him frantically.

The boar let out another whine, bouncing in place and pawing at a patch of snow beside it. Michael tilted his head in confusion, then began brushing the snow away with trembling hands. His button eyes widened as his fingers touched something solid.

“Lucifer! Get over here!” Michael’s voice cracked with urgency.

Lucifer stumbled through the snow to his side, falling to his knees and helping Michael dig. Together, they uncovered the still, fragile form of Adam, his thin limbs curled against the cold. The shattered remains of his mechanical spider frame were half-buried beneath him, twisted and broken beyond recognition.

“I-Is he…” Lucifer’s voice faltered as he stared at Adam’s pale face, his lips faintly blue.

Pressing a finger beneath Adam’s nose and Michael exhaled in relief. “He’s alive. Barely.”

His hands trembled as he brushed snow from Adam’s face. “We need to get him inside. Now.”

Michael turned to his boar, patting its head firmly. “Good job, my friend. You found him and took care of him.”

The boar whined again, its expressive eyes darting between Michael and Adam.

It was a monumental effort to haul Adam’s frail body, along with the wreckage of the spider frame, back to the mansion. The snow clung to their legs and sapped their strength, but neither of them stopped. By the time they collapsed onto the mansion’s stone floor, their breaths were ragged, clouds of vapor puffing in the cold air.

Michael stumbled back, leaning against a nearby wall. “It’s too heavy. How in the world does Adam manage to move in that thing?”

Crouching beside Adam, Lucifer’s sharp eyes scanning the battered mechanical frame. The spider-like limbs were cracked and splintered, as though someone had tried to saw them off.

Adam stirred faintly, a weak murmur escaping his lips. “It… hurts,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Chest tightening, Lucifer inched closer, his fingers brushing Adam’s cold, damp hair from his face. “What hurts, Adam? What happened to you?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper.

Shaking his head, Michael kneeled beside them. “He’s delirious. We need to get him somewhere warmer. Fast.”

Lucifer’s gaze lingered on the shattered contraption attached to Adam’s fragile body. His lips curled in frustration.

“This thing…” he growled through clenched teeth. “This thing is no help to him anymore.”

“What are you doing?” Michael’s voice was sharp with alarm as Lucifer reached for the shawl draped over the spider frame.

Hands moved deftly, ignoring Michael’s protests. “I’m taking him out of this,” Lucifer snapped. “It’s hurting him.”

Grabbing his wrist, Michael gasped out helplessly.  “Lucifer, stop! We don’t know how it’s connected to him! You could kill him—”

Lucifer froze, his hand hovering above the shawl. He glanced down at Adam’s face, contorted in pain even in unconsciousness.

“He can’t stay in this,” he whispered. “It’s killing him already.”

Hesitating, Michael’s grip slackened. His gaze fell to Adam’s trembling form, his small body visibly struggling against the mechanical frame.

“Fine,” Michael said at last, his voice trembling. “But we need to be careful. If we do this wrong…”

Lucifer nodded grimly. “We’ll be careful.”

His hands moved again; this time slower, more deliberate. “But I’m not letting him suffer like this.”

The room was silent except for the faint clinks and creaks of metal as Lucifer and Michael knelt beside Adam, their breaths tight with focus and worry. Adam lay limp, his ghostly white skin stark against the dark wood floor. The fractures tracing his bulbous body gleamed faintly in the dim light, and his sickly pale green limbs looked even more emaciated than usual, trembling slightly even in unconsciousness. The mechanical spider contraption wrapped around him loomed like a cruel cage, its rusty limbs and bladed appendages adding to the grotesque sight.

Lucifer’s hands hovered over the contraption, unsure where to begin. Michael fidgeted beside him before standing abruptly.

“Wait here—I’ll grab my toolbox.”

He dashed out of the room, returning moments later with a battered red box in hand. He set it down between them, popping it open and pulling out a screwdriver. Handing it to Lucifer, Michael admitted sheepishly, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Lucifer gave a weak, grim smile. “Neither do I.”

He took the screwdriver and rested a hand lightly on Adam’s side, careful not to press too hard. “But we don’t have much choice. Adam’s been suffering because of this blasted thing, and the best thing for him right now is to be free of it.”

Michael nodded, his button eyes wide and anxious. “You’re right. Let’s do this.”

Unscrewing what looked like bolts at the base of the metal frame, Lucifer’s movements slow and precise. Michael watched closely, holding his breath with every turn of the tool. The rusty screws resisted at first, but one by one, they began to come loose.

Just as Lucifer removed one of the larger screws at the back, he gasped sharply, his hand freezing in place.

“What? What’s wrong?” Michael leaned closer, panic flashing in his expression.

“He’s… bleeding. The screws—” Lucifer’s voice wavered. His throat tightened. “They were drilled into him.”

Michael’s button eyes widened in horror. “Oh no. Oh no. Wait! There’s a first aid kit around here—I saw it earlier!”

He scrambled to his feet, rushing to a nearby cabinet and flinging it open. Grabbing the kit, he hurried back and dropped to his knees beside Lucifer. His hands trembled as he fumbled with the latches.

Lucifer, his own hands shaking, carefully parted the fabric of Adam’s shirt, revealing the puncture wounds beneath. Bright red droplets beaded at each spot where the screws had dug into his fragile frame. Michael opened the kit and handed Lucifer gauze and antiseptic, his voice barely a whisper.

“We have to stop the bleeding.”

Together, they worked in tense silence, their hands shaking as they cleaned and dressed the wounds. Adam stirred faintly, a weak whimper escaping his lips, but he didn’t wake.

“Maybe Lilith would know what to do,” Michael suggested, his voice strained.

Lucifer didn’t respond, his focus locked on the contraption. He couldn’t stop now, not when Adam was so close to freedom. Finally, the last piece of metal pressing against Adam’s body was loose. Lucifer set down the screwdriver and gently circled his arms around Adam’s middle.

Kneeling beside him, Michael’s voice was soft but firm. “Ready?”

Nodding, Lucifer button eyes large and filled with both determination and fear. Slowly, he began to pull Adam back. For a heart-stopping moment, he expected resistance, some hidden tether or mechanism that would stop him. But there was nothing. Adam slid free, limp and small in Lucifer’s arms.

Blinking in disbelief, Lucifer’s breath hitching as he stared down at Adam’s frail body. His legs buckled, and he sank back onto the floor, cradling Adam in his lap. The doll-man was far thinner and smaller than Lucifer had realized. His limbs, truncated and malformed, were even more fragile than they appeared within the spider frame.

“He has phocomelia,” Michael mumbled, his voice filled with quiet realization.

Lucifer barely heard him. He drew Adam closer, his thumb brushing tenderly over Adam’s forehead before pressing a soft kiss there. His breath shuddered, and his voice was barely audible as he whispered, “I’m so sorry, Adam.”

Michael placed a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, his tone gentle but firm. “We need to get him upstairs. Clean his wounds properly. Put him to bed so he can rest.”

Wordlessly, Lucifer nodded. His movements slow and deliberate as he rose to his feet, Adam held securely in his arms. His legs wobbled, but he steadied himself, his grip on Adam unwavering. He held Adam bridal style, Adam’s head resting on his shoulder. He spared the frozen contraption one last burning look before Lucifer turned his back to it.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Let’s take him upstairs...”

Lilith and Eve were nestled together in Lilith's bed, their limbs tangled beneath the heavy quilts. The two had stayed up late, whispering and laughing like children sharing secrets. Lilith was the first to wake, her button eyes softening as she watched Eve sleep, a small, peaceful smile on her lips. She reached out to gently brush a strand of hair from Eve’s face when a sudden shout pierced the quiet.

"Joker! Lilith! Where are you guys?!" Lucifer’s voice echoed through the hallways, frantic and sharp.

Eve stirred, whining softly as she blinked up at Lilith through half-lidded eyes.

 “What’s going on?” she mumbled.

“I don’t know,” Lilith replied, her voice low but uneasy.

They slipped out of bed and padded into the hallway, the cold of the floor biting at their feet as they followed the sound of muffled voices. The unease in Lilith’s chest deepened when they entered Adam’s room. Her button eyes landed on the bed, and she gasped.

“Is that… Adam?” she whispered.

Standing at the bedside, Lucifer careful tucking another blanket around Adam’s fragile body. Michael hovered nearby, slipping a hot water bottle under the layers of quilts. Lucifer’s expression was grim as he answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes.”

Eve swallowed hard. “What happened? What’s going on?”

Lilith stepped forward hesitantly, her hand rising instinctively to touch Adam’s bandaged shoulder. Before she could, Lucifer’s hand shot out, slapping hers away. She flinched, her button eyes widening as she stared at him in shock.

“I just…” Lucifer stammered, his face flushing. “I just don’t want him to be hurt more than he already is. Sorry.”

Lilith nodded mutely, stepping back. Her button eyes flickered around the room, landing on Adam’s familiar shawl draped over the desk. Something about its presence unsettled her. She moved towards it, her hands trembling as she picked it up. It was icy cold, sending a chill up her arms.

“We don’t know what happened,” Michael explained, his voice quiet but strained. “My companion found him out in the middle of the gardens like this. If they hadn’t kept him warm…”

His voice broke off. “He might have died from hypothermia.”

Lilith tightened her grip on the shawl, her throat tightening. “What was he doing outside? That’s dangerous!”

Head snapping toward her, Lucifer’s glare sharp. “We don’t know. I told him not to go out there. I warned him the snow would damage… that contraption.”

Eve’s voice was barely audible as she murmured, “You took him out of it?”

“Yes,” Lucifer huffed, his expression hardening. “It was useless to him now. Only causing him more pain.”

Michael straightened after adding yet another blanket to the pile. His voice was grave. “His prosthetics… they looked like someone tried to saw them off.”

The words sent a gasp from Eve, her button eyes widening in horror. Lilith barely heard them, her focus drawn to the weight of something in the shawl’s pocket. Sliding a hand inside, her fingers brushed cold glass. She fished out a small bottle, and as she did, a yellow piece of paper fluttered to the floor.

Her gaze flicked between the bottle and the paper. The moment her button eyes landed on the label, she let out a sharp, startled sound.

Lucifer turned to her, his brows knitting together. “What is it?”

Holding the bottle aloft, Lilith’s voice trembling. “These…”

Michael stepped closer, taking the bottle from her hands. He examined it, his face growing grim. “Pain medication?”

“No.” Lilith shook her head violently. “These are strong. They can cause hallucinations, alter moods… they’re banned for a reason.”

Lucifer was at her side in an instant, snatching the bottle and popping the lid off. His jaw tightened as he stared at the small pills inside.

“Who would give these to Adam?” he growled, his voice thick with anger.

Lilith crouched down to retrieve the yellow paper, her hands shaking as she unfolded it. Her face went pale as she read its contents.

Michael noticed her sudden stillness. “Lilith? What’s wrong?”

Wordlessly, she held the paper out. Lucifer took it, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief. His button eyes grew so wide they seemed ready to pop off his face.

“This is…” His voice trailed off, a rare tremor lacing his usually confident tone. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he finished, “...This is impossible.”

“…Zestial’s alive?”

[nina-ya]

GOOD MORNING EVERYONE!!! Happiest of Tuesdays!!! I hope your day turns out well I’m sending much love to you have a chopper to make your morning a bit better

[fastandcarlos]

On The Mend : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

summary: with your lack of presence in the paddock, fans are starting to worry, little do they know that you happen to be a little broken back at home

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 849,183 others

oscarpiastri: another successful week of racing, super proud of the whole team to get the car all the way to P2 this weekend 🏆🏎️

35,058 comments

username1: congratulations oscar, such an awesome drive!!

username2: just a shame that yn wasn’t there to see it once again 🙄

landonorris: so proud of you osc 😭😭😭

username3: surely they can’t still be together, she hasn’t shown her face in weeks…

charles_leclerc: mum is very proud that the two of us were on the podium btw

oscarpiastri: @/charles_leclerc it was all thanks to her pep talk ofc

username4: we’ll still support you osc even if yn won’t

mclaren: the whole team is so proud of you, congratulations oscar!

username5: enjoy the celebrations, I’m sure the team will be there for you at least 🥲

danielricciardo: congrats brother, always nice to see you repping for down under

username6: either something must be seriously wrong or yn really just doesn’t care anymore 😭

maxverstappen1: hell of a drive from you, great to see you back where you belong!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

ynusername posted two private stories

replies

georgerussell63: thanks for reminding everyone I got a penalty yn 😂😂

oscarpiastri: make sure you’re resting, you don’t need to worry about the race sweetheart!!

ynusername: I’ve never missed a race of yours 😩

danielricciardo: why tf are you in hospital and why didn’t you tell me immediately so that I could help!!

nicolepiastri: sending you lots of love sweetheart, sorry we can’t be there to help you 💕

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

oscarpiastri: I promise to sneak you in loads of snacks as soon as I’m there 💞

lilymhe: I miss you so much, hope you’re recovering well girlie

landonorris: he’s on the first flight outta here straight back to you 🧡

carmenmmundt: sending you all the healing vibes in the world ❤️

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by charles_leclerc, logansargeant and 812,948 others

oscarpiastri: wish me luck on the flight, some weird passenger keeps looking over their shoulder at me 👀

36,950 comments

username7: that poor pilot having to drive these two home lmao

danielricciardo: now you get to experience my struggle before you came along 😭

oscarpiastri: @/danielricciardo idk how you ever did it 🤦🏻

username8: at least oscar has lando to celebrate with even though others have abandoned him

alex_albon: why else do you think we offered to take you home on our plane instead?! 😂

username9: i wonder if he's going home to yn being there or not

charles_leclerc: you're incredibly brave volunteering to travel home with him 👏🏻

username10: yn should be there with him, i really hope that they're okay

username11: what would we do without these two in our lives!?

maxverstappen1: we tried to talk you out of it but you didn't listen 🤷🏻

username 12: i love how all the boys are exposing lando as a terrible travel partner hahah

landonorris: stop trying to make it sound like we're not bffs osc 💔

oscarpiastri: @/landonorris that's because we're definitely not best friends

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, alex_albon and 793,722 others

oscarpiastri: seeing as some people want to make it their business, we thought we’d share why yn hasn’t been around recently. a couple of weeks ago she had a nasty fall at home which resulted in a broken leg. yesterday I finally got to bring her home and begin helping her with recovery…just call me doctor piastri from now on 🧑🏻‍⚕️💞

57,492 comments

username13: i hope all you losers who thought they broke up are proud of yourselves 🙄

landonorris: you guys know where i am if you need anything!!

georgerussel63: we love you yn, make sure you get plenty of rest ❤️❤️❤️

username14: sending you so much love yn, get plenty of rest

ynusername: apologies in advance for the lack of sleep you're about to get because of me 😂

oscarpiastri: @/ynusername as long as you're healing idc 🥹

username15: can't believe some of you were so stupid to ever think they'd actually break up

alex_albon: glad to see you're back at home where you belong yn

danielricciardo: do i even want to ask how she managed to break her leg??

oscarpiastri: @/danielricciardo if I told you I don't think you'd believe me 😂

username16: poor oscar looks exhausted having to drive and take care of yn too

charles_leclerc: pls tell me I get to sign the cast ✍️

ynusername: @/charles_leclerc i'll save a spot just for you

username17: please make sure you take care of yourself yn and ignore what everyone has to say

carmenmmundt: sending you so many healing vibes yn, we miss you at the paddock

username18: during a time when they need privacy and instead they've been hounded by nosey idiots 🤦🏻

maxverstappen1: can't wait to see all the doctor piastri content from you! 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by georgerussell63, carlossainz55 and 682,058 others

oscarpiastri: the only way to get her out of the house atm is to bribe her with coffee ☕️

63,957 comments

username19: it's adorable how much oscar cares about her 🥰

lilymhe: tell her im omw with coffee as we speak to get her out again!

username20: it's so good to see yn back up on her feet and moving around again 🤩

alex_albon: i actually forgot what yn looked like stood upright for a moment

username21: why does it feel like oscar is one of those partners who is constantly checking on her making sure she's doing her exercises and following every single bit of advice

maxverstappen1: yn's injury is really making you look like the doting boyfriend rn ❤️

danielricciardo: if yn ever gets bored of being entertained on a walk by you, you know where i am!

username22: i bet yn can't wait for race weekend again to get rid of the nagging doctor 😂

landonorris: wish you looked after me as well as you look after yn

oscarpiastri: @/landonorris just a shame that we're not dating then really huh?!

username23: anyone else noticed how many drivers have been round this week to take yn out and make sure she's staying active too

username24: @/username23 i think she might just be the most popular wag on the grid

ynusername: i hate you but i love you at the same time these days 💞

oscarpiastri: @/ynusername if the doctor says you keep moving, it's my job to make you move 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, carmenmmundt and 59,491 others

ynusername: I always knew oscar was secretly boyfriend coded but damn having him look after me is making me fancy him all over again 🔥

12,056 comments

username25: i think i might've just fallen in love with him all over again too 😍

alexandrasaintmleux: make the most of all of the attention you're getting girl

ynusername: @/alexandrasaintmleux oh I am, he doesn't let me lift a finger 😘

username26: soft, doctor boyfriend oscar might just be my new favourite thing

charles_leclerc: if i see many more of these posts from you i might just need a sick bucket 🤮

username27: yn you really are the luckiest having this guy in your life

carlossainz55: i always knew he was a softie deep down 🥺

oscarpiastri: you know i'd do anything as long as it meant getting you better again

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri you're an angel in disguise i swear

username28: i'd break my leg too if it meant oscar piastri was there to look after me 😂

username29: it melts my heart to see how caring oscar has been over the past few weeks

danielricciardo: even i found myself getting a bit excited when i saw these photos yn

username30: everyone needs an oscar piastri in their life

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

ynusername posted two stories

replies

landonorris: you're ruining oscar's image with every post you share these days 😂

oscarpiastri: there's nowhere else that I'd rather be

ynusername: we'll pretend you didn't complain that it wasn't race weekend first thing this morning shall we???

carmenmmundt: hope it's good news, lemme know how you get on!!

alex_albon: praying for you and hoping that it's the beginning of the end now 💕

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

danielricciardo: thinking of you guys, tell the doctor if he doesn't give you good news i'll break his leg 💞

ynusername: something tells me you might find a few challenges in doing that hahah

georgerussell63: you're so strong yn, just remember we love you

charles_leclerc: the whole family is hoping for good news for you and oscar ❤️

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 70,238 others

ynusername: the moment i've waited for for so long, back in my second home of the garage and back supporting my love during race weekend

14,592 comments

username31: make sure you keep taking care of yourself yn!! 💕

oscarpiastri: cannot begin to tell you how happy i am to have you back with me again ☺️

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri the best feeling in the world being able to cheer you on again

danielricciardo: ik just how much this means to you, welcome back to us yn

username32: it's so good to see you right back where you belong again

username33: it feels like you've never been away, I'm so happy for you guys 🥹

charles_leclerc: on the mend at last, i hope you know just how many people can't wait to welcome you back this weekend

username34: we love our favourite #81 fan 🧡

iamrebeccad: i am hurrying over to that mclaren garage as fast as i possibly can rn ‼️

username35: so happy to see you back on your feet and back with our favourite duo again

username36: this is the content we've been waiting for, it's so good to see you back

landonorris: as much as i hate having to share oscar again, it's a joy to have you back 🙃

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[martygraciesversion381]

Smau where max and reader grew up together and have been together since they were like early teens and they are married and everyone makes fun of max because he has been down bad for reader since day 1. So simp max? And the fans love her and max fights them in the comments lol

LOVER (MV1)

a/n: i hoped that's what you asked for and that you like it<3 (sorry it took me long to write it)

warnings: non just fluff, max being down bad for reader, smau

maxverstappen1

liked by y/nverstappen, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and others

maxverstappen1: so glad to have you here today love of my life💕 i guess they were right when they talked about soulmates and good luck charms cause you defenitely are both for me💕

154637 comments

y/nverstappen: love u sooo much maxie💕

↳ maxverstappen1: ik hou van je liefje💕

↳ user1: the heart emoji....i can't

↳ user2: mom and dad

user3: @/y/nverstappen marry me pleaseeee

↳ maxverstappen1: nu-hu she's already taken

↳ user4: lol he's so down bad

user5: i love simp max

↳ user6: he's been like this since day 1

maxverstappen1

liked by y/nverstappen, iamrebeccad, lilymhe and others

maxverstappen1: best holiday ever❤️

1524637 comments

y/nverstappen: love you babe❤️

↳ maxverstappen1: love you more❤️

↳ landonorris: staawwwppp you guys are so cute🥹

lilymhe: marry me pls❤️ i have much more to offer than him

↳ y/nverstappen: omg hi wife!!!

↳ maxverstappen1: sorry @/y/nverstappen but i believe you are MY wife

iamrebeccad: prettiest girl ever please let's ditch the boys and escape together!

↳ y/nverstappen: omw!!!

↳ maxverstappen1: STOP STEALING HER SHES MINE!!

comments have been restricted for this post

maxverstappen1

liked by y/nverstappen, iamrebeccad, lilymhe and others

maxverstappen1: three years since that amazing day where i first got to call you mine❤️ you are the best thing that happened to me and marrying you was the best decision i've ever made❤️ ik hou van je liefje❤️

109289 comments

y/nverstappen: ik hou van je max❤️ (look! i wrote in dutch!)

↳ maxverstappen1: i love you y/n (look! i wrote in english!)

↳ landonorris: you guys are so cute and insufferable

lilymhe: most beautiful bride ever❤️

↳ y/nverstappen: most beautiful bridesmade ever❤️

charles_leclerc: i still have pics of max crying!

↳ y/nverstappen: SEND THEM TO ME!!!

↳ maxverstappen1: god why did you have to say that

y/nverstappen

liked by maxverstappen1, lilymhe, charles_leclerc and others

y/nverstappen: my life in one post❤️ a quote + mother + dream guy❤️ love you to the moon and to saturn maxie❤️

maxverstappen1: love you too❤️ (liked by creator)

lilymhe: why am i not there as your dream girl?

↳ iamrebeccad: i could ask the same question

↳ y/nverstappen: calm down girls you know i like you more❤️

↳ maxverstappen1: @/alexalbon @/carlossainz55 come get your girld before they steal mine

user1: MOTHER IS A SWIFTIE?!

↳ y/nverstappen: of course i am! who doesn't love taylor?

↳ user1: i died dead

tags: (if you don't want to be tagged on all of my posts tell me!) @motorsportbarbie13 @g00d--vibes @gorgeusreputation16 @paulinegba @f1addict3

[jo-com]

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ➛ Eye Catching

F1 Drivers x Toto Wolf’s daughter

Summary: The only time you go to your dads and you already got the attention of the drivers.

Genre: SMAU

Fc: Various face claim, found the pics on pinterest

Note: grammatical errors and not proofread

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

───── ─ ೀ⋆｡🌷─ ───────

Your Notifications:

Charle_Leclerc just started following you

Maxverstappen1 just started following you

Lewishamilton just started following you

Landonorris just started following you

…

Yn.wolf just posted!

Liked by urbff, landonorris, Carlossainz55 and 978,409 others

Yn.wolf thanks for following lil ol me💋

View all comments

Charles_Leclerc are you perhaps single?

Yn.wolf hmm idk🤔 ask dad

User1 WAHAHAHHAHA GURL GOT HUMBLED FAST

Lewishamilton @Charles_Leclerc let a real man handle this

User2 The fact that all of them wants her

User3 ATE AT THE PADDOCK TODAY

User4 waiting for @Lewishamilton shot

User5 honestly same

Yn.wolf same😐

Landonorris Hi👋🏻

Toto_wolf uhm no

Landonorris I ONLY SAID HI

Toto_wolf you shouldn’t even be here right now at my DAUGHTERS post

User6 oohhh emphasis on the daughter huh

Carlossainz55 just saw toto’s comment, i’ll sit this one out

Toto_wolf best idea you ever had

User8 this is getting way out of hand😭

Yn.wolf couldn’t agree more

User9 y/n’s vibe is just so 😫👌🏻

…

Liked by Oscarpiastri, Landonorris, Charle_leclerc and 4,589 others

Urbff wow 2 flowers in one day, you must be rich!

Tagged; @Yn.wolf

View all comments

Toto_wolf tell me who.

Urbff even idk sir😭

Carlossainz55 hope you love it señora💞

Yn.wolf i do in fact my kind sir, gracias💕

Maxverstappen1 did you like mine?

Yn.wolf they were also lovely!

Maxverstappen1 thanks, took me an hour to pick the right one

Landonorris On my way to send flowers

Charles_Leclerc (2)

Toto_wolf i am blocking the mail service as we speak

Lewishamilton I haven’t even sent mine yet!

Toto_wolf dear god🤦🏻‍♂️

Comments have been limited!

…

Yn.wolf just posted a story!

Replies:

Carlossainz55 my world😍😚

Yn.wolf 🤭🤭

Carlossainz55 i just love how, they think that they have a shot with you

Yn.wolf UR WAY TOO CRUEL MY LOVE😭😭

Lewishamilton can i get another shot?

Maxverstappen1 my cats said hi

Charle_leclerc that book seems heavy, want me to hold your hands?

Charles_leclerc book*

Landonorris i love you

Landonorris damn i mean the view, you got me crazy for a moment there

…

Short but hope you like it though💞

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : FALLING FOR THE SPOTLIGHT (PT.1) : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Hugh Jackman x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff!!!

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: RPF

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: You interview for a personal assistant position with Hugh Jackman over Zoom. Despite initial nerves, Hugh’s charm and playful teasing create a connection, making the conversation feel both professional and surprisingly personal. By the end, you sense a special chemistry and eagerly await his decision.

Next Part

YOU SAT AT THE SMALL DINING TABLE IN YOUR APARTMENT, tapping your fingers against the edge of your laptop as the screen glowed faintly. Across the room, Zoë, your best friend and roommate, was lounging on the couch, casually flipping through her phone. She glanced up at you, smirking as she noticed your nervous energy.

"How are you holding up?" she asked, her voice teasing but affectionate.

You shot her a nervous smile. "Barely. I mean, it's Hugh Jackman... Hugh freaking Jackman. What am I supposed to do with that?"

Zoë laughed, sitting up and tossing her phone aside. "Oh, you’re going to do great. You’ve got this. You just graduated with a degree in media, you know your stuff. And besides, he’s going to love you."

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered, staring at the blank screen, your mind still whirling. "You didn’t have a massive celebrity crush on him for, like, half your life."

Zoë grinned knowingly. "True, but that’s exactly why you'll nail it. You’ve been preparing for this moment without even realizing it."

You gave her a mock glare, but deep down, you appreciated her confidence in you. It was a dream scenario—working as Hugh Jackman’s personal assistant. When you saw the job posting online, you didn’t even hesitate to apply, though you never imagined you’d get an interview, let alone one scheduled so quickly. And now, here you were, waiting for a Zoom call with the man himself. The idea of seeing Hugh in real-time, talking to him, hearing his voice directed at you, was enough to send your heart racing.

The laptop chimed suddenly, breaking your thoughts. The screen lit up with an incoming Zoom call.

Zoë jumped up, wide-eyed. "That’s him, isn’t it?"

You nodded, trying to steady your breathing. "It’s happening. Oh God, it’s happening."

She scurried over to stand behind you, giving your shoulders a quick squeeze. "Good luck! You’ve got this."

You took a deep breath, clicked to accept the call, and the screen shifted to show none other than Hugh Jackman. His face appeared, smiling warmly into the camera as he adjusted the angle. He looked even more handsome than you’d imagined—salt-and-pepper hair, sharp features, and that trademark grin that could melt a million hearts. The casual blue T-shirt he wore only added to his approachable charm.

“G'day!” His voice was warm, rich, and effortlessly charming. “Can you hear me okay?”

You smiled nervously and nodded. “Yes! I can hear you perfectly. Hi, Mr. Jackman. I mean, Hugh. Sorry. Hi.”

Hugh laughed softly, and the sound of it eased some of your nerves. “No worries at all. And please, just call me Hugh. ‘Mr. Jackman’ makes me feel old.”

You giggled despite yourself, the tension in your shoulders loosening slightly. “Okay, Hugh it is.”

His eyes twinkled with amusement. “So, how are you today? I know interviews can be a bit nerve-wracking.”

"Just a little," you admitted with a sheepish smile. "But I’m excited, too. It's a really amazing opportunity, and I’m just happy to be here."

"That’s the spirit," Hugh replied, leaning forward slightly. "Listen, I’m not one for formal interviews. I’d rather just have a chat, get to know you, and see how we vibe. I hope that’s alright?"

“That sounds perfect,” you said, your heart pounding a little less now. The casual nature of the conversation was starting to help you feel more at ease.

“So,” Hugh began, tilting his head, “you just finished university, right? Tell me a bit about that. What did you study?”

“Yeah, I graduated not too long ago,” you replied, feeling more confident. “I studied media, so I’ve done a bit of everything—social media management, content creation, production... I’ve always loved the idea of working behind the scenes. I guess I’m just looking for a job where I can put all that to use.”

Hugh nodded thoughtfully. "Media, huh? That’s perfect. I need someone who knows their way around that stuff. I’m hopeless with social media." He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "If it weren’t for my team, I’d probably still be figuring out how to send tweets."

You laughed, feeling the connection start to form. “Well, you’ve got a pretty solid Instagram game going on. But I can definitely help with anything tech-related.”

"Ah, well, that’s good to hear," Hugh said, leaning back in his chair. "And what about your interests outside of media? Any hobbies or passions I should know about?"

“Well,” you began, hesitating for a second. “I love movies—obviously. And I’m really into fitness, too, though I’m not quite at your level.”

Hugh raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Fitness, eh? Are you trying to take my job? Next thing I know, you’ll be Wolverine."

You blushed, laughing nervously. "I don’t think I could pull off the claws."

"Ah, you never know!" Hugh said, winking. "But seriously, fitness is a great passion to have. Keeps you grounded. Maybe we could train together sometime—I’m always looking for a new gym buddy."

Your heart skipped a beat at the casual offer, the idea of working out with Hugh Jackman suddenly flooding your mind. Was he joking, or…?

"That sounds fun," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "But you might have to go easy on me."

"No promises," Hugh teased, his smile never faltering. Then he leaned in slightly, his tone a little more serious. “But really, you seem like you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. I like that. You’re young, but from what I’ve seen on your resume, you’re definitely not lacking in experience. How do you feel about working in such a high-pressure environment?”

You thought about it for a moment. "Honestly, I think I’d thrive in it. I’m used to juggling a lot at once, and I’ve always worked well under pressure. I guess I’m just ready for a challenge."

Hugh nodded approvingly. "Good answer. I like someone who’s not afraid of a little chaos." He paused, then added with a mischievous glint in his eye, “And you seem awfully young to be my assistant. You sure you’re not still in high school?”

You blushed furiously and laughed, shaking your head. “Definitely not. I promise, I’m a fully certified adult.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to trust you on that,” Hugh replied, his tone playful. "You might just surprise me."

For a brief second, there was a comfortable silence. You could feel the warmth radiating from Hugh, and you found yourself smiling more freely now, your initial nerves melting away. The conversation felt easy, almost natural, like you’d known him for longer than just a few minutes.

Hugh broke the silence with a chuckle. "You know, I have to say, I think you’re going to fit in really well here."

You blinked, caught off guard. "You think so?"

"I do," Hugh said, his expression softening. "I’ve interviewed a lot of people, but you... there’s something about you. You’ve got a good energy. I like that."

You felt your cheeks heat up again, but this time, it was less about nerves and more about the undeniable connection you felt growing between the two of you. Hugh Jackman, your long-time celebrity crush, was complimenting you—on more than just your qualifications.

"I... wow, thank you," you said, a little flustered but genuinely touched. "That means a lot coming from you."

Hugh smiled, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed air. “Well, I’ll make sure to let you know in a few days, but between you and me, I think you’ve got a pretty good shot at this.”

You grinned, trying to hold back the excitement bubbling up inside you. "I’ll be waiting by my phone."

“I’m sure you will,” Hugh replied, his voice laced with warmth. He glanced at the clock on his screen and sighed. "I’ve got another meeting to run to, but it was really great chatting with you. I’ll be in touch soon, okay?"

“Sounds good,” you said, your heart still racing. “Thanks again, Hugh. I really appreciate it.”

Hugh gave you one last smile, his eyes twinkling. “No worries at all. Have a great day, and I’ll talk to you soon.”

The screen faded to black as the call ended, and you sat there for a moment, staring at your laptop. Your heart was pounding, your cheeks still flushed with the warmth of the conversation. You couldn’t help but smile, replaying every word in your head.

Zoë appeared behind you, her eyes wide with excitement. "So...?"

You turned to her, grinning. "I think it went really well."

Zoë's eyes lit up with excitement, and she grabbed your shoulders, shaking you slightly. "Oh my God! Spill! What did he say? How was he? Was he as charming as he seems?"

You laughed, pushing her hands away gently. "He was even better. Like, ridiculously charming. He made a joke about me being too young to be his assistant and then—" You paused, recalling the moment he’d complimented your energy, your stomach fluttering. "—and he said he thinks I’d fit in well."

Zoë gasped dramatically, bouncing in place. "That’s basically a ‘you got the job’ in celebrity-speak! Oh my God, this is huge!" She practically danced across the room, grabbing her phone and immediately typing furiously.

“What are you doing?” you asked, still in a daze.

“Texting the girls! I have to tell them you just interviewed with Hugh Jackman, and it sounds like you nailed it.”

You chuckled, though a part of you was still processing the entire experience. Had that really just happened? Talking to Hugh had felt so natural—like you’d known him longer than the fifteen minutes the interview lasted. He was warm and playful, but also professional when it counted, and you couldn’t help but replay the way he’d teased you about your age. Was that flirting, or was it just his way of putting people at ease?

Zoë interrupted your thoughts, practically vibrating with excitement. “Okay, but tell me—how did you not, like, melt into a puddle of goo? I mean, he was on your screen, in real-time, flirting with you.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “I don’t know! I was nervous at first, but he’s so easy to talk to. It didn’t feel like an interview at all—it felt more like… I don’t know, like we were just chatting.”

Zoë waggled her eyebrows at you. “Uh-huh, chatting with Hugh Jackman, no big deal.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter, smirking. “And what’s this about working out together? Are you going to become his gym buddy now?”

You blushed, laughing as you recalled his casual invitation to train together. “I’m pretty sure he was joking. But who knows? If I get the job, maybe I’ll just casually bump into him at the gym.”

Zoë raised an eyebrow. “Girl, if you get this job, you’re about to be around him 24/7. You better prepare for that heart of yours. Crush or not, you’re gonna be spending some serious time with him.”

The thought sent a flutter of excitement through you. It was true—if you got the job, you’d be Hugh’s personal assistant, meaning you’d be with him constantly, organizing his schedule, helping with events, traveling with him... And you’d be doing all of that with a man you’d secretly crushed on for years. The idea of it was both exhilarating and terrifying.

“I know,” you said softly, biting your lip. “It’s kind of crazy to think about. But I also can’t let myself get too ahead of things. It’s still just an interview for now.”

Zoë rolled her eyes, waving a hand dismissively. “Please, that man was smitten. You’re going to get it, I can feel it.”

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed on the table. Your heart leaped as you saw an unknown number pop up on the screen.

You stared at it for a second before Zoë nudged you. “Don’t just stare at it! Answer it! What if it’s him?”

You fumbled with the phone, quickly hitting the button to accept the call. “Hello?”

A familiar deep voice on the other end made your heart race again. “Hey, it’s Hugh.”

You almost dropped the phone. Hugh is calling me? Already? You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “Hi! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.”

Hugh laughed lightly, the sound sending another flutter through your stomach. “Yeah, I know. But I’ve been thinking about our chat, and I wanted to catch you before the weekend. I’d love for you to come in on Monday for an in-person meeting. I want to show you the ropes and see how you feel about everything in person.”

You blinked, trying to process what he’d just said. “You mean… like a second interview?”

“Sort of,” Hugh said, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “But mostly, I just want to make sure you’re comfortable with the role before we make it official.”

You tried to suppress the squeal threatening to escape your throat. “That sounds amazing! I’d love to.”

“Great,” Hugh said, his tone warm. “I’ll have my assistant email you the details—where to meet, what time, all that jazz. We’ll keep it casual, don’t worry.”

Your heart was beating so fast you were surprised Hugh couldn’t hear it through the phone. “Thank you so much, Hugh. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem at all,” he replied smoothly. “Looking forward to seeing you again.”

The call ended, and you stood there for a moment, phone in hand, staring at the screen in disbelief.

Zoë practically pounced on you. “What? What did he say?!”

You turned to her, eyes wide with excitement. “He wants me to come in on Monday. For a follow-up meeting, but it sounded more like... like he’s already offering me the job.”

Zoë screamed, grabbing you and spinning you in a circle. “I knew it! I told you! You’re going to be Hugh Jackman’s assistant!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as she danced around the room, but deep down, you felt a wave of excitement mixed with nervous anticipation. This was it—the start of something big. You were one step closer to working for Hugh Jackman, to being a part of his world.

And maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that this job could lead to something even more than you’d ever imagined.

🏷️: @oatmilkriver @khxna @hughverine @junnniiieee07 @stark-ironman @Marcswife21 @boomveronika @kellyxo1 @shiawaseorii @shybluebirdninja @mutilatedcupid @corvusmorte @iluvfanficsstuff @stickyunknownsubstance @miha080 @acescutejeans-1247 @ladydimitrescutlou @iwannadie07 @whimsiwitchy @bitchydragonparadisee

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!!

I am so hyped for this small series!!! Hugh needs more content on here. I absolutely love reading all of your thoughts on the chapters, so feel free to leave a comment!! And at last, Enjoy!!

I’m also thinking of writing some oneshots taking place in the same AU after i finish the series. You can read them as standalones or see it as extra content for this project!!

[zylev-blog]

Danny is Jon Kent.

Danny was in English class when it happened. A portal opened under his desk and he fell into it, desk and all. When he was able to get his bearings of whatever he’d been dropped into, he was considering going ghost, but something deep inside of him told him to wait and watch. That his ghost half wasn’t needed yet. So he did.

He looked around. He noticed a teenager, around his age, that was dressed in a gray, black and red costume with a R on the chest, who was standing next to a blonde guy in a long trench coat.

“There you go, Batbrat. One Jon Kent for ya. Don’t kill this one, eh?” Constantine winked and teleported out of the room after clapping the ‘Batbrat’ on the shoulder.

The teen turned to him, walking over slowly. Danny was unnerved. He didn’t know who ‘Jon Kent’ was, or why he was summoned, but he didn’t want to have to defend himself with his English final and a pencil. He pulled the hidden Fentonbat from his pocket and extended it, aiming it at the teen.

“Don’t come any closer.” Danny hissed, “Who are you and why was I summoned here?”

The teen tilted his head. “You don’t recognize me?”

“Am I supposed to?” He kept the bat steady in his hands, but he doubted that it would do much against the teen. Something in him told him that the teen was more highly trained than he was and that he could decimate him without any effort.

The teen reached up and pulled the mask off of his face, looking slightly hopeful. “My name is Damian Wayne.” The teen looked him up and down, “The Jon Kent of my world is dead and you will take his place.”

“Alright, look, uh—Damian, was it? First off, I’m not Jon Kent, don’t even know who that is. Second off, I’m not taking some dead teens place. No way. That’s just creepy and it’s not happening.”

He was starting to get creepy vibes from Damian, and the only other person that creeped him out like this was Vlad, and Vlad was… well, Vlad.

“The world is in danger. Superman is going mad with his grief. He needs his son.” Damian looked into his eyes, “And I need my best friend back.”

“That’s a whole lot of nope from me.” He backed away, but found himself with the desk blocking his retreat. “Look, I’m honored but uh, my sister will get worried if I don’t come home and trust me, you don’t want that.”

“You don’t have a sister.” Damian took a few steps forward.

He stepped around the desk and kept it between him and Damian. “You’ve got the wrong guy! I don’t know who Jon Kent is! My name is Danny! Danny Fenton! And for once in my life, can you please send me back to school so I can take my English test?”

“I thought we would be friends in every universe.” Damian mumbled, “But I guess I was wrong.”

“Cool. Cool. Cool. Uh, quick idea, sending me home sounds fantastic.”

“The world needs you, Jon. I need you.” Damian frowned, “But if you won’t go willingly, I will force you.”

Loosing his temper, he spat: “I’m not Jon, you arrogant ass—“

He was cut off when he saw Damian pull a glowing green rock from his pocket. Instantly, Danny fell to his knees, dragging the desk down with him as he fell. He clutched his chest, making it feel like it was hard to breathe. He lost unconsciousness.

[pearlymel]

I don’t know if your request are open rn but I was wondering if you can do Boothill, Gallagher, and Argenti, and Aventurine with an Actor reader, considered the silver screen queen of Penacony and The Robin of “Film”.

If you need inspo, I was thinking the vibe and style of Judy Garland, Audrey Hepburn, and Marilyn Monroe. (No pressed)

Synopsis : you're the famous person they fell in love with.

Includes : Boothill, Argenti, Aventurine, and Gallagher.

Notes : afab!reader, no pronouns except being called "princess" in Aventurine's. Sfw, All fluff. My dear anon i hope this was what you requested (from what i understood.) Ty for the request, it was pretty creative. Quick reminder that my requests are closed for now!! This is just old requests im trying to finish. feel free to send in your thoughts or thirsts instead. ♡

↳ AVENTURINE.

You were in the acting industry, a known star across penacony that everyone would scream to have a picture with.

Fairly, you don't even know how you ended up with this gambler. Despite you having the money, he still spoils you rotten.

Aventurine is not surprised (or he acts to) that he managed to bag you with his charmness, even though internally he was just one of your die hard fans at heart.

To this day, he's still confused how you returned back his feelings.

Like many other times, Aventurine leads you out of a shopping mall. He’s carrying some bags, and he always makes sure to pick out the heaviest ones to show off how strong he was. He always liked to make a show of his wealth, especially with you.

“You bought so many things today,” he grins. “What’s the matter? Is your current wardrobe that empty?”

"Just things for my family, and you, of course." You grin back.

You didn't expect Aventurine to spoil you at some yacht this time, he puts an arm around you and guides you forwards. All formal butler's at your service, bowing down elegantly just right outside of it. It’s expensive—he wouldn’t dare to spend money on anything less perfect, after all.

He makes a habit of keeping his hand close to the small of your back. He likes to feel the warmth of your body, the way your clothes feel against his touch. He hums lowly from beside you. “I have a surprise for you,” he comments, his tone low and teasing.

"You're full of surprises today."

“Only the best for a diva like you,” he responds back. He can’t help the smirk on his face as he leads you towards the yacht. He’s certainly proud, because he knows how perfect it is. Every part of the exterior is luxurious to suit your taste.

Aventurine climbs on it and holds a hand out for you. “Careful while you board. You don’t want to trip and ruin your pretty face, don’t you?”

You roll your eyes playfully, taking his hand in a firm grip, "Oh don't be dramatic."

He guides you up the small set of steps and grins, his thumb running over your knuckles.

Aventurine leads you further into the cabin. It’s clean and spacious, a large bed on one side. There’s a door leading to a bathroom, and a large screen on one wall.

He sets the bags down and sits on the edge of the bed, patting the empty side of the bed while giving you a smile. “Come here, princess.”

You laugh, dashing towards him and jumping right on him, pushing both of you down on the bed and he grunts dramatically, but laughs along with you. His hands move to rest on your waist, pulling you closer to him.

He adjusts himself so he’s laying on the bed with you on top of him, and his eyes soften.

"I'm happy," you start, "It's not about this, how thankful i am to be experiencing this. But i love spending every moment with you, the good and bad."

Oh, stop giving him that expression. He's going to melt and giggle like a highschooler.

“And I love spoiling you,” he answers. “I love making you feel loved and appreciated because it’s what you deserve. Especially after dealing with me, princess.” he finishes it off softly, pressing a delicate kiss to your cheek.

"Sooo, you rented this yacht just for both of us to enjoy the view and eat good food?"

"Do you like it? Y'know what, scratch that. I'll buy the yacht if you love it. So we can come back here everytime."

↳ ARGENTI.

To you, You were just a normal dancer, following your love and passion for this field.

To Argenti, you were the most elegant, and beautiful human to ever have the pleasure of laying his eyes on.

He has been admiring you, at a distance, for a while. So when this gentleman approached you on his knee with a rose on his hand, you were pretty shocked and flustered.

"I apologise if I startled you," Argenti gently spoke as he offered the rose, his voice smooth and warm like velvet, his redish-green eyes locking onto yours. "But your beauty caught my eye while you were dancing. It is not often that I am rendered speechless, but your grace in every movement bewitched me."

You take the single rose from his hand with a wide smile, your thumb and forefinger toying with the stem and rolling it as you lift it and near it to your lips and nose to inhale it's fragrance.

"I love it," you whisper in awe.

Argenti's heart melted further as he observed your smile and the way you brought the flower up to your face. It was like a vision straight out of a dream for him, and it fuelled the desire within his heart even more.

"It brings me joy to see you like this," the knight replied, "Might I have the honour of knowing your name?"

And you utter your name out, the words leaving your tongue like it was made of silk.

A name as beautiful as the one bearing it, he thought to himself. "A name that reflects your grace and elegance," he responded, "As for myself, I am called Argenti. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"You may stand up, dear Argenti."

Argenti's heart fluttered at your endearing address towards him, and he immediately obliged to your request. He rose to stand up, his stature proud and imposing.

"As you command, my dear" he voiced, his gaze remaining on you. He made a subtle, respectful bow.

That day, you agreed to go on this little date with him, courting you was his next goal.

The sun finally settled beneath the horizon, casting the world into the soft, silver-tinted embrace of night. A gentle breeze gently ruffled his hair, the faint scent of the rose you held earlier wafting around.

"It appears our meeting is coming to an end, isn't it?" Argenti mused as he silently studied your delicate features, silently committing the image to memory. "Thank you for taking me out today, Argenti."

"It is my pleasure to have spent this time with you." He whispered back, ending it with a murmur of your name.

"This evening has been a moment of clarity for me. May I have the privilege of seeing you again sometime in the future?"

↳ GALLAGHER.

Gallagher was secretly your lover, despite his status as a bodyguard to you; the famous popstar singer.

You chuckle to yourself when you watch how he talked off some unwanted guests prying at your personal business, which was just drinking at some small coffee shop.

Gallagher sensed your amusement, catching your smile in his peripheral vision. He took a step closer to you, his hand resting discreetly on the small of your back. "Something funny, pretty?" He spoke first, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

"Just the scene of you handling the situation is amusing." You say before taking a long sip from your drink. He gave a subtle scoff, his lips forming a wry half-smile. He knew that he probably looked like a protective dog, "just doing my job," he replied in a lax tone.

"Because you're my bodyguard or because you're jealous?"

"Both," he muttered, his eyes flickering over the place, still scanning for potential threats. "I'm your bodyguard, so it's my job to keep others from getting too close. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little...jealous."

You pat his shoulder, looking around before resting your chin on his shoulder, "I'm all yours, nothing to be jealous of." you whisper into his ear.

Gallagher's firm expression softened even further at your reassurance. Your words reassured him deeply, erasing any traces of jealousy from his features.

"You're damn right about that," his hand moving from your back to subtly wrap around your waist, as he drew your seat a little closer. "You're all mine, no one else's."

"And if they start being suspicious of our relationship?"

His grip on your waist tightened slightly, his expression growing a bit more serious as he considered your question. "They can speculate all they want," he shrugged, his eyes flickering over the quiet area before returning to you. "S’not like we're doing anything wrong. I'm your bodyguard, but I can't help how I feel about you. There's no harm in a little...physical closeness. No one's going to catch on as long as we keep it subtle."

And it was your turn for you to turn all soft, "you know.. i wouldn't care if they find out. I'll gladly show you off to the world."

↳ BOOTHILL.

"My love, this is too much."

"Too much? Nah."

But Boothill's demeanor changes as he senses your guilt, your guilt of recieving loads of expensive clothes and gifts just for you. His strong hands gently grip your shoulders, his gaze fixed on you. He hated whenever you tried to protest or object to his generous gestures.

Leaning in a little closer, he adds in a soft voice, "It's not too much if it's for you, darlin'. You deserve everythin' that money can buy. So don't you dare feel bad, alright?"

Everything he brought to you was to your taste, as a fashion designer. How did he even manage to get these majestic attires for you?

"It's my turn to spoil you, i will make sure to look pretty for you." You promise, and his heart skips a beat at your promise to make yourself look beautiful for him. He gives a low chuckle, "Darlin', you're already the most radiant sight a fella like me could ever want." He steps a little closer, his eyes roaming over you for a moment, taking in the sight of you.

"But I'll still be lookin' forward to seein' you all dolled up," he adds with a sly smile.

And you do, entering the bathroom to change then coming out and giving him a private show of you modelling the clothes he got you.

He lets out a low whistle, a smirk on his face as he takes in the sight of you. His eyes roam over your form, appreciating the curves and the elegance you exude.

Boothill's jaw practically hits the floor.

"My sweet darlin', you look like a vision straight from my wildest dreams."

"Mhmm, and you're the chosen man."

"And I've never been more grateful for that title in my life, darlin'. You look like a piece of heaven right here in my arms."

You roll your eyes at his words, your hands on his shoulders as you look down at his seating figure, "You're exaggerating."

Boothill lets out a hearty laugh, enjoying the banter between you. He playfully pulls you even closer, his hands roaming unabashedly over the curves of your body.

"Exaggerating? Sweetheart, I may have a flair for the dramatic, but in this case, I speak nothin' but the truth." His eyes roam over you once again, "You could be wearin' a potato sack, and you'd still be the most beautiful sight to my eyes."

You narrow your eyes at the idea, "i will wear that potato sack next time."

He grins, "and I'd still be achin' to get up close and personal, darlin'." he says, his voice low and sultry.

[gothcsz]

imagine pornstar javi having an only fans 😩

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oh hell yeah nonnie, me too... top subscriber, working 3 jobs just to support this sexy man. who's with me?! 🙂‍↕️ tagging @miss-oranje-disco-dancer & @almostempty because duhhh 🖤 i hope i did this justice!

tags: f!reader, smut babes, onlyfans!javi let's gooo, he talks you through it, dirty talk duh, masturbation (f&m), use of pet names (doll, baby, sweetheart, muñeca, bella), roleplaying (?), i have no idea how OF works so just vibe with me, everyone say thank you to your bestie, unbeta'd, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx. ~ 3.1k w/c

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look at how yummy this dick is 👀

You frown as you read the message preview sent from your best friend. Your eyes flit up to check the time.

It’s barely past two in the morning. Does this bitch ever sleep? Granted— you’re also up late.

You tap on the notification before it disappears, going into your message thread with her and you see the link attached to her horny message.

why are you sending me unsolicited dick pics at 2 am? what would your man think of this?

She replies right away.

first of all i don’t have a man second of all it’s a video and just please go watch it

You’re confused by that first message since she was just raving about this guy she met at her job but you let it go, tapping on the link and waiting for safari to open it up.

The OnlyFans website loads and prompts you to log in before continuing. You go back to your messages.

tabling the i don’t have a man convo for another time can’t see it because i don’t have an account 

She’s quick to send you her log in and you laugh out loud— of course she’s a registered user.

You type in her email and password, patiently waiting before the post she sent you loads and your eyes widen.

Just the thumbnail has you intrigued. A man, dressed in a tailored navy suit sans the jacket and tie, the fabric of his white collared shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

The title reads: Late Night at the Office. 

The transparent play button teases you, almost daring you to give in to the intrigue.

So you tap it.

It begins with the mystery man seated, the frame capturing him from the tip of his strong nose down to the top of his thighs. His features are striking from what you can see— plump, pink lips framed by a neatly trimmed mustache, adding a hint of rugged sophistication to his appearance.

His legs are spread wide, unapologetically taking up space, the rich leather of the chair creaking subtly beneath him. His thighs strain against the fabric of his suit pants.

There’s something about the way he sits, so sure of himself, so confident in his own skin, that draws your eye immediately to the center of the frame. One hand rests lazily on his thigh, the other cradles a phone, as if he’s deep into an intimate call. His eyes, though hidden, seem locked on you through the screen, pulling you deeper into his fantasy.

And then, he speaks.

“Have to stay late, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

His voice slides through the speakers of your phone like liquid velvet— deep and smooth, carrying an accent that’s definitely southern but tinged with something else, wrapping itself around each word like a caress.

“Don’t be upset, doll. Let me make it up to you.”

His tone is gentle but authoritative, luring you in. The air feels charged, and despite the fact that you’re watching from behind a screen, it feels as though his words are meant for you and you alone.

“Why don’t you undress for me and lean back,” the command is soft yet irresistible.

Your breath catches in your throat, a soft gasp you weren’t expecting, as your thighs instinctively press together beneath the plush comforter, seeking some form of relief from the growing ache.

It’s as if he has some kind of power over you, the pull in his voice coaxing you into compliance. Your skin prickles with anticipation as you glance around your quiet studio apartment, almost instinctively checking if anyone might be watching; like your best friend who lured you into this horny trap in the first place. 

But of course, there’s no one else here— just you and his low, hypnotic voice filling the space around you.

You pause it, antsy fingers reaching for the hem of your nighttime slip dress, the soft fabric sliding effortlessly off your skin then being tossed aside. Propping your phone up with a decorative pillow at the edge of the bed, you angle it so you’re able to see him perfectly.

You feel a rush of warmth, excitement, as you resume the video and settle back against the mountain of pillows behind you.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, baby,” he murmurs, his tone low and husky, the faintest edge of a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Can’t stop picturing you, lying in bed… all warm and soft, just waiting for me to take care of you.”

Your lips part instinctively, tongue grazing the corner as you feel the pull of lust tightening in your core. Your nipples, already taut from the cool air in your space, ache for attention.

You shift, thighs rubbing together again, unable to stop your body’s response. His voice feels like it’s seeping directly into your skin, making it impossible to sit still.

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he orders so tenderly and impossible to refuse. “Slowly, sweetheart. Just run your fingers over those soft thighs of yours… don’t rush.”

You obey, hands traversing down the length of your torso until they’re at your thighs, fingertips grazing your skin lightly as you follow his instructions. Your breath hitches again, heart beating louder in your ears as his voice continues to weave around you, wrapping you in the intimacy of the moment.

“That’s it,” he purrs, “Let me hear those little gasps. I want you to think of my hands doing that for you. Think of me sliding my fingers up and down your beautiful body… teasing you.”

And so you do. You think of his larger, surely rougher touch at your inner thighs. The growing pressure at the apex of your legs builds with every syllable, but it’s not just his voice that has you derailing.

It’s everything. 

As the camera lingers on him, you watch his free hand move to the top button of his shirt. His fingers work with deliberate precision as he undoes it then the ones that follow. His movements are slow, taunting you as the shirt falls open, exposing the smooth, muscled lines of his chest.

“You want to see more, don’t you?” he asks the camera, and the teasing edge in his voice makes your clit twitch. “I’ll show you, baby. But you need to keep touching yourself for me. I want you to feel how wet I get you. Imagine me right there, taking care of that aching little cunt of yours.”

He’s intoxicating, and as he slips another button open, revealing more of his firm, toned chest, you slip your hand to your pussy, your body begging for more. You can almost feel the heat of his skin against yours, the way he’s undressing for you, the slow reveal of what you’re aching to see.

He’s unhurried, intentional— he knows exactly what he’s doing, how to keep you, the viewer, on edge.

“Let me hear you,” he commands, fingers grazing his buckle now, threatening to undo his belt. “Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me how badly you want me to touch you… how much you need me.”

His words have a gush of arousal leaking from your cunt, a whine pushing past your lips as you lightly run a finger down the seam of your folds.

“Need you so bad,” you murmur to yourself, not caring that there’s no one there to hear you, no one in the room but the phantom of his presence. He’s completely transported you into another world, and you’re too far gone to feel any shame in talking to him as if he’s right there in front of you— or over the phone with how he’s set this scene up.

All he’s done is talk, but it’s enough to render you a puddled mess. The heat licking at your core is undeniable, each instruction winding you tighter.

You can’t help but wonder— are you really this starved for a good fuck, or is this faceless stranger just that skilled at weaving desire into every syllable?

His deep, commanding tone oozes with intention, a carefully crafted tease that seeps through the screen. It’s clear he’s an expert at this— at knowing exactly how to pull you in and leave you aching for more. Now, your curiosity is piqued; what other sinful content could he possibly have on his page?

It suddenly makes perfect sense why your friend is subscribed to him. The moment you come, you know you’ll be rushing to make an account of your own, no hesitation, ready to drain your bank account if it means getting more of him— every cent worth it just to see what else he can do to you.

He’s catering to something raw, drawing out a fantasy you didn’t even realize you had.

“I need you just as bad. Real fuckin’ shame I’m stuck at the office… my cock misses you, sweetheart.”

Your breath quickens as the clink of his belt being undone echoes through the speaker, slipping the leather free from its loops, and you catch a glimpse of the outline of his dick, thick and prominent beneath the tailored slacks.

The sight sends a surge of heat through your body, your skin prickling with desire, yearning for more.

His fingers toy with the waistband of his pants now, brushing tantalizingly close to the bulge straining against the fabric, teasing both you and himself with the promise of what’s to come.

His voice is low and seductive, dripping like molten honey, each word striking you like a touch.

“I wish I could be in bed with you right now,” he grunts, and you swear you can feel his eyes locked on you through the screen, as if he can see every inch of your trembling body. “You have no idea how badly I want to worship you… feel your skin against mine. I’d start slow. My lips, my hands, they’d be everywhere. I’d make you come so many times it’d make you stupid.”

You moan, finally dipping two of your fingers between your wet folds and massaging at your clit, spreading your slick all over.

“Go head, play with that pretty little pussy. Use your other hand to touch on those perfect fuckin’ tits of yours.”

Your free hand instinctively goes up to cup your breast as you imagine him there with you, his body pressing you into the mattress, lips tracing over every inch until he’s suckling on your pert nipples then moving down to where you need him most.

“I want to taste you,” he continues, his fingers popping the button of his pants then the zipper, “Feel you quivering on my tongue, feel you melt on my fingers as I fuck them into that tight cunt. I won't stop until you’re shaking, begging me to let you breathe.”

His hand slips beneath the fabric as he shifts in his seat, and you can see the subtle movements of him touching himself. The sight alone takes your breath away, the need coiling inside you, growing unbearable as your own fingers pick up the pace, rubbing the sensitive flesh while your other hand works to pinch and tug at your nipple.

“And when I finally break you, sweetheart,” he whispers, sending shivers all throughout your body, “when you’re crying, trembling… pleading me to stop, that’s when I’ll slide my cock inside. You’d be so full, so wet, and I wouldn’t stop until I’ve reminded you who you belong to, until I’ve had you again and again. Until you’re stuffed so full of my cum that it’s leaking out of your fuckin’ mouth.”

He finally pulls his dick out and you gasp loudly. It’s fucking beautiful. Thick, long, a few shades lighter than the brown skin of his chest with a glistening pearl of precum right at his slit. He spreads it around the crown of his cock and you salivate, imagining how good the weight of him would feel on your tongue.

Yummy in-fucking-deed.

“Fuck yourself on your fingers baby, then stick two into your pretty mouth and suck on them.”

You do as you’re told, sinking two into your fluttering entrance while the ones at your tit slip into your mouth, eyes fluttering close as you suck on them like they’re his cock. It feels so good, your thumb pressed up against your clit— the stickiness of your arousal aiding your fingers in pumping in and out of you.

The sound of him spitting snaps you from the mini daze, pulling your attention lazily back to the screen. There he is— his large hand wrapped tightly around the thick length of his cock, glistening and throbbing as he begins to stroke it languidly. 

“Got me so hard,” he grunts, his voice thick with lust, “just picturing you with your fingers in your mouth like a good little slut.” His grip on the phone by his ear tightens, you can tell by the way his knuckles become flushed and you whimper.

“Choke on them,” he growls, “Let me hear you gag.”

Obedient as ever, you push your digits past your tongue and deeper, your breath growing ragged. The moment they hit the back of your throat, you gag, the wet sound loud and raw in the quiet of your apartment.

You sputter around them repeatedly, eyes filling with tears. Choking sounds echoing off the walls, bouncing back at you in a symphony of depravity. Saliva pools in then out of your mouth, dripping down your chin, and the mess of it only heightens the filthy pleasure coursing through you.

You can feel how slick you are, the sheets beneath you now damp from your horniness, every fiber of your being aching for release.

His pace on the screen quickens, the sound of his bated breath mingles with the obscene smacking of his fist against the skin of his cock, grunting between strokes. His dick looks even bigger as it pulses in his grip, thick and veined and covered in his spit.

“Bet you’re dripping for me,” his words are strained. “I can just picture it… how wet you are, soaking those sheets. Can’t wait to hear you come undone for me, baby.”

Your fingers, still wet from the mess of your mouth, slide down your body, grazing over your hard nipples before switching with the ones between your legs, where your pussy is throbbing. You moan at your own heady taste, the relief of your saliva soaked digits in your cunt almost overwhelming.

The tension builds, every stroke of his hand matching the movement of your fingers, the friction pushing you closer to the edge.

��Ahhh yesyesyes— just like that.” You whine, removing your fingers from your mouth and bringing them down to your nipples again to pinch and pull; anything to heighten the already intense pleasure you’re feeling.

The room feels thick with sexual tension, the filthy sounds of your wetness mix with his groans through the speakers, creating an intoxicating melody that pushes you further into your own climax.

“I’d have your pussy stretched out so good,” he continues, hand tightening around his cock as he pumps faster now, thrusting his hips upwards. “Have you feeling me for days… filling your sweet cunt until all you can do is squirt all over this cock.”

The things you’d do to make that happen. To have him bend and twist and fuck you in a myriad of pleasurable positions. To feel the thickness of his dick leaving you sore and hurting, absolutely helpless. These desires send you careening toward the edge.

“C’mon baby, give it to me.”

Your fingers move faster, abusing your cunt as your hips buck into your hand. Your breath comes in short, desperate gasps as your whole body tightens.

You can feel it coming, that sweet rush of pleasure towering over you, until it crashes down in a wave so intense, you cry out.

“Oh fuck!”

You spasm, back arching off the bed as your digits do all the right moves, chasing the high. In a flood of pure ecstasy, your pussy pulses and clenches, a gush of wetness soaking the sheets as you come hard, giving in to the overwhelming euphoria.

Drool leaks from your mouth like a feral animal, your chest heaving, and your eyes lock on the screen, pupils dilated, watching as he strokes himself through his own climax, his voice thick with satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he breathes, his cock twitching in his hand, thick ropes of his milky cum spilling over his fist as he finishes. “Made a mess all over my lap. Wish you were here to lick it up. Getting to feel that wicked tongue of yours on my spent cock would be like fucking heaven, mi muñeca bella.”

Just when you thought he couldn’t get any fucking sexier; he goes and speaks fucking Spanish. You’re in love. 

You’re left exhausted, trembling, and utterly satisfied. Your body hums with the aftershocks, still riding the wave of your orgasm, and all you can do is lie there. 

Your fingers lazily tracing the wet mess between your thighs, hissing at the sensitivity, as you catch your breath, the screen flickering with his smirking lips.

“I’ll be home soon,” he purrs, “Take a nap so I can wake you up by burying my tongue inside that used pussy.”

A shiver runs down your spine, and you let out a frustrated sigh, wishing— desperately— that this wasn’t just a video, but reality. A real call from a real man, someone who could be on their way to you right now. You stare at his disheveled, post-climax appearance on the screen for a moment longer before the video fades out, the last remnants of fantasy slowly dissolving as you blink yourself back to reality.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, muscles still quivering, and bend down to pick up your slip dress, your legs wobbly as you walk to the bathroom to clean up. 

oh my fucking god that was amazing

You text your friend once you’re back in bed, having pulled off the loose sheet that you ruined and thankful that it didn’t seep through to the fitted one.

right? i need him so bad you should see some of his other stuff. fucking gold you’re welcome 💋

You scoff, a breathy laugh, as you ‘HAHA’ react to her message. Still, her words stick with you as you open the browser, logging out of her account. The curiosity from before tugs at you harder than ever now, and without a second thought, you find yourself signing up for your own subscription.

When the prompt to choose a username appears, you hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard until a sly smile spreads across your lips.

@muneca_bella

Perfect.

[whorekneecentral]

A New Term

Professor!Mark Webber x Fem!Reader

Warnings: age gap (mark is in his 40s, reader is early 20s), taboo content!! - professor x college student, worried mark, sharing a cookie, suggestive behaviour from mark, oral (f!receiving), penetrative sex (p in v), bruising but in a sexual context, cum play, finger sucking.

Word Count: 2,379

Author's Note: mark always had professor vibes to me, he's so dilf.

merry smutmas series

--

You send your professor an email over the winter break and the man wonders why you’re still working, urging you to come out and relax like everyone else.

The end of semester assignment kept you up way past your bedtime, the one question kept you on your toes. Your hand passed through your hair while you searched through your email for your professor's email.

Instead of using your winter break to unwind like most of your classmates, you were cracking out assignment after assignment, trying to get as much done as possible - that way you can focus on the exams when you return from the winter break.

The tab open to send your physics professor an email.

Dear Professor Webber,

I hope you're having a nice winter break and I hope I'm not disturbing you.

I had a question regarding the final assignment you gave out prior to the break; the last part of the assignment doesn't line up with the rest.

I'm not sure if I'm misunderstanding something along the way but it doesn't seem to make any sense. Hopefully you can provide me with some clarification?

Hoping to hear from you soon and again, I do apologize if this was a disturbance to your break.

Thank you,

Y/n L/n.

You shut the tab, sitting there for a bit as you tried to go back over your notes and make sense of the assignment, hoping you could figure it out in case Professor Webber doesn't answer anytime soon.

There's a ping sound coming from your laptop, the screen lighting up as you get a response from your professor.

Dear Y/n,

You're never a bother, you know my email is always open to my students, especially one as sweet and smart as you.

I hope you're getting some rest during this break and not overworking yourself.

As for your question about the assignment, I've looked it over and I see that there are some errors, I will have to email the other students and let them know. Thank you for pointing it out but if you'd still like to go over the assignment, how about we meet up sometimes? Perhaps tomorrow around 4 if you're free? I'll be in town.

Let me know, please do get some rest at some point.

All the best,

Professor Mark Webber,

Department of Physics.

You feel your cheeks heat up at the praise, something that happens often in the presence of your favourite physics professor. You send him back a quick response.

Hi professor,

Thank you for the quick response, I promise I am getting some rest. I would like to finish up what I can over the break so I can focus on exams come January.

Tomorrow at 4 would be great, how about we meet at the coffee shop around the corner from campus?

Thanks,

Y/n.

---

Four o'clock had come and passed, you had been there since 3:30, working away on your assignment. You occupied a booth in the back, your laptop in front of you, backpack tossed next to you and your notes and textbooks scattered all over the table.

Your head was buried in your textbook, searching for a certain passage to quote in your essay. Mark had entered the coffee shop and spotted you in the back corner.

His hand reached over, gently prying the textbook out of your hand. The action startled you for a moment but you relaxed when you saw who was across from you.

"Hi professor," you smiled, closing the tab on your laptop. Mark smiles at you, "please, we're not in class, y/n. You can call me Mark."

You nod, "okay Mark." Your nose scrunched, making a face. "Yeah no, that seems weird," you giggled, watching as he shut your textbook and left it on the table.

Mark says, "have you slept?"

"What?" You asked him, confused.

"You look tired, I hope you're not overworking yourself."

"Oh no," you shook your head, "I'm fine."

Mark nods, "fine, if you say so. Let me buy you a coffee - or rather not, you seem to have already had your coffee fill for the day." He glances at the two empty mugs on the table.

There's a small smile on your face, "yeah perhaps coffee wouldn't be the smartest idea."

"Something else then?" He suggested and you hum, "maybe a chocolate chip cookie? oh and maybe apple juice?"

Mark chuckles, nodding as he slides out of his seat. You watch as he walks the counter, ordering what you wanted and  a coffee for himself before returning to the table.

You thank him, eating your cookie quietly as you searched for the pages you had written out with your assignment on it. You catch Mark staring at you, you figured it was just cause you looked frazzled or perhaps you had chocolate on your face.

You hadn't realized that the man was simply looking at you in adoration, you never thought that he'd see you in that way.

"What??" You asked, looking at him. You passed a hand over your lips, "is there something on my face?"

He shook his head, " no, you're perfect.. as always."

You smiled, cheeks flushed red. "Would you like a piece?" You held your cookie out to the man, assuming that he'd break a piece of it off but he leans over, taking a bite of the cookie.

Setting the cookie down, you take a sip of your juice and finally find the pages you were looking for. Mark listens as you explain your concerns to him, the man helping you sort through your issues with the assignment. Mark goes as far as to help you edit what you have so far.

"Is that all?" He asks, watching as you pack your things into your bag. "Yeah, that was it. Thank you so much for your help, professor."

"No trouble at all, sweetheart." He smiles, the two of you stand and head towards the exit. It wasn't until you got there that you realized the rain had come down.

You didn't live far from the coffee shop, about a 10 minute walk but you did happen to forget your umbrella at home that day.

"Are you walking?" Mark asks and you nod, "it's not that far."

"Please, it's pouring, y/n. Let me drive you home."

"I've imposed on your afternoon for long enough, you don't have to do that."

Mark shakes his head, "I cannot, in good conscience, leave you to walk in the rain. Let me drive you home, I'm offering so you're not imposing."

You give in, his hand on the small of your back as he leads you to his car. It's black inside and out, the leather matching the colour of the paint and the smell was beyond manly - exactly like your professor.

With your directions, he drives you back to your place. The rain pouring down on the car, the heavy rain drops make a sound as it hits the glass. "Thank you for the ride," you tell him, glancing over at him.

"Wait a moment, won't you? I'm sure the rain will settle in the moment. I don't want you to get your beg wet and ruin all your work," he says, the words coming out innocently enough.

You nod, watching as the rain drips down the windows. You feel something warm on your thigh, glancing down you see Mark's hand resting there. It takes you a moment to gather your thoughts, not noticing his hand slipping a bit higher.

"You know, you really should get some rest, sweetheart. Try and relax. You deserve it after all your hard work."

You nod, "I'll try."

He smiles, leaning into you as you look over at him. "Good girl."

The words hit you exactly where he expected them too, watching you shift in your seat. "Is something wrong, sweetheart?"

"N-no, sir."

He hums, a smirk playing on his lips as he moves closer; you can smell his cologne, the mint of his toothpaste, the coffee from not too long ago. Mark closes the gap between the two of you, his lips meeting yours.

As much as you enjoyed the feeling, you froze - your brain screaming no, big red letters flashing in your head but you ignored them.

Mark senses your hesitancy, pulling away from you. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's.." You pause for a moment, "it's fine. Do you want to come in?" You asked him, hoping he says yes otherwise you'd probably have to bury your head in shame.

Mark nods, the man following you up the stairs and into your apartment. "Sorry for the mess," you tell him as you unlock the door, stepping in to take your shoes off.

He looks around, confused as to where the mess would be. The place was spic and span, not a single thing out of place. Your apartment is decorated like one of those Hallmark movies, Christmas tree in the corner by the window, garland wrapped around whatever it could be, even the throw pillows on your couch were festive.

"Where's the mess, sweetheart?"

You nod towards the one singular mug that was on the coffee table, "I forgot it there last night."

Mark can't help but laugh. "That's a single cup, y/n. Most uni students live in shitty apartments with beer bottles and weed. This place is a palace compared to everywhere else."

You smile, walking further into your apartment. "Would you like something to drink?"

Mark senses your nervousness, resting his hands on your arms. "Relax, y/n. It's fine."

You visibly let out a breath, holding onto the man as he walks you to the couch. He sits you down, his hand now cupping your jaw when he leans down to kiss you.

"Will you let me help you relax?" He whispers against your lips and you nod, not having to think about it for once.

The clothes are tossed all over the living room, you’re leaning on the arm rest of the couch in your panties when Mark kisses you again.

The man drops down to his knees in front of you, your legs over his shoulder and he kisses down your calf, to your thigh before he gets to your pussy. You lift your hips, letting him take your panties off, tossing it along with the other clothes. 

His nose brushes against your clit, his tongue licking a stripe up your cunt. Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair. 

Mark’s hand on your hip rocks you back and forth slightly, just enough that he can hear his name fall from your lips. “Mark- fuck, there.” You pull on his hair, getting him to do what he did again. 

The sound of his name rolling off your tongue was enough to make his cock twitch.

He mimicked his actions again until he could feel your legs shake, your grip on his hair tighter than before, his name strung along with the explicits leaving your mouth. 

Mark glances up, your eyes shut and your head tossed back and he can't help but smile; he’s broken you down to nothing but a whimpering mess but he wasn’t done with you just yet. 

Your cheeks are red when you see him sit up, the lower half of his face glistening. You also can’t help yourself when you pull him down for a kiss, tasting yourself on him. 

You two shuffle around a bit, still on the couch when Mark flips you over; face down, ass up as he settles before you. Your back arches, the curve of your spine evident when he comes up behind you, pushing back against him as you feel the tip of his cock against your pussy. 

Mark’s hand grips your hips, pulling you back against him. Your moans are muffled by the couch when you feel him stretch you out. 

“God, please Mark, like that,” the words tumble out, begging him for more as he fucks you. His hands squeezing your hips, nails digging into your flesh. You can feel the pressure from his fingers, surely there were going to be bruises tomorrow. Your hand reaching under you, fingers barely reaching to rub your clit.

He pulls you up, his arm wrapped around your middle, your back pressed to his chest. His fingers dig into your side for a moment, squeezing you a bit. “Such a good girl for me, you take it so well.” He whispers to you, kissing under your ear. 

“Mhm hm,” you breathe, leaning back against him, your legs felt like jello under you. 

Between the angle you were at and his hand sliding down to rub on your clit, your head drops back onto his shoulder, begging him to let you cum.

“Mark, god- fuck, let me cum please,” you ramble out and Mark hums, kissing along your jaw, “mhm I'm not stopping you, sweetheart.”

He lets you drop back onto your arms, back arched for him once again. He feels you cum around him, the wetness covering his cock. It’s not long after, followed by a few sloppy thrusts, that Mark cums too. 

The tip of his cock brushing between your folds, spreading his cum all over your pussy.

He pulls away, smiling at the whimper he gets from you. His fingers replacing his cock, covered in his cum when you roll over, he sticks his fingers in your mouth and he doesn’t have to tell you what to do.

“Good girl,” he hums, watching as your tongue laps over his fingers. Mark pulls his fingers away, leaning down to kiss you. A mess of the two of you, not sure where one of you starts and the other ends. 

You lay there for a while, Mark on top of you, your leg tossed on his hip as his head rests on your sternum, one of his hands on your tit. 

"Next time you need some relaxing, you call me, okay?" He whispers, his finger dragging down your side.

You glance at the man, a raised eyebrow. "You just want to fuck me again, you dirty old man."

Mark laughs, "no, I mean yes but also no. I meant I'd take you to dinner or something, distract you from your work - but if you want to fuck, who am I to deny a beautiful woman like yourself?"

---

taglist:  @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus

[hisui-dreamer]

Hihi Rinna! Saw the cool event and I would like to request a bouquet ⁠\⁠(⁠･⁠◡⁠･⁠)⁠/ daffodils, rhododendrons and a few cherry blossoms, please send it to Lilia, Jamil and Jade!

everlasting mementos

Characters: Lilia, Jamil and Jade

Synopsis: you've left twisted wonderland, leaving behind a simple bouquet of flowers for him as a parting gift

Tags: heavy angst (disco wants suffering y'all), no happy endings, bad vibes all around, farewells

Word count: 976

Notes: hooboy this one was depressing ヘ⁠（⁠。⁠□⁠°⁠）⁠ヘ hope you enjoy the pain!!

Masterlist

flowers of choice:

daffodils: please don't forget me

rhododendrons: red ones symbolise tremendous grief

cherry blossoms: scattering, fleeting moments

Lilia casts a spell on your flowers to make them everlasting, keeping them by his bedside table his gaze is always drawn to it every time he walks into his room, and he’s reminded of all the memories you’ve shared together

he’s become used to saying farewells, having gone through the pain of losing his dearest friends and countless comrades in the war

he’s long learned that life will always move on, and whether or not you move along with it isn't a choice you get to choose

tries to act as normal, but everyone can tell he’s not energetic as usual

silver and malleus offer to spend more time with him so he won’t feel too lonely, and sebek even watches his mouth to not accidentally upset him

he’s incredibly grateful to everyone for being so considerate, but there’s no stopping the dull ache in his heart

every time he’s in the kitchen, he hears your panicking voice echoing in his ears, scolding him for another misdemeanour

or your squeals of surprise when he pops down from the ceiling to give you a kiss

you've really left a mark on this old fae...

Lilia tenderly caressed the flowers, tears welled in his eyes, tracing silent paths down his cheeks. He knew his time with you was limited, that you would always go back to your world and never return. He knew that nothing would last forever, but he just hoped he could have spent a little more time without you.

"How foolish am I...," he murmured softly, his voice tinged with sorrow. "To dare to hope for a different ending. One without goodbyes."

Amidst the flickering candlelight, he found himself enveloped in memories of your presence. "The world feels so much dimmer without you," he confessed, his words laden with longing and regret.

Jamil wanted to throw out the flowers but he couldn't bear parting with the last thing you left behind for him

he ends up turning them into pressed flowers, making a tiny pendant with them so he can keep you close always

Jamil, like he's done most of his life, decides to bottle up his feelings and go about his day as usual

but everyone in scarabia can tell he's snappier and a lot more tense than usual

even kalim, who's been trying his best not to upset or trouble jamil

on late nights, when he's all alone with his thoughts, he pulls up your old voice recordings, unable to fight the urge to hear your voice

he replays them tirelessly until every sentence is etched into his memory

the comfort they once provided now only serves to amplify his frustration, a mere reminder of your absence

he had resigned himself to a life in the shadows, but then you came into his life and for the first time in forever he let himself hope for a brighter future but now...

he wants to be mad at you for giving him this false hope, but he can't even stand the thought of being mad at you, he's just mad that he let himself hope again

still, he doesn't regret a single second he spent with you

The sound of your voice from the recording dwindled into the hushed night, and with it, the floodgates of his emotions burst open, and he collapsed onto the floor, tears streaming down his face.

"It's not enough," he whispered between sobs, clutching the device tightly in his trembling hands. "Just hearing your voice... it's not enough."

He yearned to see your smile, to feel your warmth beside him once again. "You gave me so much hope," he choked out, his voice breaking with emotion. "That maybe, just maybe, we could have been happy."

Jade keeps the bouquet of flowers you gave him, propagating them so they'll always thrive by his side, making sure to care for them so he'll always have the last gift you give him

each time he tends to them, he talks to them as if they're you, telling them about his day, what shenanigans floyd has gotten into, how well his mushrooms have been growing...

he never leaves without wishing for your happiness, because that thought eases the ache in his heart slightly

on the outside, he acts unaffected and you really wouldn't be able to tell he's upset at all

but floyd and azul can tell, it's clear as day to them just how devastated he is

azul lets him have more free time, cutting his shifts shorter so he can go on hikes or take care of his terrariums, any activities to cheer him up

but even those activities fail to lighten his mood, because he's constantly reminded of his memories with you

him taking care of your wound after you'd tripped and injured your knee, you excited to show him the new mushroom dish you've been working on, the subtle stares and smiles the two of you exchanged at school...

there are traces of you littering every corner of his heart...

As Jade passed by a familiar hiking spot, the very place where countless moments were shared between the two of you, bittersweet memories flooded his mind. He sank to his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks as he struggled to catch his breath.

How was it possible that you were only in his life for a short period, yet your absence felt unbearable? How had you managed to leave such a profound impact on him, with every little thing now serving as a painful reminder of your absence?

"I just... wish to see you again..." he whispered to the empty trail, his voice choked with sorrow. "What can I do... to make this feeling go away?"

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[holllandtrash]

in you, i trust | mick schumacher social media au

pairing: mick schumacher x reader

after the it couple of formula 1 go months without any interactions, the fans start to speculate what's going on. there's no way mick and you are over...right?

wagupdatesf1

liked by jemmaf1, formula1wags and 23,403 others

tagged: dbook & yourusername

wagupdatesf1 (ex?)Girlfriend of Mercedes Reserve Driver, Mick Schumacher seen with a man during her Cabo trip - pictures taken 14 hours apart

view all 315 comments

orangelando "with a man" YOU MEAN DEVIN BOOKER

44hamilton how does she go from f1 driver and certified lover boy mick to a phoenix suns basketball player HOW DO THEY EVEN KNOW EACH OTHER

mickisbabyboy so does this mean her and mick are over...? 🥺

michschumacher added to their story

yourusername

liked by riabish, lissiemackintosh and 54,203 others

yourusername i'm doing better than i ever was

view all 59 comments

schumyys only here to see if mick commented

boxboxpls remember when mick used to comment 500 heart eye emojis i miss those days

sebbymick am i reading into the caption too much or is this her fr announcing she's single

f1

liked by mickschumacher, mercedesamgf1 and 580,024 others

f1 Mick Schumacher is going to drive father Michael's @mercedesamgf1 W02 from the 2011 season at the Goodwood Festival of Speed! ✨

Now this, is special 🥹

view all 892 comments

mercedesamgf1 can't wait to see it!!

formulafanclub sooo exciting!!! complimentary tissues better be given with each ticket purchase

wtf1jemma so if yn doesn't show up to the goodwood festival of speed then we know something's up

mercedesamgf1

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton and 312,384 others

tagged: lewishamilton & georgerussell

mercedesamgf1 Blimey! It’s British GP Race Week at Silverstone. ❤️🤍💙

view all 975 comments

freepracticespls Y/N LIKED THE PHOTO THIS IS GOOD RIGHT

lewishamilton ❤️

lightsoutmick if y/n isn't there this weekend i will actually throw myself onto the track at lights out she HAS to be there

yourusername

liked by landonorris, mickschumacher and 36,024 others

yourusername good vibes good friends good city

view all 236 comments

whoislewis it has officially been 5 months since we got any mick content from y/n

formulanever no i think it's been 6

samgoesracing BESTIE ARE YOU STILL WITH MICK OR NOT

mickschumacher added to their story

yourusername

liked by mickschumacher, dbook and 76,203 others

yourusername As many of you know, I spent majority of 2021 and 2022 traveling the world with Mick for formula 1. Because of that, my life was put on hold. While I cherish those days, I lost sight of who I was. 

Six months ago, Mick and I amicably decided to take a break. While the decision wasn’t easy, it was what was best for both of us as we both were in transitional points in our lives. During this time, I have traveled the world, for myself, and started to journal what I learned from locals, friends and strangers. Early on into this journey, I realized that my experiences were something that should be shared as I know we all go through times times when we feel lost and unsure of who we are. 

‘In Me, I Trust’ is available now and is a collection of my stories, thoughts and advice. I hope you take what you need from it ♡ 

view all 728 comments

dbook 10/10 stars

yourusername dev you're only saying that because there's a whole page dedicated to you dbook only a page??? i thought i had a whole chapter

slowdowninthepits SHE WAS WRITING A BOOK THIS WHOLE TIME!! sneaky sneaky

kissformick wait so does this mean her and mick are officially over 🥺🥺🥺 we really are children of divorce

mickschumacher

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 414,500 others

mickschumacher worth the wait

view all 1,303 comments

paddockbabes THE BOOK WAS WORTH THE WAIT OR SHE WAS

hamilgrussell IS THAT AN OLD PICTURE OR A NEW ONE I CAN'T TELL

0304mclarenss stop did y/n really send him a personalized copy im sobbing

ricciardoscafe "much like this book has found its way to you, i know my love will too" THAT MEANS THEY'RE GETTING BACK TOGETHER RIGHT?? RIGHT???/ SAY YES RIGHT NOW

yourusername

liked by mercedesamgf1, dbook and 73,22 others

tagged: mickschumacher

yourusername in you, i trust

view all 833 comments

mickschumacher did you re-name your book?

yourusername no that's the sequel, limited copies though, probably just for your eyes only

mcnorris all is right in the world!! mom and dad are reunited!!!

lovelylewis only y/n would write a book on being single and how to grow while being alone and then go right back to mick

formulanever i don't blame her

haven't done a smau in a while, hope ya'll liked it ♡

[eoieopda]

FINE I'M HERE TO REQUEST PART 3!!! In which Chan better really GET that promotion!!!!!!! Contract signed, payroll amended!!!!!

You can make it angsty if you like, AS LONG AS you promise there will be a happy ending (in this part or........ Another 👀)

the one with chan and the promotion (iii)

you needed a ride home after getting your wisdom teeth removed. chan just so happened to be free. now, being free is the last thing he wants.

part i. part ii.

pairing: bang chan x reader au: fuck buddies to lovers, hurt/comfort type: drabble (angst, fluff) rating: 18+ | minors do not have my consent to interact with me and/or my content. wc: 3.1k cw: mad!chan makes a brief appearance but otherwise remains the best boy; gn!reader (no gendered language used); reader may or may not show some degree of emotional availability (gasp!); due to the nature of their relationship, sex is referenced but not actually depicted; very briefly/incompletely edited, oops. a/n: i love you completely and am so fucking sorry it took four (4) months for me to finish this 😵‍💫 i have an epilogue i can offer in penance, if you want it! everyone else, please read the first two parts before reading this!

Chan may be an idiot, but at least he’s self-aware.

He knew it was a bad idea to get his hopes up; to expect that things would change quickly between you, if at all. Even though he saw the letdown coming from a kilometer away, he didn’t do a thing to brace himself for it. It’s his fault, he knows, for exaggerating his place in your life — but that doesn’t make the disappointment bruise any less when the week after your wisdom teeth removal flies by in radio silence.

The lack of conversation isn’t for lack of trying. As he scrolls through your half-vacant text thread now, Chan feels all his efforts staring back at him. All those attempted check-ins marked delivered but not well-received. Swings and misses.

Prior to sending each one of them, he spent minutes upon minutes agonizing over the tone — and the use of emojis — and the possible implications of the proposed emojis — and the fear that he’d just come off clingy, not invested. Reading the finished versions back now, he can recall with perfect accuracy the drafts he typed out and immediately, feverishly deleted. Considering the way they litter his brain, there may as well be a trail of crumpled-up notes in all that metadata.

Does it make Chan cringe to look back and watch himself flatline? Absolutely.

Does that stop him from salting his own wounds? Nope. It never has and likely never will.

Maybe, he figures, he’ll spot where he went wrong and find a way to un-dig this ditch he’s seemingly made.

[Sent 2024/7/23, 15:22] Just got home. Have you fallen back asleep already? Lol 

Naver says your swelling might be kind of bad tomorrow. Do you need ice packs? I have the gel kind that you can mold. Might be more comfortable than a bag of ice cubes 🤔 Lmk!

[Sent 2024/7/25, 08:03] Hi, Hamtori 🐹 How are your cheeks?

I made too much gamjaguk again. I can drop some off if

[Sent 2024/7/26, 17:49] Graduate to solid foods yet?

I hope the antibiotics aren’t making your stomach upset

DON’T LAUGH but I made you a super chill Spotify playlist with healing vibes to

Idk if you remember, but I promised to take you out for pork belly next week. If you’re up for it, are you free on

I miss y

[Sent 2024/7/29, 00:16] Hey

Or maybe, he thinks, he’ll just beat his head against his bedroom wall instead; and eventually, he’ll forget what it felt like to be yours for the day, rather than a night.

Four more days pass without a word from you. Under normal circumstances, one of you would’ve invited the other over at least twice in the eleven days since your dental appointment. No matter how infrequently the two of you chatted outside of your recurrent trysts, neither one of you has ever gone this long without summoning the other.

Something is wrong.

At this point, Chan sees two explanations for the way you’ve fallen completely off the grid: you’ve either succumbed to some tragic, post-op. complication and died, or he’s irreparably fucked something up with you without knowing how or when he misstepped. Neither one of those is an outcome he’s willing to accept. 

The voice in his head nags him so forcefully and consistently that his body eventually gives in. Undeterred by his better judgment, Chan lets it guide him up, out, and onward until he winds up on the sidewalk outside his building.

On the walk to your apartment, he mulls over the foreseeable consequences of the actions he’s already set in motion. It’s certifiably insane to pop in you like this, and once again, he only sees two options: you’ll slam the door in his face, or he’ll confirm once and for all that you’ve left this mortal coil. Bad on all counts, really, but anything is better than nothing.

His timing, as it turns out, couldn’t be better. Right as he lands at the front door, when he needs to think of a way to get in without buzzing you, a neighbor he’s seen once or twice before opens it to leave. Politely, they hold it open for him, likely mistaking him for someone with any right to be there — someone whose proximity to you actually makes sense. Chan thanks them with a nod of his head and a sheepish smile before slipping through the opening.

As the elevator ascends, his fingers move of their own accord, anxiously tapping out a rhythm on the stainless steel wall he leans against. Every worst-case scenario flashes through his mind. There’s a flash of something else there, too, though. Something even more nerve-wracking than all his catastrophizing; something that makes his stomach flip.

Hope.

“Oi, none of that,” he mutters to himself.

It doesn’t work. When Chan approaches the doors in the second before they open, he makes eye contact with his reflection and sees that easy, ill-advised smile creeping up on him.

As he exits that giant metal box, he shakes his head with an anxious laugh. If he’s this embarrassed by himself when he’s alone, the chances of him living through the way you’re about to look at him are…

Well…

Abysmal.

But that doesn’t stop him from powering his way down the hall towards your door. Coincidentally, neither does the fact that he doesn’t have a plan for what he’ll do when he reaches it.

Figuring knocking is as good a start as any, that’s precisely what Chan does, shifting his weight from one foot to the other to appear more nonchalant. 

Then, he waits.

And then, he waits some more.

After thirty seconds pass without a response, Chan knocks again, carefully balancing the weight of his fist against it so the sound of it isn’t too assertive — or too eager — or too desperate — or —

“Left about an hour ago,” a voice says from a few meters away.

Chan turns towards the sound. Several units down, an old woman’s head pokes out of an open doorway. He can’t tell if she’s intentionally frowning at him or if it’s the weight of her jowls pulling the corners of her mouth down. Either way, it feels bad.

Running an anxious hand over the back of his increasingly warm neck, he coughs, “Oh?”

The ajumma clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “You young people never put those cell phones down and yet you still wind up like this.” She works herself up further; her nostrils flare as she rambles, “In my day, it was rude to show up unannounced. We called ahead, and when we called ahead, people were there to answer the door.”

Chan isn’t above arguing with some personified wrinkle, but he likes to think you would be. Even though you’re not here to witness it, it feels important to be the person you might like him to be. 

So, he bites his tongue. 

He nods yet again with a polite smile.

He turns on his heels.

And when he shuffles back towards the elevator, there’s a hell of a lot less of a spring in his step.

Two days go by after Chan’s little fieldtrip. Just like the previous several, they slip away quietly. This time, however, he doesn’t check-in — doesn’t type out his thoughts just to immediately erase them; doesn’t stare at his phone and wait to prove it to himself that it won’t chime.

Lesson learned, really.

It was a bad idea to bet the house on maybes. He knew it on the front end and still chose optimism; now, it serves him right. Played stupid games and won stupid prizes, as you like to say. If only he could stop thinking about what you like to say and instead focus on the fact that you haven’t said anything at all.

Chan grits his teeth and tries hard to focus on the game lighting up his monitor. Whatever Yongbok talked him into playing doesn’t make him feel any better about fumbling you — in fact, it’s proving to be yet another thing he’s terrible at — but it’s sufficiently distracting to have his friends swearing each other up and down in their Discord voice channel.

Actually, he stands corrected. This is also terrible, albeit a different flavor of garbage than his hopeless mooning over you.

Maybe radio silence is better.

As soon as that thought crosses his mind, his phone buzzes against the surface of his desk — three long taps bookended by three short ones. 

Before Chan reaches for it, he lets the poetry of it all sink in. SOS, his phone declares whenever you text him. Originally, although he’ll never fucking tell you so, he chose that text tone because hearing from you salvaged his day, every time. Now, it reminds him that he’s in over his head with no life preserver in sight.

Not bad, he thinks. He should write that bit down in the notebook of lyrics he ruminates over but never puts to music, let alone shares.

The lack of action on his part prompts his phone to vibrate again for emphasis. 

SOS!

Beaming white light bores into his retinas when he finally opens his inbox, and Chan refuses to think about the million times you’ve told him to switch to dark mode or the infinitely-brighter shit he’s been roasting under since he started this game several hours back. All he thinks about instead is the first grey text in an ocean of blue:

[2024/8/04, 23:37] you up?

You tilt your head to the side, smiling coyly when you crack open the door and find Chan standing on your doorstep with his hood up and hands in his pockets. Outside the windows behind you, the downpour he just trudged through continues to dampen his mood.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you lilt, like nothing has changed at all.

That’s the problem, isn’t it?  

Chan lifts his chin slightly as some half-assed nod to let you know that his ears work, if nothing else. Either missing his stony expression or ignoring it, you simply open the door wider, beckoning him to follow you with a gentle wave of your free hand.

He wants so badly to smile back at you as easily as you smile at him — really, he does, but fuck, he can’t make his face do anything but harden.

Once he toes off his shoes, he expects you to lead him straight to your room — or your couch — or any of the other various surfaces the pair of you have misappropriated along the way. You don’t, though. With your lips pensively pursed, you shuffle a bit closer; and as soon as you can reach him properly, you raise both of your hands. One flattens against his now rain-soaked sweatshirt; the other goes for his zipper, tugging gently until there’s nothing left to hold him together.

Carefully, Chan eyes you; watches while you slip the fabric off his shoulders, as if it isn’t twice as heavy as it was when he put it on. Like it’s easy, you turn away, open the nearby closet, and toss that wet mess into the top-half of your standing washer-dryer.

“I think…” Your tiny, upward curve returns while your sentence peters out. Softly, you reach up and brush a damp curl off his forehead. “An umbrella would be a worthwhile investment.”

He should join in on the bit. He should banter right back. He should smile, too — for fuck’s sake — because you’re finally right here. You’re talking to him within touching distance, radiating warmth he wants to live in, and he should touch you the way you want to be touched — the way you summoned him here to touch you.

He should do a lot of things, none of which include snapping at you, and yet —

“Why the hell am I here?”

It catches you both off-guard. You, because Chan has never once spoken to you any other way but kindly. Him, because you don’t actually look all that surprised by the sentiment, even if the presentation isn’t what you expected.

Somehow, that’s the thing that stings the most; not the way your face falls at his gruffness but the inkling you must have had before you asked him over that things between you aren’t sitting right at all.

Chan doesn’t get a response, so he asks another way: “Did you notice all of those unanswered texts when you sent yours, or did you ignore them all over again?”

It dawns on you — and him too, if he’s being honest — that you’ve still got your hands resting delicately on his chest. You reel your arms back in and cross them, not defiantly but diminutively. You shrink right in front of him; and regret hits him like a fist to the side of his skull.

“I didn’t know what to do with them.” Your head lowers while you do your best to look anywhere else.

That’s —

“Bullshit. I’m sorry, but it’s really not hard to keep up a conversation, especially when someone is just asking how you’re feeling.” Instantly he feels terrible for snapping. Softening his tone slightly, he sighs, “I know you know how.”

You look up at him without tilting your head much at all. Peering over that brick wall of yours, he figures. “That’s the thing, though. I don’t know.”

The face he pulls must convey what he’s thinking: Are you fucking kidding me? But you’re quick to prevent him from jumping to any further-out conclusions, amending, “I don’t know how I feel.”

Chan opens his mouth to respond, then thinks better of it. It’s rare for you to open up to the extent you might be about to; and it’s a miracle that you might be willing to now, given the fact that he’s come at you blindly at 160 kilometers per hour.

“I don’t like needing people.” 

Your attention is drawn to your fidgeting fingers and the drawstring of the sweatpants they occupy themselves with. The overwhelming urge he feels to grab them, to hold them still, goes ignored and makes his own hands tense. He focuses hard on your face instead; the crease between your eyebrows while you plot out your next steps.

“I didn’t want to need you, but then I did need you — and you just… you came, no questions asked.” You laugh, either despite your visible discomfort or because of it. “Held my hand and all that, didn’t just drop me on the curb and say, hit me up when you’re down again.”

Chan feels as if he’s been punched, although it’s not offense he takes from your statement. Judging by that flicker of hurt in your eyes, the expectation you had wasn’t for him, personally. It was history. 

You shift where you stand from one foot to another, like that weight on your shoulders is changing. He doesn’t know if it’s getting heavier or lighter until you finally lift your chin to look at him squarely. 

“It scared the shit out of me, honestly — how easy you are to need — so, I did what I always do: I bailed.” Sighing, you finally seem to register how much anxiety you’re holding in your hands. You drop it, then drop them to your sides. “But I think I’ve figured it out.”

You smile slightly, and suddenly, he feels lighter. “I’ve been conflating them, but they’re completely different things, aren’t they?”

Chan arches an eyebrow. Truly, he’s at a loss. He can’t predict which direction you’re about to turn in. Seeming to sense this, you answer his unasked question, “Wanting to need you and wanting you.”

While this makes his brain pause, his body moves. Cautiously, he steps forward and watches you counter him until your back is flush against the wall behind you. 

“Can I have a definition, then, please?” He pleads, voice low, while his hands gently claim your hips. “Because I thought it was want behind the booty call that brought me here, and I don’t want to find myself on a completely different page again.”

You link your arms around his neck and eye him carefully. “It was,” you acknowledge with a small nod. “Different kind, though — a shallow one.”

Chan finds his mouth curving up at the corner, all on its own. His gaze drops from yours to your lips, then back again. It’d be so easy to kiss you now, but he can’t unless he gets some sort of confirmation. “We’re in the deep end now, then?”

“Moving that way, at least. I spook easily, though…” You’d probably love nothing more than to look away when you admit that bit out loud, but to your credit, you don’t. Instead, you run your fingernails softly through the hair at his nape. “I’m not entitled to any more of your patience, but would you be willing to take it one day at a time?”

Chan wishes that he’d at least pretended to consider this. He doubts you’ve ever had a vision of him as someone nonchalant — in fact, he’s the poster boy for chalance in whichever reality that word exists — but it would’ve been infinitely cooler of him not to respond immediately and wholeheartedly with a rushed sigh, “Fuckin’ right, I am,” before leaning in to kiss you absolutely stupid.

Whatever gratification he can’t find by licking into the mouth you open eagerly for him, he finds in the way you keen when he presses his body more fully against yours. The payoff is even better when he stops short, divorcing your respective lips entirely.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he announces, breathless. His grin widens; meanwhile, your eyebrows shoot up your forehead. “No! Not, like, never — I don’t have that kind of resolve — but not tonight.”

The sudden switch makes you dizzy. Thankfully, it makes you laugh, too. 

“Don’t tell me you just want to enjoy my company,” you warn. You attempt to say it earnestly, but a smile cracks you wide open. “I’m still too prone to bolt when I hear cute shit like that.”

Chan shakes his head. “No, I’m telling you to plant yourself on that couch —” He pulls his right hand off your left hip and gestures blindly over his shoulder. “I’m also telling you that I am getting takeout.”

You narrow your eyes in feigned suspicion. “I wonder what you could possibly be ordering.”

“Belated pork belly is better than no pork belly.” He narrows his eyes to mirror hours, then kisses you quickly, murmuring, “One for the road,” against your lips.

Then, he dashes off towards your front door. As he goes, he just barely catches you nagging him through your laughter:

“If you’re not going to wait for your sweatshirt, can you at least take an umbrella?”

while likes are appreciated, comments/tags/reblogs with your thoughts are really what make my brain go brrrtt.

skz taglist. multi taglist. navigation.

due to tumblr being ass with tags lately, i’m going to be tagging people in the comments for the time being!

[fastandcarlos]

The Littlest Surprise : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: when your lack of presence around the paddock is noted, fans start to speculate. little do they know the real reason for your disappearance…

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, carlossainz55 and 2,483,608 others

charles_leclerc: always a joy to have my beautiful niece and nephew at the race and enjoy my biggest fans cheering me on ❤️🏎️

328,605 comments

username1: wondering at what point yn actually decides to show her face again…

carlossainz55: and there i was thinking you were waving up at me 💔

charles_leclerc: @/carlossainz55 when you’re as cute as these two I’ll consider it 😘

username2: some support yn is constantly leaving you at races alone

username3: how come the whole family managed to be there apart from yn 🙃

maxverstappen1: it must be easy being the cool uncle with all that money to your name!

username4: the best uncle is gonna make the best dad too one day 😭

oscarpiastri: how come cousin oscar didn’t get to meet these cool guys!?

charles_leclerc: @/oscarpiastri they only wanna meet the cool drivers 😂

landonorris: @/charles_leclerc you shoulda brought them over to me then 😎

username5: I don’t wanna be that person, but it’s been a long time since we saw yn on the feed…

pierregasly: it was so nice to see them both this weekend 🫶🏻

username6: can we all just calm down, I’m sure yn and charles are fine!!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 3,693,127 others

charles_leclerc: the race of dreams, so proud of how the whole team performed this weekend 🏆❤️

372,579 comments

landonorris: super race my friend, enjoy the celebrations 🎉

username7: a whole podium and still no sight of yn anywhere 🤔

username8: anyone thought that yn might just be busy??

maxverstappen1: btw I let you have this one 😂

charles_leclerc: @/maxverstappen1 yeah sure you did… 😂😂😂

username9: congratulations charles, so deserved this weekend 🏆

username10: at least the team is there to celebrate with you 🙄

carlossainz55: ik how much this means to you, couldn’t be happier for you brother ☺️

username11: I’m sure yn and charles will celebrate together, with privacy…

username12: I’m so proud of you winning your home race!!

arthur_leclerc: I’ve got the perfect plans for this evening don’t worry about a thing 🤔

charles_leclerc: @/arthur_leclerc that immediately makes me worry 😬

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 2,979,261 others

charles_leclerc: enjoying the off season with my favourite people. just a reminder to mind your business during this off season, there’s nothing to worry about with me 🤍🌊

276,318 comments

username13: charles really telling us to mind our damn business 😂

oscarpiastri: if you need anything you know where I am!

username14: hoping this is charles’ way of telling us him and yn are fine 🙏🏻

landonorris: couldn’t agree with you more 👏🏻

username15: I always knew you guys would be alright!!

carlossainz55: I’ve got your backs always ☺️

danielricciardo: sending you both good vibes for the summer ☀️

username16: enjoy the break charles and the peace and quiet for a while!

arthur_leclerc: getting ready for the best summer ever 💪🏻

username17: hope you and yn get to have the rest you deserve ☀️

carmenmmundt: if yn needs me, I’m only a phone call away ❤️

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by charles_leclerc, iamrebeccad and 538,708 others

ynusername: we’ve been keeping a little secret. charles and i are so proud to tell you that baby leclerc will be with us in the new year. it’s been a far from easy process but we’re so excited 👼💞

32,129 comments

charles_leclerc: you’ve been so incredibly strong, I cannot begin to tell you how proud I am of you ❤️

username18: ah I’m so happy for you guys ☺️☺️☺️

username19: so pleased to hear you’re on the mend yn 💞💞

arthur_leclerc: present and ready to be the coolest uncle in the world 🎉

username20: I’m so ready for charles’ dad era!!!!

lilymhe: cannot wait to visit you and get all the baby cuddles in the world soon 👼

username21: shout out to all the people sending congratulations who were convinced they’d broken up 🙄

carlossainz55: I’m gonna be back at ferrari every week making sure I visit now 😂

charles_leclerc: @/carlossainz55 can williams offer you an adorable baby like we can??

username22: this is the best news ever, cannot believe my fave duo are going to be parents…

pierregasly: ik just how much you guys have wanted this, couldn’t be happier for you both!!

username23: I’ve been dreaming of a post like this for so long and now it’s finally true 😭

oscarpiastri: buzzing to welcome another leclerc into our family 😂🫶🏻

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, pierregasly and 3,126,084 others

charles_leclerc: making sure to capture all the moments with my best friend and bump 📸

427,102 comments

landonorris: the caption said best friend…but I wasn’t on this trip with you??

charles_leclerc: @/landonorris do I have to explain this to you??

username24: it’s not fair how two expecting parents can be so cute ☺️

ynusername: thank you for choosing the photo where I don’t look like a swollen mess 😘

charles_leclerc: @/ynusername you look breathtaking in every photo I have of you!

username25: I bet charles’ camera roll is absolutely adorable rn 😭

arthur_leclerc: you better be taking care of the best sister in law in the world!!

ynusername: @/arthur_leclerc you’re only saying that cause I’m pregnant 😂

username26: I wish I could pull off pregnancy as well as yn omg

username27: the cutest set of photos I’ve ever seen in my life

maxverstappen1: make the most of all the peace and quiet whilst you still can!!

username28: now this just makes me feel incredibly single 💔

username29: this is the definition of living the dream now

carlossainz55: can’t believe you guys went out on the boat without me 😭

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by charles_leclerc, carmenmmundt and 688,329 others

ynusername: one last race for me for the season, charles has officially now put me on house rest until the baby arrives 😂❤️

69,271 comments

username30: get plenty of rest baby mama… you deserve it!

charles_leclerc: forever cheering me on, see you at home soon 💕

username31: thank you for always being by charles’ side ❤️🏎️

georgerussell63: make sure if you need anything you give carmen a call!!

username32: what are we going to do without you in the paddock?? 😭

iamrebeccad: can’t believe we’re never gonna be in the same paddock again 💔

ynusername: @/iamrebecad I promise to come and visit as soon as I’m back 💞

username33: I can just imagine charles refusing to even let you lift a finger too!

username34: counting down til baby leclerc arrives now 🥺

lewishamilton: looking forward to being right beside you next year and babysitting 😂😂

username35: pls make sure you get plenty of rest, make the most of sleep whilst you can!!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, oscarpiastri and 2,787,134 others

charles_leclerc: making sure to not let these two idiots feel left out as we prepare for the baby to arrive…turns out they are actually quite needy 😂🥺

427,098 comments

username36: I love how needy the leclerc boys are ❤️❤️

arthur_leclerc: I will be round your house every single day don’t you worry 😂

charles_leclerc: @/arthur_leclerc changing the locks as we speak!

username37: they’re definitely not gonna be left out, they’re never gonna leave your side 😂

landonorris: I feel like I’m looking at promo for the next boy band or something… 🤮

username38: not emotionally prepared for these photos…

ynusername: my three favourite human beings 🫶🏻

charles_leclerc: @/ynusername I better be the number one!!

username39: I love the bond these guys have 🥺

oscarpiastri: seems you were forgetting an important part of the family here 🤔

username40: bet charles is secretly hoping for a boy to add to this trio!!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by lilymhe, carlossainz55 and 693,172 others

ynusername: btw charles has been using this holiday to practice everything he knows about babies and doing nothing else 😂 according to him he’s perfect 🥺

57,183 comments

username41: the baby isn’t even here yet but I already know charles is gonna be the cutest dad in the world

carlossainz55: rebecca says these photos have got her in her feels…so kindly stop 😩

ynusername: @/carlossainz55: bets it’s you guys next 🥳

username42: look at how much of a natural he is 😭

pierregasly: btw he’s not stopped telling me how excited he is to become a dad 😂

username43: my heart can’t cope with the dad feels rn

charles_leclerc: thanks for flexing how good of an uncle I am 💪🏻

username44: thank you yn for blessing my timeline with these 🙏🏻

landonorris: were these just an excuse to post topless charles again???

username45: if you ask me, charles is most definitely perfect 😂

username46: can the baby just hurry up and arrive now pls…

lilymhe: you just wait until it’s your baby he’s holding instead 🥲

ynusername: @/lilymhe I cannot wait 🥺

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 4,329,059 others

charles_leclerc: we are so happy to share that our baby boy is here…mum and son are doing amazing and i’ve just about stopped crying for now 🥺💕

576,301 comments

username47: crying. screaming. throwing up.

arthur_leclerc: I’ve never been prouder of the two of you than I am right now!!

username48: congratulations charles and yn, we’re so happy for you 🥺

oscarpiastri: welcome to the family little one 🥺😂

username49: another boy to add to the leclerc family 🥳

scuderiaferrari: welcome to the newest member of the tifosi ❤️🏎️

landonorris: I’ve been refreshing my feed all day 😂 so glad he’s here and healthy 💕

username50: his little face, I can’t cope with how cute he is 😭

carmenmmundt: glad to hear mum and baby are good, get plenty of rest you three 😘

pierregasly: it’s not fair, how do you guys manage to make such cute babies!?

username51: can already tell this dude is gonna be a heartbreaker one day!

lewishamilton: so pleased he’s here safely, congrats you two!!

username52: he’s finally here omg 🥺

carlossainz55: could not be happier for you guys, cannot wait to meet little man 💞

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[lilirari]

　　　　　　　　　𐙚 ⋆୨୧˚ THE SUN TO MY MOON ⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. after a messy break-up, y/n goes mia for three months and her fans start to worry about her. but then one day, she makes her comeback, happier than she ever was, as she releases a new romantic song dedicated to her new mysterious lover, 'the sun' which sends her fans into frenzy as they try to figure out who her muse is.

💌 lewis hamilton x fem! singer! reader (social media au)

# author's note : this has nothing to do with the latest news on njr btw as it's been in the works long before the official news about his split with his ex. but with that being said, i do not condone any of his actions. anyways, i loved making this & i hope you'll have fun reading it !

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yourinstagram

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yourinstagram in my healing era 💌

ps new music coming out soon !

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lalalalisa_m 🩷

sooyaaa_ 🤍

roses_are_rosie love u xx

dualipa so pretty <3

conangray the queen is back !!

oliviarodrigo omg y/n new music !! 🥹

dior gorgeous !!

chanelofficial stunning !!

wkorea 🫶🫶🫶

adidasoriginals our favourite girl ☺️

troyesivan 😚

annehathaway 😘

calvinklein our ambassador everyone !!

user04 AAAHHH Y/N IS HOME THIS IS NOT A DRILL I REPEAT Y/N IS HOME !!!!

user10 omg girl we missed you so much 😭

user90 it girl vibes 🤍🎀

user45 MARRY ME Y/N

user57 WE LOVE YOU Y/N

user89 MOTHER IS BACK

user32 i love ur fit y/n !!

user81 y/n i know i can treat you better 😞

user38 Y/N NEW MUSIC SOON LFG !!!

user12 I HOPE THE NEW SONG IS A DISS TRACK JUST LIKE 'SOLO'

-> user54 solo isn't a diss track though ?? 😭😭

-> user12 i mean ok it's not like a rap diss track but she's still making fun of her prev ex and their break-up in it yk so it is kinda a diss track

-> user66 SO TRUE OP I NEED A SEQUEL TO SOLO

user11 where did you get that dress ??

user55 😍

user40 OUR PRINCESS !!! 🥹🥹

user29 Y/N NEW MUSIC OMG IT'S GOING TO BE HER REPUTATION ERA

user39 are we getting a sequel to USED TO BE YOUR GIRL NOW I'M USED TO BEING THE GOAT

-> user49 YOU'RE SITTING ON UR FEELINGS I'M SITTING ON MY THRONE

user77 y/n come back both in ig & the music industry ? best day of my life !!!

user22 we're going to get all the tea from this new song lmao

user19 Y/N THANK YOU FOR COMING BACK TODAY BEST BIRTHDAY GIFT EVER !!!

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blackpinkofficial

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blackpinkofficial y/n's 'you & me' is out now !

#Y/N #BLACKPINK #YOUANDME #OUTNOW #YG

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lalalalisa_m go y/n !!!!!

sooyaaa_ 🥰🥰🥰

roses_are_rosie we're always so proud of u 🩷

sabrinacarpenter 🌙🎀

mileycyrus ❤️

barbie our moon princess barbie !!

nail_unistella 🫶🫶

adidasoriginals i love you & me dancing in the moonlight 🤭

prada wow !! 🤍

nasa red moon only for y/n ❤️🌙

spotify been on repeat all. day. long 🗣️

carmenmmundt i love this song so much 😘

-> yourinstagram aww thank you carmen 🤍🎀

-> user11 ariana what are you doing here 🤨

-> user30 HOLD UPPP Y/N AND CARMEN KNOW EACH OTHER ???

-> user46 what in the multiverse of madness...

mercesdesamgf1 ☺️❤️

liked by yourinstagram

user25 AHHH I LOVE THIS SONG Y/N IT'S SO CATCHY

user34 SOTY SOTY SOTY

user69 if y/n has millions of fans, i am one of them. if y/n has ten fans, i am one of them. if y/n has only one fan, i am that fan. if y/n has no fans, that means i am no longer on earth. if the world against y/n, i am against the world.

user77 am i the only one confused with the song & its lyrics lol

-> user81 no you're not alone bestie 😭

-> user90 the way we all thought it was going to be y/n's reputation era.. 🤡

-> user77 we're all just part of a circus

user16 Y/N ATE AND LEFT NO CRUMBS

user48 gosh y/n you look so good in that red dress 😍

user52 THE DANCE PERFORMANCE WAS SO BEAUTIFUL I NEARLY CRIED

user33 what's carmen & the mercedes account doing in the comments and why did lewis like this post.. something is very sus and i intend to find out what it is 🧐��️‍♀️

-> user26 op sherlock holmes mode activated

-> user33 i am already digging through gossip accounts and articles

-> user24 maybe we're getting merc x y/n collab ? like a sponsor or something ?

-> user33 perhaps.. but something feels slightly off 🤔

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lewishamilton

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lewishamilton talking to the moon

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plus44world 🌙

mission44 🤩

roscoelovescoco roscoe's love's the's moon's !

user63 WHAT THE HECK LEWIS

user99 LEWIS SOFT LAUNCH ??? HELLO ???

user43 SIR LEWIS CARL DAVIDSON HAMILTON MBE HonFREng WHAT IS THIS

-> user45 HELP NOT THE GOVERNMENT NAME 💀

-> user01 THE NAME IS TAKING ME OUTTTTT

user65 the drawings in the second slide is so cute though 🥹

user11 DROP HER @ MAN C'MON WE WANNA KNOW WHO SHE IS

user23 did my eyes glitch or did i just see " liked by yourinstagram " for a hot second

-> user49 YOU'RE NOT ALONE @/user23 I THOUGHT I SAW HER NAME BUT WHEN I REFRESHED THE PAGE, THE LIKE WAS GONE

-> user29 I SWORE I SAW HER @ TOO BUT I THOUGHT I WAS BEING TOO DELULU

-> user26 y/n really thought we wouldn't catch her 😭

user34 NOOOO LEWIS IS TAKEN 😭

user75 icb this man is soft launching on us...

user33 this is extremely suspicious considering the interactions we've gotten in the past days .. and the fact that it's related to the moon and y/n released a song about dancing in the moonlight just a few days ago.. 🧐

-> user28 MY THOUGHTS EXACTLY !!!

-> user42 chill guys i don't think they're together.. they live in completely different worlds y'know

-> user06 mhm yeah that's true 😞 although it would've been so nice to see a singer and a driver together.. imagine the power they'd hold !

user44 i've connected the dots

-> user63 you didn't connect shit

-> user44 I'VE CONNECTED THEM

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f1gossip

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f1gossip lewis was caught leaving the paddock with a girl after the qualis today ! one of our followers who attended the qualis today provided these pictures. they could not get a clear view of the girl's face but they suspect that she's his girlfriend as they were holding hands and were also hugging each other. who do you think this mysterious girl is and could she be the one he posted on his account a few days back ?

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user04 i did not expect tea on lewis today but i love it

user06 it's been a while since we've had a lewis dating rumour.. i hope she's his gf 🥹

user08 why does she look kinda familiar...

user10 she must be that girl he posted on his account

user28 ugh must be another girl just using him and his popularity for clout

user36 who cares ? she's probably just some girl who wants to mooch money & fame off of him

user40 why is it that every time a driver is seen with a girl or gets a new girlfriend, people automatically assume that the girl just wants fame and is just using the drivers for clout 💀

-> user56 fr like they've forgotten that a little thing called love exists..

user12 is it just me or does she look like that girl who was with lewis & george today

-> user14 yes she does

-> user16 who ?

-> user18 @/user16 they mean y/n y/l/n, a member of blackpink ! she was invited to the mercedes garage today !

-> user14 oh the pretty girl wearing that white top ?

-> user16 haha yeah that one

-> user14 honestly, if she & lewis aren't together then i'll gladly take her

-> user16 ure so real for this

user20 that's defo y/n

user22 must be y/n.. the height & hair matches and the fit looks pretty similar to what she wore today

user26 probably y/n.. lewis and her were talking like as if they've known each other for a long time and she already seems pretty close with the mercedes team, george and carmen too

user24 i hope it's y/n her & lewis would be such a hot couple

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mercedesamgf1

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tagged lewishamilton yourinstagram, georgerussell63

mercedesamgf1 it's race day out here in são paulo ! here's our drivers and our new mercedes ambassador, y/n, arriving to the paddock in style !

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yourinstagram looking forward to making great memories with you all ! 🤍

user47 OMGMGMGM Y/N MERCEDES AMBASSADOR !!!

user49 WE GOT OUR Y/N X MERCEDES COLLAB LFG

user99 YESSSS Y/N MERC AMBASSADOR CONFIRMED I LOVE THIS

user97 my favourite celeb & my favourite f1 team 🥰

user95 before any hate comments come in — y/n genuinely loves f1 and is not using it for clout !!!

user93 istg if anyone hates on y/n i will turn into ur biggest nightmare

user51 y/n serving face as always 🫶

user53 icb mercedes got the prettiest woman in the world to be their ambassador.. they really won in life

user55 y/n's paddock fits are always so good !!

user57 LEWIS WITH THE BRAZILIAN FLAG !! oh he loves brazil so much ☹️

user59 MANIFESTING LEWIS & GEORGE PODIUM TODAY

user61 lewis looks so happy 🥹🥹 he's home <3

user63 george = gorgeous

user65 george looks so good in those shades 😩

user67 our favourite mercedes trio !!!!

user69 i'm still trying to figure out who lewis was with last night lol

-> user71 LMAO SAMEEEE

-> user73 placing my bets on y/n tbh

-> user75 y/n seems like the most plausible option 🤔

-> user77 hope it's y/n her chemistry with lh is amazing

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yourinstagram 1 minute ago

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yourinstagram

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tagged lewishamilton

yourinstagram winner of the race & my heart 🖤

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lewishamilton i love you

-> yourinstagram i love you too baby

lewishamilton my pretty girl 🖤

liked by yourinstagram

lewishamilton when did you take that second picture ?

-> yourinstagram when you & george left for the briefing session yesterday ;)

-> lewishamilton you really can't go a minute without kissing me, can you ?

-> yourinstagram shh you don't have to expose me like this in public

-> lewishamilton oh i think it's definitely necessary for me to expose you like this in public bc your reactions are always so adorable

-> yourinstagram you're so mean you're lucky i love you 😕

-> lewishamilton yeah, i am pretty lucky, aren't i ? i won the heart of the girl of my dreams & won at my favourite track as an added bonus

-> yourinstagram the girl of your dreams, mhm ? 🫣🫣🫣

-> lewishamilton only you baby

-> yourinstagram i feel so special 🥰🥰🥰

-> landonorris and i feel sick after reading all these get a room !!! 🙄🙄

-> yourinstagram go back to your nap, lan

-> oscarpiastri well, i personally think that you & lewis are the best couple on the paddock, y/n

-> yourinstagram this is why oscar is my favourite child

-> landonorris hey that's not fair ! favouritism shouldn't be a thing amongst your children !!

-> lewishamilton lando, don't argue with my girlfriend

-> landonorris ok sorry dad 😞

georgerussell63 why are you wearing a mclaren cap ? 🤨

-> yourinstagram that's not a mclaren cap it's a normal orange cap 😭

-> georgerussell63 i can literally see 'mclaren' written on the side, y/n

-> yourinstagram ok fine i stole it from lando's bag since the sun was bothering me i'm still loyal to merc i promise

-> landonorris you did WHAT

-> yourinstagram oops i've said too much..

-> landonorris y/n get back here !!

-> yourinstagram 🏃‍♀️

carmenmmundt my gorgeous girlfriend 🤍

liked by yourinstagram

lalalalisa_m please treat our sister well, @/lewishamilton !

-> roses_are_rosie or else we're going to partner up with red bull or ferrari and make your team cry

-> lewishamilton haha, don't worry girls i'll treat her properly like the queen she is

-> sooyaaa_ good ☺️

alexandrasaintmleux y/n vous êtes si belle 🩷

charles_leclerc don't forget about my signed album 🤭

-> yourinstagram it's on the way ! 🫡

oscarpiastri my parents, everyone !

-> yourinstagram my son 🥹

-> lewishamilton we love you son

-> landonorris wow i feel so loved 🧍

roscoelovescoco i's love's you's mum's

-> yourinstagram aww i love you too my baby coco 🥹

mercedesamgf1 y'all wish you had y/n, huh ? 😏

-> scuderiaferrari yeah

-> redbullracing yeah

-> mclaren yeah

-> astonmartinf1 yeah

maxverstappen1 congratulations to lewis for the win & to both of you for officially making your relationship public!

-> yourinstagram aww thanks maxieeee :( <3

user01 HELP NOT THE OTHER F1 TEAMS BEING JEALOUS OF LEWIS & MERCEDES

user87 SO IT WAS YOU !!!

user85 LEWIS IS THE SUN TO HER MOON YOU GUYS 😭

user83 so y/n wrote you & me for lewis.. couple goals fr

user81 i don't know if i want to be y/n or lewis here

user79 YESSSS THE IT COUPLE !!! FINALLY !!!

user77 that third picture of lewis is so cute his smile 🥹🥹🥹

user75 I LOVE YOU AND ME DANCING IN THE MOONLIGHT

user73 I KNEW ITTTTTTTT

user11 YOOOOO OMG Y/N & LEWIS ??? WHATTTTTT

user21 THEY LOOK SO GOOD TOGETHER IT'S INSANEEEE

user23 her exes never really got a romantic song or even a post dedicated to them.. lewis really is her special person

user25 NOOOO Y/N IS NOT SINGLE ANYMOREEEEE my parasocial relationship with her is gone now 😭😭 (in all seriousness though, congrats lewis you bagged the woman of the century)

user27 i hope they'll last forever 🤞

user29 the best thing to happen this year

user28 THE WAY Y/N AND LEWIS ADOPTED THE MCLAREN TWINS OMG 😭😭

user26 y/n & lewis being referred to as mum & dad and oscar & lando being their children.. i love this silly formula 1 family so much

user24 they're my roman empire !!

user44 @/user63 SEE I TOLD YOU I CONNECTED THE DOTS

-> user63 ... i hate to admit this but i was wrong 👩🏻‍🦯

user20 THAT OUTFIT IS SO FIRE

user18 MOTHER IS MOTHERING !!!!

user22 no bc y/n looks so genuinely happy with him.. as someone who's followed her since her trainee & rookie days, i'm so proud and happy for her :( she deserves only the best <3

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lewishamilton

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lewishamilton forever grateful to the moon 🖤🌙

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© LILIRARI, 2023 ★

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Sep 18th

~*~

1. Hi! I don't know if this has been asked before but I'm looking for a fic. It had multiple chapters and might have been mostly from LWJ POV. (spoilers for the fic basically) I only remember clearly that in one of the later chapters it is revealed that WWX took the fall for JC who had set off a cigar fire. Thank you!

FOUND! Nursery Rhymes by manaika (M, 96k, WangXian, NieLan, Modern AU, Inexperienced WWX, Experienced LWJ, Reconciliation, Budding Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Unreliable Narrator, Medical Inaccuracies, Slow Burn, Past Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Found Family, Past Injury, Nurse! WWX, Doctor! LXC, Teacher! LWJ, Character With A Heart Condition (Major), Past Incarceration (Major Character), Underage Character With Leukemia (Minor))

NOT FOUND! Insert Coin Now for Extra Life by TriviasFolly (E, 201k, wangxian, modern, ABO, Intersex Omegas, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Marriage contract au, Twitch Streamer WWX, fluff and smut, caring for other while sick, Possessive LWJ, Rare Male Omegas, Pack Dynamics, Sugar Baby vibes, Eventual Smut, Brief mention of lwj/others)

~*~

2. hi - apologies if you have answered this and i missed it, or please ignore if i haven't waited long enough! i really appreciate all you guys do! I'm looking for a longish fic - cloud recesses classes WY gets whipped after JZ/JY engagement broken, recovers in CR while creating talismans. Wens attack and WY explodes heads. ACE JZ, badass Madame Jin, NH sets up JY/NM, WY grabbed by WR, LZ comes to save him and they kill WR. I've tried searching hashtags, but just can't find it -can you help? @oldoni

FOUND? 🧡 To have and to hold by Moominmammashandbag (M, 78k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Major character injury, CQL verse, Happy Ending)

~*~

3. Hello Mojo!! I've always used your blog to find missing fics, but this'll be the first time I send in a an ask!!

I read this fic a long time ago and forgot to bookmark it, the premise was Jiang Yanli was engaged to Lan Zhan but she was in love with Jin Zixuan. So Wei Ying, doing what he does best and offers to take her place.

He's invented a talisman that changes his body to look like Yanlis, the catch is that it affects his health everything he uses the talisman until it eventually hurts him to the point of near death. And he falls in love with Lan Zhan along the way.

Can you help me find this fic?

FOUND? 🔒 You Free Your Mind In Your Androgyny by retired (misbehavingvigilante) (E, 368k, WangXian, JC & JYL & WWX, NHS & WWX, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bodyswap, Crossdressing, Dysfunctional Family, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Transphobia, Self-Worth Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans WWX)

~*~

4. Hiii there was a fic where wei ying was chased by a dog and took shelter in lan zhans house. i remember wy having a panic attack and lz calming him, and ig he had a cat called bunny?? idk this was on the first chp. and it was a long fic ig?? Anyways hope you can find it!! @for13years-i-play-inquiry-foryou

FOUND? leave all your love and your longing behind by ScarlettStorm (E, 143k, WangXian, Modern AU, no magic, Meet-Ugly, Panic Attacks, autistic lwj, neurodivergent wwx, the neighborhood asshole dog, if you’ve met one then you know, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, Happy Ending, for everyone including the asshole dog, Eventual Smut, switch rights, Sex Toys, horny yearning, Masturbation)

~*~

5. Hii I am desperately looking for a fic. It is around cloud recess time and wwx is a genuis and gets recognized by the Lans and they treat him well. I remember super specific stuff like there was an elder who blew something up to reroute a river because he needed the water for fire savety and he is kind of mentoring wwx. And some of the elders imply to lwj to court wwx. And there is a kind of scholar equivalent to a discussion converence and the Jiang scholars get so much shit from the Lans for not supporting wwx talent because he is like a once in a generation genius and they usually have systems in place to support people like that but the Jiangs were afraid of madam yu i guess. Thats most of what I remember. I really hope it still exists somewhere... @frankensteins-gendercrisis

FOUND?🔒in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, Cloud Recesses, LWJ & NHS Friendship, Developing Relationship, POV LWJ, Minor Injuries, Autistic LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aka the Madam Yu warning, Genius WWX, Light Angst And Hurt/Comfort, WWX Protection Squad, Gusu Lan Sect, Slow Burn, Protective LWJ, LWJ-centric)

FOUND? 🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 859k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

~*~

6. Hi! I'm looking for a f/f wangxian fic, I don't remember much about the plot but I do know in it wwx bullies young lwj and calls her a lesbian. They later meet as adults and wwx is really trying to atone for her actions. Thank you!! @blessrainydays

FOUND? Out of your system by mimilamp (E, 20k, Female WangXian, Modern AU, Rule 63, Sexual Content, Strap-Ons, jealous wwx, lan zhan FUCKS, mention of LWJ/others straight girl WWX, Y E A R N I N G, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

~*~

7. Hello! Here for the fic finder, please. It starts with Wangxian hunting a monster that eats dreams. At some point it catches lwj and puts him into a dream and wwx goes into the dream and sees that in it they are married? Does that ring any bells?

FOUND? Dream of Me by KingdomFlameVIII (E, 11k, WangXian, Mild Horror, Dreams, Dream Sex, Bathing/Washing, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, First Time, Light Bondage, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering)

~*~

8. Hi! I'm looking for a modern au where WWX was a fox that had gotten taken to a sanctuary and he had a faded red ribbon around his neck, it fell off and he got sad about it. It possibly had his name written on the inside of it? Wen Ning either ran the santuary or worked there. WWX might've been cursed to be in a fox form? I can't remember for sure. I thought I'd bookmarked it but can't find it and there's a gazillion fox!wwx fics and I'm not finding it. I can't remember more than that but hopefully someone will know. TIA!

NOT FOUND! in the arms of the angel by ScarlettStorm (E, 37k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Fox WWX, animal rescuer LWJ, Minor pining, major shenanigans, Comedy, Smut, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Adhd WWX, the mortifying ordeal of getting your head stuck in a peanut butter jar, and getting subsequently rescued by your crush, there were in fact two beds, but LWJ knows what he's about, Blowjobs, Frottage, switch rights, Scent Kink, mildly telepathic sex, courtship via kittens)

FOUND! Found: Extremely Friendly Fox by wanderingflame (T, 22k, ZhuiLing, WangXian, Modern AU, mild animal injury, Curses, Fluff, Reunions, Fox WWX, Foxxian being a lovable terror, POV Alternating, Modern With Cultivation, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, LWJ wears reading glasses because it's sexy)

~*~

9. Hi can I ask you if you could find me a fanfiction where Wei wuxian keeps doing different ghost games and Lan Zhan keeps interrupting them, the other thing I can remember is that they're both university students and Lan Zhan is responsible for the dormitory.

FOUND?🔒Grandmaster of Demonic Party Games by Trickster_Angel (M, 50k, WangXian, Modern AU, College AU, Crack, Light Angst, Humor, Paranormal, horror, Slow Burn)

~*~

10. Hello! Submitting a request to find a fic, cause i'm honestly at my wit's end.

It was multichapter fic and I'm pretty much sure it was finished. It's basically story, where Wei Wuxian transmigrates from modern times into cultivator setting, summoned by mistake, by his counter-part here and basically hijacked their body? And was then promptly attacked by Lan Wangji, who thought it was original

In cultivator setting, Wei Wuxian was also known as a Yilling Laozu - ancient and mad with grief over Lans killing his husband few hundreds years ago. The present Lan Wangji is reincarnation of said husband, but due Yilling Laozu Wei Wuxian not letting him go, he couldn't properly reincarnate or something? Like - he is still man's husband, Lan Wangji, but a little bit different and that stops him from falling in love with YL WWX?

(There was also something about how this Wei Ying was summoned, because Lan Wangji from that universe probably died, before they had a chance to meet.)

Anyway, after getting (i think?) stabbed by Lan Wangji he got taken to Cloud Recess, then he somehow winded up in Lotus Pier, growing close with Jiang siblings. Also, Wei Wuxian from the modern times was some kind of doctor or inventor (?) and he tried bringing some modern solutions there.

I think this think may be quite known, but i tried all the tags i thought that will work and found nothing ://

Thank you very much in advance

FOUND? Old Foreshadows by protos_metazu_ison (M, 15k, WangXian, YLLZ WWX, BAMF WWX, War, Universe Alteration, Sunshot Campaign, Rated For Violence, Timeline What Timeline, Mojo’s post)

FOUND? 🔒 Transverse by Kytrin, Mslead (E, 192k, WangXian, ChengSang, ZhuiLing, ZhenYi, Dimension Travel, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Enemies to Lovers, Transmigration, Past Lives, Canon-Typical Death, Don’t worry - he gets better)

~*~

11. for fic finder, i've read this a few times and suddenly i can't find it- wwx gets taken by a caiyi merchant while he's on his way to dinner with lwj. the merchant is someone wwx had previously gotten along with, so it's a bit of a depressing realization that even this guy hates him.

queue a sinister array, a timely rescue by lwj, and the sobering realization that wwx can't fully escape what he's done in his past life, and it can crop up where he least expects it @stgroversfire

FOUND! Before we get started, does anyone wanna get out? by Iggysassou (E, 13k, WangXian, Married Couple, Post-Canon, mdzs canon rather than cql, 5+1 Things, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Protective wwx, protective lwj)

~*~

12. Hi! This is for fic finder. I'm looking for a fic where sect leader JC returns to Lotus Pier after a trip/night hunt and the junior disciples all clamour towards him. JC then picks one of the youngest disciples who gives a short report and sends them off for training. I think it might be from the pov of someone who accompanied him (LWJ? LXC?) and then I think there's a bit of commentary about the kind of sect leader JC is. I think it's likely some sort of canon divergence or time travel fic, but not sure. Thanks!

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13. hi, i’m looking for a fanfic in which jzx’s death was faked, he was found in the lake (?) by wwx, i remember people thought wwx was dead but lwj managed to find him alive in some village. lwj told jiang yanli to find wwx and after he found jzx, he was told not to sleep in the same room with jyl as she was married woman and it was inappropriate. this fic wasn’t finished

FOUND? Discarded by teawater (E, 178k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dying Lan children, Hurt/Comfort, YL WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, and it's not always dark, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ)

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14. Hi! I’ve been looking for a fic I read a while ago in which WWX designs a talisman (or something) to test blood relationships and finds out he really is JFM’s son. If I remember correctly he’s already left Lotus Pier, I think he finds out with JYL and JC at Cloud Recesses? “This body yet survives” by RoseThorne comes very close but doesn’t have him as JFM’s son. Help please!

I’m pretty sure 14 is a modern era AU and they take a DNA test which reveals the siblings as wwx’s half siblings - can I locate it? Ehhh, of course not unless I get lucky with my history search

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15. I’m looking for a fic that is a modern au, no cultivation, where wwx leaves home or is driven out of his home and loses contact with his sibling and lwj. Fast forward to the future, he’s living somewhere and is with the Wen siblings? I don’t remember how, but somehow lwj finds wwx first, maybe over text? And slowly wwx starts sharing his life again? I feel like maybe wwx had been abused or threatened to never talk to his siblings again. He’s very afraid. I remember Wen Qing was very suspicious of LWJ and protective of wwx. Thanks for your help!

NOT FOUND! clean from the war (your heart fits like a key) by sysrae (E, 28k, WangXian, Modern AU, Reunions, past xy/wwx, xy is fucked up but not evil because it's a modern AU and I said so, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, past wwx/jfm, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Abuse, Rape Recovery, transphobic violence, Victim Blaming, Past wwx/others, allusions to past self-harm)

FOUND! Love Don't Belong To Me by airinshaw (E, 28k, WangXian, Modern, Getting Together, Kissing, Intercrural Sex, Light Angst, Happy Ending, PTSD, Panic Attack, WWX's canonical self-esteem issues, Canonical Child Abuse, not as dark as the tags imply, Past Relationships mention)

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16. Hello! Thanks in advance for this. I read ff earlier this year, it was post-canon I guess, Wei Wuxian is staying in cloud recesses and Lan wangji is chief cultivator (I guess). once wwx took juniors to night hunt and he kminda knew that someone will come for him, a walking corpse was searching for him specifically. after empathy wwx got to know that the walking corpse is his father. I dont remember anything other than this scene. Please help! @vbhardwaj-reads

FOUND! An Aftermath More Devastating Than The Storm by UneducatedAuthor (Not Rated, 111k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Everyone Loves WWX, The Junior Ensemble Love WWX, Hurt WWX, Protective LWJ, Protective LSZ, WWX Deserves Better, Genius WWX, WWX Protection Squad, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Cultivation Sect Politics, JC & WWX Reconciliation) Has Wei Changze as a fierce corpse searching for his son

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17. For fic finder, I remember it was a multichap canon dovergent wangxian fic with inventor wwx. Tho I am not sure if that tag was used. The most notable part of it was Madam Jin bringing evidence of jgs putting his lot in with wrh complete with bills, transactions, correspondences etc. Jgs tries to discredit her by being a misogynist. That's when madam Jin uses a wwx custom binding spell on him and then says "I am a quick study when I want to be" to wwx and then she says "thank you for your instruction" because she learned the spell from jzx who saw wwx teach it to jc in cloud recesses lectures. After that she tells jzx to take the sect leader's seat and there was resistance from jin elders in the same scene and also in other later chapters. It was complete and happy ending I believe for wangxian too @yiling-laozu-is-loml

FOUND? Cultivating immortality by KizuKatana (E, 231k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Mutual Pining, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, unreliable narrator, Found Family, First Time, novel canon relationship dynamics)

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18. Hey its my first ask so i don't know if I'm doing it right... I've been trying to find two specific fics really hard but no luck yet. I hope you'd be able to help

A) It was a post-sunshot campaign au..I think someone basically heard wwx getting yelled at by jc and flinching away from his touch. That gives rise to rumours that jc is sexually abusing wwx. Everyone starts pitying wwx and it comes to a head at some sort of banquet..?

B) A post-canon wangxian fluff fic. I think it might've been a 5+1 sort of fic but im not sure. There was one particular scene where wwx is just hanging out with other lan spouses and they are all complaining about their husband but wwx is silent cause lwj treats him really well..After he says so one of the women say "how long will it take your husband to realise if I kill you and take your place?" To which wwx replies "like right away"

I really hope you'll be able to find them

18A)

FOUND? Short Prompts by Vrishchika (M, 40k, WIP, WangXian, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Not JC Friendly, Separate Tags for Each Chapter) chapter 15 I'm sure of it

18B)

FOUND? Life before you was tragic by covalentbonds (Not rated, 4k, wangxian, Fluff and Humor)

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19. Hello! I am trying to find a fix where Wei ying get thrown to burial mound by wen Chao as a child, and then he become the protector of Yiling! He is always covered in shadows when he meet the sects! Can anyone remember the title! It is in AoW but I cannot find it! Help please!🙏 Thanks 😊 Have a wonderful day! @fallingstar77

I don't remember the name of #19 fic, but what I do remember is that it's listed on the amazing Warprize compilation you guys did.

FOUND? 💖 what price is duty, what cost is love by thunderwear (G, 18k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, WWX was never adopted by the Jiang Sect, War Prize, YLLZ WWX, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, First Time, Falling In Love, eventual dramatic confessions, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending)

FOUND? Sanctuary by Alineko (T, 45k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Cultivation Sect Politics, Sunshot Campaign, Overpowered WWX, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, WWX Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei Sect, Sect Leader WWX, Unreliable Narrator LWJ, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Self-Indulgent, Touch-Starved WWX, Different First Meeting, POV Alternating, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags)

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20. Hi, Im looking for a fic that may have been deleted but i'll try here. In it LWJ takes a'yuan away from cloud recesses to raise outside of the sect after WWXs death. He builds a garden with various monuments one of which is a boulder tied down with ropes to represent the Xuanwu. Eventually he senses something and goes to the burial mounds where he drags a reborn WWX from the blood pool. He takes him home to rehabilitate. On the way he stops at an inn to bathe him. Thats all I remember<3

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