#“around the winter months it should be....”

[marblehazel]

Deeper

dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Part Two of Sitter

After nine months of no contact since the night Joel spent at your house, you run into him again over winter break.

Tags: Explicit MDNI, no outbreak, age gap, hurt/comfort, lots of feelings and tensions and arguing, which eventually lead to, car sex, unprotected penetration, fingering, first kiss (yay?!!)

Word count: 8.1k

You wake up disoriented.

The first thing your brain registers is how hot your face feels. After blinking a few times, you squint and look around. Sunlight is pouring through the window to the room, hitting you with what feels like a gigajoule worth of heat right on your cranium. You yank the blanket that is covering you away, cursing at how hot and sweaty you are under.

Supporting yourself up with your elbows, you plant your feet on the floor before sitting up straight, stretching your back and arms and groaning while doing so. You scare yourself hearing how nasally your voice is. Your mind runs, dissecting the events from the previous night.

Oh, right. You were sick last night. You slept in front of the TV after taking some medication. You remember the ache in your muscles and joints, the debilitating fever. How you embodied a person in Victorian times on their deathbed, pale and sickly, and all they wanted was to see the garden for one last time. You touch your forehead, and then your neck. Seems like the fever has gone away, leaving your skin sticky with sweat. Your nose isn’t stuffy anymore. And the sore throat is almost gone. You should send a love letter to Vicks headquarters.

While rubbing your face, you are hit by the sudden realization of this strangely vivid dream you had about Joel. It was definitely a wet one, on top of how it was obviously strange and came out-of-nowhere. The kind of dream only fever and probably too much Benadryl can produce. You remember that in the dream, you were watching TV with Joel, and it escalated to going down on him before he went down on you. Fuck, that was embarrassing. And so… porn-y. Straight out of a cheap adult video production company. Ooh, look at me, I’m sick and I’m alone and my dad’s hot friend came and ate my pussy out. What’s next, a plumbing guy? A pizza delivery boy?

Going upstairs is a chore. Your joints are stiff and the knob of the upstairs bathroom’s door gets stuck from time to time, and apparently today is the time. After almost kicking it down, you run the tap and give your face a good wash with cold water, resuscitating your brain cells from doxylamine-induced coma. After that, the very much needed teeth brushing.

You glance at the mirror, cringing at how disheveled your reflection looks. Maybe you should take a hot shower while you’re at it. Toothbrush still in mouth, you run your fingers through your hair, feeling the oily scalp under your fingertips.

And that’s when you find the proof of Joel’s visit. His release, not even fully dried up, is lodged between the strands of hair near your forehead. You pick at it and bring the sample to your nose, half hoping it’s snot. One whiff and it’s confirmed. The dreamy sequence of Joel Miller eating you out was, in fact, not a dream.

The realization hits like a truck. Your body is ahead of your mind and before you realize it, you’re already halfway downstairs, almost tripping and splitting your skull on the staircase. You turn the living room upside down, trying to find your phone. Eventually, you find it after digging in every crook and corner of the couch. It’s dead. You quickly plug it in and wait for the home screen to appear. 4 missed calls from your father, 2 from Amy. A bunch of texts.

Dad

Sweetie? I was asleep. I am so sorry you’re going through it alone. I called Joel. He should be on his way.

Is he there yet?

Didn’t hear from Joel and I can’t reach you. Please call me ASAP.

I hope you’re just asleep. Rest up and text me when you’re finally awake, okay 👍

Sweetie?

Amy

Your dad and I are worried sick. I hope you’re feeling better! Say hi when you’re up

Make some lemon ginger tea if your throat still feels awful

Ignoring the fact that you are pretty much shaking, you scroll until you find Joel’s contact, checking if he has left any message before leaving. The last conversation was from him last year on your birthday, to which you said thanks with a bunch of emojis. Nothing new. You check around the house, thinking maybe Joel left a note. Also nothing.

The house is eerily clean from his trace. In the kitchen you find everything is where it should be, and he even took the trash out. The front lawn seems unchanged, too. No tire marks on the driveway, no flattened grass, no dried mud in the shape of the sole of his boots on the porch. It’s like he was never here.

If you hadn’t found the remains of his semen on you, you would totally believe last night was just a dirty fantasy that somehow managed to override your brain while asleep.

You’re not sure what to do, or even how to feel. Guilt? Disgust? You guess it wouldn’t have bothered you that much if not for the fact that Joel tried his best to pretend he never visited. It makes your stomach churns.

Your phone rings. Dad.

“Sweetheart?”

“Dad,”

A relieved sigh from the other end. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. I can run a marathon.” you let out a breathy laugh. “Sorry I left you worried last night. I took some NyQuil and slept,”

That was technically not a lie.

“Yeah? I figured. Did Joel come? He said he would check, but we haven’t heard anything—”

Fucking pussy, you mouth. “Uh, I was probably asleep when he came. If—he came.”

Not only did he come figuratively, he also came metaphorically.

A faint ding sound, and your father pauses to read the notification. “Ah, there he is! Sorry… Car broke down… Phone died… Couldn’t find the damn charger. Ha!”

You chuckle dryly, heart sinking. “Yeah, it was storming last night, too, so…”

“Ah,” he gasps. “Well I sure do hope he wasn’t in the middle of the road when his car broke down! Did I tell you about that one time a chair—“

You can’t hear anything past that.

.

Joel is scared.

He hasn’t stopped thinking about what happened since the second he left your house. He doesn’t even remember driving home. One moment he was grinning as you skipped your way to the land of dreams, the next he was pulling on his jeans with shaking hands, and then he was standing in the middle of his kitchen staring at the microwave clock, heart thundering like he just ran ten miles.

What the fuck did I do? It plays in his head on a loop, over and over again. Not the way your mouth felt, not the way your voice cracked when you begged, not even the way you looked up at him with those wet, feverish eyes like you needed him more than air. No. None of the good stuff. Just the guilt. The sinking, oil-thick weight in his chest when he looked down at you and remembered who you were. Who your father is. What you meant to him before last night blurred all the lines.

At work, he drops a box on his foot. Snaps at someone who didn’t deserve it. Spends a full ten minutes staring at a power drill someone hands to him to fix, unable to remember what the fuck he’s supposed to be doing. His head isn’t screwed on right. It’s full of images he doesn’t want to replay, and feelings he doesn’t know what to do with.

You text him mid-afternoon.

Thank you for last night. I hope you have a good day at work.

He sees it pop up on his screen while he’s staring blankly at the schedule of the construction, unable to assess whether it’s on track or not. He doesn’t open the message. Doesn’t reply. Can’t.

Another one comes two hours later.

Can we talk? I was thinking maybe dinner. At my place, or yours, or anywhere you want. Please?

He turns his phone off and tells himself it’s the right thing. That not answering is kinder than… indulging you. That if he keeps quiet, maybe it’ll just fade. Maybe you’ll forget. Or at least catch the hint.

He spends the rest of the day in silence. Takes the long way home. Opens a beer and leaves it on the counter untouched. Stares out the window until the sun goes down and he’s just a silhouette in his own house. Feels like a coward. Because he is.

He knows he should regret it because it was wrong.

He does regret it.

But with each minute passing, it comes to his mind that he doesn’t regret making you come apart in his hands as much as he regrets—and realizes —how badly he’s wanted it for longer than he should have. How despite him trying so hard to deny and fight himself on it, the first word that came to his mind when you looked at him like that last night, all flushed and needy and trusting as he spent himself on you, was ‘finally’.

Back at your place, you sit curled on the couch with your phone in your hands, screen glowing against your knees. You check it every few minutes. Nothing. You start composing a message, delete it. Try again. Delete that one too. Eventually, you just set the phone down and bury your face in your hands.

You don’t even know why you’re crying. Maybe it’s the way he left. Or the way he’s pretending it didn’t happen. Or maybe it’s just that being sick and alone is already shitty enough without adding heartbreak to the list.

Heartbreak? You laugh at your own thoughts, but nothing comes out of your vocal cord.

You eat some stale bread over the sink for dinner that night, tears still running down your cheeks.

.

You make up your mind around noon, halfway through a cold cup of tea you never meant to finish. The ache in your chest hasn't dulled, not even after crying yourself to sleep and waking up three separate times just to check your phone like some pathetic addict. No new messages. No missed calls. You drive over to his house like a goddamn lunatic, cursing yourself when you keep checking yourself on the rearview mirror like Joel would care.

You wait. Hours pass. The sun shifts. You scroll. You text Amy some bullshit about feeling “a little better.” You rehearse what you're going to say and then un-rehearse it because you know damn well you’ll go off-script the second you see his face.

Every truck that drove by had your heart in your throat, but none of them were Joel’s until now. You see the familiar beat-up Ford come up the street, slow into the driveway. Your whole body goes still. His expression passes through surprise, confusion, resignation. Then he gets out, slams the door, and approaches.

“What are you doin’ here?” he says, cautious. Almost gentle.

You shrug like you just happened to be in the neighborhood. “Thought we could talk.”

Joel doesn’t say anything at first, just exhales through his nose and unlocks the door. “C’mon in.”

The house is dim, cooled by the late afternoon. Lived-in, but quiet. He toes off his boots at the entryway. You follow suit.

“Been out here long?” he asks, not looking at you.

“Just a bit,” you lie.

He nods like he knows you’re lying. Heads to the kitchen, opens the fridge.

“You hungry?”

“No.”

“I got leftovers. Chicken and rice. You could eat.”

You smirk, bitter and tired. “I gotta say, you have a very interesting modus operandi. Feed me, eat my pussy, then act like I don’t exist, and then feed me again. By the pattern I guess you’ll eat my pussy again after this? Can’t wait.”

Joel closes the fridge, slow and quiet. Doesn’t move. “Quit it, kid.”

“Quit it, kid,” You parrot him, leaning against the counter, trying to keep your cool. “Oh sorry, you know, for having the balls to talk to your face.”

His face doesn’t shift, not even the tiniest bit, and it only pisses you off more. “The way you were just, gone, and all. Didn’t even leave a note or something. Lied to my dad, saying you didn’t even come over. Like it was so disgusting you don’t even want to remember. Like I was disgusting.” Each word is delivered sharper than the last without you meaning to.

He sighs. Deep, guttural. Like this whole thing is dragging something out of him he’s spent years trying to bury. He finally looks at you, and you wish he wouldn’t. There’s too much in his eyes. Grief, guilt, something like longing, but dulled at the edges.

“It was a mistake,” he says, low.

You hold your arms across your chest like they might catch you if you fall. “You didn’t stop me. You could, but you didn’t. You wanted it as much as I did, Joel.”

“I know.” He takes a small step toward you, then stops himself. “And I ain’t proud of that.”

“Why?” Own it, Joel, don’t take it back, you want to say, but your voice cracks before you can voice the rest of it out loud.

“Because you’re you,” he echoes, pain blooming in every syllable. “Because I’ve known you forever. Because I used to sit on that porch with your dad talkin’ about you. Because I care about you and that means I shouldn’t want you the way I do.”

You blink fast. The weight of it lands too heavy in your gut, and you both stand in silence for what feels like years.

“You know,” you say, forcing levity. “It’s not like I was about to ask you to marry me.”

Joel exhales through a tired, pained laugh. “Didn’t think you were.”

Joel looks at you for a long, long moment. And when he finds you silent, processing, his voice softens again—dangerously soft, like the floor’s about to give way.

“You’re beautiful. You’re strong. One day you’re gonna have someone who sees you and knows exactly what you need and gives it without all this…mess.”

“But it won’t be you.” you look at him, fighting the feeling of barbed wire closing around your throat.

“No. It won’t be me.”

The way he said it. Soft. Like he was trying not to scare a stray duckling away. Like he was mending pieces of a broken vase and loud noises would make it shatter again. He knows you. You know he’s not trying to hurt you. But it still stings, opening an old wound somewhere that you can’t locate.

The silence after that is unbearable. You hate that he said it kindly. You wish he’d screamed, or thrown something, or just been a dick so you’d have a reason to stay angry. But no. He just says it with that same sad softness that makes your chest cave in.

You force a brittle laugh. “Well. I guess I’ll go let someone else ruin my life, then.”

Joel’s mouth twitches like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.

You move to the door. “Take care, Joel.”

“You too, kid.”

“And. Sorry.”

“Oh, don’t. My fault as much as yours.”

“Yeah. I hope you, uh, go find someone that’s not… uh,”

“My friend’s kid?” Joel cuts, filling in the blank.

“Yeah,” you laugh dryly.

“Right,” Joel concurs. “Someone that’s not, uh, affiliated with me, I guess.”

.

You don’t see Joel again after that. You don’t tell a soul about what happened, either.

After that conversation with Joel, you drive your blue Pontiac Vibe back home, all teary and snotty. Two days after that you spend in front of the TV, eyes pointed at the screen but mind elsewhere. Your tears dry soon after, and you ridicule yourself for reacting so strongly over the whole thing like you are going through a divorce or something. You blame it on the hormones.

Your father and Amy come back home later that week, all tanned and radiant. They bring back a vintage jewelry dish for you and a leather wallet for Joel, plus a couple bottles of artisan wine. Your father suggests inviting Joel over for dinner before you go back to school, but before you get to find a convincing excuse to not have to participate in said dinner, Joel declines the invite, saying he is busy handling a big project. While setting the jewelry dish on your vanity, you lament how you should’ve probably gone to Italy instead of staying home.

That weekend you drive back to college. Nothing really changes. Same old routines of going to class and the library, occasional hangouts with friends. By three or four weeks, you have forgotten how seemingly serious the whole ordeal was. The days stretch out, lazily unfolding into summer.

Your father proposes to Amy in July. They send you pictures of the ring and them smiling. Amy cries tears of happiness on the phone, and you discuss the best time to hold the wedding and where, what color and theme, which friends and acquaintances should get invited, and if you’d bring a special someone. You laugh it off.

One day late summer your father sends pictures of him and Joel fishing. Joel is wearing a baseball cap in the picture, biceps flexing as he’s holding the biggest bass you had ever seen, its green scales glistening under the sun. God, he is insufferable. Isn’t bass hard to catch during this time? Even a fish finds Joel irresistible, it seems like. Your father puts his classic goofy smile while having his arms out, holding a phantom fish. In the other picture is Tommy with a catfish. “Day out with the boys 👍” your father captions.

.

Summer goes by, and fall doesn't stay long. You don’t go home for Thanksgiving, opting to take a few small jobs around the school while taking care of your roommate who landed on her ankle wrong trying to copy a girl from the cheer team.

When winter break starts, she’s picked up by her family and you drive back to your hometown, the two hour trip spent singing and pointing at things around the highway to yourself.

You hug your father and Amy first thing after stepping out of the car. The first meal you have together is warm, fun, familiar. You do the dishes and plan to catch up with old friends in town before Christmas.

The next day, you go out to go Christmas shopping. You have secured a really nice silk scarf for Amy after seeing a same one worn by a friend in school that you think would totally go well with her purse, but nothing yet for your father. He’d be satisfied with a tie or a pair of socks, but maybe you’ll get some air dry clay and sculpt something to keep on his nightstand.

After copping some art supplies, wrapping paper, and ribbons from a chaotic Hobby Lobby, you walk around the mall and get a few books your father might like. Next stop is a makeup store, and you swatch some lipstick on the back of your hand before checking out two, one for yourself and one to fill Amy’s stocking.

You catch up with an old friend in the afternoon, drinking smoothies instead of margaritas because she’s apparently pregnant. Baby Daddy? Your crush in middle school. They didn’t know each other until last January, when she hit his truck trying to parallel park and exchanged numbers to give him her insurance information and they allegedly “fell in love at first sight”. It’s not like you and this guy had ever progressed past stealing glances in the hallway, but it still hurts your ego and quite possibly starts a premature existential crisis. Quarter-life crisis, if you will.

You say goodbye and decide that you need a drink. In the area is a sports bar, and for a brief period you think any kind of bar will do as long as they got liquor. But inside the bar there are far too many people occupying a limited space waiting for the game to begin on large TVs mounted over the bar, and it doesn’t seem suitable to drink and maybe cry while people are cursing over a missed field goal. You quickly go back to your car, feeling suffocated, and flee the scene.

The road was surprisingly clear, as is the sky, but the radio plays the most obnoxiously ill-sounding songs that get to your temper. You smash the buttons, almost hitting the curb. Twenty curse words don’t satisfy you and you turn the car and rear into an empty parking spot in the back of a bar that looks quieter than the one you previously visited. You ditch your sweater, leaving out a padded tank top that shows your outline in the best way, thinking maybe you can at least get somebody inside to notice—maybe even fuck the feeling of being left behind out of your brain in the parking lot. Anyone. Anything, really. Maybe the universe will feel bad and throw a fall-in-love-at-first-sight there for free, too.

Your eyes sweep the vicinity upon entering. It’s quiet inside. Even the jukebox is playing on a low volume. Under ten people are scattered around the tables and bar, some of them conversing, a tall man playing pool by himself, the bartender straightening bottles on the shelf.

A familiar figure is sitting alone on the stool by the bar, his shoulders stretched to the front, posture almost slumped, but it doesn’t hide the broad that his frame is. Your heart sinks when you realize who it is.

“Joel,” You call from behind him. Upon hearing his name, he slightly turns his back and his eyes find yours.

“Kid!” He raises his eyebrows in surprise, teeth showing behind his almost-too-long beard that he likes to grow out every winter. He stands up and almost opens both of his arms to embrace you before he visibly realizes something, pulling you into a side hug instead, giving a couple pats to your arm.

“Been a while,” he says as he sits back down. You take a seat on the dark wooden stool beside him, placing your purse on the bar.

He asks what you want to drink and gestures to the bartender after you tell him you’ll have what he’s having. He then slightly faces you before asking when you arrived in town.

“Couple days ago,” you fidget with the bottle just set in front of you. It’s cold under your fingertips, and you can feel the condensation forming. “You looked so gloomy. Can’t find someone here that is not affiliated with you to take home?” You gently nudge his shoulder, teasing.

Joel chuckles, shaking his head before taking another swig of his beer. 

“Eh, just usual shit day at work,” he shrugs.

“People still renovate this time of the year?” you furrow your brows.

“That’s the thing—They’re pushin’ for everythin’ to be done in one night before family comes over like I'm a genie in a lamp.”

You chuckle sympathetically before taking a sip of the beer. The smooth rounded glass mouth touching your lips, your lip gloss staining the already foggy surface. You feel Joel staring, and you would prefer it if it wasn’t true. But you don’t check to confirm. The carbonation is sizzling weakly on your tongue. Hops and malt are not exactly your favorite. But what wouldn’t you give to appear more relatable in Joel Miller’s eyes? When you set the bottle down on the bar, Joel is looking at his own bottle.

“How’s the old man?” he asks, shifting in his seat.

“Oh, the usual.” You smile. “Did Dad invite you over for dinner on Christmas Eve, yet? If not, you’re invited.”

Joel smiles. Your father did, and he said no, but he lets himself enjoy your courtesy, avoiding declining your invitation blatantly. He then asks if you’re on track to graduate next year, to which you spoil him with the stories of things that had happened to you during the nine-months of no contact with him. He listens intently, chuckling as you go, at one point supporting the side of his head using his hand with elbow on the bar. You look so lovely under the warm overhead light, and Joel suppresses the urge to focus on how your eyes gleam instead of your story.

You don’t change at all, he thinks. Still as sweet as ever. He’s amused by how you seem unaffected by whatever happened between the two of you. The cheerful optimism, almost naive way of thinking that is only wasted on the youth. Or maybe it just didn’t mean that much to you, he reckons. 

Somehow the thought breaks his heart.

In this new angle his eyes catch the pool player eyeing you before moving to him. Joel’s pretty sure the stickman furrows his brows before looking at you again, an unreadable expression on his face. Like questioning.

Like accusing.

Suddenly he becomes hyper aware of how this looks again, of his age, of your age, of how he’s betraying the only person he can call a friend, of how he’s ‘preying’ on the young or something. His shoulders are getting tense, his spine leaning ever so slightly away from you.

He’s being paranoid. He’s not even touching you. The last time his skin touched your skin was almost a year ago. But he can’t help himself.

“…and they said they are probably gonna get married next year when the baby’s here, and it’s not like I’m angry, or jealous, you know? It’s just—“

“Sorry, I’m gonna, uh, use the restroom.” he clears his throat before scurrying away. You mutter a quick ‘okay’ before fidgeting with your bottle again, wondering if you killed the vibe by telling him the old friend old crush situation. Maybe that kind of story is best reserved for a person like your roommate and not a fifty something year old contractor that you fucked once. Well, you didn’t exactly fuck him. But.

You sigh and stare into the neck of your bottle. The soft hum of the jukebox continues, a Teddy Pendergrass song now drifting in like fog. You tap your nail absent-mindedly against the glass, annoyed at yourself for rambling, for oversharing, for hoping too much again. Not to mention how acutely aware you are of how cold your shoulders feel now, how your exposed arms—meant to be a silent dare to the universe—now just make you look lost. Just a sad and lonely fool looking for some quick-relief, when you know deep inside that’s not what you want at all, now that you’ve seen him again.

You feel... stupid. Joel might not even come back—he probably has left the bar now for all you know, not being able to handle this again. You reach for your purse, pretending to search for something to stop yourself from thinking.

A voice interrupts.

“Trouble in paradise?”

You turn slightly. The pool player—tall, maybe late twenties, shaggy hair and a smirk that tells you everything you need to know—has approached and is now leaning one elbow against the bar. Too close. To think that you would’ve been waiting for this moment if not for meeting Joel…

And, god, he’s not it. Not even close. All you can see now is how un-Joel he is. You’re offended you almost let yourself settle for this. You straighten a bit. “Excuse me?”

He gestures loosely toward the empty stool beside you. “Mind if I sit?”

“I do.”

That makes him chuckle, but he sits anyway. “Didn’t mean to overhear, but sounds like you and your... old man had a disagreement.”

You blink slowly, then roll your eyes. “He’s not my dad.”

“Oh,” the guy replies, his eyes shifting a little like he’s just caught the scent of blood. “So... that older guy isn’t your father. Interesting.”

“Not really,” you say coolly. “He’s just someone I know.”

“Sure. Someone you know.” He lets the words hang in the air, thick with implication. “Well then. I was gonna say, it’s a shame someone like you is wasting your night sitting next to—what is he, your boss or somethin’?”

You push your bottle away, now entirely uninterested in the drink or the conversation. “Do you want something or are you just trying to see how many wrong assumptions you can fit into a minute?”

He leans in just a touch, eyes gleaming like he thinks this is all flirtation. “How about we step outside? Get some air. I know a place not far from here where you can actually hear yourself think.”

“I don’t need air,” you reply evenly. “I need you to get lost.”

The guy’s smile falters for a second, just enough to show what’s underneath—the entitlement, the ugly little bruise of a rejected ego.

“You sure? Doesn’t look like that guy’s coming back anytime soon.”

You don’t get to answer.

“She said she’s good.”

You both turn. Joel’s standing just behind the man now, tall and still, a hand resting loosely at his side. His expression is deceptively calm, but his eyes are hard, unblinking.

The pool guy sizes Joel up for half a second, like he’s thinking of saying something else—but he doesn't. He just shrugs and backs off.

“No harm meant, man,” he mutters, walking off toward the tables again.

Joel waits until the guy is fully gone before he turns to you. “You alright?”

You nod once, your face hot. “Yeah. I was fine.”

Joel doesn’t say anything. He just settles back onto the stool beside you and places his bottle down, fingers wrapping around the glass with a quiet tension.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

You glance over. Joel’s jaw is clenched. His thumb moves idly over a drop of condensation on the bottle. You want to say something to lighten the moment, but your throat is tight. There’s something about the way he’s sitting—close but not too close. Like if he touches you he’ll lose the reins completely. But still, he stayed. Still, he came back.

“Thanks for stepping in,” you say softly.

Joel turns his head to you then, eyes meeting yours with that unbearable softness he reserves only for the moments where he’s too tired to hide it. He looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t trust himself to do it.

“I’d do it again.” he says.

The jukebox changes to a quieter track. You wonder if he knows what he just said. If he knows what he means.

“Ain’t you cold in that?” Joel gestures toward you with the heel of his bottle. He takes a quick gulp right after, like the words tasted too vulnerable coming out and need to be drowned fast.

You blink at him. “Oh—this?” You look down at yourself, arms bare, chest rising in the tight tank top. Suddenly you feel exposed, and not in the sexy, power-holding way you imagined when you ditch the outer layer of the outfit. “Left my coat in the car. Thought it’d be warmer in here.”

Joel’s mouth presses into a line. He nods like he accepts that, but it bugs him. You can tell. He drains the rest of his bottle and taps the bar for the check.

You step outside a few minutes later together, the door shutting behind you with a low mechanical thunk. The cold hits instantly. You cross your arms in front of your chest, trying to fake composure, but it bites through the fabric quick. Joel walks beside you in silence, hands deep in his pockets, his boots heavy against the pavement.

“You sure you’re alright to drive?” he asks, voice low.

“Yeah. Only had the one.” You shrug, still not looking at him.

The parking lot’s near empty. His truck and your car sit apart, like siblings who got into a fight and were told to face opposite corners. Nine months, wasted down the drain. You could’ve lived a very different life if he didn’t push you away—maybe today would’ve been an illicit date instead, your arms linking, his jacket on your shoulders. Alas.

“Guess this is where we say goodbye again,” you mutter, half-laughing, but it lands bitter and brittle in the cold air.

Joel exhales, annoyed. “Don’t start.”

“What?” You turn to face him now, jaw set, but the disbelieving scoffs can’t stop making their presence known, and you’re halfway to freeze to death yet the glacier encasing your anger, your sadness, is melting down out of nowhere. “You don’t like hearing how it felt like shit?”

Joel blinks. “That’s not what I—”

“No, I know what you said,” you snap, stepping closer, heat rising in your throat. “You said it wasn’t right. You said it shouldn’t have happened. I heard you the first time, Joel, pretty much the only thing I could think about for the past nine months, by the way.”

He closes his eyes briefly, like he’s trying to shut it out. “Shut up, for god’s sake, just, cut it, it’s not—” He stops himself, lips pressing into a hard line.

“It’s not right? Yeah, it’s not fucking right alright, Joel. Sorry I manipulated you into agreeing to get your dick sucked or something. My fault.” You throw your hands in the air, desperate to leave, to drive and step on the gas, yet your feet are unbudging.

“Kid,”

“I’m not a kid!” you snap, eyes burning. And you fucking hate how much you’re the only one ‘furious’ and ‘emotional' here, essentially proving yourself to be as immature as Joel probably thinks. It makes your head spin with rage. He says something, but you keep shooting. “Stop calling me that. I came into that bar tonight thinking maybe, maybe, I could move on—and then I saw you, because of course, of course of all places and all fucking time in the entirety of Austin County you had to be there—and I knew. I can’t.” 

“You’re bleeding,�� he says again, clearer, louder.

You blink. “What?”

“Your nose. It’s—shit—” He fumbles in his coat pocket and pulls out a napkin, stepping forward to press it into your hand. “Here.”

You touch your nose and wince at the warm stickiness trickling down your lip.

“Goddammit,” you mutter, tilting your head back, suddenly humiliated. You swipe at it, annoyed, feeling foolish and hot all over. The cold, maybe. Or your body just caving under the weight of it all.

“Get in the truck,” Joel says.

“I’m fine,” you mumble, eyes stinging.

“Get in the goddamn truck.” he says again, and you finally move.

The inside of the truck is still warm. You climb in stiffly, heart still pounding from the fight, blood still trickling into the damp napkin. Joel gets in a second later, slamming the door, rummaging through the console for something better than the now-soaked paper.

The silence is thick.

You sit there, breathing hard, your throat tight. Joel shifts in his seat, jaw ticking, hands clenched on the wheel like it's the only thing keeping him tethered. You dab at your nose with a fresh tissue, watching the red smear dull across the paper. You're still simmering, blood still hot, even as your face feels cold and clammy.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you whisper, voice hoarse. “But you can’t blame me for feeling.”

He turns then. Slowly. Like if he moves too fast, he might break something. His eyes are molten, locked on yours, full of restraint barely holding.

“You think I don’t feel?” he says, voice low and rough, like gravel sliding down a slope. “You think I don’t—every fuckin’ day—I try not to think about it. About you.” His chest rises like he’s swallowing a scream. “You walked in that bar tonight and I swear to god—”

The air goes taut.

Something in him snaps.

One hand reaches across the console, rough fingers curling around the back of your neck, the other on your thigh, hauling you over the center divide like the whole world is breaking under him and you’re the only thing he needs to hold onto.

And then he kisses you.

His mouth crashes onto yours with months of hunger behind it, years of guilt and need unraveling all at once. It’s not careful or measured—it’s needy, punishing. Teeth clashing, lips bruising, breath stolen. You gasp into his mouth and clutch the front of his jacket like you’ll die if he pulls away.

Your legs are halfway in his lap now, the cold forgotten, the bloody napkin crumpled under your thigh. His hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head just how he wants it, deepening the kiss until your moan slips free—and he lets out a low sound from his throat, like he’s been starving and just remembered what full tastes like.

When he pulls back, just barely, your lips are slick, swollen. You chase him, whimpering, desperate for more, but he’s just looking at you.

“This is wrong,” he murmurs, voice shaking.

“Then stop,” you whisper back, eyes locked on his.

His breath stutters. His mouth opens. But the words don’t come.

Because he can’t.

The second kiss is worse—worse because it’s better. Hotter. Deeper. There’s no hesitation in it now. No breath between. Joel’s hand cradles the back of your head as your mouth parts under his, teeth catching on his lip before he swallows the sound you make. It’s a kiss meant to punish both of you—for the months you lost, for the things unsaid, for the heat neither of you dared acknowledge until now.

You shift closer, knee on the seat, hands fumbling for his jacket to drag him closer. Joel grunts, half in surprise, half in surrender, pulling you practically across the console. His large hands span your back like he needs to anchor himself to your body or else spin out.

When you roll your hips forward, testing the waters, he chokes out a low, broken noise that sounds like something breaking in his chest.

“Jesus, kid—”

“I’m not a kid,” you breathe. “Not with you. Never was.”

He exhales sharp through his nose, forehead still pressed to yours like he’s trying to restrain himself. But the restraint is dying fast. He palms your waist, thumbs dragging along your ribs like he’s memorizing them.

You kiss down the side of his jaw, your breath warm against his scruff, the beard tickling your lips. He smells like old leather and pine, like beer and smoke and winter air. It’s dizzying.

“Fuck,” he murmurs when you nip at the sensitive spot beneath his ear. His fingers twitch on your skin. He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you back in—no more space, no more questions. Just mouths and hands and breath. The kind of kiss that’s nearly a collision, like two storms crashing into each other.

You don’t even remember when your legs end up straddling him in the seat, your thighs bracketing his, but suddenly he’s beneath you, hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise, and you grind down on him with a gasp you can’t swallow.

Joel curses, low and rough and reverent. His head falls back against the seat as your lips trail down his throat, and he lets you, lets you taste him, own him, just for a moment. His hand slides down your lower back, wiggling its way through your almost-too-tight pants, trembling just a little as it curves over the swell of your ass. You reach down to unclasp the button and give him more space to work with.

His mouth finds yours again, sloppier now, breathless. Your nails scrape his chest through his flannel, and he groans into your mouth like it’s killing him. And maybe it is.

You rock against him again, slower this time, deliberate. Joel exhales like he’s in pain. Not from you, never from you—but from everything else that makes this wrong when all of it feels so, so right.

You tilt your hips again, more confident now, and feel the press of him through his jeans, thick and straining. Your tank top clings to you in places now, damp from the heat growing between you, and Joel’s hand slip up beneath the hem, palms callused and warm as they coast up your spine and then over the swell of your chest, the other still fondling your ass. He breathes in sharply as his thumbs brush your nipples, and you arch into him like a lit fuse.

It’s quiet in the truck except for the rush of your breath and the sharp inhale he takes when your hands find the waistband of his jeans. Your fingers tremble only a little as you pop the button and lower the zipper. You feel him hard against your palm, feel how he flinches when your hand grazes him through his briefs.

“Jesus,” Joel murmurs against your shoulder, voice hoarse. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

You smile into his neck, nipping lightly at the stubble there. “I think I do.”

His laugh is strained, like it’s breaking on the way out. His hand dips lower, over your ass, fingers curling under the waistband of your pants. “These gotta come off,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

You rise up just enough to shimmy your pants down—tight denim making the motion graceless, awkward even—but Joel helps, dragging them over your thighs with a touch far gentler than it has any right to be. You tug the fabric from your ankles and throw them to the backseat. Joel reaches down, kissing your lower abdomen as he pulls your panties down, almost impatient.

“Jesus,” he says again when you’re bare from the waist down, pulling you back into his lap, one hand palming your breast through the thin cotton of your top, the other settling between your thighs like it belongs there. You’re already soaked, and he groans when he feels it, followed by your own gasps and restrained moans.

“You’re killin’ me,” he whispers against your collarbone, and then you kiss him again—messy, open-mouthed, full of teeth and need. He kisses you like he’s starving. Like he wants to memorize every corner of your mouth. Like he doesn’t want to ever come up for air.

You both know this can’t last. That this little world, this heat and ache and dizzying need, exists only for now. That when it ends, things might not be the same. But none of it matters when he finally pushes his briefs down and you both freeze for just a moment—because this is the point of no return.

You meet his eyes. They’re wide and dark and a little scared, same as yours.

Then you sink down.

A gasp breaks from both of you, raw and involuntary. His hands clench hard at your hips as your bodies connect, slow but sure, the stretch pulling a sound from your throat that you try to smother against his shoulder. Joel swears again, under his breath, grounding himself in your skin, your heat.

He buries his face in your neck, breathing you in like a man on fire finally finding water.

You move in a slow rhythm. Not rushing, not taking, just being. Registering the shape of his cock inside you and the sweet symphony of squelch every time you sink back into him. His hands map your torso, breath uneven like he’s three inhales away from dying, but he’s smiling.

“Can’t believe you’re here,” he mutters. “Can’t believe I’m…”

You shush him gently, fingers threading through his hair, tugging. “Just feel. Don’t think.”

But he does think. You can feel it in the way he holds you, in the way he kisses the base of your throat like an apology and a promise all in one.

He doesn’t last long. The build-up, the months of repression, the way you move over him, how warm you are, how soft. It’s all too much.

You feel it before he does: the subtle tremble of his legs, the catch in his breath. He comes with a low, guttural sound against your neck, holding you to him like the act alone might stop time. It’s filling you up, warm and strange and by all means should make you panic, but it doesn’t. Instead, you impossibly feel the organs inside your ribs soften, the muscles of your walls clenching around him greedily, as if trying to hold onto him forever.

You go still, still joined, breath shallow and skin damp. His eyes close, jaw tight.

“Shit,” he says, guilt setting in immediately. “I—I didn’t mean to. I didn’t…”

“It’s okay,” you murmur, brushing sweaty hair from his forehead. “It’s okay, Joel.”

He doesn’t look at you as he lifts you up and turns your back to face him, your cunt already missing his softening cock. You position yourself on his lap, cheek touching his equally sweaty cheek as he holds your frame with one arm in place, the other reaches down to the still pulsing, overall sensitive skin.

“I got you,” he whispers, voice strained, remorseful, full of something you can’t name.

His fingers are slow and sure, working with grit and determination despite the narrow space and nearly awkward angle, and you reach to grab his arm.

“Joel, Joel,” you whine. The pleasure builds up, stronger this time, like it’s an arm reach away. He pins you into place, the pad of his thumb not losing its steady pace on your clit, the others somehow pushing, slightly curling inside you, covered by his own spend and your juice. You buck your hips forward, swallowing screams, it feels hot, hot, hot, your legs twitching and kicking and—

It’s like a blitz, showering you with bliss and pleasure and your body arches, chasing it like a bow.

The next thing you know, you’re limp against Joel, sweat and cum pooling on the seat.

.

“Safe trip, sweetie,” Amy hugs you one more time while your dad asks if you didn’t miss anything for the fourteenth time.

“Yes, Dad,” you sigh. “Print a checklist next time so we can both check and spare me the headache and anxiety, okay?”

You kiss his cheek and pat him on the shoulder. “Bye, guys.”

You’re releasing the clutch when you hear your dad shouts again, “Did you say goodbye to Joel?”

“Do I have to?” you laugh lightheartedly, putting your best acting attempt to look nonchalant.

Your dad shrugs. “He did give you a nice Christmas present. Be nice.”

“Yeah, alright.” you tap the steering wheel. “I’ll send him a text.”

.

The sun’s barely up when Joel shuts the trunk of your car.

Your duffel sits heavy against the bumper, almost not being able to zip up from yesterday’s clothes you crumple on top of the folded pile. The car breathes cold in the early morning air, engine idling low, your playlist queued up but not playing yet. It’s quiet. Too quiet for a goodbye, but maybe that’s the point.

You hand him his coffee back and he leans against the side of his own truck, arms folded. He’s got his jacket on, but his collar’s still turned wrong. You almost fix it, but you don’t.

It was definitely a crime to say goodbye to your unsuspecting parents and drive your car straight to Joel’s driveway, but you don’t really care about that right now. Neither does Joel, apparently.

God, you can still feel the ghost of his hands, how they held you close this morning, the fine arm hair you traced under your fingertips.

“You got everything?” he asks.

“Yeah. Got what I need.” you nod. “But if I did, I’d have a good excuse to come back.”

He chuckles. Finally, he sets the coffee on the truck bed and steps toward you.

“You drive safe, alright?” his voice is soft and almost impossible to hear as he pulls you for a quick hug.

“I will.”

His hand hovers near your waist for a second too long, like maybe he wants to pull you in again, kiss you senseless in the driveway—but doesn’t. Instead, he just looks at you like he’s memorizing something he can’t say out loud.

“Call me when you get there,” he says.

You smile. “You know I will."

[gojoidyll]

aeon & bird & arrow 3

yandere!aeon!phainon x fem!reader x yandere!mydei

You miss Mydei, he's been gone for so long. You hope to see him again soon. And when you think he will be by your side once more, you meet a stranger instead.

fic masterlist

taglist

@reapersan

Mydei hasn’t show up for two months. You started to get worried for the immortal king. And no matter how many times you asked around, no one cared or even seemed to know the state of the war or where the warriors of Castrum Kremnos were.

ding ding ding

You peaked your head from the kitchen of the bakery barely even seeing who was standing there, “just a moment, please! I’ll be right with you!”

Hurriedly putting the doe carefully into the stone oven, you then washed your hands and made your way out the kitchen, “Good morning, sir! How may I help you today?”

“Seems you’re Kremnoan dog isn’t around this time.”

Your felt your heart tremble at the voice as your eyes met Laios’. Why was … he here? You took a step away from him but he was faster than you as he grabbed the front of your dress, his fingers digging into the fabric as you heard a few distinct pops as the stitching of your clothing came undone a little.

“Let- let go! Laios, please!”

“I’m tired of you and your rejections. You will be my wife one way or another! And that Kremnoan dog can’t do anything about it!”

He slammed you hard against the front counter, you weren’t able to hold back your tears as you pushed at him and kicked as hard as you could, but it was like he couldn’t feel anything even as you kicked at his shins and knees.

Mydei

His name ran through your mind like a prayer, but you knew that he couldn’t save you. Not this time. Not again. Laios raised his hand to strike you, but this time – you didn’t close your eyes.

“I think that’s enough, boy.”

Laios reputedly stopped his movement, as he turned to look at the one who was interrupting. His hand still wrapped around the fabric of your dress. The man who interrupted had fluffy white hair – hair that resembled that of the snow that could only be witnessed in the coldest of winters. His eyes were a striking blue that held the symbol of a sun within them. And his clothes matched that of a traveling warrior. And the sword on his back was nothing but intimidating. His stance even seemed battle ready. Even your untrained eyes could tell that much.

“Stay out of this traveler.”

Laios bit out his words harshly before throwing you to the floor. You winced and yelped loudly as you hit the wood panels hard.

The newcomer took one look at you before settling his gaze back onto Laios, “maybe we should discuss this outside?”

He still held that same easy going smile that he wore when he walked in there and his eyes held clear amusement behind them. You looked up from your spot on the floor as Laios refused to move.

“I think you should just leave.” Laios unsheathed his hidden knife and pointed it at the man. Your eyes widened, you didn’t care how tough this newcomer was, the bakery was too small for him to draw his blade, if Laios made a move on him- he would be defenseless. You were quick to grab Laios’ ankle, “don’t hurt him, Laios! He’s done nothing to you!”

Laios glared down at you as you held onto his foot.

“Shut up-“

Before he could kick you off of however, something in the air shifted. Everything just got so unbearably cold. It was like an undeniable fear struck at your heart. A fear greater than what you had for Laios.

“I said, we should take this outside.”

The stranger had grabbed ahold of laios’ arm before looking down at you, his eyes softening considerably as he knelt down, his hand still wrapped around Laios’ wrist.

“Can you let go of him, love?”

The nickname caught you off guard as you did as you were told and let go, then with a soft smile suddenly turning dark, the stranger stood back up and dragged Laios outside of the bakery. You strained to hear what was going on, but it was quiet. Too quiet. It made your heart seize and your breath hard as you sat up from the floor a little.

Then, all too quickly, the stranger returned. Laios didn’t come back in.

“Are you alright?”

He was knelt in front of you again, his smile as soft as before as he held his hand out for you. You nodded slowly as you rested your palm in his own. The feeling of fear from before was completely gone. Was he the one who caused that?

He helped you stand up, one hand holding your own while the other found purchase against your waist to steady you.

“That was quite scary wasn’t it?”

You nodded, “I- thank you-“

“Phainon,” he said quickly, “you can call me Phainon.”

“Thank you so much, Phainon. Even though we just met, you- you’re already saving me and I’m causing you trouble-“

“It was no trouble at all, I’m just glad that brute didn’t hurt you further. Now,” he brought your hand up to his face, his lips crushing gently over your knuckles, “will you grant me your name? I would love to know the beautiful woman I saved.”

You felt your face grow hot as you managed to stutter out your name, he repeated it against your knuckles as he gave your hand one last kiss before bringing his face away.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

[torueater]

SWEETEST EXCHANGE ♡.ᐟ

Florist!Nanami who’d had the choice between early retirement from a too draining, absolutely soul-sucking job as a salaryman -- that he was sure took days off his lifespan every time he went in-- or pursuing some new endeavor so he could feel like his life had some sort of purpose again. He’d been teetering on the edge of a burnout for years, working to make the wealthy wealthier. Calling it tiring is an understatement.

8 hours work days, client calls and work all days of the week. back to back, in almost mind-numbing repetition. An out was desperately needed and the ‘For Lease’ sign on a quaint little building seemed like that exact thing.

The space needed work -- a paint job, new shelving--sure, but at least he didn’t feel the energy draining out of him when he walked through the door. The light poured through wide front windows just right, warm and golden on dusty hardwood. He’d put down a downpayment before he thought better of it. Rent was cheap, he liked the ambience – what more could he ask for?

It’s an easy fix with the funds in his account, 2 months or so of hired help and his own grueling work to end up w/ a neat little flower shop. Floral Vault wasn't exactly the most creative of floral shop names but it worked well enough and it was to the point.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Florist!Nanami has his shop open on the first day that spring rolls in. Vibrant medleys of colours from newly blooming flora and the songs of avifauna waking from the icy blanket of winter just months prior welcomed him, and the customers came with them. It doesn’t come without mistakes, of course, though few. Bruised some petals, ordered too much stock. But he kept showing up, learning, and researching. Getting into the rhythm. There’s something oddly comforting about clipping stems and arranging neat little bouquets, connecting them with twine. The stress isn’t diminished 100 percent, but the tension in his face and frame eases, finally a chance to slow down.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

You show up at the beginning of summer, bringing the glow of sunrise and warmth along with you. Coming with flurry of activity that has him peering out the front window more times than one. You with your cardboard boxes and handwritten chalk signs for outside. A cute little graphic of a smiling teacup as your logo.

A café right next to a flower shop, how fitting.

His eyes catch yours as you look up mid-hauling a box in and you smile, all wide and bright, waving. He looks away.

The first time you show up is in a cute café ensemble, neat box with a bow tied around the frame in your hold as you wait at the counter of the floral shop. He materializes from the back, surprised, greeting you politely -- voice low and lulling. There’s this sort of wide-eyed wonder to you, giving a friendly smile on spotting him. “I hoped you’d like these. I had extra in the batch.”

His gaze drops to the box you’re extending, then you…then the box again. Accepting a cookies from a stranger?

“I’m next door. The café that just opened?” you interject to break him out of his pause, rocking gently on your heels, angling a thumb to the side of his shop that yours was nearest to. “Figured I should pop in to say hi. With free cookies.” Emphasis on free. “For my new neighbor..”

“Ah.” Baked goods that smelled like heavenly sweetness with no strings attached. He can’t exactly say no. "Thank you.”

You don’t stick around too long after his acceptance, leaving him with a cheery wave and a smile, cookies in his hold. No small talk, no asking for anything in return – just warm brown sugar cookies, smiles, then a goodbye.

The cookies are soft and still slightly warm like you’d only gotten them out a while ago. They’re good. Ridiculously so. Eat the whole thing in one sitting good.

Which he does. Unfortunately.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

There’s a small fresh blended bouquet of alstroemeria and freesia wrapped in brown paper greets you with the sunshine of the early morning moments after you open the doors, put there while you’d been distracted, no chance for thanks.

That’s how it begins really, this strange sort of unofficial barter system between you and your next door flower shop buddy – Nanami as you’d come to find out.

A batch of fresh cookies or coffee for a simple set of roses, perfectly fluffy souffle pancakes for a couple carnations. You’d bring trial goods you’d yet to put on display to have him as your test dummy, he’d come over to your shop to knock a loose shelf back into place. It’s not official, you don’t name it – but you both participate in this building ritual day in, day out. The ring of the bell above his door and a sing songy ‘Nanami!” every time. He starts to welcome it, anticipates you coming in with a box or baggie that would be a mystery up till you were handing it over.

Then it’s a little past just bartering – like showing up to keep him company during slow hours or your lunch break. Cross legged on his seat behind his counter that he’d give up because he ‘preferred to stand’, making random pairings of flowers using his paper clippings just to see how they’d look together, maybe flipping through books on flower care he’d have back there.

Or alternatively, watching him work, pretending to browse the almost overwhelming catalog of floral finery. He quickly finds that your company is something he looks forward to just like your baked goods. Apparently, he has a type for bubbly café owners with aprons messy with puffs of powdered sugar. Or just you, maybe.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

“Okay. I sort of made this blindly,” You open up the box for him with eager fingers, holding it in his direction, “Fair warning, the reviews were unbelievably mixed. Maybe…70/30?” “70 percent good and 30 bad?”

“Well…”

That tells him more than enough. “The opposite then.”

“You’re the first to try them.” “Oh, that can’t be good.” He jokes dryly, reaching in for one, taking a good bite at one corner. You eye him all the while of course, mostly for his reaction, a little because he’s just nice to look at honestly.

“So?” He rubs his finger to rid it of crumbs, humming lowly. “It’s good. Try adding nutmeg maybe. Adds a nice touch.”

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Who started off the barter after you two had gotten into the rhythm bounced between the both of you, but he’s the one to start it off today.

Warm sunlight streams in through the front windows of your establishment, long shadows spread on the hardwood at it begins its descent into the horizon – you’re surprised to hear the ring of the bell, glancing up mid end of the day number crunching. “Kento, hi! I was just about to message..” Your eyes trail down to the bouquet, blushing tulips and a pretty little baby breaths, “Huh. You gave me flowers earlier, silly.”

“I’m aware. I wouldn’t just forget giving you flowers.” It carries traces of amusement that makes the corners of your mouth lift in response, rounding the counter to get a proper look at your 2nd bouquet for the day.

“It’s pretty,” You bend into his space, nose lowered to the tulips to breath in the subtle sweetness. “The last of my stock sold a little earlier though.” You add disappointed, raising to full height again. You’d have saved a couple if you’d known there would be a 2nd exchange right when you two closed. “I could make you quick parfait if you want? Or something else.”

“Well,” He eases the bouquet in your hands, paper crinkling ever so slightly in your hold, “Letting me take you out for dinner would work just fine.”

Your mind doesn’t seem to register the words properly, blinking up at him, head tilting. Then you laugh, more of a surprised huff really.

He wonders if he’d messed up, read this entire thing between you two incorrectly, but you follow up after your laugh, “Dinner? Like a date?”

“If you’d like to call it that, yes.” 100 percent a date, but he’s wondering if letting you label it as that instead of him ups his chances of success here. “...Trade accepted?”

Dinner, a date. With Nanami.

“Are you buying me dessert as well?” How you’d be up for dessert after being surrounded by it all day is beyond him, and yet he answers, “If you’d like it, yes. I’ll buy you dessert.”

Part of him hopes you don’t know his tells well enough to spot the slight shows of his nerves as he waits for confirmation. Or you turning him down.

Well, there's no harm in going on a date with a cute florist. You shrug, turning away from him to get back around the corner to handle trimming and placing the flowers in a vase.

“Trade accepted.”

notes: sweet divider by @/uzmacchiato, flower one by @/bbyg4rlhelps ꩜ .ᐟ

[bumpen-underbeds]

I know the reality of actually seeing one of these is next to impossible, rest in piss my love for seeing large jellyfish, but giant phantom jellyfish mermaid!

He's like 33 feet long, a massive man with slight red bioluminescence that definitely should not be in the marine ecosystem of an off shore area but if a black angler can dream of light I can dream of a giant phantom jellyfish!

Plus they are viviparous, meaning it gives birth to live young that develop inside the mother's body. 

It's not uncommon to find jellyfish in and around your grandparents beach home, having bought the place forever ago when houses could be afforded and not cost you an arm and a leg, but now it's your 'duty' to your family to take care of the place when your grandparents aren't there.

So every autumn and winter you make the slog out too the house and settle in, picking a room for yourself and setting up your work laptop and stocking the empty fridge after turning on the old breaker.

Slinking out of the house not long after you had arrived to the water front, having been here enough times to know the sand of the bank only goes a few metres before dropping off sharply, the area surprisingly deep for such a coastal area but that little difference was what made these six month intervals worth it.

In those inky, cold depths is a childhood friend, a creature that you had grown up with, a giant jellyfish merman. He had started out around your size but each year had him grow bigger and bigger, around the middle of your teens he was fully grown, dwarfing you in every way possible and so now fully grown yourself you find it slightly funny how you had poured and huffed when he out grew you.

Wading into the water and calling for him you can only watch as a mess of short messy dark brown red hair surfaces from the water, dark black eyes and a flat face with a smile of too sharp teeth greet you before he is scooping you up and tugging you onto his chest, the lines of red-orange bioluminescence flaring and flashing at you as he coos happily at your return.

Every year he sulks and disappears into the depths when you have to leave him, trying to get you to stay but ultimately having to let you go. But this year would be different, this year he was ready and had been waiting for you to come back to him, this year he had figured out how to keep you around longer and maybe even forever.

This year he was fully mature and ready to mate, and how better to celebrate his full maturity that to have you his dear longtime friend and companion be his mate, to help the small number of his kind grow.

Sure he was much bigger than you but, he could make it work, he knows he can.

[nessieart]

The Way Back. Epilogue

Wc: ~2.3k

Summary: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier

AN: well, here we are! The end. For now? Maybe I'll do a mini series. But I'll take a break from Charlie and the boys for now. Maybe finish my other story I've neglected for over a year 🙃

Please enjoy, leave a comment, and reblog! Thank you for coming on this journey with me!!

Masterlist

Previously

You turn to leave, and don't stop walking even when Steve calls your name or when Sam asks if you're okay. You walk up to Tony, and he hugs you tight. Whispering reassurances into your hair that you can't hear over the beat of his heart in your ear.

And when you pull away, you step back into a portal and disappear.

5 Months Later

"…It's a new day, brother," you hear Rhodey say, "I'll be in touch." He walks by you as you wait at the entrance to the exhibit. "Go easy on him, slugger," he pats you on the shoulder.

You slowly walk in, heels clicking softly on the hardwood. You stop next to Sam as he gazes up at the shield and an old Captain America uniform. He glances at you out the corner of his eye.

"Nice speech, Sammy," you tell him. He hums, ducking his head before he looks over at you fully. "But I know you. And this is a mistake."

Sam shakes his head, "This is bigger than me, Y/N," he sighs. He sounds tired. This decision hasn't come lightly.

"I get it," you shrug. "Probably more than anyone else. But this is a mistake. It's bullshit."

"You should like Rhodey," he rolls his eyes. Sam drapes an arm around your shoulders, and you both walk out of the Captain America exhibit.

Good. You can't really stand to be here any longer than you needed to. You only came to support Sam, even though you think him giving the shield away isn't right.

"Maybe he has a point," you tease. "Don't tell him I said that."

You share a laugh, and the weight of the day doesn't seem so heavy.

When you're outside on the lawn, Sam turns to you, hands in his pockets, "I like the arm," he nods to your right side. "Shuri?"

"Bit o'both," you hold out your right hand and wiggle your fingers. The mechanism inside the vibranium arm whirs. "Tony's design, and Shuri made it."

"Some real high-tech shit, Star Child." Sam bumps his shoulder with yours. His smile falters a little as his car is brought around by the valet. "Where's your broody other half?"

You sigh, "You know Bucky," you check the time anyway, then hum. "Court ordered therapy. God, I hate his therapist. She's such a bitch."

Sam lets out a surprised laugh, "Jeez, tell me how you really feel, baby girl." You grin. "You need a ride?" The chauffeur comes around to the back of the car to open the door for Sam. He waits for your answer with one leg in the car.

"Nah, got my own way home. I'll see you around, Sammy," you walk away, and before Sam could close the door, you walk through a portal.

**

It's raining when you step foot in New York. "Shit," you curse under your breath, rushing to the sushi place Bucky texted to meet him at. You shrug your blazer over your head as you cross the street and weave around people with umbrellas and barrel through the door of Izzy's. You shake out your blazer and hair as you look for Bucky.

You see his broad shoulders at the bar and step around a few people to squeeze next to him.

"Excuse me, sir, is this seat taken?" You say sweetly. You see his shoulders tense, the sushi roll halfway in his mouth as he turns to you. Before he can put the roll in his mouth, you lean in and grab his hand, moving it away from him so you can eat the whole thing in one bite. You hum, delicious.

Bucky looks half offended as you smile around chewing, "Hey-"

You peck his cheek, and he stops short, a slow smile pulling on his lips. Bucky slips out of his chair and pushes you to sit instead. There's an elderly man sitting next to you, his eyes sparkle as he looks from you to Bucky.

"Yuri, this is Y/N," Bucky introduces you. "Y/N, Yuri."

"Are you his girlfriend? He should really get laid. He's so grumpy," Yuri states bluntly. Bucky groans in surprise, and you laugh big and loud.

"James doesn't like labels," you stage whisper to Yuri. He grins and pats your hand.

"You're too pretty for him anyway," he waves a hand in the air.

"Hey - I'm right here," Bucky complains with no heat behind it.

"You look fancy, Y/N. Coming from work?" Yuri sticks another sushi roll in his mouth as he waits for an answer.

You hum, "Sort of. I was in D.C. Y'know, that Captain America exhibit and all," you try for nonchalance, but it still hurts. Stings in the worst way. Bucky places a comforting hand on your lower back.

"Bunch of bullshit, if you ask me," Yuri says.

Another surprised laugh leaves you, "You're right, it is bullshit."

"Oh God, don't encourage him," Bucky grouses.

**

You had heard it before you saw it. The broadcast the next day about the 'New Captain America'. You may have punched a large hole into the countertop of your kitchen island.

"…He feels like a brother, though I've never met him," you hear the TV say.

You think you hear ringing in your ears along with the crunch of granite beneath your metal fingers. You grab your jacket before you portal away.

You bang on the door until the locks click, and the door is opening.

"What the fuck was that?" you push your way past Bucky and into his apartment. It's still just as barren as when he moved in. The blanket on the floor tells you all you need to know.

Bucky grunts as he closes the door. His eyes are glazed over with angry, frustrated tears that haven't fallen yet. His arm whirs quietly as he clenches his fist.

"How much restraint did it take you not to go straight to that interview?" Bucky crosses his arms over his chest as he looks at you.

You scoff and pull your phone from your back pocket, showing him the texts from Tony.

-Don't. It's not worth it

-It's live TV, and my lawyers can only protect you so much.

-Answer my, Y/N. Or I swear to god.

-Please don't punch him on live TV. I beg you.

"I was there for 45 seconds. I got real close," you tell him.

Bucky laughs, "Glad Stark can talk you down." He tilts his head a little, "though, I would have loved to see it," he grins.

You cross the room to stand in front of him, his arms sliding away and landing on your hips. His dog tags clink between your fingers as you toy with them. Your other hand ghosts over his jaw and plays with the hair at the nape of his neck. The short hair is growing on you.

"What do you plan on doin' about it, Sarge?" You say in the space between you. Bucky hums low in his throat, leaning down to run his nose along yours.

"Maybe something reckless," he kisses the tip of your nose, "Probably stupid, really." He kisses the corner of your mouth.

"Oh yeah? You do stupid things all the time," You smile, then yelp when his fingers pinch the skin under your ribs. He smiles, then runs his fingers up your spine lazily, his breath fans across your lips as you smile against his mouth. "When do we leave?"

He hums again, "After I spend some time with my girl," you don't realize he walked you backward until you're both falling onto the couch. Bucky braces a hand next to your head as he kisses down your jaw, then neck, his blue eyes peer up at you, and you wrap a leg around his waist to bring him closer. Your metal fingers roll the dog tags between them, then pull them to bring his lips back to yours.

"Then we better get started," you say against his mouth.

"Yes, ma'am," Bucky crashes his lips against yours without any more teasing. It's hot and hurried, hands pulling and pushing. Skimming over skin and clothes. You both sink into the feeling of each other in Bucky's quiet apartment.

**

Before. 2012, New York City.

It was the last stop. The last Stone that needed to be placed, so nothing bad happens - time or space. Or whatever Bruce had warned.

Climbing the adjacent building's fire escape was easy, then a running start and a quick leap to the rooftop - where a woman was standing, waiting - was even easier.

She tilts her head with a polite smile, eyes appraising the man before her. "Hello, Captain Rogers," the Ancient one greets. Her posture relaxed, hands behind her back as Steve approached with a tight smile.

"Ma'am," he just nodded, opening the briefcase for her. The long green Stone lit up her features as she waves a hand over it, and it hovers out to be placed on the necklace around her throat.

The Eye opens with ease, but she pauses before placing it in. The Ancient One tilts her head again, brows furrowed. Then she looks at Steve again. Piercing crystal gray eyes pin Steve to the spot, his heart leaps against his ribs, and his hands clench at his sides.

With a flick of her fingers, the Stone was gone, back where it belonged, and Steve felt a wave of relief fall out of his chest.

Steve nods, going to retreat and activate his suit so he can get the hell out of here and be done with this.

"Do you think it is wise, Captain?" The Ancient One asks, she turns her body towards him, hands folding behind her back again.

Steve stiffens, hand already moving to put he right year into the Time GPS. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean." He tries for a polite smile, he hopes. "Ma'am."

"Time is a fickle thing, Captain. I wouldn't waste it. Unless you're 100% sure. There's no going back."

Steve's hand hesitates for a second, just a flicker of doubt. The helmet goes around his head, and he gives a small nod in farewell. His hands push the watch, and he's traveling through the Quantum Realm so fast it gives him whiplash.

He stumbles on his feet as he comes to a stop.

This isn't right. He put the right Time in. He's sure of it.

He should be in the field. You and Bucky were waiting. There were things he had to change, things left unsaid.

Steve goes to put the right Timestamp in, but nothing happens.

"No. No, no, no," his suit disappears, the watch is blank. Nothing is working.

He can't get back to you. Can't get back to Bucky. This was all a terrible mistake. He has to find a way back.

Were you thinking the worst of him right now?

He walks down the sidewalk, trying to think of any possible way to fix this. He stops and paces in a circle, worry and fear oozing out of him.

A door opens behind him, heels clicking on the wood of the porch. "Hello? Are you alright?"

The voice is familiar, soothing. Steve's breathing is erratic. It can't be. He turns on the spot. His breath catches, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Peggy…?"

**

"You sure he's here?" You ask Bucky. He's currently trying not to heave as he braces his hands on his knees.

He groans in discomfort, heading falling forward more, 'Ngh, yep. Arou- 'round here somewhere." He gulps a large breath before he straightens. "Don't think I'll ever get used to that," he swallows thickly.

You chuckle, shaking your head. Bucky grunts and nods his head towards the stairs.

Once Sam notices Bucky, he shakes his head and rolls his eyes. There's a small glare at you, too.

"Shouldn't have given up the shield," Bucky all but shouts.

Okay, going right into it, no problem.

"Good to see you too, Buck," Sam walks past him.

"This is wrong," Bucky says quieter as they walk past you as well.

There's a kid, well he's young. Maybe in his early 20s, a few feet behind Sam, clipboard in hand, and a little starstruck as he looks after Bucky.

"Hey," you greet him. "Names Y/N. I brought Mr. Sunshine. Sorry to derail your mission."

He perks up. Cute. "Oh my god, it's you - uh. I mean. Holy shit. I'm uh, Torres. Joaquin," he shoves his hand out for you to shake, and it's very enthusiastic. He holds onto your hand and looks down at the vibranium limb. "whoa…" It whirs slightly as you flex your fingers. "awesome…"

"I'm coming with you," Bucky shouts after Sam.

"No, you're not."

"Oh, no." You and Joaquin share a look, then you're both jogging after them.

"James, no way," you grab his arm to stop him. "You're not flying across the world, just - for what? Hey-" he tries to shrug you off, but you stop him again. "Talk to me."

"I need Sam to realize this is bigger than some nonsense he's chasing halfway across the world for. It's bigger than me, than him. Than us." You sigh and give him a nod.

You've heard this before. Hell, even you told Sam the same thing. But now? With this fake Captain America in the picture? It changes a lot of things.

"Okay, I get it. Be careful." You warn him. He runs the back of his fingers along your jaw, up your cheek, and tangles his fingers in your hair at the nape of your neck.

"Love you, doll," Bucky says, his lips brush against yours, short and sweet.

You hum, and when you pull apart, you fix him with a stern look. "You need me, you call me. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," he grins, lopsided and dopey. He holds your hand to his chest for a few heartbeats, running his thumb over your knuckles.

"Love you, too. Now go, before the plane leaves without you. I haven't mastered portalling onto fast objects yet."

Bucky laughs and pecks your lips one more time before he jogs backward until he can't, and he lifts a hand in goodbye.

You watch the plane disappear in the sky before you portal away.

**

The end?

----

tags: @valckenaux ; @yunloyal ; @otterlycanadian ; @frickin-bats ; @leahmck ; @8812-342

[panerasbox]

—COVERED IN YOU; 2 Days To Go

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x fem!Reader.

Genre: angst, smut

Word count: 1,065

content warnings: infidelity, smut, toxic relationship dynamics

summary: Melissa Schemmenti kisses like she fights—hard, hungry, and a little mean. What starts as stolen moments turns into a messy, all-consuming affair neither of you can quit, no matter who gets hurt.

30 DAYS OF MELISSA SCHEMMENTI MASTERLIST

Melissa Schemmenti kisses like she fights: hard, hungry, and just a little mean.

The first time it happens for real, not some passing brush of lips, not one of those should’ve-been-nothing moments in the dark—it’s on a Tuesday, in the back hallway behind the gym. She corners you like it’s instinct. Like her body decides before her brain can catch up.

“You’re driving me crazy,” she mutters, fisting your shirt, eyes flashing emerald under the emergency light’s slow flicker. Her voice is rough, like shouted too loud, or maybe it’s just the sound of restraint cracking.

“You have a boyfriend,” you shoot back, even as your back hits the wall. Even as your lips part, already betraying you.

“Yeah,” she growls, inches from your mouth, “and he doesn’t kiss me like this.”

And then she shows you.

The kiss is a collision—teeth knocking, breath mingling, hands wild. She tastes like coffee and cinnamon gum and something deeper, something sharp. She’s all over you, clutching like a lifeline, like she’s scared she’ll break the moment if she stops. You don’t stop her. You don’t want to. Not now. Not after all those lingering glances, the close-lipped smiles, the shoulder brushes that stayed longer than they should’ve.

You kiss her back like you’ve been waiting for it since the second week of school. Like the way she says your name when she’s pissed off has been living in your dreams for months.

The second time, it’s in her car after school. Cold rain sheets down the windshield, the heater blasting stale warmth into the silence. Your hand drifts to her thigh, half in curiosity, half in need, and she doesn’t stop you. Instead, she leans back against the seat, her breath catching as your fingers curl just slightly.

She moans your name like it’s a confession. Like it’s the only thing in her chest she knows to be true.

“I can’t stay long,” she murmurs, lips brushing your jaw. “He’s taking me out tonight.”

You pull back just an inch. “You’re going with him after this?”

You shouldn’t ask. You shouldn’t care. But you do.

Melissa doesn’t lie. Her eyes lock on yours, open, unflinching. “Yeah.”

You nod like that doesn’t split something inside you. “Right.”

But she doesn’t leave. Not right away. Instead, she leans in again, slower this time. She kisses you like she’s memorizing you. Like she’s scared she won’t get another chance.

Your hand slips beneath the waist of her pants. She’s wet already, warm and aching under your touch. Her head drops to your shoulder as she whispers, “I can’t stop. Even if I wanted to.”

You think that should scare you.

It doesn’t.

By the time winter break rolls around, you’re already lost.

You’ve had her bent over her desk, biting your shoulder to keep quiet. You’ve stripped her bare in your apartment, made her cum with your mouth, your hands, your name echoing off the walls like a hymn. You’ve snuck kisses in the janitor’s closet, touched her under the table during staff meetings, watched her come undone in a bar bathroom with your hand between her thighs.

You know her. Intimately. Brutally.

You know how she sounds when she’s close, how she breathes your name like a dare. You know how she stares at her phone after she gets dressed, thumb hovering over his name like maybe she’s thinking of telling him. (She never does.)

You’ve met Captain Robinson. At a fundraiser. He’s tall. Smiles easy. Melissa calls him “baby” and kisses his cheek like she didn’t ride your thigh in her classroom an hour before.

It makes you want to scream. Or cry. Or tear the whole world down around her just to see if she’d choose you from the rubble.

But then she texts you that night, “I miss you.”

And you answer.

“Come over.”

She always does.

Every. Single. Time.

Melissa shows up at your door at 11:42 p.m., soaked through from the rain, hair plastered to her cheeks, eyeliner smudged. She looks like sin in a leather jacket and thigh-high boots, eyes blown wide with need.

“I told him I was meeting Barb to go over work stuff,” she says, voice hoarse, half-laughing like it’s a game. Like it’s not eating her alive.

You yank her inside.

The second the door clicks shut, she’s on you. Her hands are frantic, greedy. Lips hungry. You stumble backward, slamming into the wall, her mouth still fused to yours. She’s biting now, a growl in her throat as she palms your chest and shoves your shirt up like it’s in the way. Like everything is.

“You shouldn’t want me like this,” you manage, breathless, as she licks a stripe down your neck.

“I shouldn’t,” she spits, voice ragged, nipping at your collarbone. “But I fucking do.”

Her skirt’s up around her waist before you even make it to the bedroom. No panties. You don’t even pretend to be surprised.

“You planned this?” you groan as she grinds her bare heat against you, already soaked.

Melissa’s laugh is wicked, low in your ear. “I’ve been wet for you since lunch period. Couldn’t even cum when he touched me last night. Not without thinking about you.”

You lose it.

You throw her onto the bed, tearing her shirt open, kissing every inch of her like it belongs to you. She arches under you, her breath catching as your mouth finds her breast, your hand between her thighs again, fingers sliding in deep.

Her voice is wrecked, ruined, when she gasps, “I’m yours. Just—fuck—don’t stop. Not tonight.”

You don’t.

She comes shaking, legs wrapped tight around your waist, nails digging into your back, her body trying to tell you what her mouth never will.

After, she’s quiet. Her breath evening out. Red hair wild across your pillow, chest still rising and falling like she ran a mile to get here. And maybe she did. Maybe every night is a sprint toward something she’ll never admit she wants.

She takes your hand. Squeezes once. Her thumb brushes yours like she means something by it.

You know what this is. You’ve always known.

It’s not love. It’s not safety.

But it is real.

Even if it’s stolen. Even if it’s already half-wrecked.

Even if the ivy’s already winding too tight around your ribs to cut away clean.

a/n: “Oh, goddamn / My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand / Taking mine, but it’s been promised to another”

the narrator of the song belongs to someone else (husband), but the person who truly understands her pain and takes her hand is this other, forbidden woman. “Promised to another” reads like a reference to compulsory heterosexuality.

i know this isn’t about wlw, but it just fits so perfectly.

[yandere-fics]

♡ Dumb Reader Gets Lost In Veronia's Forest ♡

(Veronia is clingier and more quick to push for courting in the winter, especially when she's ignoring her need to hibernate for you.)

It wasn't supposed to snow for another two weeks according to everyone in the last village you had been to but here you were, trudging through a foot of snow and taking a shortcut through a place you knew you weren't supposed to be going. Everyone said it was dragon territory but considering that you were going to freeze to death taking a shortcut had felt worth it to you. You'd even met a kind stranger who was willing to lend you a cloak as you both tried to get passed this land together. She said her name was Veronia and that the dragon of this land usually went elsewhere in the winter to hibernate so it would be safe for the both of you. You'd never even heard that before, this stranger was so smart and helpful. She even knew where the dragons cave was since she'd had to travel through it last winter she said so both of you could pass for a rest there before she helped you back to your hometown. You knew you weren't supposed to just trust a random stranger or tell them exactly where you lived but she had to be nice, why else would she try helping you in a snow storm when she was probably cold herself. It wasn't until you got back to the cave that it felt off but you knew better than to judge someone who was going out of their way to help you.

For one thing she seemed to know her way around the cave intimately like she'd been there several times before, must be a bandit who steals from there every winter but that was okay too, she didn't seem like she would rob you, especially when she pulled out hoard items to give to you. But she also knew how to hunt on this land pretty well, coming back with dinner for both of you and lighting a fire right as your back was turned, she sure was skilled with this. You really wanted to keep moving towards your home but it was cold and so you sat down for an uncomfortable night of sleep in the dragons den while your new companion promised she'd keep watch. It the morning it had been almost completely snowed in, you clearly were not going anywhere. It was just a good thing your new friend had hunted a lot of food for the both of you which is how you got stuck living in the cave with her for two weeks as she told you stories about how scary the dragon that usually lived there was and if you left right now then you might accidentally bump into them so it was better to stay in the cave and then later she'd show you how to leave without encountering the dragon. The snow melted to enough for the both of you to leave about a month later but for some reason your new friend just kept telling you that it wasn't the right time to leave yet, it was a bit scary. She'd also starting cuddling for warmth at night with you which you really didn't like but… you were trapped in a cave with her so you weren't going to just say no. This lead to her seeming to think the both of you were courting which in turn made you feel like you should just dart into the woods with no plan but you weren't knowledgeable of the area, what if you did run into the dragon? She said it was so vicious and liked to play with it's kills and that dragons were only kind to those they chose to mate. You took her telling you that to be a warning that if you didn't become food then you'd be something much worse to the dragon.

"Dearest, I have something to tell you." You didn't turn around on the bed as she spooned you from behind. She was for sure going to tell you she was going to kill you or something, you just knew it, that's why she hadn't helped you get home yet. You were fucked.

"G-go ahead." You had to act normal, like you didn't hide a knife under your pillow just in case this very thing happened.

"I'm actually the dragon." You didn't fully process wat she just said, your body just grabbing the knife and trying to swing around to stab her, this time with scales on her face that certainly hadn't been there before. She swatted the knife away and pulled you closer to her. "I'm sorry I told you all those scary things about the dragon dearest, I was only teasing you."

"Let me go!" You tried to struggle against her but her grip didn't loosen.

"Dearest mate, you seemed too happy here, me being a dragon doesn't change our love, you were so happy with me courting you." You realized she mistook you being kind to her so you wouldn't die as you accepting the courting. You shouldn't have taken the shortcut, of course dragons didn't go somewhere else to hibernate, you were so fucking stupid.

[starkspondwater]

I need socially awkward band kid Kyle with a cracky voice x Fem reader where you're also in band but you're in the louder section (like trumpets perchance 🥺) and during band practice the directors tell everyone to talk to someone new and Kyle ends up paired with you, the girl he's been obsessing over since band camp likeeee

As an orchestra kid this had my heart. I love awkward little band geeks/ orchdorks in media, it's my FAVORITE. I also tried to use some actually terminology in here so I apologize if any of it sounds off- I haven't played an instrument in YEARS.

Thank you so much for the request!!!

A/N: I tried to write in voice cracks so just...keep that in mind as you read!

Summary: Due to a rather strange exercise placed upon the class from the new band conductor, Kyle has to make a connection with someone in a different section. His nerves rise as he realizes he's going to have to partner up with you, the person he's been crushing on. (fluff)

Word Count: 3786

Connections- Band Kid!Kyle Broflovski x Band Kid!Reader

Kyle’s fingers danced along the keys of his sax as his eyes scanned the music sheets on the stand. There were only minutes before practice actually began yet he was the only one in the room trying to get ready. Voices mingled and intertwined, some lower tones hushed as they shared gossip while others only increased in volume before dissolving into laughter. It was loud and annoying, but after years of dealing with this sort of atmosphere Kyle could tune out the ruckus with practiced ease. Adjusting his grip on the instrument, he moved to lightly wipe the sweat from his hands on his pants.

Why he chose the baritone saxophone to play, he will never know. Memories of him and his friends came to mind, the boys randomly choosing instruments based on what ‘sounded cool’ as a way to boost popularity when they entered middle school. It was silly to think such a thing would do so for them, but out of everyone he was the only one that actually stuck with it. Call it the sensibility in him, knowing his parents had spent a pretty penny on the woodwind he now carried most days. 

Well, he supposed he wasn’t the only one that stuck it out. Cartman was there, though he had almost immediately dropped the flute in favor of percussion. Typical.

“Alright, Alright! Quiet down everyone!” Dr. Kinsley shouted from the front of the room. As the new band conductor, he had been a rather abrupt change from their last one. Retired and tired, Mr. Daniels had strolled in late daily and for the most part allowed the students to set the pace. This guy, while younger with a pep in his step, took up the baton with a seriousness that suggested he expected great things from them. The thought of that made Kyle snort.

But it should be said that the redhead found it nice to actually play things for once, even if they were the most subpar band in Colorado.

“Now, I know we’ve only been in session for a little bit, and the winter concert is but a few months away, but we have got some work to do!” tapping the stand in front of him, Dr. Kinsley looked around, a mysterious glint in his eyes. “I hate to say it folks, but we need to step it up.”

“Listen, Doc, if you want to bitch about how bad we sound, talk to the goddamn brass! We at least got our shit together!” Cartman shouted from the back, hums of agreement heard from others in his section.

“Mr. Cartman, thank you for your…colorful suggestion. Unfortunately, I will not be doing so because we are one. We are not one clarinet or just one french horn…” Pausing, he brought out his arms toward the group. “We are in this together! So if one of us is bad, we are all bad. We will all need to work on it.”

Groans sounded from around the room, echoing off the slightly vaulted ceilings. The band had been on the receiving end of many lectures about this very thing, and by god it was annoying. It wasn’t a secret that the band in South Park didn’t sound particularly very good, but they weren’t complete trash. Just…this particular year had not started very well. Several of the upper class first chairs had moved on after graduation, and the younger years had not quite gotten into the groove of leading their own sections, and with a new conductor meant different music. 

Doctor Kinsley had very high expectations based on what he had passed out to them that first day. While others complained, Kyle actually found the challenge refreshing. He didn’t care for the extra practice he had to do at home, mainly due to Ike’s constant bitching about the noise, but he did enjoy when his brain and hands worked well enough together to properly play the especially hard measures he fussed over.

“We are severely disjointed,” the conductor continued, looking around the room. “When we play it is not together- we have lost our connection! So for this week we will instead perform…an exercise.”

“Does that mean we won’t be playing?” Craig asked from somewhere near the back, his normally flat voice actually sounding perky.

“Indeed Mr. Tucker! In exchange for this little break however, you all will need to forge some new connections.” At the confused looks shot his way, Dr. Kinsley sighed. “Today you will find someone not in your section, and simply, talk with them. By the end of the week, I will have you both sight read a few measures of the new piece I will be introducing to see if the connections have helped, or hindered you.”

This was fucking stupid, Kyle thought as he watched his classmates hesitantly rise out of their seats. The problem lied in their individual sections, and he knew this because half of his own couldn’t keep count for shit. Hell, the only reason his stand partner, some underclassmen who’s name he couldn’t ever remember, stayed in time was because Kyle would tap his foot hard enough to rattle the stand.

Kyle allowed his own gaze to wander. He wanted to avoid the whole rush of pairing off and was pleased to see that most everyone had done so, now sitting off to the side and lightly chatting. Scanning the few that remained standing, his eyes stopped at you, making his breath catch.

From the very first day he saw you at band camp that past summer, talking with another trumpet player, he was gone. There was just something about the way you held yourself that caught him captive, a confidence that he not only found attractive, but that he admired. Even during class you were bold enough to play out regardless of missed notes or fumbled melodies; You gave it your best shot even when no one else wanted to. You were loud and open, and very different from him.

He had never spoken to you. Not at camp, not at school. You shared the occasional class sure, but even then he had never uttered a singular word in your direction. Partly it may have been that you intimidated him, but he also worried about your own perception of him.

He wasn’t much different from his youth besides the obvious. He had grown in height over the years and his hair, while still fairly wild, at least wasn’t so bad he had to constantly hide it. But he was not someone that just approached girls, especially those that had him tongue tied. He wasn’t like Stan that could stumble his way into being cute, or Clyde who was a lot smoother with the ladies, he was just…awkward. 

About the time that thought slipped through his head you had turned your attention onto him, a smile immediately brightening up your face. And oh fuck now you were walking towards him. Was it him? Was there someone behind him? What were you-

“Hey Kyle!” 

And you knew his name.

“H-hey Y/N! Guess it’s just us -TWO-”  with a crack in his voice, Kyle felt his eyes widen. God fucking dammit. Feeling his face grow red, Kyle tried to smile though he knew it probably came out a lot less as lovely as yours.

Almost as if you didn’t notice what had happened, you sat down next to him and continued talking.

“I guess it is! I’m not really sure how this is really going to play out, but I’m not going to pass up a small break!” you said with a laugh. “So, ‘connecting.’ We haven’t really gotten to talk any, have we? Kind of weird since we’ve been around each other so much!”

“...Yeah? That is pretty strange, I guess.” To be honest, Kyle was even surprised you knew who he was. You didn’t run in the same circles, and as far as he knew none of your friends had any overlap with his.

“I don’t even think we ever even properly introduced ourselves! Not for my lack of trying though.” 

What? 

“I swear I tried to say hi a few times at camp, but I don’t think I could grab your attention.”

WHAT? In what world would you have NOT had his attention? He couldn’t recall you trying to talk to him at all, but then again he spent so much of that time trying not to look like an absolute idiot in front of you…kind of like he was doing now, gaping at you in silence.

“O-oh! I didn’t real-IZE that,” Kyle squeaked out before rubbing his rather sweaty hand on his pants. “We could fix that no-OW.”

He wanted to cringe from how that sounded. Not only was that probably the stupidest thing he could say- why in the fuck would you want to shake his hand- but his voice was cracking more than it usually did. 

To his surprise however, you just giggled, holding out your own hand to take his. He was glad he wiped off his hand, because he really didn’t want to let go of yours. It was soft and warm, and compared to his, fairly small. He never saw himself as some macho man, but he couldn’t help but feel a little cool with how his pale hand engulfed yours. 

“It’s really nice to finally meet you, Kyle,” you said softly, eyes peering at him through thick eyelashes. It was a pretty sight that had his hand sweating once more making him regrettably pull away. “So tell me about yourself, besides your mad skills on the bari sax!”

That’s how Kyle found himself spending that class, stumbling over words with more than a few more voice cracks as he spoke to you. He was nervous and felt much too warm but by the time the bell rang, but the fact that he did get to speak to you had made his whole day. He felt giddy knowing that perhaps that feeling would last the whole week.

_____

Not a lot surprised Kyle in his life. He still had the same three friends and lived in the same house and dealt with all the same things since he was young. Even with some of the deviation from routine that tended to happen day to day, he could rely on the fact that most things would remain the same. He knew this week would be different with the added bonus of speaking to you during band, but what he wasn’t expecting was that you would seek his conversation outside of the band room as well.

You had caught him at his locker that morning, the remnants of sleep still lingering in his mind as he absently dug through the small space. He had just been cursing Stan’s ability to mess up their shared locker when your voice chimed behind him, causing Kyle to jump and bump his head on the top of the locker.

“Oh shit! Uh, h-EY,” Kyle rubbed his head as he turned, your pretty visage coming into sight. 

“Are you alright?” Titling your head you gave him a look of concern, eyebrows scrunched together and pursing your lips.

It was very sweet but you were too close. Backing up slightly only to find his back hitting the locker next to his, Kyle chuckled nervously.

“Yeah, yeah, just fine! What’s up?”

“Well, I saw you over here and thought I’d say hello!” giving another bright smile, Kyle felt you had to be trying to kill him. “Want to walk to class together?”

“You…want to walk to class…with me?” 

“Why wouldn’t I? I’d say we’re at least a little bit friends after yesterday,” you said sweetly, blinking up at him, “right?”

Kyle was never one to consider a single conversation, or even multiple, equal to friendship, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to say that to you. If you not only were going to openly and easily refer to him as a friend, but also seek him out to talk…he’d be stupid to complain. 

“Right, uh, just let me…” Turning, Kyle grabbed one last thing from his locker before swinging it shut. “Let’s g-O!” 

Without warning you had linked your arm in his, the heat from your arm bleeding through his jacket. Kyle would’ve stayed rooted to the spot if you had not started to lead him onward, navigating through wandering students and the various hallways. If anyone asked what you had talked about during that little walk to your morning english class, he wouldn’t have been able to answer. All he could think about then, and through that entire morning in general, was how well you seemed to fit into the space next to him. 

_____

That’s how it continued through the week, you seeking him out in the halls, class, and even lunch, drawing the attention of his friends. The first time it happened he felt his cheeks burn at the knowing looks the guys had shot him, and when Cartman dared to make one petty comment he had kicked the fat boy roughly in the shin. 

Band was the best time, in Kyle’s opinion. It was an entire hour he had to speak with you without interruption, no bells ringing or people to butt in, just you two getting to know each other. And to be honest, no matter what weird little things the conductor threw his way, that made it all worth it.

He knew you were bold and had a confident air about you, but he also learned that you were funny, that you were compassionate and full of passions. You let him in on your various interests, some of which he had a feeling you didn’t normally share with others. Your openness with him, someone you hadn’t even talked to before, was a little startling. It made him want to do the same.

The way you looked at him when he talked was a little addicting. You hung onto every word, leaning forward and asking questions in a way that made him feel like you found everything he said important. He didn’t even think about the way he stammered when your arm brushed against his, or the way his voice cracked loudly, making you giggle a bit before you asked yet another question, urging on the conversation.

It was Thursday, the last bell ringing out in a siren call driving every student in its vicinity to flood the halls. Like he had begun to do most days this week, he waited at the corner along the west side hallway for you. Bodies shuffled and bumped one another as teens made their way to whatever destinations they had, words and phrases from passerby only just hitting Kyle’s ears before they strayed too far for him to gain any context.

Right on time you flounced into view with a grin, linking your arm with his and dragging him off. While this had made him nervous before, now he absolutely delighted in the feeling, opting to remove his jacket just to feel the contact.

As you zigzagged through the halls he found himself thinking back to your first conversation. The image of you choosing to sit with him and make small talk and going along with shaking his hand. It all felt so weird that now, just days later, you treated him like someone who had always been close. Watching your smaller form navigate around a corner, his mind sparked, as though telling him to remember…something. He just wasn’t sure what.

Exiting the school the two of you made your way to one of the benches along the lawn. It was a nice day, an odd one for South Park, and several others chose to spend their afternoon outdoors instead of holing up elsewhere. Kyle had to shake his head as he realized you had been talking to him, bringing his attention back to you.

“-and you remember that one guy at camp? The one who kept trying to say he ‘knew the owner’ and we should respect him or whatever? Well, he tried friending me on facebook! And-” as you babbled on, lips moving a mile a minute as you told your story, something came to Kyle’s mind.

“Hey! oh sorry-” he interrupted, your voice falling quickly, “uh…nevermind. Didn’t mean to stop you-”

“No, please! It was something stupid in the first place,” with another smile that had his heart stutter, you asked him to keep going.

“I was just thinking of something you said before,” Kyle hesitantly started, unsure if this was something he should even bring up. It was brought up so offhandedly, it could not have meant anything at all, but for whatever reason it had lodged itself into his brain. “That first day, you said you kept trying to talk to me at camp. I’ve tried thinking back on it, and I just can’t remember you even looking at me at all during that summer.”

It was your turn to look bashful, face growing warm and eyes darting away. At once that posture he had grown accustomed to shrunk down with your hands shyly playing along the edge of your shirt.

“Well…this is a little embarrassing…” tucking some hair behind your year, you brought your eyes back up to his. “I did try to talk to you back then, I promise I wasn’t lying about that. It’s just…every time I got close you would look over and I would get incredibly nervous.”

“Why would I make you nervous?” he huffed out a laugh, but no humor colored it. Kyle wasn’t sure where this was going, but he did know that his stomach began to twist.

“I mean, I thought you were kind of cool! You play the saxophone! That’s pretty cool in the first place but you also were one of the best players there,” you said sincerely, your smile growing once more. “You were quiet and kind of mysterious and…I don’t know. I just really wanted to talk to you.”

His mind buzzed with this new information. You thought he was cool. You wanted to talk to him before all this. You noticed him just as he noticed you.

And right now all he could do was look at you like he didn’t understand English.

“You, uh…you wanted to talk to m-E?” Kyle couldn’t keep the disbelief from coating his voice, the light crack almost emphasizing that point.

Frowning, you adjusted yourself to properly face him. He watched as you bit your lip, face pensive as you considered what to say next. Laughter was heard off to the side as a group of kids rushed past, jostling one another as they moved along the path. The sound seemed to accentuate the silence between you.

“I really like you, Kyle.” 

Those little words hit him right in the heart and lungs, knocking the very air he breathed from his body. You were no longer worrying your lip within your teeth, instead taking on a look of determination. It was as though you had come to a serious decision and planned to carry out every step of it regardless of what was in your way.

Kyle couldn’t find the words to respond, couldn’t even find the ability to properly breathe as he took in the figure before him. 

“I like you and I’d really like it if we could go out.” Soft hands gingerly took his own, your warmth seeping into him much like your confession did to his entire being. “I was hoping you’d pick up the little hints I’d been dropping all week.”

Hints? Thinking back to the beginning of the week, Kyle quickly picked his way through memories. It wasn’t that he couldn’t pick up on flirting, after all he had watched Kenny do enough of that, but perhaps it was that he just couldn’t pick up on you flirting. Suddenly little snippets of interactions came through; the way you fluttered those pretty lashes and the way you latched onto his arm and held it close. Were you flirting the day you took his hat for yourself? Maybe the way you giggled at every little joke or story was a sign.

“Kyle?”

“Yeah?” Broken from his train of thought, he saw that you had now resumed that nervous little look of yours. 

“Do you want to go out with me?” your voice grew smaller as the words came out, apprehension felt in the space you shared. “It’s alright if you don’t, I just thought…Well, I read things wrong. I’ll just go-”

You sprung up, ready to grab your bag and haul out and away, cursing yourself mentally for putting yourself in such an awkward situation. Leaning down to grab the thick strap of your pack, you found Kyle’s hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Wait- no, uh, I mean yes!” the words tumbled out almost too loud, your shoulders jumping up in surprise. Clearing his throat, Kyle tried again. “What I meant, was yes. I do like you…and I have for a while.”

Kyle just knew the flush he sported was up to the tips of his ears after admitting that out loud. Here you were, looking at him with those eyes and that face, that smile, and he just sat there looking like a damn fool.

“Good,” smirking, you flipped your hand over, grabbing his and hauling him up. “We can consider getting some food as the first date!”

Just like you had done all week you linked arms with him, only this time allowing his hand to fall and fit within your own. Kyle grinned to himself. As cute as it was to see you get all shy, he rather liked how loud and brash you were. It was an addicting quality he hoped to get even more of knowing now that you felt the same.

_____

To say that Dr. Kinsley was displeased was an understatement. The sight reading had been a mess and at the moment Cartman was tussling with a few guys in the back of the room. As the conductor struggled to keep them from knocking over some rather expensive instruments, you two paid no mind. Huddled over at Kyle’s stand you talked animatedly, one hand moving every which way in explanation as the other stayed firmly in his own. 

Any other day his sax would be in hand, ready to play, but with you beside him he could not find the will to care about the music as it lay forgotten next to your trumpet. He supposed that even if this connection exercise was silly, he should still thank the man for giving him the opportunity to connect with you.

[theloveoffootball10]

sᴛɪᴄᴋᴡɪᴛᴜ - ʙᴏɴᴜs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

series masterlist / complete masterlist

ʙᴏɴᴜs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

"Lando!" I shout from the bedroom hearing Lando in the kitchen "Lando!"

"What!" As Lando comes into the bedroom he takes one look at me sat on the floor and the confusion is instantly on his face "what the fuck are you doing on the floor?"

"I sat down to fold clothes and got stuck. Help me up please" holding my hands out I let Lando pull me to my feet "the floor seemed like the best place to fold clothes"

"Why at 8 months pregnant did you think sitting on the floor would be a good idea? You should be resting before the flight later" falling pregnant was a complete surprise to not only Lando but me as well.

Of course we've had conversations about having kids and we both knew we wanted to wait a few years but the universe had different plans for us. You could say we took celebrating Lando's birthday and WDC win too far but now we're so close to having our baby in our arms I wouldn't change a thing.

Today we're flying from Monaco back to England for the British Grand Prix, he never asked me to officially move in it just happened now most of my time is spent in Monaco. This weekend marks two years since we met and the whole time has been nothing short of a whirlwind. I debated not going to the race being so heavily pregnant but ultimately I want to be there and after being cleared fit to fly by a doctor I refuse to miss out.

"It made sense when I started okay? I don't need to rest, I'm pregnant not ill. I have everything packed and I've got an emergency hospital bag just in case baby decides to come this weekend"

"How do you feel about everyone finding out this weekend?" As Lando pulls me into his arms I look up at him fiddling with the necklace around his neck.

"I'm excited now it's here and also very proud of us for keeping this out of the press for this long. Especially you, we both know you can't keep your mouth shut" when we found out I was pregnant we told our family and friends, not so much a need to know basis but more of who we wanted to tell however to this day we haven't made a public post telling Lando's fans and the world. Finding out during winter break meant it was easy to keep out of the public eye and since the start of the season I've missed a lot of races due to work but when I have been at them, I've lay low.

"You have no idea how many times I've nearly slipped up when I've been interviewed or on stream with Max"

"I've noticed. A lot" I know Lando is desperate to scream the news from the rooftops but he's respected my decision. It's not that I've gone to extremes to hide but I have enjoyed being able to have this time with Lando to enjoy being pregnant privately.

"I'm excited Lucía, I just can't wait to be a dad to our baby. Knowing that he's half of you and half of me is the best feeling"

"Let's be honest he's going to mainly be you because I already know he's going to look like you"

"So he'll be cute just like his dad"

"Keep telling yourself that babe"

"We really need to agree on a name for him" for months now Lando and I have argued over baby's name. There's literally nothing we can both agree on. I didn't realise just how hard it would be to name a baby. It's such a big responsibility when they'll have the name for life.

"Can we please not have that argument now. It's such a big decision, I think we'll have to decide when he's here and look at him to see what name suits him"

"I understand you wanting his surname to be Norris Alonso and I’m all for it but he really needs a name I hate calling him just baby or him all of the time"

"We'll get there Lando. I'd rather just have him here safely over anything" We've already ruled out any name that is directly linked to anyone on the grid and anything that is utterly ridiculous. We can't even decide whether baby should have a middle name; Lando has grown up without one so doesn't see the need for four names where as I've grown up with four names so to me it's completely normal. The one thing we can agree on is following the Spanish tradition of baby having both mine and Lando's surname, I know he'll go by Norris for most of his life but I like knowing Alonso will still be there.

"That goes without saying baby. Do you want to go for food before we fly?" My face lights up at the thought of food. This baby has got me eating anything and everything I'm not surprised I'm so huge. I've always loved my food but my appetite from the day I fell pregnant has been astronomical.

I watch as Lando grabs our bags, not letting me get anything other than my handbag so we can make our way to the car. If being pregnant has done one thing, it's made me fall in love with Lando even more. He's always been amazing but seeing him prepare for this new chapter in our lives has shown me a completely different side to him. He's more loving and attentive than he's ever been, witnessing the way he's been with me over the course of my pregnancy I know he's going to be an amazing dad.

The next morning I wake up sweating, England is unnaturally warm and my pregnant self isn't coping at all. Dragging myself to sit up in bed I'm at the point where I have to do everything in stages. I can already tell today is going to be a good day, tough but good.

"You okay baby?" Looking up at Lando as he walks out of the bathroom I can't believe this man is mine.

"Yeah I'll be good in a minute. He's squashing my bladder I'm sure I've peed myself but he's sitting on my sciatic nerve again" for the last few weeks baby keeps positioning himself on a nerve leaving me in pain every time he does. I've never felt pain in my lower back or leg like it and if this just a taste of what's to come in labour I don't think I want to do it.

"I can help you into the shower to see if that helps"

"Give me a minute and I will. I need to just build up the courage to stand up" resting my hand on my bump I'll miss it when he's here but I'm just about done with being pregnant now "I love how you ignore the fact I've just said I think I've peed myself"

"It's not the first time" Lando says with a shrug as he starts getting dressed "and it's not like you can help it. You've got a baby either kicking or sitting on your bladder"

"You're amazing" pulling myself off the bed I make my way over to Lando standing behind him as I wrap my arms around his torso "I love you y'know"

"I love you too" as Lando turns in my arms I feel him place a soft kiss on my forehead "how do you feel now today's here?"

"I can't wait. I'm excited to walk through the paddock flaunting this massive bump with you by side" this baby may have been a surprise but from the moment we met, I knew Lando would be the only one I'd want to have a baby with.

"I guess it's one way to prove to everyone that Lando No-Rizz has actually got rizz"

"Don't ever say that again or you'll be single forever" I say with a laugh "I'm going to shower. Love you Lando"

As we arrive at the track the crowds are insane as always even for a media day. I know Lando is about to create a full on tornado, it's not unusual for me to be here or arriving with him but he hasn't warned anyone that I'm going to be arriving 8 months pregnant or that we're about to announce it to the world. Sophie's going to kill him and probably me but the man is stubborn. When he wants to do something his way and he's set on it, there's no changing his mind. When it comes to racing or sponsors he's a bit more flexible but when it comes to his personal life, his decision is final.

"Are you ready for this?" I love how Lando is always checking on me. It can get too much sometimes but I know it's only because he cares.

"Absolutely. It was nice knowing you though Norris"

"What do you mean?" Lando asks looking at me confused.

"You haven't warned your PR team about this. Sophie is going to kill you and probably me then Chelsea will join in as well"

"I like to keep things interesting"

"I noticed" rolling my eyes I hand Lando his phone "this is your time to shine, go for it" we agreed that Lando would share a post on instagram when we arrive at the track just before we get out of the car to face the media. This way his fans at home get to see the post from him rather than all of the media outlets.

"There's no going back now" as Lando clicks post I almost feel nervous even though I have no reason to. This is our lives and no matter what opinion people may have, it's irrelevant. We're happy. Our families are happy. Our friends are happy for us. We couldn't ask for more "I love you baby"

"I love you too" leaning over I kiss Lando softly knowing between us our phones are going crazy with notifications but I'm not really bothered by that, I have my fiancé by my side that's all I need "let's do this"

landonorris and esmelucia

Liked by flonorris, maxfewtrell, mclaren and 3.4m others

landonorris SURPRISE! we’ve been keeping a little secret 🤫 Baby Boy Norris Alonso coming very soon 👣 🩵

view all comments

user846 sobbing rn 😭

user977 you can tell he loves them both so much!

-> user205 the dream is to find someone who loves me as much as Lando loves Lucía!

fernandoalonso abuelo can’t wait to meet him

-> esmelucia te amo papá

user357 why Norris Alonso and not just Norris? Seems disrespectful to Lando

-> user825 she’s half Spanish, it’s tradition for baby to have mum and dads surname. Not disrespectful at all and Lando must have agreed 🤷🏼‍♀️

-> user296 baby is going to have one of the most iconic surnames ever!

livdavies Rafe can’t wait to meet his best friend!

-> landonorris double trouble! Pray for us all!

user185 Lando and Lucía having a baby wasn’t on my 2026 bingo card!

-> esmelucia it’s alright it wasn’t on our bingo card either 😅

Stepping out of the car I instantly hear the mumbling within the crowd. The news is travelling fast and we're met with a chorus of gasps, oh my gods thrown around and I'm positive I hear a few squeals of joy from some of the fans. It's comforting to know people are actually happy for us. Standing by Lando's side as he signs autographs for the waiting crowd I'm pulled into a few conversations congratulating us, people saying how happy they are for us and how exciting the next couple of months are going to be. I don't doubt that as we make our way to McLaren's hospitality where we're met with both Sophie and Chelsea.

"You two are a PR nightmare! A quick text with a warning would've been nice Norris!" Despite Sophie trying to act like she's annoyed I can see the smile creeping onto her face.

"Surprise?" Lando questions with a shrug.

"Never mind surprise! If it wasn't such good news to share I'd throttle the pair of you! I think you just like to make my job harder, even more so when you're together!" I know we probably should've told someone about the bomb we were about to drop but I can't help laugh.

"Sorry Soph I shouldn't laugh but your face is a picture. I wouldn't stress though, the media have the details they need to know. I'm not planning on going into full detail about my due date or anything like that. We all know baby is due at the beginning of summer break which is impeccable timing from us by the way but the media don't need to know any of that. I just hope he doesn't come the weekend of Hungary" I'm happy to share somethings with the world but the finer details I want to keep to myself.

"What's your thoughts on the media asking questions? It's going to be the main thing they want ask about today and I need to know where you stand. If you don't want to answer anything further we tell them to not even bring it up"

"Lando knows what I'm happy for them to know, we're okay with them asking some questions"

"Anything we don't want public I'll just say no comment" for someone who's so confident the thought of telling the world any kind of detail about my pregnancy terrified me at first, however Lando has made me feel so at ease despite us both having no idea what we've let ourselves in for.

A short while later Lando is ready for his first interviews of the day, I'm not involved in any of the interviews I wouldn't want to be but I've chosen to be here so I can hear what is said directly before any media outlets get the chance to alter Lando's words. I'm grateful one of Lando's first interviews is with Crofty, we've both known him for many years and I know he's never going to be there to judge us.

"Before we get started I just want to congratulate you both. You've both been around the paddock long enough for me to know that you're both good people and this couldn't be happening to two nicer people"

"Thank you, that means a lot" although I've been around Formula One for most of my life, I've never realised how many people have paid an interest in my life not just since I got with Lando but before that as well.

As the interview begins I can't help but smile at Lando smiling. Since we found out we are going to be parents he's smiled more, something I didn't think possible. When we'd spoken about kids I wanted to wait a few years but I think deep down Lando wanted kids sooner, especially since he watched Max become a dad and how much he's loved every moment since Rafe was born.

"Do you mind if I ask how Lucía told you she's pregnant? Did you expect it?" As Crofty asks the question both Lando and I burst out laughing.

"It wasn't all cute and sweet as you'd expect but it was a complete surprise for both of us. I told her to fuck off about five times because I thought she was winding me up. When I realised she was being serious I called her a knob only because she'd roped me into some couples challenge where I had to lift her off the ground and spin her round. Apparently she had to find an excuse to film something to get my reaction"

The day I told Lando about being pregnant is a day I'll never forget. I wanted to find a way to film his reaction without it being suspicious and after spending most of the morning scrolling tiktok that's when I got the idea to persuade him to try a couples challenge. Thankfully he agreed after a few eye rolls but it worked out perfectly. His reaction was exactly what I would have expected from either one of us.

Slowly making our way back to McLaren's hospitality after the interview we get stopped by so many people offering their congratulations. It's insane to me how much attention turns to you with the slightest announcement especially when a few people around the paddock already knew. Grabbing a decaf iced latte I find myself a seat outside in the sun where I'm joined by Lando and Chelsea.

"I can't breathe" letting out a deep breath I try to get my breath back.

"Are you okay baby?" Lando asks his voice laced with its usual concern.

"No your child is rearranging all of my internal organs one by one but I'll be fine. I'll be even better when he's here" I know Lando worries no matter how many times I tell him this is normal especially for someone 36 weeks pregnant.

"How does it feel knowing you're going to have a little human of your own in a matter of weeks?" Chelsea asks, she's one person I don't mind sharing details with.

"Fucking terrifying" I admit. I've told Lando multiple times that I'm nervous however that doesn't take away my excitement "I know we look after Rafe sometimes but it's completely different knowing this baby is a combination of us two and we can't just give him back when things get tough. We're going to be responsible for a whole human"

"You're going to be the best mum to him. He's going to be a mummy's boy and he's going to be obsessed with you just as much as I am" feeling Lando kiss me on the top of my head I lean into his touch. Every time I start to get nervous, he knows how to ease my fears "I have to go and do some filming but come and get me if you need anything" watching Lando rush off to where he needs to be late as always I smile at how attentive he is.

"He really is obsessed with you and it's only going to be worse once baby is here. I thought after you first met things would fizzle out and the two of you would clash being so similar but you're actually perfect for each other" looking at Chelsea I think about what she's saying. So many people thought me and Lando wouldn't last purely because of how we got together and the odds were probably stacked against us but I couldn't imagine my life without him. He's my voice of reason.

"I couldn't cope without him Chels. Don't get me wrong we do clash and argue but he keeps me sane and he keeps me calm. I think I met him at a perfect time" now I'm with Lando I couldn't ever imagine being with anyone else. I couldn't imagine starting a family with anyone else.

"You'll be pleased to know the fans are loving the announcement. I've seen a few comment how real you are for wearing crocs and walking around with your jeans open"

"Crocs are about the only things my feet fit into right now and the jeans are open because I've ate far too much and felt like I was being cut in two. They were a bad idea on my part however if I wanted them to know how real I am I'd tell them my body suit is also open because Lando wasn't around to fasten the poppers for me"

"Only you, Lucía" Chelsea says with a laugh "I need to get back to your dad but if you need anything like Lando said, come and find one of us"

The full weekend goes by in the blink of an eye. Lando has dominated all weekend and gets a clean sweep giving him back to back wins at Silverstone. Something I know means so much to him and as his fiancé I could not be prouder if I tried. Our visit to the UK is a flying one and before I know it we're back in Monaco. 

"Come here baby" Lando says as he opens his arms to me "you're exhausted aren't you" 

"Yeah I am" I don't even try to argue with Lando, the travel and back to back events of the weekend have completely taken it out of me "I have so much to do as well, I don't have time to be exhausted" 

"Don't worry about anything. We'll get sorted" 

"Lando you've sprung a house move on me and you're not even going to be here when we get the keys. We have a whole apartment to pack up and I don't start my maternity leave for nearly two weeks" In his wisdom, Lando decided we needed somewhere bigger for the three of us to live and now we don't get the keys for two weeks when I'll be 38 weeks pregnant and Lando will be getting ready to leave for Spa. 

"Baby don't stress. The apartment is practically move in ready"

"I am stressed though! You'll be in Hungary on my due date and Spa the week before. I'm so scared you're not going to be here and I'll have to do this on my own" Thinking about the next few weeks overwhelms me. There is so much going on and I don't know where to begin but the fact I’m not in complete control is what stresses me out the most. 

"Lu, you're never going to be on your own. Would I like to win back to back championships? Absolutely but the second there is anything happening with you or our baby that is all forgotten about. If I'm in Spa or Hungary I'll drop everything to come home to you, I've told McLaren I need a jet on stand by at all times. This is the reason we have a reserve driver. There is no one more important than you and our baby boy. I'm not missing his birth for anyone" 

"I'm not doubting that you'd be there, I know you'd come home for us the second I need you. I think I'm just scared now I know how close it is to our lives changing forever. We're never just going to be Lucía and Lando again" once this baby is here I know, regardless of what happens Lando and I are tied together for life. It's never going to just be us two again, we have a whole new purpose in life.  

"It is scary and it's a massive change for both of us but we have each other baby. If we have each other we can get through anything. You're still going to be you, no one especially me will see you as just a mum"

"I know you're right I just think I'm getting into my own head"

"It's been a long couple of days. Why don't we go to bed and tomorrow I'll handle some of the packing while you work? Let me take as much stress off you as I can"

"That's the best thing you've ever said to me. I can't believe how lucky I got with you" there's just something about Lando, no matter how stressed I am, he always know how to deal with me. I know every single day that I'm lucky to have Lando. My relationship with him was unexpected, I never would have planned to go to a race weekend with the intention of finding a boyfriend but I truly believe everything happens for a reason.

The next couple of weeks pass in a blur, I'm finally finished work for my maternity leave and the apartment move is in full swing. After the race in Spa, Lando made sure to come home the same night especially knowing my due date is so close and left it as late as he could before he left for Hungary. It's now Sunday after Lando has just won in Hungary and I know he'll be home soon. McLaren have stuck to their word and had a jet waiting for him to come home with today being my due date however this baby is showing no sign of moving any time soon.

While I wait for Lando to get home, I've made a start on baby's room. I know the apartment was move in ready but this is the one room I want to make changes to. In the time Lando has been away I've turned my hand to DIY and decided to paint the bedroom, I always thought nesting was a myth until it’s happened to me. I know baby won't be in this room for a long time but I still want him to have his own space. I was going to leave it until Lando got home after I built baby's pram but I'm itching to get everything done as soon as possible.

"Lucía I'm home" hearing Lando walk through the door I feel a relief I wasn't expecting. He's home for summer break and he's going to be here when baby is born.

"I'm in here!" Shouting to let Lando know where I am, I put the paint brush down.

"What the fuck are you doing up there! Are you insane! You're nine months pregnant Lucía!" Lando practically screams in panic when he realises I'm standing on a ladder, probably not my smartest idea but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

"I'm okay babe don't panic. I just couldn't settle until I got this room finished" walking towards Lando I wrap my arms around him the best I can with a bump in between us "congratulations on your win Lando. I'm so proud of you" kissing Lando I feel like I can truly enjoy the lead up to our baby's birth now he's home for just over three weeks.

"Thank you. It would have been better to have you there but it feels good knowing the next one I'll have a son to race for. The car feels so good this season"

"He'll be supporting his daddy every single race and it won't be long until he's in the back of the garage cheering you on" I already know this baby will be making his appearance at a race sooner rather than later, Lando doesn't know it yet but my plan is to try and go to Monza before the long haul races begin again later in the season but I want to keep it as a surprise.

"I can't wait until you're both there and he's wearing his LN4 merch but right now I need you to put the paint away because I want to take you for dinner to celebrate my win with the love of my life"

"It's late Lan, can we just order food in? I will put the paint away now you're home though" all I have to do in the bedroom now is decorate with accessories once the cot is in place. Lando has already said he wants to build the cot and I'm not going to stop him, however I know he's useless at painting which is one of the main reason why I did it while he's been away.

"If we're still celebrating I'm happy to order in. I'm not going to drag you out into the streets of Monaco if you want to stay home"

"I'm always going to celebrate you however my feet are so swollen and I can barely walk without being out of breath. That is a sight no one wants to see walking around Monaco" if Lando really wants to go out I'll go but at the minute the only thing I am close to comfortable is crocs and massively oversized t-shirts. I went through a stage of only wearing Lando's t-shirts however I'm too big for that now so I had to buy new ones.

"We can stay home, I want you to be comfortable over everything. I know how hard it's been these last few weeks but you've been mega" over the last few weeks I think Lando has realised and appreciated what I've put my body through. I can't complain about being pregnant, I've had it plain sailing until I've got towards the end but I'm really feeling how much it's taking its toll now.

Over the next few days Lando helps me get the nursery finished between midwife appointments to find out what's happening. Now I'm overdue there's talk of my labour being induced, something I'm on board with because I want Lando to get as much time as possible with baby before he has to leave for the Dutch Grand Prix. In our final appointment it's decided that I'll be taken into hospital Thursday with the aim of baby being born the Thursday or Friday at the latest. I'm happy with the decision and it means Lando will have the best part of three weeks with us.

As Thursday arrives along with my mum and Lando's parent my nerves are through the roof. Today is the day my life is going to change forever. Right now we're sat around waiting for the green light to go into hospital however after ringing them a couple of times throughout the day my time keeps being pushed back due to them being busy. The longer I wait, the more on edge I become.

"Do you think I could just turn up at hospital?" I ask my mum wondering what the hospital would do considering I've waited all day from 7am for the go ahead.

"Probably not they'd just send you home until they're ready for you especially with you not being in labour. Why don't you try and get some sleep?"

"I can't sleep mum I'm too nervous" I know Lando is also feeling the nerves which is why I sent him out with his dad for a while. I know he won't tell me how he's feeling to stop me worrying but I know he'll open up to his dad, something I know he needs.

"Lucía you need all the energy you can get, at least go and lie on the bed and rest until the hospital phone" I can't argue with my mum even now as an adult about to have her own baby so I make my way to the bedroom leaving my mum and Cisca to talk about their grandson, a first for them both.

Eventually I get the call I've waited all day for, the hospital want me to go in at midnight. It seems crazy to me that they want me to go at that time but I'm not going to turn them down. Once Lando and I arrive at hospital we're shown to a room where we're told we'll meet our midwife who will be looking after us.

"Can you believe this is happening?" Lando asks and I can see he's starting to get nervous despite trying to stay positive for me.

"Not at all. I've been scared this whole pregnancy about giving birth and the thought of it makes me feel sick" I've never hid how scared I am of actually having to push a baby out of my body and now it's here that fear is the worst it's ever been.

"I'm going to be by your side every step of the way baby. You're not doing this alone. You're going to have me here the whole time I'm not going anywhere and your mum will be here once you're in labour" there was never a question about Lando being by my side, however I decided I also want my mum to be here as well. I can only have two birthing partner or I would have also liked Cisca to be here as well but she's holding the fort at home.

As the night drags on I try to get as much sleep as I can while Lando tries to sleep in the chair next to my bed but being in hospital I only manage to sleep in short bursts at a time. After what feels like a lifetime, I finally get introduced to a midwife nearly seven hours after I first arrived. She talks Lando and I through the process of what is going to happen to induce labour and what options I have for pain medication. I already know I want it all, I want this experience to be as pain free as it can be.

Before this was happening to me I had no idea how painfully slow it would be for labour to start and it feels like it has taken an eternity for anything to progress however now it has I'm feeling pain like I've never felt before. Rocking on the birthing ball I can see the distress on Lando's face knowing he can't do anything for me other than try to offer words of comfort.

"You're doing amazing baby. How's the pain now?"

"I'm so tired Lan" the doctor has just given me a dose of diamorphine for the pain but now I feel like I'm slurring my words. They did warn it could slow down labour and make me feel more tired but I didn't think I'd feel this tired.

"I know the doctor said to stay on the ball if you can but why don't you try and sleep? You've barely slept since yesterday and you look like you’re about to pass out any minute" I know Lando is right and I need all the energy I can get to push this baby out so I let him help me into bed.

"Thank you for being here" holding Lando's hand I quickly fall into a deep sleep and know nothing until I wake up completely dazed to a room full of what looks like doctors with panicked looks on their faces "what's happening?"

"It's nothing to worry about Lucía we're just doing a check on baby" I hear someone tell me. I have no idea what time it is or anything, I have no sense of what is going on but I see Lando stood with my mum also looking worried.

"Lando what's happening?" I ask Lando because I know he'll be honest with me, I find doctors sometimes try to sugarcoat things but I need the truth.

"Baby's heart rate is a little bit low but they think you're ready to push"

"Is he going to be okay?"

"He will be. He's made of strong stuff like his mummy" dosing back off to sleep I don't take in the seriousness of what is being said but my mum is still calm and if she is calm I know things can't be that bad.

The rest of my labour is a complete blur. I register the midwife telling me I can push however due to the amount of pain relief I've been given I don't remember much of actually pushing. Before I know it I'm being handed a screaming baby and I burst into tears as my baby boy is placed on my chest for the first time.

"You did it baby. I'm so proud of you" as Lando kisses me I realise he has tears streaming down his face.

"I couldn't have done it without you. I love you so much Lando"

"I love you too my girl. I am in complete awe of what you have just done" as Lando looks down at our baby I can't believe we've created this little human "he's absolutely perfect"

"He really is. Our perfect little boy"

"Congratulations you two. I'm so unbelievably proud of you both" my mum says hugging me and Lando as she tries to stop her tears "I have the most perfect grandson in the world. I take back everything I ever said about being too young to be a nana"

"You'll be the best nana to him mum" as a nurse takes our baby to clean him up I look at Lando in complete shock "oh my god we're actually parents"

"We are and I can't wait for us to do this together" as Lando kisses me again I wipe his tears before telling the nurse to hand our baby to him. From the day I found out I was pregnant this is what I've waited for the most. The moment I get to see Lando holding our baby in his arms.

"Lucía we're having a problem with your placenta delivering. Are you okay if we get on of the doctors to try and pull it out while another tries to push it from your stomach?" A nurse asks me and I have no idea what this means. I know my placenta needs to come out but I had no idea there could be an issue with that.

"Yeah do what you need to do" I agree with the nurse but little did I know it would be the most painful thing I've ever experienced. I feel everything that is happening and the tears roll down my face in pain.

"You need to stop you're hurting her" hearing Lando trying to stop the doctors I realise how bad this must be for him.

"Lando calm down. They need to do it or she'll end up seriously poorly" as my mum tries to calm Lando, I scream at the doctors to stop. The pain is unbearable.

"I can't do it. That hurts too much" crying in pain I know I can't go on. I don't know what my options are but there has to be something else the doctors can try.

"We can stop Lucía but you're losing a lot of blood. The only other thing we can do is take you into surgery" I don't really know what I'm agreeing to I feel so out of it but I realise I'm being taken out of the delivery room and moved into an operating theatre.

Stirring in bed I realise the lights are dimmed but I have no idea where I am. I can see Lando at my bedside holding our newborn close to his chest and my mum is sat at the other side of the room looking more stressed than I've ever seen her before.

"Hi baby how you feeling?" Lando asks when he realises I'm awake.

"Like I've been hit with a truck. What time is it?" It looks dark outside so I must have been out a while.

"Just after 9pm. Do you want to hold him?"

"Yeah please" nodding as Lando hands me our baby I look at him in awe, he's absolutely perfect "the last I remember it was around 4pm"

"I'm not surprised, you've had a tough time of it Luc. You had us worried for a moment"

"What happened?" I have no clue what has happened to me in the last few hours.

"You ended up losing a litre and a half of blood so they took you into surgery to remove all of your placenta because it wouldn't come out. They've had to give you a blood transfusion but they said you should make a full recovery" as my mum explains what has gone on I realise how serious the situation was "I'll go and phone your dad so he knows your awake. He's beside himself with worry" as my mum leaves Lando and I alone I try to let it sink in. 

“I’m sorry I worried you” I can see in Lando’s face just how stressed he’s been, that’s one thing about him; no matter what his face gives him away especially his eyes.

“Don’t you dare apologise. This wasn’t your fault I’m just relieved you’re going to be okay. I was so scared I was going to lose you”

“I’m not going anywhere other than home with my two boys” after the day we’ve have I want nothing more than to get home to my own bed. You’d think by now they’d learn to make hospital beds more comfortable than they are.

“They think you’ll be able to leave tomorrow they just need to do blood tests first”

“It can’t come quick enough. Have you thought about any names for him while I’ve been out cold?” I know we’ve been putting this off but now I have my baby in my arms I know we need to come to a decision about his name.

“I have actually. I’ve looked through loads of names and I quite like Rubén and there’s a Spanish spelling so we’re not ignoring your roots but if you hate it we can look again”

“Rubén” looking down at our baby I actually think it suits him “Rubén Norris has a ring to it. I like it”

“Do you actually?” Lando sounds surprised that I’ve actually agreed with him on a name out of the thousands we’ve looked at.

“I really like it and I like the fact you’ve brought my Spanish side into it. That’s really thoughtful” the fact Lando has covered all bases is really touching and in my state of heightened emotion I find myself crying again.

“Don’t cry baby” as Lando rests his forehead again mine I kiss him softly “I love you my girl. I didn’t think I could love you anymore than I did until I’ve just witnessed what I have today”

“I love you Lando. Me and Rubén couldn’t have don’t this without you”

“Does that mean you want to call him Rubén?”

“I do. The more I look at him the more I think the name suits him and then we he’s older I can’t wait to tell him that it was his daddy who picked his name” looking at our baby I can’t believe he’s here. I can’t believe he’s ours. I may be biased but together we’ve created the most beautiful baby I’ve ever laid eyes on.

esmelucia and landonorris

Liked by carlossainz55, lewishamilton, livdavies and 3.6m others

esmelucia our baby boy finally made his dramatic entrance into the world on Friday 7th August. Rubén Jack you are everything we dreamed of and more 🩵.

landonorris I could not have done any of this without you by my side. You have been my rock from day one and we both love you endlessly. No words will ever be enough to express how grateful I am for you.

View all comments

maxfewtrell congratulations again and welcome to the best club. Rafe cant wait to meet him

-> esmelucia you’re all welcome to come over any time

landonorris I love you both so much my girl

-> esmelucia 🤍🥹

user931 McLaren’s 2044 rookie has arrived

user583 literally the cutest baby I’ve ever seen

-> user525 it’s like Lando has cloned himself

-> esmelucia no denying who his dad is 😅

• • •

So when I originally wrote this story there was never any kind of plan to write more and especially something as long as this has turned out to be but I just can’t let these two go 🥹. Hope you all love this as much as I did writing it 🤍

[prototumblinguist]

epistemic and deontic readings

It should be night for a month just so we can see who panics who lives and who dies

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 43

PREV

FF is a pretty good student. Solid Bs in his Gen-eds and As in regard to his major. With one C+ that he’s still working on with Captain Neil but it’s higher than the D+ that he had been pulling before Captain Neil had started to tutor him and he really just needs to pass the one gen-ed required math class.

There was many a deep breathing exercise before he made an appointment with his educational advisor for the next semester back in October but it hadn’t been that bad even though she was the one that had asked if he knew anyone good at math since it obviously was not a strong suit of his. So he dragged his grade up from a D+ to a C+ and he was pretty proud of that.

FF has a preferred spot in each and every one of his classrooms. In his Gen-Ed courses he sits in spots that the Professors don’t even notice and where there is almost always a gap between him and the next person. He arrives perfectly almost late every single day for every single class he can to achieve this feat.

For his Major classes he sits near the front with the few Foreign Language major friends that he has.

FF likes to be prepared. Studying was a nice way to prepare for the future. If he’s already read the entire textbook front to back and taken notes then a pop quiz can’t catch him off guard. He double, triple, and quadruple checks homework. He could probably recite the syllabus for any of his classes off the top of his head. He has read it so much to make sure he’s gotten everything and is on track.

FF kind of likes finals week.

For once, for one week, everyone is as anxious as him.

He sits next to Nicky patting his back as his friend sobs into a pillow. “I’m not going to graduate and it’s going to delay seeing Erik by an entire year!” Nicky yells as he brings his face out of the pillow.

“Nicky, you only got one flashcard wrong how about you shut the fuck up!” Aaron yells from his desk where he seems to have spontaneously developed ambidextrousness as he writes notes with both hands. “Fuck I am NEVER fitting all of this one one index card.” Aaron slams his face into the table.

“I don’t even need this degree.” Matt says looking down at a textbook that he has not turned a page on for the last hour. The fact that Matt had also not even opened that textbook before now was a bit of a cause for concern. “I’ve already got offers for professional teams. I can just play Exy. I do not need to pass a workplace psychology course.” Matt says.

“You think Dan wants an idiot?!” Nicky demands not wanting to go down alone.

“She thinks it’s cute that I’m stupid!” Matt exclaims.

“No she doesn’t!” Aaron points at him, “She said and I quote ‘I love it when you use that big ol sexy brain of yours.’ the last time you had her on speaker phone!” he uses a slightly more…effeminate voice when he impersonates Dan but FF had spoken with Dan and to his memory she did not sound like that.

“Fuck you’re right she deserves an all rounder!” Matt cries, head in his hands.

“Why do I even have to TAKE this Gen-Ed about history?” Nicky demands now holding onto FF as if he were a teddy bear.

“So that we’re well-rounded individuals with a wider perspective on-”

“Smithy, my sweet child, I was not looking for an answer.” he feels Nicky’s hand come up to his hair and maybe he’s being treated more like a favored pet?

“You’re having trouble with a Gen-Ed?!” Aaron asks turning around in his seat, “That’s embarrassing.” he turns his nose up.

“I’m having trouble with something that is going to be useless in my adult life.” Nicky says as if he were not currently an adult. “You are having issues with a class that will have huge ramifications on your future if you don’t manage to learn it!” Nicky points out.

“Eat my shorts Nicky.” Aaron hisses.

“Maybe I could study if you would wash your shorts Aaron. I can smell your laundry pile from over here!” Matt spits.

The fight devolved from there and FF slipped out of the dorm as Nicky was holding a chair over his head to seemingly throw at Matt for his ‘unreasonable number of sticky notes messing up the flow of Nicky’s studying’.

He heard a crash.

“It’s probably fine.” he says to himself and he has his index cards with the speech he has to give for and he really should go over to talk with Captain Neil.

He walks to Captain Neil, Andrew, and Kevin’s door and- “There faster-!”

FF walks away from Captain Neil, Andrew, and Kevin’s door, remembering only in this moment that Kevin had declared that he would be “Living in the library until this paper is done or I am.” to the team at the last practice of the year.

Captain Neil and Andrew were never the type to waste an empty dorm room.

He misses Pepto Bismol as he hears a particularly dirty line of Russian coming from his Captain’s dorm room.

***

Eventually Finals week is done and dusted with only 4-5 more blow-ups in his dorm room that result in Nicky, Aaron, and Matt stopping their fight to see if they accidentally had knocked him out with all of the thrown debris (only happened once when Aaron threw a textbook that Nicky ducked but he didn’t.)

FF came out of his final…final feeling pretty good all around. He had managed to get some extra tutoring time with Captain Neil after Kevin managed to finish his history paper a little early. Despite all of their fears and complaints Aaron, Nicky, and Matt all did manage to pass all of their finals and their classes.

The Tower was closing tomorrow for the rest of the year and despite checking almost every day with Nicky he still was invited to go to New York City with most of the team to stay at Allison’s house.

“Smithy, did you pack a swimsuit?” Nicky asks.

“Nicky, we’re going to New York for Christmas break. Do you think we’re going to swim?” Aaron asks incredulously.

“Two words, my fetus of a cousin: Hot. Tub.” Nicky holds his hand up and putting one finger up and then another. “Is hot tub two words?” Matt asks as he reaches for his own swim trunks.

“Yes Matt hot tub is two words.” FF says nodding.

“Thank you Smithster.” Matt says.

“I can’t believe you don’t know that hot tub is two words.” Aaron says with a huff.

“I can’t believe that you don’t know how to not be an asshole even after you started getting regular sex with Katelyn.” Matt returns, “Look at how not a thing that was when Smithster answered it.” he gestures to FF.

“You cannot compare Smithy to Aaron. Apples and Tomatoes.” Nicky dismisses.

“Whatever, so Allison got a hot tub at her place?” Aaron moves past the conversation.

“Aaron you just made fun of Matt for asking stupid questions.” Nicky says with a hand on his cheek.

“I fucking hate being part of your family.” Aaron says without any real heat.

“Yeah sure.” Nicky says, rolling his eyes and smiling as he saw Aaron packing swim trunks that FF knew he had bought for his cousin.

“Okay, I’ve got the packing list that Allison sent. Do we wanna run through it so that we’re all properly packed?” Matt says holding up his phone.

“Yeah, let’s run through it.” Nicky says with a sigh.

They went through Allison’s provided list twice and then zipped up their suitcases. Smith was going to be driving to the airport with Matt. Neil and Andrew were going to be driving the Maserati up alone while the rest of them were going to be flying up to New York City.

Now onto something that filled FF with far more dread than simply passing tests that determined whether or not he continued to get a free ride in college.

Meeting new people.

NEXT >>

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

[blizzardfluffykpop]

alright~ a few updates about everything! so this weekend I'll be seeing changkyun in chicago- so I prolly won't be posting until after I'm alive again from that 😂😅 (I am vv excited about it- I just know I'll be vv tired when I return home). Anyways, I have a few fics in the works~ one of them that is a request 🤭 I'm vv excited to work on them! But I think I'm going to change my masterlist a bit when I come back. I'm going to retire a few groups from the main masterlist and I've been debating for the past year about it... But I think I'm going to add a yearly masterlist- So it would go from most recent to the beginning of this year~

I'm also thinking about changing my pfp- I haven't been really into stray kids for uh... years- But I will be sure to make an update about that if I go thru with that too- (It may be ji changmin next 🫣🤭)

Anyways those are my few updates 🥰💖

[adore-gregor]

Lol I keep on doing this, saying I'd come back to tumblr to only disappear again 😂😭

[indiegame]

im not ready for work drama all week. again.

[autisticlee]

I stopped marking anxiety on medical forms where it asks what i've been diagnosed with in the past because I experienced every doctor telling me all my problems were anxiety and getting no help. except trying to convince me to take anti anxiety meds (tried once and made me have constant panic attacks and I only slept i think 5 hours in a week and was having hallucinations and stuff. never again!!!) but when i'm having heart rate increase with palpitations and shaking and dizziness and sweating and weakness and completely exhasution and feeling out of breath, nausea, and etc, it happens without the anxiety brain symptoms. I just stand up and it happens, even if head empty. but doesn't happen if i'm layijg down and worrying about a thing?? not sure if I should try talking to a doctor about it again and hope not marking the anxiety box helps, or just assume i'll be told it's anxiety again and not waste my energy..........

[thethingything]

the sun's started rising around the same time it does in late spring so now I've got that weird nostalgia for when I first showed up in the system and I'm also stuck thinking about when Lucy was like "September is the March of the year" because while that's kind of a ridiculous quote, I do get what they meant with it