#I don't think the real one would appreciate it

[requiemforthepoets]

ain’t nothing like an asian wedding! 𖦹 LN4

part one

PAIRINGS: lando norris x female!asian!reader

SUMMARY: you and lando just wanted to make the most of your singapore trip before heading off to the UK, but it seems like everything descended into series of unfortunate events. though maybe, this is also a way to get lando be acquainted with everyone that may or may not drive your whole family crazy and singapore’s social elites on a daily basis.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: non-use of y/n, reader is asian, foul language, traditional family, asian culture & tradition, food, google translated chinese, mentions of gutted fish, crazy rich asians inspired + plot, heiress reader, named characters (except reader, names are mostly taken from CRA), social status, high society, minor public indecency (not main characters), mentions of marriage & grandchild, mean/bully characters, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 18k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!! i hope you are all having a very wonderful holidays! so i have decided to post the part 2 of ‘stickwitu’, ask and you shall receive! lolz but i love crazy rich asians so much and i just can’t let go of this kind of crossover (?). i had decided to chop off this one to three parts, with 20k max of word count since i wanna get it all out there. this one is open for taglist as well since there will be a part 3 of this, so just comment if you wanna be tagged hehe. your comments/reblogs are highly appreciated 🥺 hope you’ll enjoy this second part! <3

The early return was unplanned but felt necessary after everything that happened at Araminta’s bachelorette party. The atmosphere among the girls was tense, full of subtle jabs and veiled competition that you and Rachel simply were not in the mood to tolerate any longer.

On the second day, when you got the chance, over breakfast, you leaned over to Rachel and whispered your plan. She hesitated at first, unsure if Araminta would even believe it, but eventually nodded in agreement, trusting you to handle the situation.

You approached Araminta just before the midday activities, adopting a concerned tone as you told her that Rachel was not really feeling well. You explained how she had been feeling faint and a bit queasy since the night before but had been trying to push through. Araminta’s face immediately fell into worry, and she reached out to Rachel, who played her part perfectly, adding a weak smile and saying she just needed rest.

“I’m so sorry,” Rachel murmured, holding Araminta’s hand. ���I really wanted to stay, but I think it’s better if I head back to the city.”

Araminta turned to you, her concern for Rachel deepened. “Do you need me to come with you? I don't want you both traveling alone if she’s not well.”

You shook your head, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “Absolutely not. Minty, this is your bachelorette party, and you shouldn’t leave everyone behind. I’ll take care of everything. We’ll be fine, I promise.”

It took some convincing, but eventually, Araminta relented. She hugged you both tightly, telling Rachel to rest and recover, that she’ll be seeing you both on the wedding day. As you left the island, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt at the lie, but the overwhelming relief of leaving outweighed it.

The flight back to the city was quiet at first, the two of you decompressing from the tension of the past day. Rachel let out a laugh, shaking her head. “I can’t believe we pulled that off. I feel terrible lying to her, though.”

You sighed, leaning back into the plush seat. “I know. But honestly, that crowd was unbearable. You shouldn’t have had to endure that.”

“Thank you for getting me out of there. I owe you one.” Rachel smiled gratefully at you.

Once you landed, the two of you decided to make the most of the unexpected free day. You took her to some of your favorite spots in Singapore, then introduced her to local dishes and hidden gems around the city. From the bustling hawker centers to the serene gardens, you wanted her to see more than just the usual tourist spots.

“You weren’t kidding when you said Singapore is magical,” she said as she admired the view from Marina Bay Sands.

“It’s home,” you replied with a small smile. “And now you’ve seen a little piece of it.”

By the time you dropped her off at the hotel, it was late, the city lights twinkling against the dark sky. As you hugged her goodbye, Rachel whispered, “thanks again for today. I really needed this.”

“You’re very welcome, and hey, if anyone asks, you’re still recovering from that ‘terrible stomach bug.’”

Your family driver was already waiting as you stepped out of the hotel. You gave Rachel one last wave before sliding into the car, sinking into the leather seat as the city blurred past the window. The relief of being home and away from the chaos of the island was evident, and for the first time in days, you felt at ease.

The house was quiet as you stepped inside, but your mind was already racing with the thought of seeing Lando. The faint hum of the air conditioner and the soft creak of the floor beneath your feet were the only sounds accompanying you as you called out his name. No response.

You wandered from room to room, checking the living room, kitchen, even the study, but there was no sign of him. Then, as you approached the sliding glass doors leading to the patio, you saw him sitting there, phone in hand, smiling and laughing as he talked to someone on facetime.

Lando’s gaze shifted towards the door as you slid it open, and his face lit up when he saw you. He motioned for you to come over, his smile growing even more brighter. You made your way to him, the cool evening breeze brushing against your skin.

As you reached him, you wrapped an arm around his neck, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips. His free arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, and he returned the kiss, deeper and more deliberate. When you pulled away slightly, he looked up at you, his eyes filled with warmth and a hint of surprise.

“You’re back early,” he murmured softly, his thumb grazing your hip.

“I’ll tell you everything later,” you said, glancing toward the phone in his hand. It was that you noticed the familiar face on the screen, Max. “Hi, Max,” you greeted warmly.

“Hey, you,” Max replied with a grin, leaning closer to the camera. “Back already? Thought you were off on some wild bachelorette adventure?”

You laughed softly. “Something like that. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you guys. How have you been? And Pietra? I can’t wait to catch up when we're in the UK for Christmas.”

Max chuckled. “We’re good. Pietra’s already planning the whole holiday—dinner menus, decorations, everything. You’ll have to let her drag you into the chaos.”

Lando shifted slightly, pulling you down onto his lap, his hand resting on your waist as he held his phone with the other. You settled against him, his fingers idly tracing shapes on your side while you continued chatting with Max.

“She doesn’t have to drag me. I’m ready for it,” you replied, smiling. “Tell her to save me a spot in the kitchen, I’m good at taste-testing.”

“I’ll pass that on,” Max and Lando shared a laugh, but then Max’s expression softened. “Honestly though, it’s good seeing you hoth happy. Pietra and I were just talking about how happy you’ve made this muppet. But you know, we were skeptical at first.”

“Oh, I remember,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Something about expecting me to be snobby?”

Max laughed, holding both his hands up in defense. “Hey, it’s not everyday that someone from your background walks into our lives. But you proved us wrong pretty quickly. You’re as down-to-earth as they come, and more importantly, you make little Lando happy. That’s all we care about.”

Your gaze shifted to Lando, whose thumb was tracing idle patterns on your side, a content smile resting on his face. “Well, he makes me happy too,” you said softly.

Max smiled. “Good. That’s all that matters. Anyway, I’ll let you two catch up. Don’t keep him up too late.”

You laughed, nodding. “I’ll make sure he gets some sleep. See you soon, Max.”

“See you soon,” he replied, before ending the call.

As the screen went dark, Lando set his phone down and wrapped both arms around you, holding you close.

“I missed you,” he murmured, voice low and earnest.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, leaning into him, the weight of the past few days melting away in his embrace.

The evening air was cool and crisp as you sat comfortably on Lando’s lap, the soft hum of distant city noise blending with the quiet rustle of leaves. His arm rested securely around your waist while his other hand lazily drummed against the armrest of the chair. He tilted his head slightly to look at you, his expression soft but curious.

“So,” he began, voice low and easy, “why are you back early? I thought you had a few more days of bachelorette shenanigans left.”

You let out a small sigh, glancing at the darkened sky before turning your gaze back to him. “It’s a long story,” you said, trying to suppress the frustration that the memory brought up.

Lando’s brows lifted slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “We’ve got plenty of time and I’m not going anywhere,” he teased, tone light as he tightened his arm around you.

You laughed softly before settling deeper into his embrace. “Okay, so Rachel traveled with Minty and the other girls ahead of me to Samsara, right? I had to leave later because of a meeting, so I got there after everyone else.”

Lando nodded, his thumb tracing small circles on your side, silently encouraging you to continue.

“When I arrived at the villa,” you said, voice dropping slightly, “I saw Rachel speed-walking back from the spa. She was just wearing her robe, and she looked…off. Like she was about to cry, so I went to her and asked what happened, but she didn’t answer me right away. She just kept walking, looking like she wanted to disappear.”

His expression shifted to one of concern, his brows furrowing as he listened intently.

“I followed her back to the villa she was staying,” you continued, tone growing more serious. “And that’s when we saw a huge gutted fish on her bed, with pink lipstick scrawled across the glass window that said, catch this, you gold-digging bitch.”

Lando’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, his jaw tensing. “What the hell?” he muttered, his voice edged with disbelief.

“I know,” you said, exhaling sharply at the memory. “I wanted to call security right then and there, but Rachel stopped me—she didn’t want to make a scene. She was so humiliated, Lan. You could see it all over her face.”

He shook his head, voice low. “That’s fucking awful. Who even does something like that?”

“Oh, I know exactly who’s capable of pulling this kind of stunt,” you said scoffing, tone sharp with certainty. “Francesca Shaw. That little bitch.”

“Who’s Francesca Shaw?” Lando asked in curiosity.

You tilted your head, letting out a dry laugh. “She’s Nadine Shaw’s daughter, one of Auntie Eleanor’s closest friends. Francesca used to be an heiress to the Shaw Foods fortune, but her grandfather cut her off completely from the will after waking up from coma. Guess grandpa Shaw didn’t like how little miss two-faced was spending the family money.”

His brows shot up in surprise. “So, she’s broke now?”

“Eh, pretty much,” you said. “And before you ask, yes, she’s also Nicky’s ex. They dated briefly years ago, but it didn’t go anywhere because Nicky didn’t like how her attitude began to change for the worse. Francesca clearly thought she still had shot, but when Rachel came into the picture, that dream was practically over. She’s been a bitter bitch ever since.”

Lando leaned back slightly, grip still firm on your waist. “So, she’s trying to ruin things for them all because of jealousy?”

“Not just jealousy,” you corrected. “Envy. She’s spent her whole life in circles like ours, and now that she’s lost her position, she’s desperate to claw her way back in. She probably sees Rachel as a threat, someone she thinks doesn’t belong.”

He shook his head, clearly frustrated. “That’s pathetic. I can’t believe someone would go that far.”

“I know,” you said softly. “But Rachel didn’t want to make waves, especially not at Minty’s party. It wasn’t the time or place, and honestly, I just wanted to get her out of there. I wasn’t going to let Rachel stay there a second longer, so I told her to act like she was sick, and we left. The toxicity is just too much.”

Lando’s eyes scanned your face, then pressed a soft kiss to your temple, voice filled with reassurance. “You did the right thing. I’m glad that you were there for her.”

You gave him a small smile, “I just couldn’t stand by and let Francesca get to her. Rachel doesn’t deserve any of the shit they’re throwing to her at all.”

“Neither of you do,” Lando said firmly. “But I’m glad you’re back.”

You nodded, feeling the tension in your body ease slightly as you settled back into his embrace, the weight of the day beginning to dissipate.

The next day, you and Lando found yourselves back at your Ah Ma’s estate, where everyone was gathered in the big, spacious dining room that was only reserved for the family. The air was warm with the aroma of fresh dough and seasoned fillings, as half a dozen maids moved seamlessly, rolling small balls of dough into flat circles and forming minced meat into dozens of uniform, expertly shaped balls.

You were seated beside Nick, with Lando on your other side. While this was not Lando’s first time making dumplings, you often found yourself teaching him the technique whenever you were in Monaco. It had become a little tradition between the two of you as well, and you always made sure to leave him with a stack of freshly prepared dumplings to store in his freezer before you fly back to New York.

Lando had a knack for making dumplings by now, though you couldn’t always trust him with all the cooking in general, especially after the time you learned through Max’s stream that he had been running on no sleep for twenty-six hours, eaten out-of-date food, and spent his break before the Las Vegas GP playing call of duty. Dumplings, at least, were something he could handle—trusting not to burn his own kitchen down.

A maid carried a tray of the minced meat balls to the center of the room, where your mother and other family members—Nick, Rachel, Oliver, and your Aunties Alix and Eleanor, were all gathered around a large table. They worked busily, folding dumplings with swift, practiced hands and placing them neatly into stacked bamboo steamers.

This was a cherished family tradition, and your Aunties led the effort with the ease of many years of experience, their hands moving expertly while they kept up a lively flow of conversation. The hum of chatter filled the dining room, blending perfectly with the rhythmic movements of the dumpling-making process.

Your Auntie Eleanor carefully inspected the tray of folded dumplings and gave a satisfactory nod of approval, her sharp eye ensuring every piece was up to standard. Meanwhile, your mother glanced at the dozen trays already filled, her expression betraying a mix of alarm and disbelief.

“This is all too much,” your Auntie Alix remarked, shaking her head as she folded another dumpling with her precise fingers. “We’re only hosting a rehearsal dinner, not feeding an entire army.”

Your Auntie Eleanor countered almost immediately, her tone firm yet practical. “It is better that it’s too much than too little. Imagine people saying we’re stingy, that’s much worse.”

On the other side of the table, Nick was patiently teaching Rachel how to fold her first dumpling. He held the thin dumpling dough in his hand, placed a small ball of minced meat in the center, and carefully folded the edges, sealing it closed with practiced ease.

“It’s like tucking in a baby,” Nick explained, glancing at Rachel with a smile.

Rachel’s face lit up at the analogy. “That’s so cute,” she said, then added with mock horror, “and then you eat the baby.”

Her comment sent everyone into fits of laughter. Then Oliver, always quick to join in on the fun, leaned forward and added his own take on how to fold a dumpling.

“Grand Auntie Mabel taught me that folding dumplings is like getting botox,” he said, picking up dumpling dough. “The filling is the botox, and the wrapper is the face. You pinch it here and here, and voilà! You now have a flawless face.”

The whole table erupted with laughter again, and Rachel, shaking her head at the humor, asked, “did you all learn how to make dumplings when you were kids?”

You turned to her and nodded, folding another dumpling as you replied, “we didn’t exactly have a choice, it was mandatory.”

Then your mother chimed in from across the table, her voice carrying a mix of pride and amusement. “We taught all of you so that you’ll all understand the blood, sweat, and tears it took to raise and feed you monkeys.” she said, folding her dumpling expertly and placing it on the tray.

Your Auntie Alix nodded in agreement with your mother. “Not like the ang-mohs, microwaving everything for their children. No wonder, when their parents grow old, they send them to the old folks’ home.”

Lando turned to you, asking silently that only the two of you could hear, “babe, what’s ang-mohs?”

“Oh, it’s a colloquial expression used to refer to Caucasians or Westerners.” you replied as Lando nodded.

“Exactly. That’s what Ah Ma always says, if we don’t pass down traditions like this, they slowly disappear.” your Auntie Eleanor chimed in, tone firm.

You snickered, rolling your eyes playfully as you murmured loud enough with the intent for everyone to hear, “well, God forbid that we lose the ancient Chinese tradition of guilting your children.”

“Honestly, learning how to make these dumplings is totally worth it. I remember back when I was little, Mom used to wait for me after school with a basket of fresh dumplings.” Nick added, voice softened at the memory, and your Auntie Eleanor smiled, corners of her mouth tugging upward in quiet nostalgia.

“幸運嘅男孩!” (lucky boy!) your Auntie Alix said.

You turned to your mother and teased, “how come I never got after-school dumplings?”

Before your mother could muster out a reply, Oliver had beat her to it, smirking as he quipped, “well, probably because Auntie Elizabeth was busy having an after-school microdermabrasion.”

Your mother gasped, mock-scolding him in rapid Cantonese. “你真系个叻嘅屁股！ 如果你嘅祖父仲在生，佢會直接將你踢到下周.” (you’re such a smart-ass! if your grandfather were still alive, he’d kick you straight into next week) with a quick flick of her wrist, your mother threw a piece of dumpling dough at Oliver, which hit his shirt with a soft plop.

“Auntie!” Oliver looked down at the dough stuck to his chest, brushing it off with an exaggerated pout. “This is Dolce, you know.”

Laugher rippled through the room again, the air filled with warmth, teasing, and the familiar comfort of family banter.

Your Auntie Alix turned to Rachel, her expression curious yet kind. “Rachel, do you speak Cantonese?”

Rachel shook her head, smiling politely. “No, I don’t,” she admitted, then quickly added, “but it’s so great seeing your family bond like this.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Oliver, all of you caught slightly off guard by her statement, except Nick. It was not something you really thought about, it was just how things were.

Rachel seemed to sense everyone’s confusion and explained further, “growing up, it was just me and my Mom. We didn’t have a big family like yours, this is really special.”

“We’re glad that you appreciate it,” Oliver said softly. “You’re right, we’re lucky to have this.”

Your mother and Auntie Alix both smiled, their postures relaxing just a little. Your Auntie Alix even murmured, “it’s nice to hear someone appreciate it.”

Rachel, emboldened by the shift in mood, turned her attention to your Auntie Eleanor, who had been largely quiet, methodically folding dumplings with precision. Her gaze fell on the large emerald ring your Auntie Eleanor was wearing, glinting under the soft light as she carefully placed a dumpling into a bamboo steamer.

“That ring is very stunning, Auntie Eleanor,” Rachel said, voice genuinely admiring. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

You paused mid-fold, glancing at Lando, who was already looking at you, his eyes widening slightly. The conversation from the other night before leaving for Samsara immediately surfaced in your mind.

Your mother and Auntie Alix both turned to look at your Auntie Eleanor, their expressions carefully neutral as they waited to see how she would respond. Your Auntie Eleanor looked genuinely surprised, her delicate hands momentarily pausing their rhythmic folding of dumplings.

“This ring,” she began, glancing at the emerald on her finger, “was made by my husband, Nick’s father, when he proposed to me.”

Rachel’s eyes lit up with interest. “That’s really amazing. Did he design it himself?”

She gave a small node, movements deliberate as she reshmed folding another dumpling. “He did. He wanted it to be one of a kind.”

“That’s incredible! Where did you two meet?” Rachel's eyes lit up with curiosity, leaning slightly forward.

Nick jumped in, tone light and proud. “They met at Cambridge, both are studying law.”

Rachel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I didn't know you were a lawyer.” she said, admiration apparent.

Your Auntie Eleanor resumed folding, her expression calm but firm. “I didn’t finish,” she clarified. “When we got married, I chose to withdraw from university.”

Rachel blinked, clearly taken aback. “Oh,” she said softly. “I didn’t know, I’m sorry…”

Noticing the slight tension that was slowly forming, your Auntie Eleanor elaborated, voice steady as she carefully sealed another dumpling.

“I made that decision to help my husband run his business and to raise a family. To me, that was a privilege,” she glanced at Rachel, her gaze sharp yet polite. “But to some others, it might seem old-fashioned.”

Rachel hesitated, not really sure of how to respond, but before she could say anything, your Auntie Eleanor continued.

“It’s nice of you that you appreciate this,” she said, gesturing to the room that was filled with chattering and dumpling-making. “Everyone together, contributing, creating something. But I want you to fully understand that all of this doesn’t happen by accident or with the snap of a finger. It’s because we’ve always prioritized family above all else.”

Her voice took on a slightly sharper edge, though still calm. “Sometimes, that means letting go of personal ambitions for the greater good. It’s a lesson I learned early on and one I hope will never be forgotten.”

A very heavy awkward silence settled over the table. You felt Lando’s hand subtly intertwining your fingers under the table, as you glanced at Rachel. Her smile faltered slightly, and her posture stiffened as though she was not entirely sure how to respond.

Your mother and Auntie Alix remained silent, both just looking at their dumplings, minding their own business, their expressions natural but tense. You knew they were traditional in their own ways, yet far more accepting than your Auntie Eleanor. They were not going to intervene, but their discomfort was apparent.

Rachel finally nodded, voice quiet but steady. “I see. Thank you for sharing that, Auntie Eleanor,” she said, offering a faint smile that did not quite reach her eyes.

Then, the dining room doors opened with a soft creak, and your Ah Ma entered with her Thai maids following closely behind, their presence as graceful and composed as always. She was wearing a beautiful silk blouse in shades of soft jade, with her posture upright and regal despite her old age. Your Ah Ma’s presence immediately shifted the atmosphere in the room, dissolving the lingering tension.

Everyone rose to their feet, a chorus of respectful greetings filling the space. You and Lando followed closely behind Nick and Rachel as you walked toward her, hand firmly clasping Lando’s.

Your Ah Ma’s face lit up when her gaze fell on Lando. “Ah, Lan Lan!” she exclaimed, voice warm and filled with genuine affection. “I’m happy to see you again. Tell me, has your dumpling folding improved since the last time?”

Lando smiled, bowing his head slightly in respect. “I think so, Ah Ma,” he replied, voice steady but tinged with amusement. “But you’ll have to judge for yourself.”

Nick stepped forward, taking your Ah Ma’s arm gently, and you mirrored his action on her other side. Her smile widened as she turned to Nick, patting his hand affectionately. “我很高興你帶瑞秋來了.” (i’m so glad you brought rachel) she said, voice kind but observant.

Your Ah Ma’s sharp eyes landed on Rachel, who stood politely beside Nick. She scrutinized her face for a moment, her expression contemplative before breaking into a small smile. “在白天，我可以清楚地看到她。 非常漂亮的臉蛋.” (ah, in the daylight, i can see her clearly. very nice-looking face)

Rachel’s lips parted slightly, unsure how to react, but she eventually nodded and smiled, choosing to take it as a compliment. “謝謝阿媽.” (thank you, ah ma) she said, in a respectful tone.

With Nick and you guiding her, your Ah Ma walked toward her seat at the head of the table. When you reached the chair, Lando quickly stepped forward, pulling it out for her with fluid motion. Your Ah Ma gave Lando an approving nod before settling into the seat, her movements deliberate but elegant.

Once your Ah Ma was seated, she gestured with a delicate wave of her hand. “坐下，你們所有人.” (sit down, all of you) she instructed, tone commanding but not harsh.

Oliver leaned back slightly and chimed in, tone light and teasing. “We’re almost finished, Ah Ma. Just a few more baskets left.”

“Good, good,” she said, a trace of satisfaction in her voice.

While your Ah Ma was observing everyone, her gaze swept over the trays of folded dumplings, her discerning eyes pausing on a particular set of dumplings that stood out. Without any hesitation, she gestured toward the batch and turned to your Auntie Eleanor.

“埃莉諾，你做了這個批次嗎?” (eleanor, did you make this batch?) her tone was sharp, but not unkind.

You Auntie Eleanor straightened slightly, nodding with a subtle air of pride. “是的，阿媽,” (yes, ah ma) she replied, voice composed but tinged with a hint of accomplishment.

Your Ah Ma’s eyes narrowed slightly as she leaned in for a closer look, inspecting the dumplings with the same scrutiny she might give to a priceless piece of jade. Her expression shifted almost imperceptibly, and she tilted her head, her words carrying a weight of blunt honesty.

”他們看起來不太好,” (they don’t look very good) she remarked, tone in a matter-of-fact but leaving little room for dispute. “你失去了你的觸摸,埃莉諾.” (you’ve lost your touch, eleanor)

The room seemed to pause momentarily, the faintest ripple of tension spreading across the table. You glanced at Rachel, who sat stiffly, her expression carefully neutral, clearly unsure how to react to the sudden critique.

You turned to Lando, who had been watching the exchange with curiosity, leaning slightly toward you as he whispered, “what did Ah Ma say?”

Lowering your voice, you translated quickly but gently, “Ah Ma said the dumplings don’t look good, and that Auntie Eleanor has lost her touch.”

Lando made a face, and though he made no comment, the slight twitch of his lips suggested he was trying not to laugh. You gave him a soft nudge under the table, silently reminding him to keep a straight face.

Even with your Ah Ma’s comment, your Auntie Eleanor maintained her composure, her lips tightening as she focused on folding another dumpling, pretending as though the comment did not bother her at all. But still, you knew that everyone at the table heard everything, and no one was really surprised by your Ah Ma’s brutal honesty.

As the final dumplings were folded and placed neatly into the bamboo steamers, Rachel excused herself, standing from her seat with a polite smile. “I’m just going to the restroom,” she said softly, tone light.

Nick immediately offered, “I'll come with you.”

Rachel just shook her head gently, declining with a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, I can find my way.”

With that, she turned and walked off, navigating through the hallways of the estate, leaving the rest of you to finish arranging the trays.

Meanwhile, your Ah Ma’s sharp eyes scanned the remaining dumplings, her attention landing on the ones Lando had folded. Despite her age, her vision remained sharp as ever, and she leaned forward slightly, inspecting his work. A small but genuine smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“這些很漂亮,” (these are beautiful) she said, nodding approvingly.

Lando lit up at the compliment—well, he didn’t really understand what your Ah Ma had said, but based on her reaction, it’s a positive one. His cheeks colored faintly as he looked at you for a moment, seeking your silent confirmation that he had done well.

Your Ah Ma then turned to you, tone warm but firm as she continued, “你教他很好,我的孫女。 我可以看到他爲此付出的努力。 你跟他幹得真不錯.” (you’ve taught him well, my granddaughter. I can see the effort he’s put into these. you really did a good job with him)

You smiled, bowing your head slightly in acknowledgment of her praise, but before you could respond, her attention shifted back to Lando. Your Ah Ma’s expression softened, yet her words carried a note of earnestness.

“Lan Lan,” she began, “好好照顧自己，好好吃飯,” (take care of yourself, eat properly) she spoke slowly enough that he could understand the weight of her words even if he did not catch every meaning of it.

Your Ah Ma paused, gaze flicking back to you for a moment, before continuing. “I remember when my granddaughter came back here to Singapore after being in Monaco. She was so worried about you.”

Then she turned again to Lando, tone shifting slightly to a mock-scolding one, though her affection for him was evident. “She told me how you hadn’t slept for twenty-six hours and were eating expired food. How can you not take care of yourself?”

Lando ducked his head slightly, his smile sheepish as he scratched the back of his neck, a faint flush creeping into his cheeks.

Switching to Mandarin, she fired rapidly at Lando, though there was no malice in her tone. “你認爲僅僅因爲你年輕，你的身體會原諒一切嗎？ 不會的 你很幸運，我的孫女飛到摩納哥爲你做飯.” (you think just because you’re young, your body will forgive everything? it won’t. you’re lucky my granddaughter flew to to monaco to cook for you)

You were trying not to laugh as you translated everything your Ah Ma said to him, and Lando nodded earnestly, voice quiet but sincere. “I know, Ah Ma. I’ve learned my lesson.”

Your Ah Ma turned to you with a knowing smile. “我什麼時候能指望你結婚?” (when can i expect you to get married?)

You froze on your seat, eyes widening in disbelief as he words hung in the air. You felt Lando’s hand tense slightly in yours under the table, though you were sure he hadn’t understood any of it.

“我想在我死之前見到我的曾孫們。 我已經沒有多少年時間了.” (i want to see my great-grandchildren before i die. i don’t have that many years left) your Ah Ma continued.

The room erupted into laughter at your Ah Ma’s bluntness, a mix of amused chuckles and good-natured teasing. Even your mother, who rarely join on such jokes, could not help but wink at you across the table.

“Ah Ma,” you began, swallowing hard, trying to find the right words to appease her. “蘭多和我還年輕。 他有一個非常忙碌的職業生涯，我們現在都專注於我們的目標.” (lando and i are still young. he has a very busy career, and we’re both focused on our goals right now)

“太年輕了？ 胡說八道！ 你們兩個都老了，有什麼目標？ 家庭是人生最重要的目標,” (too young? nonsense! you’re both old enough, and what goals? a family is the most important goal in life) she retorted, waving her hand in the air as if brushing aside your excuses.

She leaned slightly forward, her gaze fixed on Lando now, as if silently willing him to understand what she was saying. “我走之前要抱着我的曾孫,” (i need to hold my great-grandchild before i go) she reiterated, as though her insistence alone could make it happen.

Lando, who had been smiling politely, began to glance around the table, sensing that the laughter was at his expense but unable to piece together what was being said.

“What’s going on? What did Ah Ma say?” he said, leaning towards you.

Before you could think of a way to downplay it, Nick—ever the troublemaker, grinned wickedly and leaned over. “Oh, I’ll tell you,” he said, just loud enough for the whole table to hear. “Ah Ma’s asking when you’re getting married. She wants great-grandchildren before she dies.”

His jaw dropped slightly at what Nick said, cheeks already tinged pink. “What?” Lando stammered, glancing at you for confrontation.

The laughter just grew louder as Nick continued, “she’s serious too. She’s already planning your family timeline.”

You groaned inwardly, shooting Nick a sharp look that only made him smirk wider. Meanwhile, Lando’s blush deepend, spreading across his ear and down to his neck. Rubbing the back of his neck nervously, and lips twitching into an embarrassed smile.

“I…uh…” he stuttered, clearly flustered, and you couldn’t help but smile despite the situation.

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze under the table, leaning closer to whisper, “don’t worry, she just likes to tease. You’re doing great.”

Your Ah Ma smiled warmly at Lando, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes deepening with the kind of affection reserved for those who had truly earned it. She placed her hands gently on the edge of the table, her gaze shifting between you and him as she began to speak again in Mandarin.

“我愛你這個年輕人,” (i love this young man for you) she said, tone resolute yet tender. “我等不及你們倆結婚的那一天了。 當然，這必須在我死之前發生，但沒有壓力.” (i cannot wait for the day you both get married. of course, this must happen before i die, but no pressure)

The table chuckled softly at her words, though you could feel the weight of her underlying sincerity.

“我希望你們的關係最終會導致婚姻。 它必須，我很高興是他。 我認識你以前約會過的所有男孩，但沒有你介紹他們給我,” (i expect your relationship will lead to marriage in the end. it must, and I’m glad it’s him. i knew all the boys you dated before without you introducing them to me) she continued, tone sharpening lightly as she referred to your past. “他們都不值得。 蘭多是。 他是個好人，是個紳士。 我看得出他讓你多麼高興.” (none of them were worthy. but lando is. he is a good man and a gentleman. i can see how happy he makes you)

Her gaze lingered on Lando, eyes bright with approval. “你選的不錯,” (you chose well) she said firmly, her words almost carrying the weight of a blessing.

You glanced at your mother, who was watching the exchange quietly with a soft smile. When your eyes met, she gave you a small nod, as if to echo your Ah Ma’s sentiments. Your heart swelled, knowing that this was not just about Lando being accepted by your family, it was about him being fully embraced in a way that rarely happened in a family as traditional as yours.

“我們的家庭一直重視傳統的重要性，在我們自己的背景，我們自己的文化中結婚。 這就是讓我們堅強的原因。 但有時，當心髒看到什麼是正確的時，必須做出例外.” (our family has always valued the importance of tradition, of marrying within our own background, our own culture. it is what keeps us strong. but sometimes, exceptions must be made when the heart sees what is right) your Ah Ma’s eyes softened further as she looked at you. “你已經看到了什麼是正確的。 我相信你的選擇。 他會給你帶來快樂，你也會給他帶來同樣的快樂.” (and you have seen what’s right. i trust your choice. he will bring you happiness, and you will bring him the same)

Lando, though unable to follow the Mandarin, seemed to understand the atmosphere and the sentiment. He offered a polite smile, his hand tightening slightly around yours under the table.

“你知道，你是第一個正式向我介紹這樣一個人的人。 這不是一件小事。 它表明了對我們家庭的尊重，它表明你是認真的.” (you know, you are the first to formally introduce someone to me like this. it is no small thing. it shows respect for our family, and it shows me that you are serious) she paused, tilting her head thoughtfully. “這就是爲什麼我相信這將工作。 你有我的祝福.” (that is why I trust this will work. you have my blessing)

You felt a lump in your throat as you glanced again at your mother, who was still smiling softly. There was no need for words, her expression said it all. The weight of family approval—especially your Ah Ma’s, was very significant. It was not just about you and Lando anymore, it was about the life you were building together, one that your family wholeheartedly supported.

You turned to Lando and gave him a small smile, and squeezed his hand, a private gesture of reassurance for him. Though he could not understand the exact words, you knew he felt the love and acceptance in the room, just as deeply as you did.

While everyone was now immersed in a new topic of conversation, you can’t help but notice that Rachel was taking longer than usual. Rachel hasn’t gone back yet, the same as your Auntie Eleanor. Just before your Ah Ma would say his monologue about family tradition, your Auntie Eleanor had excused herself.

You glanced at the door Rachel and your Auntie Eleanor had exited through earlier, your eyes narrowed slightly in concern. This was a sprawling estate, one where getting turned around was almost inevitable for someone unfamiliar with its labyrinth of hallways and grand rooms. You couldn’t shake the sense that something was amiss.

Minutes passed. Neither Rachel nor your Auntie Eleanor had returned. Your unease deepened. So you leaned slightly toward Lando, your voice low enough not to disrupt the ongoing chatter around the table.

“I think I’ll go check on Rachel,” you murmured. “She’s taking a little too long, and Auntie Eleanor too.”

Lando nodded, his eyes flickering with slight concern. “You think everything’s okay?”

“Well, I’m not sure,” you replied. “But I’ll find out.”

You leaned in, pressing a light kiss to his cheek, the faintest smile touching your lips despite the worry now bubbling beneath the surface. Straightening up, you excused yourself from the table, smoothing down your dress with a quick, practiced motion.

As you step away, the chatter behind you fades, replaced by the muted hum of distant sounds in the house, the faint clatter of dishes being cleared in the kitchen, soft shuffle of footsteps from maids moving about their duties.

You moved quietly, your steps deliberate as you followed the path Rachel had taken earlier. You knew this house like the back of your hand, each twist and turn etched into your memory, but even for you, it was easy to imagine how someone so unfamiliar might lose their way.

Your eyes scanned the hallways as you moved, the ornate decorations and rich furnishings familiar yet suddenly feeling imposing in the quiet. You still could not shake the thought that perhaps your Auntie Eleanor had cornered Rachel somewhere in the house, and the idea made your pace quicken.

The moment you approached the grand staircase, you approached quietly, you heard voices and stopped just short of the landing, hiding yourself out of sight behind the very heavy drapery of a nearby window. You knew it was wrong to eavesdrop on other people, but your concern for Rachel overpowered the voice of reason.

Peeking through the fabric, you saw them. Your Auntie Eleanor stood on the top step of the staircase, her posture sharp and commanding, while Rachel stood two steps below her, visibly uneasy. The height difference only seemed to amplify the imbalance in their dynamic—your Auntie Eleanor looking every bit like a hawk, and Rachel was the unwitting prey.

“I’m glad I found you,” your Auntie Eleanor began, voice low and calm, but laced with a kind of weight that felt impossible to ignore. “I felt…perhaps I was unfair to you earlier.”

Rachel immediately shook her head, her voice soft but apologetic. “No, no, it’s alright. I didn’t mean to offend you, and I’m really sorry if I did.”

“You didn’t offend me, Rachel,” she said quietly, almost too quietly, as though she were weighing each word before releasing it. “But since we’re already here, I feel it’s only fair to share something with you. Something that I don’t often talk about.”

“Alright,” Rachel said, voice barely above whisper.

“The emerald ring,” she began, lifting her hand slightly to glance at the emerald on her finger, “had been customized by my husband, Philip, because Ah Ma didn’t want to give him the family ring.”

“She…refused?” Rachel was clearly surprised.

Your Auntie Eleanor gave a small, humorless smile, the corner of her lips barely turning upward. “She didn’t think I was worthy of it. Didn’t think I was worthy of Philip.”

At that, you felt your breath catch. This was new information, something you had never heard before. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the two of them, even as guilt tugged at you for listening in.

“Why would she think that?” Rachel’s voice was cautious, tentative.

Your Auntie Eleanor’s expression hardened, though her voice remained calm. “Because I didn’t come from the right family. I didn’t have the proper connections, and I was not what Ah Ma envisioned for his eldest son. To her, I was inadequate. Not a suitable wife for the future head of the family.”

Rachel looked stunned, her hands fidgeting slightly at her sides. “I…I didn’t know.”

“No, of course, you wouldn’t,” she said softly. “It’s not the kind of thing people would discuss so openly, and why would they? It’s already humiliating to admit that you weren’t the first choice.”

Rachel’s lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out of her mouth.

“I wasn’t even the second choice. You’re Ah Ma wanted someone else entirely, someone from a family with status and wealth that matched ours. But Philip, he chose me.”

From your hiding spot, you could see the faint sheer in your Auntie Eleanor’s eyes, though her expression remained resolute. You felt your stomach tighten. This was far more personal than the surface-level gossip you and your mother often indulge in about your Auntie Eleanor.

Rachel seemed to struggle to find the right response. “I think that’s very brave of you, to have gone through that.”

“Brave?” she echoed, almost as though testing the word on her tongue. “Perhaps, or perhaps I simply had no choice but to endure it. That’s what women like me are expected to do. Endure. Sometimes, there were days when I wondered if I would ever measure up.”

Another pause filled the air, heavy and suffocating. You glanced back toward the hallway that leads to the dining room, where laughter and conversation continued, oblivious to the tension unfolding right outside.

Your Auntie Eleanor looked down at Rachel, her tone softening just slightly. “I don’t say this to make you uncomfortable, Rachel. I say it because you remind me of someone I once was, a young woman trying to find her place in a family with traditions that can feel suffocating at times. But here’s the thing.”

“To belong here,” your Auntie Eleanor said quietly, “you must learn when to bend and when to stand firm, and above all, you must understand that family will always come first before passion, before dreams. It’s not easy, but it’s the way it is.”

Her words lingered in the air, cutting deeper than anything you had expected. You tightened your grip on the drapery, heart thudding in your chest.

“But Rachel,” she said softly, almost gently, as she took a slow step closer to her. “Having been through it all myself, I can tell you this much…you will never be enough.”

The words hung in the air, deceptively gently, yet sharp enough to pierce. Rachel was eviscerated, as your Auntie Eleanor draws back, placid and calm, as if they were talking about the weather. Her hand lightly touched Rachel’s arm, almost a contradictory gesture to the blow she had just delivered.

“We should head back, I wouldn’t want Nick to worry.” your Auntie Eleanor’s tone did not falter, nor did her gaze waver. She slowly began descending the stairs.

You’re still hidden—more like frozen in place. You watched as Rachel’s expression crumbled ever so slightly, her face a mixture of hurt and confusion, though she tried valiantly to hold her composure. You felt a pang in your chest for her, but before you could decide whether to step out, you felt a presence approaching from behind.

You turned your head quickly, startled to see Lando walking towards you. His lips were already parting, likely to ask what you were doing or what was taking you so long, but you reacted instinctively. You brought a finger to your lips in a sharp shushing motion, then darted towards him as quietly as possible, pressing a hand gently over his mouth before he could make a sound.

Lando’s brows furrowed in confusion, but he obeyed your silent command, his wide eyes flickering between you and the staircase. You both froze as the unmistakable sound of your Auntie Eleanor’s heels began clicking rhythmically against the marble floor, growing louder with each step.

Peeking back around the corner just enough, your Auntie Eleanor was already headed your way, her expression calm and composed, never even looking back at Rachel, who remained standing frozen in place.

Without any second thought, you grabbed Lando’s hand firmly and began pulling him back down the hall, away from the grand staircase. His confusion deepened, but he did not resist, allowing you to guide him. You stopped just short of the door, turning to face him, you placed a hand on his chest and pressed a little to keep him from moving any further. Lando tilted his head slightly, silently asking for an explanation, but you shook your head.

“I’ll tell you everything later,” you whispered firmly, voice barely audible. “When we’re home.”

Lando frowned slightly but nodded in understanding, his gaze softening as he squeezed your hand gently. You exhaled, releasing the tension in your shoulders, and took a moment to steady yourself. Lacing your fingers together, you took one more deep breath, and walked back into the dining room with Lando by your side.

You plastered on a casual smile, even as your thoughts raced, determined to keep up the act for now.

Later that evening, you were now back to the safety and comfort of your home. You and Lando were now settled into the bed, the room quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioning. Lando was lying on his back, one arm tucked under his head, while his other arm rested lightly on your arm. The dim glow from the bedside lamp cast gentle shadows across his face as you propped yourself up on your elbow, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Okay, here’s the tea,” you began softly, keeping your voice low in the stillness of the room.

Lando turned his head to look at you, his brows knitting slightly. “What’s the tea?”

You hesitated for a moment, gathering your thoughts, before recounting everything you had overheard between Rachel and your Auntie Eleanor by the grand staircase. You spoke carefully, detailing the conversation, voice growing more serious as you described your Auntie Eleanor’s sharp words, her admission about the family ring, and the way she had undermined Rachel. Lando listened intently, his gaze never leaving yours, expression shifting from concern to quiet disbelief as you continued.

“And then,” you said, voice dropping even lower, “she told Rachel she would never be enough. I just couldn’t believe it, honestly. It was so cruel.”

“That’s awful,” he said firmly. “I can’t imagine how Rachel must’ve felt when she heard that. She must’ve been gutted—no pun intended.”

You chuckled, then suddenly feeling the weight of the moment settle between you. “I wanted to step in, but I didn’t know how without actually making it worse. Then I saw you coming,” you paused, sighing. “I just don’t know how to fix it.”

Lando reached out, taking your hands in his, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “It’s not your fault,” he said reassuringly. “Your Auntie Eleanor has her own set of issues. But Rachel seems strong, I’m sure she’ll handle it.”

You nodded, though the worry lingered in your chest. “I just hope my whole family can be as welcoming to Rachel as they’ve been to you. She deserves that. Nick deserves that.”

“Your family has been incredible to me,” he said. “Your Ah Ma, your Mom, even your Auntie Alix, they’ve all made me feel like I belong, even though I’m not from the same background—traditionally, as you. That means everything to me. It’s rare to find that kind of acceptance.”

You felt your chest warm at his words. “I’m so happy they’ve accepted you,” you murmured. “It makes me love them even more, knowing they see how amazing you are.”

He chuckled lightly, ears turning red at your compliment. “Well,” Lando said, tone turning playful, “Ah Ma did say she expects a grandchild, so I guess I’m officially part of the family now.”

You laughed softly, then tension from the earlier conversation easing slightly. But as you rested your head against his chest, you whispered, “I just hope Rachel gets that chance too. To feel what we have with my family.”

Lando pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his voice gentle as he said, “she will, it might take time, but your family loves deeply. They’ll come around, and if not, well, Nick and Rachel would always have us. That’s a pretty good start, don’t you think?”

You nodded. “But hey,”

“Hmm?” he hummed, looking at the ceiling aimlessly.

“I was thinking,” you started, “tomorrow’s our last free day before Colin and Araminta’s wedding. I was wondering if it’s okay with you if I spend it with Rachel. I feel like she could use some company, and I’d love to catch up with her one-on-one.”

Lando’s lips curved into a small smile as he nodded. “Of course, love. You don’t need to ask, and I think that’s a great idea.”

“Are you sure?” you pressed. “I don’t want to leave you feeling bored or anything.”

He shook his head. “Yeah, take your time. I can keep myself busy.”

At that, you looked at him with curiosity. “Oh? What’s your plan for the day?”

Lando grinned, “actually, I was thinking of hitting up your Dad for a few rounds of golf. He told me during Ah Ma’s dinner party to let him know anytime I wanted to play, so I figured I’d take him up on that offer.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the thought of Lando and your father on the golf course together. “That sounds perfect. I think he’d love that.”

“It’ll be nice to spend some time with him, and,” he added with a playful grin, “it’ll give me a chance to show him I’ve been practicing my swing.”

You chuckled, “well, don’t let him win too easily, or else he’ll never let you live it down.”

Lando laughed along with you, then leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Go spend the day with Rachel,” he said warmly. “I’ll be fine, and later, you can tell me all about it over dinner.”

“Deal,” you said with a grin.

The warm scent of roasted coffee filled the air as you and Rachel sat across from each other at the small patio table. The sunlight filtered gently through the canopy above, casting dappled shadows on the table between your cups of coffee. Rachel stirred her latte absentmindedly, her eyes occasionally drifting to the street beyond before meeting yours.

“I’m really glad you agreed to meet with me,” you began, voice steady but soft.

Rachel offered a small smile, though it did not quite reach her eyes. “Of course. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to talk after everything.”

You took a deep breath, setting your coffee cup down carefully. “I wanted to talk because I owe you an apology. For everything.”

She tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing. But she let you continue speaking.

“I’m sorry for how you were treated at the dinner party by my family,” you continued, gazing at her earnestly. “Especially by my Auntie Eleanor. I know she was cruel, and I won’t make any excuses for her just because she’s family. You didn’t deserve that.”

Rachel let out a shaky breath, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she leaned back in her chair. “Thank you for saying that, it truly means a lot.”

There was a brief pause before you added, “and I need to come clean about something.”

“I overheard everything Auntie Eleanor said to you by the staircase,” you admitted, glancing down at your hands for a moment before looking back at her. “It wasn’t my intention to eavesdrop, I swear. I was going to get something from the car, and I happened to pass by.”

She studied you for a moment, then let out a soft sigh. “Honestly, I’m not even surprised you overheard. She wasn’t exactly trying to whisper.”

You gave a small, rueful smile. “Still, I should have stepped in sooner. I hate that she made you feel the way you did.”

Rachel’s grip on her coffee cup tightened briefly before she let out a small, humorless laugh. “It was pretty intense, I’ve got to say,” she admitted. “I mean, I felt like I was going to cry and puke all at once.”

The two of you exchange a glance before breaking into laughter. The sound was a relief, breaking the lingering tension like the first warm breeze after a storm.

“Well,” you said. “I bet if you tell her that you’d leave Nick for a million of dollars, she’d write that check on the spot.”

Her eyes widened for a moment before she burst into laughter again, this time louder and freer. “You think so?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you replied, grinning. “It’s a pretty normal thing to do here. A million-dollar breakup is just another Tuesday.”

Rachel shook her head, still laughing, and took a sip of her latte. “That’s terrible.”

“Maybe it is,” you smiled and shrugged. “But I know my Auntie Eleanor.”

She then set her coffee cup down, fingers fiddling with the edge of her napkin as her expression shifted something akin to serious.

“You know, I just…I don’t even know what to do anymore. Whether I will tell Nick everything or not,” she admitted, voice quieter now. “I can see how much Nick practically worships his Mom. I mean, it’s like she can do no wrong in his eyes.”

You nodded slowly, absorbing her words. “I fully understand that,” you said carefully, tone gently. “It’s common, especially with Chinese sons. They hold their mothers on a very high pedestal, and it’s not just cultural, it’s ingrained, passed down through generations. Mothers are revered, respected almost to a fault.”

Rachel let out a small, defeated sigh, leaning back in her chair. “So what am I supposed to do? Compete with that?”

You shook your head, giving her a smile. “No, you don’t need to compete with anyone. Look, on the bright side of all things, Ah Ma loves you. Did you notice how she complimented you yesterday? That’s pretty big.”

Her brow furrowed slightly as she thought back, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “She did, didn’t she? I was not really sure what to make of it at first, but I guess that was her way of showing approval.”

“Exactly,” you said. “Let Auntie Eleanor stew in her own bitterness if she wants to. She can hate you all day long or even her whole life if that’s what she’s determined to do.”

“That’s…comforting?” she raised an eyebrow, her smile wavering.

“Just let Auntie Eleanor be, she has nothing against two thousand years of Chinese filial piety.” you chuckled.

“What do you mean?” Rachel asked, intrigued but unsure.

You gestured gently with your hand, voice steady but light. “At the end of the day, it’s not really about Auntie Eleanor. It’s about what Ah Ma thinks, and in this family, her opinion carries the most weight, and she’s already decided that she likes you. Auntie Eleanor might throw tantrums and make her snide comments, but she can’t overturn the foundation of how this family works. What Ah Ma says, goes.”

Rachel sat back, her lips curving into a small, thoughtful smile. “So, you’re saying that I don’t need to fight back? Just let her do her thing?”

You nodded. “Exactly. She’s not the one you’re trying to win over, and frankly, she doesn’t hold the power she thinks she does. As long as Ah Ma’s around and on your side, you’re practically untouchable.”

“You make it sound so simple.” she let out a soft laugh, her tension finally easing.

“It’s not simple,” you admitted with a small shrug, “but it’s the truth. You’re a part of this family now, Rachel—whether they like it or not, and you’ve already got the most important ally you could ask for.”

Rachel’s smile grew warmer, and for the first time, she looked truly at ease. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I needed to hear that.”

The midday sun cast long shadows over the manicured fairways of Sentosa Golf Club. Lando steadied his swing, aiming for the flag ahead. Your father stood a few paces behind, watching his stance with an appraising eye. The gentle rustling of the trees and occasional chirping of birds provided the only background noise. Lando took the shot—clean, low drive that rolled smoothly onto the green.

“Good shot,” your father remarked, nodding in approval as they walked toward the cart together.

“Thank you,” Lando replied, brushing his hands against his shorts.

As they drove to the next hole, your father leaned back slightly, gaze fixed ahead. “So, Lando,” your father began, his tone casual. “What are your plans?”

Lando glanced at him, slightly startled by the abruptness of the question. “Plans, sir? You mean with golf? Or…generally?”

Your father chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No, no. Not with golf, I meant your plans for the future. It’s a broad question, I know, but I’m curious.”

He straightened. “Oh, well…I’m focused on my career right now, of course. Racing tends to keep me pretty busy, but I try to balance things as best as I can.”

Your father nodded as they both stepped out of the cart. He let a few moments pass before continuing, voice taking on a more serious tone. “When my wife came back from her mother’s estate last night, she mentioned something to me over dinner.”

Lando tilted his head, curious. “What is it?”

“She said that Ah Ma gave you and my daughter her approval,” your father said, eyes steady on Lando. “Ah Ma hopes your relationship will end in marriage someday.”

Lando blinked, caught off guard by the directness of the statement, or just how straightforward your father is. He shifted his weight slightly, unsure of how to respond to your father.

Your father, noticing his hesitation, offered a small smile. “Don’t worry, Lando. I’m not here to pressure or scare you away. But I thought it might be important for you to understand something about how everything goes on around here.”

“In our culture,” your father explained as he placed the golf ball on the tee, “relationships are viewed differently than in the West. They’re not just about love or companionship, they’re built on sacrifice, duty, and responsibility. When you commit to someone, you’re committing to the entirety of it all—even to the family. It’s a partnership that demands effort and selflessness.”

“Now,” your father took his shot—a smooth, powerful drive that sent the ball soaring down the fairway. He straightened and turned back to Lando, resting the driver on his shoulder. “I’m not saying this to intimidate you. It’s far from it. I know how much my daughter cares for you, and from what I’ve seen, you care for her just as much. But I want to make sure you understand what this means to us—our family and her. It’s not just about dating or having fun. It’s about building a life together.”

Lando swallowed, feeling the weight of your father’s words. “I…I get that, sir. I really do, and I want you to know that I take our relationship seriously. She’s,” he paused, searching for the right words. “She’s the most important person in my life. I may not have everything figured out yet, but I’m fully committed to her. I want to make her happy and support her in every way I can.”

Your father studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That’s good to hear, Lando. You’re a good man, and that’s all I needed to know.”

Lando exhaled softly, relieved but still thoughtful. Your father clapped him on the shoulder. “Now, let’s see if you can make this shot. I’m one up on you, and I don’t plan on losing today.”

”We’ll see about that, sir.” Lando grinned.

The two of them had just finished their round and were sitting in the shaded patio area of the clubhouse, sipping on cold drinks. Your father leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed.

“You know, back in her teens, she was quite the handful.” your father began, voice carrying an edge of humor.

Lando turned to him, intrigued but slightly nervous. “Oh?”

Your father nodded, a sly smile on his face. “She used to escape the house and date boys behind our backs. Thought she was clever about it too.”

Lando’s lips twitched into a smile, imagining you as a teenager, trying to outsmart your parents. “Really? I can’t imagine her sneaking around like that.”

“Oh, she was good,” your father said, in a playful tone. “She never introduced us to those boys, but we always knew who they were. We made it our business to know. Still, we never made a fuss, we figured she’d grow out of it—and she did.”

He just smiles as your father tells these little snippets of anecdotes of your life that you had never told Lando before. Lando just kept silent, and continued listening to your father.

“So when she introduced you to us, we were shocked to be honest.” your father laughed, a deeper, more genuine sound. “It was the first time she brought someone home. That was our first indication that this was serious, different from anything she’d had before.”

“To tell you the truth,” your father continued, tone shifting to something more reflective. “We always thought she’d end up seriously dating one of the sons from our family’s business partners, since that’s how these things tend to go. But looking at it now, we’re thankful that it’s you.”

Lando blinked, caught off guard. “Thankful? Why’s that?”

Your father leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table. “Because those boys, they have big, fragile egos. Pampered from birth, they’ve never had to work for anything, and never had to learn humility. Trust me, there’s nothing worse than a man who can’t admit his faults.” he looked at Lando meaningfully. “You’re nothing like that, you’ve worked hard for everything you’ve achieved. You respect her, and that means a lot to us.”

“Thank you, sir.” Lando replied as he felt a warmth spread through his chest. “That really means a lot to me.”

Your father nodded, a small but approving smile on his face. “Just don’t let her outplay you on the course of life, Lando. She might be silent and reserved most of the time, but she’s competitive.”

Lando laughed. “Oh, I know. She’s already winning in a lot of ways.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear.” your father regarded him for a moment, then smiled. “Now, shall we see if they have any dessert worth trying here? Golf always leaves me craving something sweet.”

“Sounds good to me, sir.” Lando chuckled.

The house was still dark when you arrived, a quiet stillness greeting you as you set your things down and flicked on the lights. After slipping into more comfortable clothes—a loose white shirt and soft shorts, you made your way to the kitchen.

You had informed Lando earlier that you had decided it would be steak night, so you tied your back and opened the fridge, pulling out the steak to defrost, then setting them on the counter before gathering ingredients for the side dishes. You peeled and chopped the potatoes, boiling them in a pot of salted water, and then turned your attention to the vegetables.

Then you sliced the carrots, zucchini, and bell peppers—the rhythm of chopping and preparing was soothing, you then drizzled them with olive oil, sprinkled them with salt and pepper, then slid the tray into the oven to roast.

By the time the vegetables were roasting and the potatoes were soft, the steaks were now finally defrosted. You began to season them generously with salt, pepper, and a hint of garlic powder, then heated a cast-iron skillet until it was searing hot. The steaks sizzled as they hit the pan, filling the kitchen with the rich aroma of cooking meat.

While the steaks rested, you drained the potatoes and mashed them with butter, cream, and a touch of garlic. The creamy texture was perfect, and you set the pot aside before arranging everything on the plate.

Tonight, you wanted to dine outside by the pool deck, where the view of the city lights was nothing short of magical. Grabbing a couple stacks of plates and utensils, you stepped out to the deck and set the table. The air was cool, and the glow from the pool lights danced against the walls, creating a cozy ambiance.

Just as you returned to the kitchen to plate the food, you felt an arm wrapped around your waist and a soft kiss pressed to your cheek. Startled, you spun around to see Lando smiling down at you, hair slightly mussed from the day.

“You scared me!” you said with a laugh, leaning up to kiss him on the lips.

“Sorry,” he murmured, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “It smells amazing in here.”

“So, how was your day with Dad?” you asked smiling, brushing a hand over his arm.

“It was good,” he replied. “Tiring, but good. I think I held my own.”

You smiled at that and patted his chest gently. “Go change into something comfortable and grab a bottle of wine from the rack, we’re eating outside by the pool deck.”

“On it,” Lando said with a quick kiss to your temple before heading off to the bedroom.

You carried the plated food out to the pool deck, setting it down on the table. The city lights twinkled in the distance as you adjusted the chairs and smoothed the tablecloth. Lando soon joined you, a bottle of red wine in hand, dressed in a simple shirt and joggers.

“That looks incredible, love.” he said as he set the wine down and pulled out a chair for you.

“Why thank you,” you smiled, settling in on the chair. “Let’s eat.”

As the two of you began eating, the sound of clinking utensils and the occasional splash of water from the pool filled the serene evening air. You cut into your steak and took a bite before glancing at Lando, who was pouring wine into both of your glasses.

“So, as promised,” you began, setting your form down for a moment. “I wanted to tell you about the conversation that I had with Rachel earlier when I met up with her.”

Lando looked up from his glass, giving you his full attention. “Yeah? How did it go by the way, how’s she holding up?”

”She’s trying, but she’s still shaken from what happened with Auntie Eleanor.” you replied. “She told me that she finds it hard to tell Nick everything because Nicky practically worships her Mom, because well, that’s how Chinese sons are—they think their Moms fart Chanel No.5.”

He froze for a moment, processing what you said, and then burst into laughter. Lando set down his wine glass as he leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.

“That’s such an oddly specific comparison, babe. But honestly,” Lando said through his laughter, “it’s kind of perfect. I admit that at times, I notice that’s how Nick acts around Auntie Eleanor, isn’t it?”

“Yup,” you confirmed as you took another bite of your steam. “Rachel feels like Nick would never fully stand up to his mother and I get why she’s worried. But I explained to her how Auntie Eleanor is basically defenseless against two thousand years of Chinese filial piety.”

“Filial piety?” Lando repeated, brows furrowing slightly.

You took a sip of wine, then set the glass down carefully before explaining. “It’s this concept in Chinese culture that emphasizes respect, obedience, and care for your parents and elders.” you continued, “it’s not just about being polite, it’s deeply rooted in our traditions and values. Sons, in particular, are expected to honor their mothers in every way possible. That’s why it sometimes feels like their Moms can do no wrong.”

Lando nodded slowly, taking in your words. “So it’s more than just a family dynamic—it’s cultural, like a duty?”

“Exactly,” you said with a small smile. “It’s why Rachel feels the way she does, but I told her that she shouldn’t worry too much. Ah Ma has taken a liking on her, and that’s already a gold sign. Auntie Eleanor might act high and mighty, but at the end of the day, she doesn’t really have a say in Ah Ma’s decisions.”

“Basically, you’re saying that Auntie Eleanor has no powers here?” he tilted his head, eyes narrowing playfully.

“Not over Ah Ma, no. Hell no,” you said, chuckling. “And honestly, I think it’s about time someone stood up to Auntie Eleanor. Rachel is strong, even if she doesn’t always realize it, Nick and her will be fine. It’s just a matter of time she finds her own footing and Nick learning to balance his loyalty to Auntie Eleanor with his commitment to Rachel.”

Lando chuckled softly, raising his wine glass. “Well, here’s to Rachel and Nick figuring it out, and to Ah Ma—who clearly runs the show.”

You clink your wine glass against Lando’s with a grin. “Family is really fucking complicated, but hey, cheers to that.”

When Lando finished the last bite of his steak, he set his fork down with a satisfied sigh. “Speaking of Ah ma,” he began, swirling his wine glass, “you Dad told me something very interesting stuff today.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Oh? What did he say?”

Lando smiled, leaning back in his chair. “He mentioned how he knew that Ah Ma already gave us her blessing and that she’s expecting this relationship to end up in marriage.”

You froze mid-bite, fork hovering above your plate. “Wait,” you said slowly, “did Dad give you the talk?”

His grin widened, and before he could even answer, you groaned and buried your face in your hands. “Oh my fucking god, that’s so embarrassing.” you mumbled, voice muffled.

“It wasn’t bad,” Lando said laughing. “He was just laying it all out on me. Talking about how serious relationships are in your culture and how family values commitment. Honestly, I kind of expected it.”

You peaked through your fingers, cheeks burning. “Still,” you muttered, “he didn’t have to do that.”

Lando leaned forward, eyes sparkling mischievously. “Oh, but that’s not all he told me.”

Your hands dropped from your face, your eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What else did he say?”

He smirked. “Apparently, back then you had a rebellious streak. Sneaking out to go on dates with different boys, huh?”

You groaned, slumping back in your chair. “Nooo. He did not tell you that.”

“Oh, he did,” Lando teased, clearly enjoying himself. “And he said that they knew exactly who those boys were because they were keeping track.”

Your head dropped to the table with a dramatic thud. “Why does Dad always have the need to air my embarrassing phase like that,” you said, voice muffled against the table.

Lando laughed. “Hey, it’s not that bad,” he reassured you.

Lifting your head, you frowned at him, still mortified. “Okay, but in my defense, I always had a feeling that they knew. Especially dad. I wasn’t exactly completely sure, you know? But now…” you sighed, gesturing at him. “Now I know that they know. Great.”

He reached across the table, fingers brushing against yours. “Is that why none of those boys ever made it past your family’s front door?”

“Yup,” you said, nodding. “Not a single one got far enough to meet my parents, I couldn’t really stand the thought of introducing someone who didn’t actually care about me at all.”

You continued, leaning back in your chair. “Along the way, I realized that they only wanted to be with me because of my family. They saw me as some kind of tool…I guess. Like being with me would give them status, connections, or some kind of benefit.”

Lando’s smile faded slightly, his expression turning serious. “I can imagine how tough it must’ve been.”

“I know,” you admitted. “I just wanted genuine connections, but they just saw me as an opportunity. So, before things got messy, I was always the one who ended it first. That’s why none of them ever got through the door of my parent’s house, or let alone set foot on our estate. They weren’t worth it at all.”

Lando reached across the table, hand covering yours. “Well, for the record, I’m glad your Dad approves of me, and I hope I’ve made it clear that I’m here because of you, not anything else.” he then added, “I do hope that I’ve done a better job at proving I’m not one of those boys.”

You smiled, finger tightening around his. “You’re not even close. You’re nothing like them, Lan. You’ve made it more clear, that’s why you’re here now.”

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains as you stood in front of the mirror, smoothing out the delicate fabric of your gown. The gown was breathtaking, every inch was meticulously crafted by Giambattista Valli himself. The subtle shimmer in the fabric caught the light as you moved, and you smiled, tracing your fingers over the discreet initials that had been embroidered near the hem—a personal touch that made the gown uniquely yours. Lando’s suit complemented you perfectly, a sharp, tailored masterpiece with matching initials of his name on the inner lapel.

Lando adjusted the cuffs on his crisp white dress shirt but fumbled slightly with the cuff links. Noticing his struggle, you stepped in closer, gently taking the cuff links from his hands.

“Here, babe, let me,” you said softly, deftly fastening the sleek gold links.

His eyes met yours, a small smile forming on his lips. “Thanks, love. You always know how to save me, huh.”

“You’d manage eventually,” you replied with a teasing smile, your fingers lingering for a moment on his wrist. “But we can’t afford to be late.”

Just as you finished, a soft chime from your phone notified you of the arrival of the car. “The car's here,” you said, stepping back to grab your clutch.

Lando picked up his jacket, slipping it on before crossing the room to you. “Ready?” he asked, offering his arm.

“Ready,” you confirmed, taking his arm as he led you to the door.

The car was waiting at the entrance, its sleek black exterior gleaming in the sunlight. The chauffeur quickly stepped out, opening the door for you, and Lando helped you down the small steps, his hand steady at your back as you navigated the delicate heels you were wearing. He opened the car door, his free hand gently resting on yours as you lowered yourself into the plush interior.

“Careful,” he murmured, making sure you were settled before following after you.

Once he was seated beside you, the car pulled smoothly away, the soft hum of the engine filled the air. You glanced at the matching embroidery on your outfits, a quiet sense of anticipation washing over you as you looked ahead to the day’s events.

The car slowed to a stop in front of the First Methodist Church, the scene outside was a whirlwind of flashing cameras and steady buzz of voices. There was a long line of luxury vehicles stretched down the street, each one spilling out more high-profile guests—foreign dignitaries, government leaders, business tycoons, and a studded lineup of Asia’s brightest stars.

Crowds outside were a sea of media personnel, their cameras aimed and ready to capture every moment of what deemed Singapore’s wedding of the century, akin to Royal Asian Wedding. The chauffeur stepped out and swiftly opened Lando’s door. He exited gracefully, buttoning his tailored suit jacket before turning to offer you a hand. You placed your hand in his, and helped you out of the car.

The moment you fully got out of the car, the flash of the cameras intensified, different photographers yelling questions and calling your names. You paused beside Lando, your arm loosely looped through his, both of you offering calm, poised expressions for the cameras.

“This is a lot,” Lando murmured under his breath, leaning closer so only you could hear.

“Welcome to Singapore’s media circus,” you replied quietly, managing a polite smile as you stood in place for a few more seconds.

The attention was relentless. A few reporters called out to Lando directly, asking for interviews or comments, their voices cutting through the crowd. He shook his head subtly, lifting a hand to politely decline as the two of you turned to make your way towards the church entrance.

You glided across the red carpet, your hand still resting lightly on Lando’s arm. As you approached the grand doors, the tall, ornate arches of the church loomed above, intricate carvings catching the light. The media frenzy continues behind you, but you maintain your composure.

Then, as you entered the threshold, a familiar face came into view, one that is so familiar with you—Francesca Shaw. She stood just off the side, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd as if assessing everyone in attendance. Her pristine gold dress was undoubtedly designer, her hair styled to perfection.

Your expression shifted instantly, a smile vanishing into a deadpan look. Francesca caught your gaze for a moment, her lips twitching as if she might say something, but your firm expression was enough to make her quickly redirect her attention to something, or rather someone else.

Lando noticed the brief exchange as you both walked past her. “Who’s that?” he asked, voice low but curious.

You glanced at him. “Francesca Shaw,” you replied simply, keeping your tone neutral.

He furrowed his brows. “Should I know who she is? Friend of yours?”

“Fuck no,” you answered quickly. “She was the one that’s responsible for the gutted fish in Rachel’s bed during Minty’s bachelorette party.”

Lando blinked, steps faltering for just a moment. “Wait, that’s her?!”

“Mm-hmm,” you confirmed, leading him further into the church. “Best to steer clear. Nothing good comes from her.”

He nodded, expression tightening slightly as he glanced back toward Francesca. “Noted.”

As you and Lando stepped into the main part of the church, the sheer opulence of the space struck you in awe. The vaulted ceilings were adorned with intricate gold details, and the air was filled with soft strains of a live string quartet stationed discreetly in one corner. Every surface seemed to glisten, whether from the polished marble floors, crystal chandeliers, or the hundreds of white orchids cascading over every available surface. It was evident that no expense had been spared—the grandeur practically screamed wealth and power.

Lando’s eyes scanned the space as he whistled low, “this is extravagant.”

You smiled, leaning slightly closer to him as you whispered back, “wait until you see the reception. This is just the warm-up.”

You and Lando moved further into the church, where you caught sight of your family by one of the pews. Your mother stood alongside your Auntie Alix, Auntie Eleanor, and Auntie Jacqueline, their presence commanding attention as they chatted with a group of equally polished society wives. It was a familiar tableau—your aunts all clustered together, forming an impenetrable circle of sharp eyes and even more sharper tongues.

Predictably, your Auntie Eleanor seemed to be critiquing the whole setup. She gestured subtly towards the floral arrangements, her expression a mix of disapproval and thinly veiled judgement. While your Auntie Jacqueline, ever the pragmatist, seemed to be nodding in agreement, and your mother maintained her usual composed smile, occasionally offering diplomatic comments.

You and Lando approached them briefly, exchanging polite greetings. Your mother’s smile softened when she saw you, and she leaned in to kiss your cheek.

“You look very lovely, my darling,” she said, before glancing at Lando and adding, “and the two of you together—perfection, as always!”

After a few moments of pleasantries, you had excused yourselves, knowing the four of them would stick together for the ceremony and be seated in the same pew.

You made your way to the second row, you noted that the first row had been reserved for the Khoos and Lees, with Colin and Araminta’s immediate families already seated. You scanned the room quickly but no sign of Rachel yet, though Nick was near the altar with Colin and the other groomsmen, laughing and chatting. You assumed Rachel must be somewhere nearby.

Upon reaching your seats, you and Lando slid into the second row, settling into the plush velvet cushions. Three rows behind you, your mother and aunts had taken their places, their polished presence unmistakable even without turning around.

You leaned towards Lando, lowering your voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “So, I heard from Auntie Alix,” you began, glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, “that Colin and Minty’s family spent sixty-five million dollars on this wedding.”

Lando’s eyes widened slightly, though he managed to keep his expression neutral. “Sixty-five?” he repeated under his breath.

You nodded, biting back a laugh as you added, “and it made me laugh because I heard Auntie Jacqueline said, ‘we’re Methodists, forty million is our maximum budget for a wedding like this.’”

That was enough to make Lando chuckle softly and shake his head in disbelief. “Forty million is the maximum?” he echoed, tone incredulous but amused.

You grinned, leaning back slightly but keeping your voice low. “Apparently, anything above that is considered excessive—even by our standards.”

Then, you turned around discreetly in your seat to scan the church again, searching for Rachel. It didn’t take long to spot her, she had just arrived and was being greeted warmly by Oliver by the entrance. She moved with a quiet confidence, her luminous presence immediately drawing attention. Heads all turning as she walked past, captivated by the stunning dress she wore—a rich light blue that complimented her complexion perfectly and subtly shimmered in the light.

Your aunts, seated a few rows behind you, were visibly taken aback. Auntie Eleanor, who rarely displays much reaction, looked momentarily stunned, her usual sharp expression softening into one of unguarded surprise. Your Auntie Alix leaned closer to whisper something to her, and Auntie Jacqueline adjusted her posture, almost as if reevaluating Rachel in that moment.

Your mother, however, was all warmth. You could see her beaming brightly at Rachel, her smile filled with genuine approval. You knew immediately what she was thinking, she completely adored the dress and the elegance Rachel exuded.

But something else caught your attention. Rachel glanced towards the pew where your mother and aunts were seated, but she didn’t move towards them. It was obvious she had not been invited to sit with them. Likely, they had made some excuses about how their pew was full, even though you could see there was space.

Rachel hesitated for a brief moment, her eyes scanning the room for an empty seat. Without thinking twice, you raised your hand and waved her over, her eyes lighting up when she saw you, and she made her way towards you. When she reached you, you immediately stood up and pulled her into a warm hug.

“You look absolutely incredible,” you whispered, meaning every word. You stepped back slightly to admire the dress. “That color on you, it’s just so perfect.”

Rachel smiled, her cheeks flushing just slightly. “Thank you,” she replied softly, clearly touched by the compliment.

You gestured to the space beside you. “Come, come. Sit with us,” you said, nodding toward the pew. “There’s plenty of room here.”

She hesitated for only a second before accepting. “Thank you,” she said, voice genuine.

Rachel slid into the pew beside you, and you could feel a subtle sense of relief in her presence as she settled into the seat. Lando leaned over slightly to greet Rachel with a polite nod and warm smile, and exchanged a quick look with him, silently acknowledging how significant this small act of kindness was, especially considering the dynamics at play.

Then, the murmur of the crowd faded into silence as Colin, Nick, and the four other groomsmen made their entrance alongside the pastor. Together, they formed an impeccable picture of elegance and charm, with their perfectly tailored suits catching the soft glow of the church lights. They walked with synchronized strides, confident yet there’s a reverent air about them, like a dashing pack.

Your attention drifted to Rachel, seated beside you, and the way her expression softened when her eyes found Nick. You caught the subtle shift in her demeanor as their gazes locked, a quiet exchange of affection that needed no words. There was something magnetic about the way they looked at each other, as though the entire room fell away for just a brief moment.

A hush of anticipation swept over the congregation as Kina Grannis took the stage by the live string quartet. Her voice rose delicately, the familiar strains of I Can’t Help Falling in Love filled the whole church with a dreamy, romantic air. The melody was sweet and tender, it struck a chord deep within, making the atmosphere impossibly more magical.

Two tiny figures appeared at the entrance—adorable flower girls, their tiny hands clasping wicker baskets as they scattered delicate petals along the aisle. They moved in a choreographed sweetness, bright smiles stealing the hearts of everyone in the room.

Behind them, toddled an equally charming ring bearer, clutching the pillow with seriousness that belied his young age. Each careful step he took earned a quiet chuckle from the crowd, his determination clear as he reached the altar. Nick crouched slightly, taking the ring pillow from the boy, and the playful high-five exchanged between them drew a ripple of soft laughter and smiles.

There was a collective gasp echoing through the church. Water began to flow, a gentle cascade spilling onto the aisle, shimmering as it caught the light. It trickled in perfect harmony, creating a luminous, rippling path that stretched from the entrance to the altar. The sound of water intertwined with the stillness of the music, holding everyone in awe.

The lights dimmed suddenly, and the soft flicker of long delicate stems with glowing tips spread through the crowd like fireflies. One by one, everyone in the congregation reached for the stems and held it aloft, their glittery illumination casting a celestial over the church, all eyes turning towards the entrance.

A group of bridesmaids stood poised, holding beautifully decorated large fronds that veiled what could only be Araminta. Their positioning was precise, deliberate, and graceful. With a choreographed motion, the bridesmaids slowly lifted the fronds, revealing Araminta, standing right next to her father. The moment was breathtaking—she radiated an ethereal elegance that made her appear almost otherworldly.

Araminta held her father’s hand as she gracefully stepped out of her towering heels. The hushed audience barely had a chance to react before she stepped forward, placing her bare feet onto the watery aisle. The music resumed, delicate yet triumphant, as she began her slow, graceful walk.

The bridesmaids followed closely behind her, their steps echoing her elegance, as the congregation swayed their glittery lights in unison. It was a scene out of a dream, a river of light and water that guided Araminta towards her future. From your seat, you could see Colin at the altar, his composed demeanor wavered, expression softening as he took in the sight of Araminta, eyes glistening with unshed tears, emotion written plainly on his face.

You didn’t exactly know what came over you, but as you sat there in the church, watching Colin and Araminta exchange glances filled with love and anticipation, a thought took root inside your mind. The entire wedding, its grandeur, intimacy, and the sense of two people stepping into forever had stirred something within you. It was not a matter of envy or longing for the spectacle itself, but it was the way Colin looked at Araminta—the way she smiled back at him, and the unspoken promise that passed between them.

Perhaps, selfishly, you found yourself imagining that kind of future for yourself. Not just marriage for the sake of it, but a marriage with Lando. The idea settled gently, not as a plan or something to be rushed, but as a hope—a quiet wish for someday. Though it was still too early now, you both were at the top of your careers, still growing individually and as a couple. A year of dating was only the beginning, and there was no need to rush, but the seed of the thought was already there, talking with surprising ease.

It made you genuinely happy to see Colin and Araminta standing at the altar. You had been an observer of their relationship from the beginning, a silent witness to the small and significant moments that had brought them to this day.

Growing up, Colin had been a near-constant presence in your family’s life, a fixture at every gathering and celebration. He was practically an honorary member of your family, and it felt like he belonged there just as much as anyone else. You had seen how Colin pined for Araminta, how he had talked Nick’s ear off about her, recounting every detail of their interactions with the kind of fervor only someone deeply in love could manage. Nick had confided that much to you during your conversations over the years, shaking his head fondly at how his best friend could turn any discussion into one about Araminta.

Your relationship with Nick has always been different from that with your other cousins. Despite the age gap, there was a closeness there that came naturally. Unlike many of your other cousins, who were either too competitive or too caught up in their own bubbles, Nick had always been kind, grounded, and someone you can rely on. Growing up, you often found yourself gravitating towards him, trusting him in ways you could not with the others.

So, seeing Colin—Nick’s best friend, your family’s honorary member, now finally standing with Araminta, the woman he had loved for so long, felt like a full circle of something extraordinary. It made you believe in the kind of love that could weather time and challenges, the kind of love that could one day be yours with Lando.

The reception took place at Gardens by the Bay, where the Botanical Gardens had been transformed into a scene straight out of fairytales. It was utterly breathtaking—every detail meticulously designed to create an almost otherworldly atmosphere. The iconic supertrees stretched overhead, illuminated with soft lights that shimmered in sync with the music. A Chinese big band played softly, filling the air with a nostalgic charm, while fireworks erupted in bursts of vibrant color against the dark night sky, casting an ethereal glow over the festivities.

Colin and Araminta were having their first dance at the center of it all, moving effortlessly in harmony. The wedding party stood loosely circled around them, watching the moment in admiration. You stood close to Lando, his arms loosely draped around your waist, holding you gently but securely. Chest pressed against your back as he swayed with you to the rhythm of the music, a silent echo of the couple’s dance.

Lando leaned in closer, voice low and intimate as he said, “you know, I didn’t really get the chance to tell you earlier, but you look absolutely stunning today, baby.”

His words caught you slightly off guard, but the sincerity in his tone made your chest tighten with warmth. Before you could respond, he placed a soft kiss on your cheek, lingering just long enough for his breath to tickle your skin.

“And this dress,” he added, lips brushing against your exposed shoulder now, “it’s beautiful. But it doesn’t even come close to how insanely beautiful you are.”

Your heart raced as Lando shifted, tilting your face gently towards his. His lips captured yours in a kiss, slow and tender, yet filled with a quiet intensity that made the world around you momentarily dissolve. When Lando pulled back, his eyes met yours, a glint of affection and something deeper reflecting in the warm light of the supertrees.

When Colin and Araminta’s first dance came to an end, the band seamlessly transitioned to a lively and upbeat tune. The atmosphere shifted immediately, with laughter bubbling through the crowd, and Araminta, radiant and full of energy, already had an outfit change, began beckoning guests onto the dance floor.

“Come on, come on!” she called out, her voice carrying over the music. “The party isn’t going to dance itself!”

You and Lando exchanged a quick glance, a shared look of amusement and anticipation. Without any single hesitation, he took your hand gently, lacing his fingers through yours.

“Let’s go,” he said, tone light and teasing.

“Lan, babe, I don’t really—” you began, hesitating slightly, but he was already pulling you toward the dance floor.

“You’re with me,” he assured, grinning reassuringly. “I won’t let you look awkward, I promise.”

The music pulsed through the whole garden, and the dance floor was quickly filling with guests, each one letting loose in the joyful chaos of the celebration, singing along with the band. You had never considered yourself much of a dancer, the thought of dancing always made you self-conscious. Your movements felt stiff and unnatural, and the fear of looking out of place usually kept you from even trying. But with Lando, it was different.

Lando kept a firm but gentle grip on your hand, spinning you lightly to the rhythm of Wo Yao Ni De Ai. His energy was very contagious, movements all natural and easy, and he guided you effortlessly, making sure you felt comfortable.

“Just follow my lead,” he said, voice steady over the music. “And don’t think about it too much.”

You did as he said, allowing yourself to let go of the self-consciousness. You focused on him, and only him—Lando’s playful smile, the way his hands steadied you, the warmth of his presence. Soon, the tension that you’re feeling in your body eased, and you found yourself laughing as you moved to the beat.

“I told you you'd be fine,” Lando said, voice filled with a playful confidence.

“I still think I look very ridiculous,” you replied, laughter spilling out.

“You look amazing,” he countered without missing a beat.

The two of you moved seamlessly among the crowd, completely immersed in the music and the moment. Lando twirled you under his arm, making you laugh again as you stumbled slightly, but his steady hands caught you before you could lose balance.

As the music reached its end, he pulled you in closer. Lando’s movements slowed, the lively rhythm fading into the background as his gaze locked with yours. There was an intensity in his eyes, a soft, unspoken emotion that made you breath catch. Without a word, he leaned in, lips capturing yours in a kiss—gentle, tender, and filled with quiet passion that seemed to echo everything unsaid between you.

When he pulled back, a small smile played on his lips. “See? You’re a natural,” he teased, tone soft and warm.

You just rolled your eyes at him, but couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. The music had picked up again, and without hesitation, you two returned to the rhythm of the night, dancing together with an ease and happiness that made the rest of the world fade away, leaving you and Lando in a little bubble that you made yourself.

As the party went on, you and Lando continued swaying to the rhythm of the music, letting the night carry you in its revelry. The energy of the party was contagious, and you both were determined to make the most of it. The crowd around you was lively, a series of laughter and chatter blending into the music.

Suddenly, someone bumped into you, jostling you slightly. Turning to see who it was, you found yourself face-to-face with Rachel, who was looking very upset, her expression disoriented and distressed as she weaved through the throng of dancing guests.

“Rachel?” you called out, instinctively reaching out to her, your brows furrowing with concern.

Lando gently let go of your hand, his expression mirroring yours. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with worry.

Rachel, however, did not respond. She seemed lost in her thoughts, her gaze darting around as if trying to find something, or someone. Her pace was erratic and quickened as she moved further into the crowd.

You were about to follow her when a piercing scream cut through the music, causing heads to turn. There was laughter and the unmistakable hum of a crowd gathering, phones were raised in unison, their screens glowing as guests pointed toward something, or someone hidden behind the bushes near the edge of the garden.

Your stomach dropped as you and Lando turned to see what the commotion was about. Emerging from the bushes was half-naked Bernard Tai, his shirt already gone and his pants barely clinging to his hips. His movements were chaotic, clearly drunk, and he pawed at Kitty Pong, who struggled to pull herself away.

Kitty, the girlfriend of your cousin Alistair, looked utterly mortified. Her dress was disheveled, and her face was flushed with shame as she desperately tried to cover herself. Bernard, oblivious to the humiliation that they are now facing and radiating off of Kitty, stumbles toward her again, but she shoves him back.

The crowd wasn’t really helping. Instead of intervening, they just stood there, laughing, and some guests outright pointing and jeering, others filming the entire scene as Kitty managed to pull her dress up and flee from the scene, heels clicking sharply against the pavement as she disappeared into the night.

You felt a mix of shock and disgust twist in your stomach, gaze flicking between the fleeing Kitty and the drunken Bernard, who was now slumped against a nearby table, seemingly unaware, or uncaring, of the chaos he had caused. At Colin and Araminta’s wedding, nonetheless.

Lando shook his head in disbelief. “Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath.

Though your attention snapped back to Rachel. She had managed to stop briefly during the commotion, her body all stiff and face unreadable as she watched the scene unfold.

“Rachel!” you called again, but by the time you stepped forward, she was already gone, melting into the crowd and disappearing from view.

A few moments later, Nick came running toward you and Lando, face flushed and breathing uneven. “Have you guys seen Rachel?” he asked urgently, eyes scanning the crowd as though hoping she might reappear.

You glanced back toward the direction Rachel had gone, your worry mounting. “She was just here, but—”

“She already left, mate.” Lando finished, voice somber.

Nick looked around frantically, but it was clear he was too late. Rachel was already nowhere to be found, and whatever had just unfolded seemed to mark the abrupt descent of what had been.

As the night wound down, you and Lando decided it was time to call it a day. The events of the wedding had been unforgettable, but the exhaustion was starting to creep in. Knowing that you only had one day left in Singapore before flying to the UK for Christmas, you both set out to find Colin and Araminta to thank them properly.

After weaving through the remaining guests hand in hand, you finally spotted the newlyweds near the dance floor, glowing with happiness as they spoke to family and friends. When you approached, Colin was the first to notice, greeting you and Lando with a wide smile.

“Hey, you two! Having a good time?” Colin asked, tone warm and genuine.

“A very amazing time,” you replied with a smile. “Thank you so much for inviting us. This was truly the most beautiful wedding I’ve ever been to.”

“Absolutely,” Lando added, nodding. “It was really incredible. Congratulations again to both of you.”

Araminta beamed, her hands resting lightly on Colin’s arm. “Thank you so much for coming. It means the world to us to have you here.”

“Though we wish we could’ve stayed longer,” you said, “but we’re flying back to the UK the day after tomorrow to spend Christmas with Lan’s family.”

Araminta’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s very wonderful! But before you go, we absolutely need a picture together.”

She glanced around and quickly called over a photographer, waving him toward your small group. “We need a picture of the four of us,” she told the photographer with a laugh.

The photographer positioned all of you, and Colin gently placed a hand on Lando’s shoulder while Araminta stood beside you, her arm lightly around your waist. The flash went off, capturing the moment perfectly.

“Wait, wait,” Araminta said after the photographer stepped away. “We need one on your phone too!”

You quickly pulled out your phone, handing it to her so she could take the picture. She directed Colin to pull in a little closer so you could all fit on the frame. This time, the pose was more casual, with everyone leaning in and smiling brightly.

After the pictures were taken, Colin suddenly chimed in. “Oh, by the way, Harrison mentioned the other day that you’re moving to Monaco soon?”

You nodded. “That’s the plan. Everything’s set to go in a few weeks.”

“Then we’ll probably see you in Monaco soon!” Araminta said with a smile. “We’ve got a few trips planned early next year.”

“Definitely! Let us know when you’re coming,” Lando said. “We’ll take you around and catch up.”

“For sure, man! Absolutely.” Colin replied, grinning wide.

You and Lando hugged Colin and Araminta goodbye, exchanging heartfelt well wishes for their honeymoon and married life ahead. As you turned to leave, Araminta gave your hand a quick squeeze.

“Have a safe trip, and Merry Christmas!” she said happily.

“Merry Christmas!” you and Lando said in unison before heading off to find your mother.

Your mother was seated at a table, chatting animatedly with your Auntie Eleanor. When she saw you approach, she stood up and pulled you into a warm embrace.

“You two leaving already?” she asked, tone affectionate.

“We are,” you said softly. “But it was such a beautiful wedding. Everything was perfect.”

“I’m so glad you could be home,” she replied, smoothing a hand over your arm. “Have a safe flight to the UK, and please give my regards to Lando’s family.”

“We will,” you promised, hugging her tightly once more before stepping back. “Lando and I will be back for the New Year’s.”

Your mother stretched out her arms to Lando, giving him a hug. “Thank you for everything.”

“Take good care of her, okay?” your mother reminded, as she smiled at Lando kindly.

“Always,” Lando replied with quiet sincerity.

When you and Lando finally walked through the door of your home, a deep sense of relief washed over you both. The quiet was a stark contrast to the chaos of the day, and you couldn’t help but sigh as you finally slipped off your heels by the entryway. Lando stretched his arms over his head, letting a low groan before giving you a small smile.

“Fucking finally,” he said, voice filled with exhaustion but tinged with amusement. “Home sweet home. That was…something, huh.”

You nodded, placing your clutch by the glass table. “Eventful doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

After settling down on the couch, you pulled out your phone and sent Rachel a quick text:

Hey, Rachel. I hope you’re okay. If you need anything or just want to talk, I’m always here for you.

You stared at the screen for a few moments before putting the phone down. There was a lot on your mind, but Rachel’s well-being was at the top of the list right now. Lando was already seated, leaning back against the cushions with his tie undone and his jacket draped over the armrest. He turned to you with a tired grin.

“That’s got to be the most entertaining wedding reception I’ve ever been to. Not wild, exactly, but definitely eventful. I mean—” he gestured vaguely with his hands. “What even was that? Who are those people?”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “You mean Bernard and Kitty?”

“Yeah.” Lando nodded.

You sighed deeply, not really knowing where to begin or how to start the conversation about Bernard and Kitty. “Bernard Tai is…well, where do I even fucking start with that guy? Let’s see…he’s the only son of Dato’ Tai Toh Lui and Carol Tai, an insanely wealthy family. The Tai Fortune is massive, and Bernad’s basically the heir to all of it. He’s a former classmate of Nick and Colin back in the day.”

“And?” Lando prompted, tilting his head.

“And he’s spoiled as fuck,” you said bluntly. “Like, obnoxiously spoiled. He’s been handed everything his entire life and spends his day burning through money on the most ridiculous shit. He lives for excess and has zero accountability for anything he does. Basically, to sum up all of it—he’s a walking disaster who somehow gets away with everything because of daddy’s money and his family’s influence.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by all of it. “Sounds like he’s a real charmer.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s one way to put it.” you hesitated for a moment before continuing. “And then there’s Ms. Kitty Pong.”

“She’s Alistair’s girlfriend, right?” Lando asked, recalling her name from earlier.

“That’s ex-girlfriend now,” you corrected. “Kitty’s…a real piece of work. She used to be a soap opera star who decided to pivot into climbing the social ladder. She’s been trying, well, desperately, to get into the higher social circles here, but that’s not really going well for her.”

You continued, “most people look down on her because they see her as a gold-digger, and honestly, they’re not really wrong. She's always relying on people like Oliver or Corinna Ko-Tung—Fiona’s cousin, to help her navigate these circles.”

Lando frowned slightly. “And Bernard?”

“Not much better, honestly,” you shrugged. “Yes, he’s a part of our circle, but no one takes him seriously because he’s…well, Bernard. After tonight? Him and Kitty just cemented themselves as gossip fodder for weeks, maybe months. What they pulled tonight at Colin and Minty’s wedding reception is only going to add fuel to the fire. Kitty’s already seen as an outsider, and now, people have an excuse to talk, ridicule, and ostracize her even more.”

He let out a low whistle, leaning his head back against the couch. “That’s rough. But honestly, I don’t get why they thought this, of all nights, was the right time to make a scene.”

You exhaled sharply, the frustration you had been holding back starting to bubble up. “Exactly. Colin and Minty’s wedding was supposed to be their moment. They’ve worked so hard to make it perfect, and then Bernard and Kitty come along and turn it into…that.”

Lando reaches over, taking your hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Hey, don’t let them ruin it for you. The wedding was still beautiful, and Colin and Minty looked so happy. That’s what matters, right?”

You nodded slowly, trying to let go of your irritation. “Yeah, you’re right. It's just…makes me mad, you know? They deserved better than that.”

They did,” Lando agreed, voice soft. “But it’s already over now, and you can’t control what other people do. All you can do now is focus on the good parts of the day, and trust me, there were a lot of those.”

You smiled faintly, leaning into him. “Thanks for the reminder. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Lando pressed a light kiss to the top of your head. “Always.”

[hayseed321]

It was the end of the second semester. Dillon one of her freshman students wasn't doing well in her Spanish class. She had seen it time and time again,students would come eager to learn and work than blow off all there studies to party with there friends. I don't know what it was but she had found something in Dillon that was special. She seen something in him she wasn't going to give up on that easy. She wasn't about to sit back and watch him ruin his life like she had seen happen to so many others. As the bell for her class rang and her students got up to exit her class she called for Dillon to come to her desk. She didn't know what she wanted to say, but new she needed to do something. She could see him roll his eyes before he turned to walk toward the front of the class.

Dillon: Uhh... Hello Ms. Fernández you wanted to see me?

Ms. Fernández: Yes Dillon. I am worried you are going to fail my class. I wish to help you anyway I can. Is this the only class you are having trouble with?

Dillon: Well, I appreciate the gesture, but this isn't any of your business how I am doing.

Ms. Fernández: Ok. Wow...I am sorry I asked. I hate to see any of my students struggle. If you ever need help, I am always here.

Dillon: I don't need your help! I hate people saying they feel sorry for me! I am not looking for your pity! How would you be able to help me anyways? Why would you want to help me?

Ms. Fernández: Well Dillon I don't feel sorry for you? I see students like you come in my class every year. They do well than they party with there friends and next thing they are failing there classes and dropping out of school. Your right I don't have to help you, but I just want to say I would like to help if you let me. You know I took alot of the same classes you are taking I bet when I went to college. I try and help my students in anyway I can. You just need to know to ask for it. Tell you what. Why don't we meet at my place three times a week Monday, Wednesday, Friday. We will go over anything you are having trouble with. I will meet your teachers,kinda like your parents would when you were in grade school.

Dillon thought about it. He could see she was willing to go out of her way to help him in anyway possible. So he agreed to meet her three nights a week 3pm at her place.

Dillon couldn't stop thinking of Ms. Fernández. He always had a crush on her. She was hot for a teacher and so kind to try and help him. He didn't want to let her down. Dillon didn't know when he would ever need to know trigonometry, molecular biology or marketing in real life. The day dragged slowly on and he found it difficult to stay focused on his clasess. He kept thinking of what she had told him "she would talk to his teachers, just as his parents had when he was in grade school." Did she want to be his mother? If his parents saw what grades he was getting they would beat him for sure! But they wouldn't know how to help. He noticed none of his other teachers offered helping like Ms. Fernández did. The bell finally rang and he found himself at the front of Ms. Fernández's house ringing her door bell. Someone opened the door but it wasn't Ms. Fernández. I am sorry I must have the wrong house. Wait who are you looking for? Ms. Fernández.

Oh you must be Dillon. I am Jessica, Ms. Fernández girlfriend please come in. Let me take your coat. I have heard so much about you. Let me tell Julie you are here. Come on into the kitchen.

Thanks Jessica. Hi Dillon, you can call me Julie. Julie and Dillon sat down and went over everything that Dillon was struggling with and what teachers he had. Julie told Dillon they needed to meet atleast three nights each week in order to catch him up with his classes. If he were to miss one there was going to be punishments. Jessica made supper than the three of them ate together. Than they said there goodbyes as Dillon left to go home. Dillon went to his classes Tuesday and Wednesday and to Julie's house after school. The next day his friends had told him of a big party Friday night. The party was on the otherside of campus and they had to bring there own drinks. Dillon didn't have a car so he rode his bike to a convenient store and bought a 30 pack of beer. Dillons friends were happy to see him. One of his crushes told him she would be glad to study with him😜 and that he might get lucky tonight! That reminded Dillon he had forgotten to go to Julie's after school 🙈 The party was amazing. It was definitely the biggest party Dillon had ever been to. There was much drinking, drugs, loud music, and sexy girls. The next morning Dillon didn't feel so good. He felt he was at a playground spinning on one of those spinning wheels and he couldn't make it stop. When he was able to check his phone he could see he had multiple missed calls and texts from Julie. He called her back and apologized for his absence from studying. Dillon lied and told Julie he was at a friend's house and he had forgotten all about studying. Monday morning came and another student in Julie's class asked Dillon if he remembered jumping into the pool from the roof of the house. Dillon shook his head no. Julie pretended not to hear as she went about teaching. Julie asked Dillon after class if he planned on meeting at her place after school to study at her place. Dillon apologized for missing Friday and agreed to meet her after school. Julie called Jessica to tell her to expect Dillon after school and to get the punishment room ready. As Dillon went through his day he remembered Julie saying if you miss one day there would be a punishment. He couldn't help but think of what Julie's punishment would be. He thought to himself what did she expect? Every student comes to have fun to college, as well as to learn. Did she expect him to go to school and not party and have fun on a Friday night? Dillon couldn't stop thinking of this the rest of the day. For some reason he felt nervous standing at Julie's door ringing the door bell. Again Jessica answered the door and welcomed him in. Hello Dillon, Julie was very disappointed with you Friday. Jessica took Dillons coat and hung it up for him on the coat rack. Please follow me. Jessica took him by the hand and led him into an adjacent room and closed the door. It looked like some sort of nursery. Jessica sat down and still had ahold of Dillons arm. Jessica asked Dillon how come he hadn't told Julie there was a party you wanted to attend?Dillon mumbled" I don't know? She undid his pants and slid them off with ease. Than caught him off balance laying Dillon across her lap. Almost immediately he felt the swats and felt the sting of each spank. Dillon was very small for his age at only 5' and very slim not alot of muscle either. Jessica had no trouble holding him down. It didn't take long and Dillon was a sobbing mess in Jessica lap. Jessica hugged Dillon and asked Dillon to tell her what he had done wrong. Dillon crying said " I went to the party and didn't tell Julie".

That's right Dillon. Julie is doing all this to try and help you. She isn't trying to make your life miserable. Why didn't you tell Julie you wanted to go to a party?

I don't know why i didn't tell Julie? I must of forgotten? Well she could of rescheduled your study for a different time but you act like a child who isn't responsible at all! Jessica picked Dillon up with ease and carried him to the changing table. Dillon hugging Jessica with both arms. Jessica pulled Dillons sneakers, pants and boxers off. Dillon was wondered what she was doing but didn't want another spanking so he figured he would keep his mouth shut. Jessica slid a diaper under him and powdered him than pulled the diaper up between his legs and fastened the tapes. She picked Dillon up and helped him off the table and stood him on the floor. Dillon noticed what he was wearing now, a short t shirt that stopped at the top of his diaper a diaper and socks. Why am I wearing a diaper? Where are my boxers and pants? Julie wanted to punish you like the age you are acting. Jessica picked Dillon up and carried him downstairs and set him in a high chair strapped him in than slid the tray in place. "Hey I can sit at the table?" Julie smiled as she saw Dillon. He looked like a little toddler the exact way she saw him. Julie spoke " Me alglegra que hayas podido Venice esta noche!" (I am glad you were able to make it tonight!"

Jessica had to hide her face from laughing as she fastened his bib behind his head.

Julie " Parece que tines much aprendizaje en tu future cercano!"(looks like you have lots of learning ahead)

Julie and Jessica kept Dillon at there home and had him do his classes from there. Dillon wasn't happy at all but his grades improved dramatically. Julie would teach and Jessica would help with Dillon and his studies at home. Without the need for bathroom breaks Jessica could direct all Dillons focus to his studies except for breakfast and lunch and a quick diaper change here and there. His teachers couldn't believe his progress and wished this for more of there students. One day Julie overheard a student talking of Dillon and asking for him. It was Ashley his crush he hung with at the party. When the bell rang and the students got up to leave Julie called Ashley to meet her at her desk. Ashley walked up to her desk. "Hello Ms. Fernández you wanted to see me?" Yes. Ashley. You have been a great student in my class, I wish you would speak out more! I was wondering what you would think of studying after school at my place. I have been helping Dillon with his classes. He is doing so much better.

Ashley: You know where Dillon is?

Ms. Fernández: Yes he is at my home. I enrolled him in the online classes so he could focus more and get more one on one. I didn't mean to keep him from his friends. He just wasn't very informative of telling me when he was coming to study and when he wasn't.

Ashley: So you kidnapped him?

Ms. Fernández: No, not excactly. I was helping him, but he needed more help than what we could give in the alloted time. You are welcome to see him whenever you like. For some online is a much easier way of learning, and they are often able to graduate months ahead of when they expected saving there parents $1,000s. I have been in contact with his parents who have already thanked me over and over for helping him.

Ashley: You won't kidnap me to if I come to see him?

Ms. Fernández: No, no one is kidnapping anyone? He would love to see his friends I am sure!

Ashley went off to her next class thinking of Dillon and what Ms. Fernández said. It seemed so strange Dillon not contacting any of them. She decided she would go to Ms. Fernández's house and sew what was going on herself.

Ms. Fernandez told Jessica they might have Ashley, Dillons girlfriend visiting later, and to dress Dillon appropriately. Jessica did as Julie told her and Dillon looked and smelled amazing. Jessica had told Dillon they were having a guest to the house and wanted everything to be top notch. Jessica and Dillon cleaned the house top to bottom. Jessica set the table for the 4 of them. Dillon asked Jessica where she put his high chair? Jessica told him he had been such a good boy he could sit at the table tonight. Jessica made a dish of Stromboli, Italian bread and red wine.

Ashley finished with school for the day made her way to Ms Fernández's house. Ashley rang the door bell twice before Ms. Fernández opened it.

Ms. Fernández: Hello Ashley.

Ashley: HI Ms. Fernández

Ms. Fernández: You can call me Julie please. Jessica walked over to take Ashley's coat. And this is Jessica my girlfriend. This is Ashley

Jessica: Pleased to meet you

Ashley: Nice to meet you.

Dillon came out to see who it was. When he saw it was Ashley he turned bright red.

Ashley: Hi Dillon

Dillon: Hi Ashley

Ashley ran to give Dillon a hug. How are you doing? It has been a few weeks.

Dillon: I have been good. Just been busy with school work. Jessica has been helping me alot. If it wasn't for Jessica and Julie I would have dropped out by now. He started crying.

Ashley; Now, now, Dillon. It's ok. I am very happy they have been here to help you. I have missed you though. Ashley started crying also. I thought you had left without saying goodbye. Ashley grabbed Dillons butt. What are you wearing a diaper?

Julie cut in and took Ashley to a side room. This is the reason Dillon didn't want to be with his friends. He didn't want to be made fun of. The night of the party he jumped into the pool the doctors sayed he might be incontinent the rest of his life. True friends will stay by someone through thick and thin. Will you be that for Dillon? He could really use that type of friendship. I know he loves you, do you love him?

Ashley: Crying "Yes I still love him" I didn't know he got hurt?

Julie: Can you keep this secret between us?

Ashley: Of course!

Julie: Hugs Ashley. That's great! He needs all the support we can give him. If you are open to babysitting or (aka studying) I would luv to have some nights out myself and Jessica if you wouldn't mind.

Ashley laughs. Yeah I could babysit (aka study)

Jessica: Let's all go into the kitchen and sit and eat.

Julie: That's a great idea!

Ashley held Dillons hand kissed Dillons neck and whispered I love you and I will always love you no matter what.

Dillon stopped, looked straight into Ashley's eyes. Tears running down his face. Hugged Ashley with all his might. Ashley pulled Dillon close.

Ashley; I think it's kinda cute actually. Should I check you? She patted Dillons diaper. Dillon turned three shades of purple. As he tried to pull away.

Dillon: Diapers are not my thing. I suppose I am getting used to them best I can. Please don't tell anyone!

Ashley could see how upset this made him. I won't. I never want to do anything to hurt you Dillon. You can trust me. Ashley finished hugging Dillon with a kiss on the lips. She than pulled Dillon into the kitchen. Dillon pulled Ashley's chair out for her. Jessica pulled the chair out for Julie than Dillon sat while Jessica brought everything to the table. After eating and sharing stories Ashley said she needed to go. Julie asked Ashley if she could babysit Dillon Friday night for real?

Ashley said sure what time?

Julie: 5:00 Jessica and I have tickets to a comedy show we won't be back till late. You are welcome to stay the night in our guest room. We would really appreciate this! We love Dillon but don't think he would stay awake through a late night comedy. Lol. He has been going to bed 8:00pm sharp. But you guys can stay up as late as you like. It was easier setting him up on a strict schedule for teaching him. Otherwise he wouldn't want to get up in the mornings for Jessica.

Ashley: OK, I will see you Friday 5:00pm. Bye Dillon she kissed him again. Dillon turning 3 shades of red from one little kiss. Ashley smiled thinking how cute. She felt she was falling in love with him all over again. Like Dillon was someone new, he kinda was to her. She wasn't sure what she felt. Looking at Dillon, she always stood above him. Now she would be caring for him like she had done for her nieces and nephews.

The week pressed on Ashley participated more in Julie's class. Ashley went to see Dillon every night after school. Jessica would help them both with there homework. Than Ashley and Dillon would spend there time alone on the couch watching TV. Jessica came to check on Dillons diaper he was wet. Ashley told Jessica she wanted to change his diaper.

Jessica said that was ok and told Ashley she would show her where the supplies were kept. Jessica took Ashley and Dillon into his nursery and showed her his changing table, all equipped with diapers creme, powder, oil, lotion underneath. A large crib in the corner, a rocking horse, a rocking chair, story books for small kids, a high chair, and a jolly jumper.

Ashley's eyes😳grew wide. Why do you have so much children stuff? I thought this was a medical condition?

Jessica: Yes, but before Dillon we always wanted a baby but we couldn't have one. So we made this room hoping someday we would adopt one.

Jessica picked Dillon up onto the changing table. You see. This was a dream come true for us. As well as a great help to Dillon with his schooling. Dillon fit in so well being so small for his age.

Ashley shook her head in agreement. Ashley thanked Jessica for showing her where the supplies were and Jessica left to do other work. Ashley pulled Dillons pants down. She noticed the cute designs on his abdl diapers. She slid a fresh diaper under his butt as he lifted. Ashley unfastened the tapes and wiped around his cock and balls. Ashley pulled the wet diaper out and rolled it up and tossed it into his diaper pail. She applied baby oil, as she rubbed it in she couldn't help but notice Dillons pee pee getting hard. She couldn't possibly put a diaper on this way? Ashley hopped up on to the table on top of Dillon. Ashley sat on top of Dillon and inserted his shaft into her. She rode it hard until she could hear Dillons breathe get hard and she pulled out. Still rubbing over his shaft. Ashley pulled his diaper up between his legs and fastened it in place. She continued riding him until his breathing was normal again. He shot a hot stream of sperm over his tummy which Ashley quickly licked up. She couldn't get enough of Dillon so sweet and innocent laying there willing to give himself to her in anyway she pleased. Trusting her completely with his deepest secrets. She worked her way up pulling his shirt off giving his tummy rasburries, kissing her way up to his lips. Grinding her body against his diaper. His member fighting against the fabric of the diaper to get back into her, spilling load after load of semon onto his stomach. Ashley licked his tummy again than wiped it clean with a few baby wipes. She unfastened his diaper and sprinkled some baby powder rubbed it in than fastened his diaper in place. Ashley helped Dillon off the table and pulled his pants off. Telling him he looks to cute! She needs to be able to see when he needs changing. Dillon rolls his eyes🙄. Ashley holds Dillons hand as she brings him back to the living room to watch cartoons. Ashley told Dillon, Jessica, and Julie she had to go. They sayed there goodbyes as Ashley left. Ashley had a hard time concentrating the rest of the week. She finally made it to Friday. She rang the door bell to Julie's house. Jessica let her in Dillon was in just a diaper, socks and a short shirt. Ashley hugged Dillon telling him shechad missed him so.

Jessica brought his highchair out to the kitchen and set his bib out. Julie and Jessica told Ashley if she needed anything to call one of them. Otherwise have fun! As Ashley and Dillon waved goodbye. Ashley patted Dillons diaper playfully. Ashley went to the fridge to see what there was to eat. She didn't find much except cool whip, chocolate syrup, pudding, as well as m&ms on the counter. She looked in the cupboards just jars of baby food. She She ordered pizza ,wings and soda. Than took the syrup, coolwhip, m&ms, and pudding into the nursery than called for Dillon to check his diaper. She patted his diaper. It was wet. She unfastened his diaper and wiped him clean, she placed a fresh diaper under him and rolled up his wet diaper and thew it in his diaper pal. With him laying over his fresh new diaper she poured the syrup over his pee pee, along with cool whip, m&ms and pudding than pulled his diaper up between his legs. She took his baby oil and rubbed it all over him from head to toe. She helped him down whispering in his ear if i catch you in less than 10 min. You have to eat baby food and drink baby formula. If you can keep from getting caught for greater than 10 min. You can eat pizza. Ashley chased Dillon around the house she would catch him but he easily would slip out of her grasp. She charged him laying him out on the couch Ashley kissed him. I believe captured you and its only been 4 min. I believe i will have my desert now. She unfastened his diaper and began to lick the contents in his diaper. Not wanting to waste a diaper she fastened it back up. She turned to walk in to the kitchen she heard some soft grunts. She noticed Dillon squatting down trying to hide behind the chair. She pretended not to see him. Most other girlfriends would leave after such an ordeal. Some reason she thought he looked so cute. Helplessly filling his diaper up like the little baby he had become. She went back into the kitchen and warmed up a bottle of formula. Dillon came into the kitchen to see what was for supper. As she handed the bottle to him the door bell rang. Ashley grabbed some money and asked Dillon playfully to answer it. He almost fainted. Just kidding kiddo giving Dillon some swats to his full diaper. You stay here. Ashley answered the door and payed the delivery man. Ashley came back into the kitchen and placed the pizza on the table. She picked Dillon up under his loaded diaper like a toddler and placed him in his highchair. She strapped him in than slid the tray in place. She than took the bib Jessica left out and placed it around his neck. She grabbed some squash, and roastbeef baby food and the formula and began to feed him while she ate her pizza.

Lessons in love

[notquitecanon]

Familiarity & Whiskey // Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Simon and Johnny get in a fight, which is how Simon crosses your path. Thinking your an easy mark for quick comfort and a quick fuck, he's not aware you're in the UK to meet your estranged father. Your circles running tighter with his than he thinks...

(Unedited)

Poor Simon can't catch a fucking break. Let this man nut and smoke a cigarette.

CW: feminine descriptions and pronouns used, alcohol consumption, making out, heavy petting, allusions to oral (male receiving), Simon's lowkey highkey manipulative, absent father!John Price, don't think too hard about age gaps i gave up

Request by: @i-live-in-spite

NSFW 18+ MDNI

"Go to hell, Riley. ‘S where ye fuckin’ belong." 

That had been Johnny’s direct words.

 Which was the first and only time Johnny had addressed by just his last name. Usually it was some irritating nickname, his callsign, or his rank delivered with the Scotsman’s usual bright eyes and mirth that somehow made it less annoying to Simon. And when it was his real name, in serious times, it was his first name, with a sincere look and genuine inflection. Never just ‘Riley’. 

But Johnny had spit his last name like it was a curse. Something that tasted bitter in his mouth, something poisonous. 

Hell, maybe it fucking was. And it had him craving something volatile- destructive. Alcohol, sex, a pack of cigarettes… and if he couldn’t get one of those to self-medicate this poisonous streak, he’d settle for bloodying his fists before the end of the night. 

A shit mission with a shit conclusion. A shit day. Fuck, a shit year.  Culminating in a clash between Lieutenant and Sergeant, Simon’s icy seething clashing Johnny’s explosive rage about a bad call made worse by Simon’s version of coping- cold indifference and colder jokes.  Actions had consequences, isn’t that what Simon always told his sergeant? Maybe that’s why Simon was stewing in the shitty pub close to base crawling with recruits after Gaz and Price had forcibly split up the confrontation right as it was about to get physical. 

Price had all but shoved him off base while Gaz took Soap somewhere to cool off- probably the gym or some equally shitty pub on opposite ends of the city. So there he was, sulking in a corner, nursing the only bourbon this bar offered, stewing over whether or not he needed to apologize.  

The thought of apologizing burned worse than the bottom shelf bourbon he was sipping. He was Ghost. The Ghost. He didn’t apologize. This was one of those times he would’ve actually appreciated Price’s usually unwarranted ’sage’ advice- but he was tied up, still on base and pissed off because he was trying to wrap up mission reports and now was cleaning up Simon’s mess. 

—

"Excuse me? Would it be ok if I sat here? I’m waiting for someone but the guys at the bar won’t leave me alone." You were biting your lip a little, trying your best not to look too awkward as you asked the tall, dark, and you assumed handsome but you couldn’t tell around the mask he was wearing. You felt nervous, but not to be talking to you, you were nervous for a laundry list of other reasons. Including and limited to meeting your father for the first time since you were barely three years old. 

When the pub had been suggested to you, you’d thought the closeness to his base was an advantage- casual, easy, public, nearby- what you hadn’t accounted for was the herds of young soldiers that would also be there.  Trying to buy yourself a drink to calm your nerves while you waited had resulted in four heinous pick up lines, three cocktail napkins with phone numbers scrawled on them, two vulgar gestures, and one marriage proposal. Like the 12 days of Christmas song, but from hell. The only place that wasn’t buzzing with sloshed young soldiers was a dark corner with an absolute behemoth of a masked man, two empties and a half drank tumbler of whiskey.  Despite (or perhaps because of) the nerves, jet lag, and shot of tequila you’d just took because of said nerves, you considered yourself something of a strategist. 

After you asked, narrowed amber eyes flicked up to you appraisingly, pinning you to your spot. Even slightly slouched over his drink, he was huge. Not just tall, but built like a brick house. He wasn’t wearing an actual military uniform, but everything about him just read military. He stared at you for a second, then a minutes, stretching into two. To your credit, you kept your chin high and your eyes level on his. Right as you started to say, "Never mind, sorry to bother-" 

" ’s fine." His voice was deep and kind of gravelly, low enough that his quiet tone was almost lost to the barroom chatter. His accent wasn’t one you’d heard before, a bit sharper and choppier than the accent John had on the phone. He scooted further into the booth, dragging his drink with him. As you turned back and slid into the corner booth, he scrutinized you again, like you were supposed to be familiar to him, "I know you?" 

"Doubt it." You smiled, a tight lipped but warm thing. You knew you didn’t know him considering this was the first time you’d set foot in this country. Not to mention you’d undoubtedly remember a character like this. So instead, you offered him your name and an outstretched hand. He nodded, neither returning the exchange or shaking your hand, just grunting to show he heard you. 

Still, he scanned you again. Simon was sure he’d never met you, but there was something about you that was eerily familiar. It was the feeling of someone’s name being on the tip of his tongue but slipping between thoughts before he could place it, or a song that as soon as he tried to think about it the melody slipped away. It wasn’t your physical features, as pretty of a bird as you were. That little smile, the way you carried yourself, the saunter in your walk, how your shoulder were held, the set of your jaw, you were young in the face but seemed older, the casual confidence so rare for someone your age… These were all things so familiar to him, but he couldn’t connect it to it’s match. Maybe it was the bourbon. 

"Y’not from ‘round here." He stated, and it wasn’t a question. Simon knew it as a fact. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why someone not from here would patronize a piss-poor pub like this, especially a bird like you- pretty and warm and put together. He rose an eyebrow that shifted the brow of his mask, "What brings you?" 

Blunt and to the point. Definitely military.  You leaned back against the booth, your finger tracing the glass rim of the wine glass you’d set down in front of you. White wine from a shit hole like this was one of the many clues that you didn’t belong here. 

"Meeting someone important." You answered vaguely with another one of those warm but tight smiles. Seriously, where did he know that from? "He’s late." 

"A date?" He pressed further with eyes that were somehow intense and disinterested at the same time. You couldn’t decide if his bluntness was a military quirk or social dysfunction, or possibly both. Of course he couldn’t know that this was the furthest thing from a date you could be doing tonight, which made you laugh, loudly and suddenly. The noise took Simon off guard, but not for it’s spontaneity or for how bright and beautiful it was , but because it tugged at that feeling a familiarity, bordering on nostalgia. 

"Oh, god no." You rushed, shaking your head and forming an X over your chest for good measure, still laughing a bit as you took a sip of wine. Still, you weren’t sure how you were supposed to describe John. "Not a date. I’m just meeting…. someone important." 

Simon doesn't know why this pleased him. Something about you being available and talking to him as opposed to the damnably flashy and obnoxious grunts wearing their dress uniforms to the pub on a fuckin’ Tuesday… Simon’s mouth quirked into a subtle smirk as he lifted his mask enough to take a sip of his bourbon, not missing how your too-familiar eyes followed the movement, intrigued and keen, “Who then?" 

"Nope, I’ve already answered, like, three questions. Your turn?" There was that casual confidence again as you turned the question on him with that little grin, legs cross under the table as your nails clicked against the sticky wood table, "What brings you here?" 

Simon’s expression under the mask soured again, eyes fixing on the lipstick stain on your wine glass. Pretty color… He wondered how it’d look smeared along his mouth. Or his cock. He shook that thought out of his head, bringing his eyes back to yours. Maybe it was the bourbon that loosened his tongue, or maybe those eyes of yours, “Got in a fight with a mate o’ mine. It was… suggested that we give each other some space.” 

‘Suggested' was nice was of saying Price manhandled him all the way to the guard station at the gate. Like a scolded dog being put outside. 

“So you’ve put yourself in the corner? Are you in timeout?” You quirked an eyebrow in another frustratingly familiar gesture, something that made him chuckle instead of bristle as you gestured to the dark corner he’d been lurking in. 

“Something like that.” He nodded, swirling the whiskey in his glass. 

“What was the fight about?” You asked casually, taking another sip of your wine. Normally so private, Simon would’ve bitten a stranger’s head off for such a personal question. But coming from you, between his desire to keep your attention on him and the ever present nagging sense of familiarity, he just sighed. 

“Hard week pushed some buttons. We’ve both got tempers. Mine’s worse.” He explanation was simple, both from characteristic standoffishness and the fact the mission that had provoked this fight had taken place in a country the British Military was not supposed to be. Another deep sigh like the confession took something wrenching from him, “He puts up with me usually, but I… said somethings’ I shouldn’t’ve.”

You nodded sagely, taking in the rather vague information with eyes settled on the far wall as if you were doing mental math, quiet deductions. He recognized this look from somewhere, this was the look of someone looking for answers and solutions. Your fingers tapped against the table again before your eyes slid back to him, “So you were both assholes to each other, but you were worse?” 

“Yeah. That’s the gist of it.” Simon scoffed as you boiled down his already barebones explanation even further. You nodded again, looking at him quizzically. 

“Have you thought about just apologizing?” You rose an eyebrow at him, your head cocking a little to the side. The most obvious answer in the world that for some reason he couldn’t wrap his hand around. He opened his mouth to protest, but you were quicker, voice chiding in way he’d heard before- but from where?, “No, let me guess, it’s not that simple, you can’t just apologize.” 

For a moment you dropped your voice a little lower and attmepted a half imitation of his Mancunian accent which would’ve been offensive if it wasn’t exactly what he was about to say. You huffed a quiet lap before returning to your normal tone with a roll of your eyes, “Believe me, yes, it is that simple, and, yes, you can just apologize. And if you truly think it’s not something an apology would fix, let him get one good hit in and get it out of your systems. Problem solved.” 

“Get it out of our systems?” Simon asked a little incredulously, despite the sampling of a sharp wit and the occasional hard glint to your eyes, he hadn’t expected someone as soft looking as you to jump to punching as a serious form of conflict resolution. Hell, you sounded more like his Captain Price than some random pretty thing in a pub, “that’s terrible advice.” 

“You telling me you would’ve seriously taken my apologize and talk it out advice?” Your eyebrows raised again as you leaned forward on your elbows onto the table- another frustratingly familiar look that would’ve distracted him if your now exposed cleavage didn’t distract him further. He swallowed as he stared, feeling the growing need to get something out of his system, and his fight with Johnny was becoming less and less forefront in his mind. 

“Not a chance.” He shook his head, sniper eyes locking in on the drop of wine that escaped your glass and slid between your breasts, quickly disappearing between skin and under your shirt. He could find it with his tongue, bet your skin made the wine sweeter… 

“Yeah,” You laughed again, setting down the empty glass, finding this intriguing masked character to be a wonderful distraction from the anxiety of this upcoming meeting. And if John was running late, you’d take advantage of the distraction, “Figured as much.” 

___

An hour and another glass of wine later, you’d continued to scoot closer to the masked man in the booth with you. He was first to initiate contact, throwing an arm over your shoulders in the pretense of keeping you close enough to hear over the rowdy group cheering on a rugby game, it was you who had leaned into his side. His hand had found your thigh first, but your nails were tracing little shapes and words against his forearm. 

“Who was it you were meetin' 'ere, sweetheart?” Simon asked again, his mask still rolled over his nose again as he took another sip of his bourbon, lips grazing your earring as his breath fanned over your neck. He wondered how you would react if his teeth tugged one of the pretty little earrings you’d picked out. You were distracted noticing how his accent minced certain letters in syllables in a delectable way, “Only a fool’d keep you waitin’ this long.” 

Two glasses of wine and jet lag had done away with your need for vague answers as you leaned into him, shivering as the smell of bourbon, cigarettes, and gunpowder started to overpower your perfume. You swallowed, eyes meeting his with a bit of nervousness he hadn’t been able to pick up on you until just now, “I’m meeting my father. We’ve been estranged most of my life. And he’s an hour and forty five late now.” 

“Shit.” Simon muttered under his breath, not thinking you could’ve said anything that could really surprise him. Meeting your estranged father and yet you’d spent the last two hours coaching and comforting him through a fight with his friend. That level of self sacrifice should’ve clued him into your parentage almost immediately, but he was busy staring at how your wide eyes were staring up at him through your lashes, teeth toying with the seam of your lips that your tongue kept darting out to wet. 

“I’m a little nervous.” You admitted, the nail that was tracing shapes on his forearm dropped down to his massive thigh to brace yourself. If you leaned any closer, you’d be all but in his lap- which wouldn’t be the worse thing, both of you mentally decided. You took a deep breath, sipping some of the water you’d ordered midway through your third glass of wine,  "A lot nervous, actually.” 

One thing about Simon, was that as a sniper, he was opportunistic. When he saw a shot, he took it. And you just lined him up to test his theory on how long it’d take to convince you to slip into the pub bathrooms with him. 

His arm around your shoulder adjusted so he could gently brush some hair behind your ear, thumb purposely grazing your cheekbone before he tilted your face up to meet his, “Well, you know the best way to get over your nerves?” 

The sudden closeness stunned any witty retort to silence as you hummed for him to continue, swallowing thickly in a way that brought those keenly sharp eyes to watch the bob of your throat. He chuckled lowly to himself, so sweet and perfect, he was about to absolutely ruin you. But he wasn’t evil, he’d put you back together again… 

“Gotta… work... it outta your system. Just like you said, sweetheart.”  His other hand was kneading into your thigh through the pretty satin of your skirt, such a good girl, with a skirt below your knees, and he looked forward to shredding those tights underneath with nothing but his teeth and bare hands. But… he wondered if he could make you cum through them before he ruined them, and with the way you tensed and then melted at his touch, he was betting the answer was a firm yes. “Gonna let me help you like you’ve been helping me?”

You thought he sure had a funny way of equating this heavy petting to the teasing and mild comfort you’d offered about his fight with this ‘Soap’ guy, but you nodded anyway. All the pent-up anxiety made it an eager motion as he chuckled, leaning forward and catching your mouth, so possessive and borderline aggressive at your compliance. He was a bit of a bully, using his bulk and his weight so you would bend underneath him like he was testing how hard he had to press for you to break, and when you whined at the feeling of him biting your lip, he only swallowed your sounds and laughed into your mouth. 

Lips smearing your pretty makeup, one hand tangling your hair into his finger and the other fisting your skirt so it started hiking up your legs, and one of his boots nudging your ankles out of their polite cross so he could start prying your thighs apart.  God, you were making out (bordering on hooking up) with a nameless, masked man with anger issues while you waited to meet your estranged father for basically the first time… What had your life come to? 

Actually, the absent father bit explained the masked stranger bit if you thought about it for more than three seconds. 

“Fuckin’ hell, you’ve gotta be taking the absolute piss, Simon.” A sudden and angry voice, familiar to both of you sounded from the front of your secluded little booth. You jumped back away from your paramour. Simon, apparently was his name, while he only turned in frustrated confusion at his captain interrupted him blowing off steam, just as he’d been instructed when Price all but kicked him off base for the night. 

Your eyes went wide in absolute mortification, like you’d melt under the table and just die there. Standing there, watching you sloppily make out with someone he apparently knew, was your father. John Price. Who hadn’t seen you since you were three years old and compulsively carried around a Kermit the frog stuffie everywhere you went… He looked older compared to your hazy memories of him and the singular picture your mother hadn’t burned, and the interesting facial hair only made him look older. You suspected he was capable of looking warm and kind, your mother always said you got his soft eyes and smile, but right now he looked pissed.

“Price?” Simon questioned, yanking his mask back over his mouth to hide the smears of his lipstick, wondering if this temper had something to do with the mission or with his fight with the sergeant and if so, why it was urgent enough to interrupt him right now. He’d noted how you went rigid underneath him, batting his hand out of the balmy soft canyon between your spread thighs before they clamped shut again. Shit, that door was rapidly closing...

You spoke at the same time as Simon, your voice somewhere between hesitant questioning and caught teenager, “Dad?” 

“Dad?” Simon immediately parroted, his respect for his Captain superseding the whiskey and lust as he peeled himself off of you quickly doing mental math Olympics to figure out genetics and age gaps, “Bloody Hell, John-“ 

You shrieked, as Simon didn’t get a chance to justify himself or even ask, how was I supposed to know the bird I was trying to fuck was your kid you’ve never told anyone about? Because your father’s face went red instantly, jumping across the booth and landing a scarily hard punch across Simon’s face, spilling wine and whiskey all over you in the process. 

So it was going to be a bloody knuckles kind of night, after all. 

____

Sorry I kinda changed up your request a little bit, I started writing and it kinda got away from me. I'm a slave to the little worm in my brain.

[little-luna-llama]

It is time

We made it to Christmas

a shadowvani and custard family fic.

Originally given to the shadowvani server and a few others as a treat.

Vanilla could hear the giggles and light steps before they reached the door and pushed it open just enough to squeeze in. Understandable, yet still snuggled under the covers in a position too comfy to simply move he stayed. He'd made his intent clear last night and he highly doubts he's this tired at a sensible time to be awake.

Luckily Shadow Milk is there to receive their little guest as they clamber up and onto the sheets, and the giggles and laughs are intentionally kept quiet, which Vanilla does appreciate. He grapples little Custard cookie iii playfully and scoops him up into a half cuddle-half tickle hold.

"And what on earth are you doing up?" His tickle interrogation strategy with no real malice loosens just the slightest to let custard have a slight reprieve.

"Haha- it's chris'ma-ha-as."

"Is it? Are you sure? I don't think it is."

"Ye-ha-yes! I wanna open-snrk- presents!!"

That prompts vanilla to open his eyes and look towards the clock, his staff helped clear the image from where he propped it up.

7 am.

Not terrible, in all honestly. He was expecting it to be earlier. Yet he still had Rules and sighed.

"No presents yet." He groaned tiredly. "7.30 was the agreement."

He didn't have to strain to hear their whispers.

"Awh dad please!"

"Oh come on 'nilly, how could you say no to that face?"

Vanilla rolled over, both of them were pouting near identically. He found it more funny than convincing, especially knowing shadow had put custard up to it instead of the other way around.

"No. 30 minutes."

He rolled over and closed his eyes again.

There was no real issue. As Vanilla dozed Shadow Milk simply rolled his eyes with a playful "Humbug-! We tried. Kiddo.", and helped Custard under the quilt.

When said 30 minutes were up and Vanilla woke up properly, he saw the two sat together and playing with projected stars. Custard seemed instantly more interested in what Vanilla sitting up meant and half of the stars flickered out.

"Yes, we can go downstairs now." Vanilla chuckled at the sight.

Despite being a child at Christmas, Custard was actually incredibly well mannered and got out of bed to get Vanilla's staff and hand it over gently....

Then he hopped out of the room at a proper speed.

Vanilla felt hands helping him up to stand and heard shadow milks warm, real laugh.

"Kids amirite?"

Vanilla looked at the former beast and smiled. The mental change had been much grander than the physical one for shadow milk, but he can't help but look at him and just be glad he was here.

His glasses were also a little crooked. So Vanilla used it as an excuse to draw closer and correct them, at which the other took the chance to bring their lips together.

"Kids." He agreed as they walked towards the door. He gave shadows hand a little squeeze. He knew this was a big deal, so many conversations and doubts on the beasts part if he would even get this far. He certainly hadn't been on the nice list at first, but despite it all he kept putting in the effort.

"Well done. You made it."

"Yeah....i did." He breathed. Despite not being as reliant on deceit as he had been, shadow milk didn't let his true feelings come out so easily. His typical demeanor came back a second later.

"Did you have any doubt?" He smirked.

"No. I didnt." Vanilla answered truthfully and openly, watching shadows heart melt through his eyes and being rewarded with another kiss.

"Come on, you gotta stop all this kissy talk or someones going to get impatient." The beast teased, and finally they met Custard downstairs in the sitting room.

Custard asked to be in charge of handing out the presents, and with no objections the older two sat down. Shadow was content in his mind to sit and watch Custard open all his presents first, so he was surprised when custard put a present that certainly hadn't been there the night before on his lap.

It was fairly big he knew custard and Vanilla had gotten him something smaller. The paper was unfamiliar as well, dark blue and shiny with a purple ribbon as opposed to the paper the three had spent an afternoon making themselves a few weeks ago.

The label was addressed to him.

To: Shadow Milk Cookie.

For your hard work.

Signed with a gift box and no name.

"Its not-"

"Its a present from the holidays silly!" Custard smiled, handing Vanilla one labelled the same way, with the third in his lap.

"Like mr eggnog cookie!"

Oh.

He opens it, and swears he won't cry.

There's another box under the paper, but inside that is a carefully made, beautiful doll.

A doll that, with that blonde hair, white dress, little tiara and a golden whisk, looks identical to the witch that made him.

"H-Harmony-" He takes it out and gives it a hug, it's firm enough for him to grip, but soft enough to fit perfectly how he likes it.

"Shes so pretty! Is her name Harmony?" Custard asks, Shadow doesn't trust his words and simply nods.

Vanilla pats his shoulder, a silent question of are you okay?

He nods again, gently setting her in his lap and looking at his family's gifts. Vanilla unwrapped a beautiful coloured glass wind chime that twinkled in the light of the window where he hung it. Custard had some watercolour pencils wrapped in a nice sturdy case painted with rabbits.

Vanilla and Shadow shared a look when custard showed them the rabbits, 2 bigger and 1 smaller, were painted blue, yellow and gold.

Whoever had handled their presents had scarily good taste.

The other presents were next. Custard had a bundle of different art supplies: a hollyberrian sewing kit and some patterns, some cacaonian charcoal and inks, a sketchbook set for said supplies made from the golden cheese kingdom, some models from Strawberry crepe, a few craft books from gingerbrave, Wizard and Strawberry and a cute new winter coat Shadow Milk was proud to say he worked hard on.

Vanilla had a bespoke blouse, a new cacaonian journal Shadow knew Vanilla loved to write in, a familiar golden feather fashioned into a quill(that had a noticeable spice scent), a box of tea blends, a silver hair ornament, and from Shadow Milk a music box that played his favourite song.

Shadow was surprised again when more than 2 presents were his. He gave vanilla a knowing grin when he opened a journal of his own. Custards gift was a glasses chain, hand strung and just the right length when he slipped it on.

"Now you won't forget them." Custard giggled mischievously at the look he must have given the younger.

The third made him laugh- a spicy tea blend he remembers he used to adore wayyyyy back when. Some people could say vanilla softened him up, but Burning Spice? Golden Cheese has him wrapped around her finger. He'll have to have Vanilla try some

Last but not least, there was a silver pen with a matching stand and an undeniable lily scent.

He knew he was going to be seeing everyone at Hollyberry's Holiday Masquerade so he'd have to say thank you then, which warmed his heart. Not forgotten. Still cared about.

Speaking of cared about, Shadow Milk spent the rest of the day with Vanilla and Custard, they walked through the snowy streets and ate dinner together, they curled up under the blankets for an hour or two reading, and walked custard through the snow once more to gingerbraves sleepover. After hugs and goodnights and see you tomorrows were exchange it left only himself and Vanilla walking back home, with the hero drawing noticeably closer and closer and threading their arms together the closer they got.

Maybe he got one more present behind closed doors. Nobody would ever know.

[anamericangirl]

This is just something I've noticed when in spaces surrounding my interests:

A lot of leftists genuinely can't fathom how conservatives can and do enjoy content created by someone they disagree with. Often, posts will pop up that are along the lines of, "How can conservatives say they like this music or TV show or book series when the people behind these things (or the characters within the fictional content) would hate their guts and they're pro things conservatives aren't? There's no logic in that and it just shows how dumb the right is."

In reality, I think it just shows how close-minded the left can be. Many of the things I enjoy were created by left-leaning people, but that doesn't mean it's not good content. I keep my political views out of these spaces mostly because they're not relevant, y'know? (I'm also just introverted/shy lol - I barely interact as is). For example, my favorite genre of music is grunge. 99% of grunge musicians were openly left-leaning, but guess what? I don't care and I still like the music. The left puts so much weight on the opinions of celebrities and politicians (while trying to act like they're rebels/punk) that they think you have to agree with these completely disconnected strangers on everything.

"This celebrity/character would hate you," is such an odd argument to make, in my opinion. It's like - okay, and?

Which is why it's always the left that are trying to cancel people. They can't separate politics from anything, which is why they are always unhappy, there's always a problem, they never enjoy anything and are impossible to please.

They can't appreciate art from other perspectives because everyone on earth has to have their exact positions on all issues or they are Bad People. So much for their "diversity is our strength" nonsense lmao.

I actively try to avoid hearing political takes from any artist I appreciate because I'm not here for a political or moral guide, I'm here for entertainment. And when you look to celebrities for guidance you are looking in the wrong place because no one is more out of touch than they are lol.

I just assume the artists I enjoy are all woke leftists because most people in those industries are and if they're not then I can be pleasantly surprised.

But if if I get told "you know so-and-so is a leftist and would probably hate you, right?" I literally could not care less because I'm not trying to be their friend. I find most of them, personality wise, to be pretty annoying myself.

It just demonstrates a real flaw with leftists that they cannot comprehend how someone could engage with or appreciate anything about someone that has different perspectives and opinions. Sounds like an absolutely miserable existence always having to be outraged about something and making sure every artist you like has the Right Opinions.

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Rose Recaps 2024 - Korea

Starting my list of favourite shows with Korea. They gave us so much angst, and some of them I still haven't fully been able to shake. Let's go.

The one with the existential dread

Love For Love's Sake

I was not ready. Not that I think there was a way I would be, but still. I was floored. It was an ambitious concept but executed pretty much flawlessly. If they had a bit more time, I think the world building could've benefited a little, cause there were parts that felt a bit rushed but overall the themes were well conveyed throughout. This show can be interpreted in a variety of ways, and one can take from it different things. For so much of this show I was filled with anxiety and sadness, but by the end the overall message of self love healed a small part of me. The visuals were strong and the actors did a wonderful job.

Favourite Moment:

Obvious perhaps, but no one can deny the beauty of this moment. Just the pure relief and joy I felt, made it one of my favourites of the year.

The one with all the yearning

The Time of Fever

I was so normal about this show. First let me just say, that I don't think of this show as a prequel. I know it is one, but I prefer to think of it as its own thing. This show drove me crazy. I suffered through it twice, and I kept finding new things that drove me insane. The yearning, the pining, the love these two have for each other that can only be rivalled by the fear they both share. Hotae is afraid of his feelings, because he can't understand them or can't accept them, but he also can't resist the pull. Donghee is afraid because he does understand, but he also knows what it means, so he needs to protect his friend from all the ugliness he himself has endured. And the actors just portrait these emotions so well. Truly some of the best acting I've seen this year. The camera work is outstanding, the framing always intentional and the lighting is good enough to break your heart.

Favourite Moment:

The heater between them??? Incredible. I'm still in awe of this whole scene. From the feeding of the orange slice to the kiss itself and their body language right to their expressions at the end. It was a flawless scene.

The one with all the trauma

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo

Every week I was filled with excitement and dread waiting for new episodes. It was a painful journey for them and for me. Such a raw depiction of how trauma follows you long after you left the place where you endured it behind you. Closure is such an overused word, because it always sounds like there's a switch you can flip, and you're fine. Like it's that simple. The way Dohoe carried all of the abuse with him, how he shaped his life around it unconsciously, all along believing he was healing himself, it was heartbreaking to watch. And JuYeong. The boy who waited. The boy who understood and gave him the space to heal. Time stopped for 12 years for both of them. But they have a lifetime left to heal together and find happiness in the simple act of loving and being loved by each other.

Favourite Moment:

The symbolism destroyed me. The cross, the wall, the confession. Masterful.

The one that wasn't like the others

Love In The Big City

I don't even know what to say any more. It was an amazing adaption. Stellar acting, great script, gorgeous visuals. It's messy and it all feels so real. Young is one of my favourite characters of all time, both the one from the book and the one from the series. I wanted to hug him and hit him over the head at several points. I did appreciate the bigger presence of the T-aras, it left me more hopeful than the novel. I'm still not over the break up though.

Favourite Moment:

The honesty, the unconditional acceptance. To watch Young experience it for the first time was overwhelming.

Honourable mention to Boys Be Brave that I adored. And the only reason is not in this list is because of the second couple. They needed more time, and even with the time they had I thought the writing of that storyline was a bit messy. But I loved the mains.

See you soon with Taiwan, maybe. 💜

[lauretra]

The Rebel Heir: A quick analysis of the character arcs of Killua Zoldyck and Reo Mikage

What do Reo Mikage from Blue Lock and Killua Zoldyck from Hunter x Hunter have in common? Much more than one would like to believe. Both are characters with similar arcs and codependent relationships. I wanted to analyze both of them because I think their differences and similarities are mind-blowing, but also because they are a type of character that are extremely interesting and the moral of their story inspires thousands of kids who may be watching their respective series.

this meta is gonna have spoilers of both series!!!!

They both come from wealthy, patriarchal families where their future lies in being the heir to their parents' businesses. Killua is the heir to a family of assassins, while Reo of his family's multibillionare company. Both are manipulated by their families in order for them to remain the heirs. In Killua (and because the series allows it) the manipulation is more explicit: torture, harassment and warnings. While in Reo his father mentions to him that it is “for his own good” and that “only the chosen ones can play soccer, you are not one of them.”

Killua's dad (Silva) and Reo's dad are shadows of what Killua and Reo should become: a big killer who runs the family and a businessman in a traditional family. Its their "destiny"

The two rebel against this fate that seems boring/painful to them and decide to have their own lives for their own. In the way, they meet someone who represents freedom and an escape from the life they don't want. That other person offers them an alternative of hope and friendship: A promise that their lifes are gonna change forever.

Both Reo and Killua become devoted and codependent to those people. The other two people may seem less involved in the relationship from an outside perspective, but both Nagi and Gon appreciate and value their partner. I want to emphasize that for both Reonagi and Killugon, the other is their first real friend. All of these children/teenagers lived isolated from the world (or self-isolated) so this lack of experience in friendship is what makes the dynamic of both of them can be seen as out of balance. Also, because of their family background, both Reo and Killua see friendship as a “transaction” in a sense that for them, they only have value if they prove valuable to their partner, in Killua's case as a battle companion/protector and in Reo's case as a soccer player.

Both killugon and nagireo promise to be together. Gon and Killua under the stars and Nagi and Reo before entering blue lock. I don't consider Nagi and Gon to have similar arcs (somewhat in the sense of having to find their own dreams, Gon outside of his father's expectations and Nagi from something that motivates him as Nagi, but thats a type of hero journey), but what I do consider them to be similar in is how the fandom perceives them: the one that “dominates” the relationship. I think this is more because for both Gon and Nagi (before epinagi) we weren't much in their thoughts (Nagi and Gon externalizes their thoughts while Killua and Reo Internalizes), however Gon and Nagi are devoted to Killua and Reo, and this has been proven a thousand times.

** I wanted to emphasize here that those who make the promise to stay together are Nagi and Gon respectively, emphasizing the desire to want to be with their partner.

Both couples have a separation arc that meant stretching the established dynamic to the maximum. Blue Lock challenges Nagi and Reo as a duo of genius/talented learners, the Chimera Ants challenge Gon and Killua as friends and companions with and horrible war happening.

These arcs (2nd selection and CAA) allows to explore their relationship in its entirety. The lack of experience of previous friendships is noticeable in the handling of communication. Of course, here there are internal problems of the characters (Killua and Reo with problems of self-worth, Gon going through his first grief and Nagi learning that he has to motivate himself and improve and that being a “genius” is not enough), but there are also external problems that strain the relationship, in the case of Killugon is more obvious because the circumstances caused them to be involved in a war, in the case of Nagi and Reo is Blue lock itself and the encounter with other players (Isagi) that represent a threat to the dream they share.

Both Killua and Reo have problems communicating clearly and being able to express their feelings and fears to their partner. Killua wanted to ask Gon what their relationship meant to him, while Reo wanted to show himself happy with Nagi's changes. They both failed and that lack of communication leads to tragedy. Of course this is not only their fault, Gon isolated himself and Nagi has the social skills of a cactus, so it was not easy for Killua and Reo to affirm the relationship with words.

The insecurities of both, added to the circumstances and the poor communication with their partners lead them to having to show their most vulnerable side to others. Because of these misunderstandings and lack of maturity from Nagi, Reo, Killua and Gon, the relationship ends in a separation arc where they have to learn to grow apart from each other. It's difficult, because for both Killugon and Nagireo, the other is their first real friend. All of these children were isolated people who recognize in each other a first deep and sincere friendship. Likewise, both Nagi and Gon say harsh words to their partners “Because this is not your fight!” and “I don't care anymore, you are a pain”. Both words come from frustration, but they are hard to hear, specially from the person you cared the most.

Now is when things start to diverge. Killua, in the process of saving Gon, is reunited with his sister on a journey that depicts Killua facing his traumas (his family) and being able to rise up so he can show devotion to his friend once again, but this time it's different, this time Killua wants Gon to apologize. This is the first time Killua asks something in return from Gon, their relationship is changing. Reo, on the other hand, starts to work on himself, in the process of wanting to show his value to Nagi he creates his ability “The chameleon”, a beautiful power that allows him to copy others, but also allows him to face his traumas: if, in the words of his father, Reo was not “chosen” to be able to play soccer unlike the others who were, he has no choice but to copy those “chosen ones”. Reo and Nagi's relationship also changes, Reo's goal now is to show themselves on the field as equals.

At the end of Hunter x Hunter, Killua decides not to follow Gon after saving him from his horrible contract nen. Now Killua has other priorities: helping his sister who needs him and protect her. Killua understands that his relationship with Gon has changed and that while they are still friends, he needs time to heal and to be able to be with his sister Alluka. the penultimate chapter of the anime ends with Gon and Killua going their separate ways, but this time Killua has a dream to protect and gon returns home, we complete the full circle and their relationship “swings”.

On the other hand, in the current NEL arc in Blue Lock, Nagi and Reo end up on the same team. Nagi and Reo's relationship also changes, it is now Nagi who seeks out Reo and asks for his help. However, due to Nagi's lack of insight, the relationship becomes unbalanced again: the moves they make are no longer scoring goals and his mentors tell him that a separation is imminent.

Reo is not doing it on purpose. He has always had a habit of “overwatering” Nagi even before the breakup, and Nagi is telling him all the things Reo wanted to hear. He's simply too proactive to the point that he ends up helping to enable Nagi's lazy habits. That said, that's mostly Nagi's fault for being lazy and continuing to rely on people even though he knows it's something he needs to improve.

Killua decides to part ways with Gon temporarily and finds a dream that goes beyond just caring for Alluka: Killua, as the caring and kind child he is, finds his worth in caring for others. But now, Killua must ask himself the question of what he wants for himself. He must find his worth beyond an “other.”

Reo must ask himself the same question and understand that his friendship with Nagi goes beyond being just soccer players: they are friends and their bond is unbreakable. He doesn't have to be just Nagi's "wingman", he can also score his own goals and be an indispensable midfielder for the match.

I hope you enjoyed the comparison. Both characters are amazing and they are so loving and caring about their friends that I find it inspiring!

[jjkfanfic]

A Sweet Encounter

Satoru Gojo X Reader

The gentle chime of the bell above your bakery door announced yet another visitor. Your eyes lifted from the counter, where you had been meticulously arranging the day’s fresh pastries. A warm smile broke across your face as you welcomed the newcomer—a young man who looked to be around your age, whose relaxed demeanor stood in striking contrast top the sharp, intense glimmer of his bright eyes, which were so blue they made your breath catch.

"Hello! Welcome to little slice of heaven," you said, gesturing enthusiastically towards the display case filled with vibrant kikufuku mochi. The pastel colors gleamed temptingly under the overhead lights, each piece a masterpiece of craftsmanship you spent ages mastering.

He stepped closer, his curiosity evident as he peered at the assortment. "Wow, these look amazing," he remarked, his voice warm and inviting. "Would it be alright if I tried the matcha kikufuku?"

"Of course! It’s one of our bestsellers," you replied, carefully selecting a piece and handing it to him. You couldn’t help but notice the way his lips curled into a grin as he brought the treat to his mouth. After the first bite, his eyes sparkled with delight. "So, what do you think? Worth the hype?" You teased him

He let out a soft laugh, a sound that felt infectious. "I think I might have just found my newest vice," he declared, savoring the texture of the mochi as he reached for his wallet, fishing out some cash. "You’ve got a real talent here."

"Thank you!" you replied, your cheeks warming in response to his compliment. "I put a lot of love into these. It’s my passion"

As he paid for a few of the treats, you took the opportunity to engage him further. "So, what brings you to this corner of the city? Just passing through, or are you a local, I don't think I've seen you here before"

He tucked his wallet back into his pocket and leaned casually against the counter. "I work nearby, though I must admit, I didn’t know I was missing this place until now," he confessed, a playful tilt to his mouth. "Let's just say my usual shop didn’t offer quite the same... delights."

He leaned toward the display, an exaggerated look of consideration crossing his face. "This could become a problem, though. If I keep coming here, I might just move in," he teased, gesturing toward another enticing mochi flavor. "What’s that one? It looks like a summer sunset and super yummy."

“That’s the strawberry mochi—filled with fresh strawberry puree and a hint of coconut! A personal favorite of mine,” you explained, your enthusiasm shining through.

"Alright, you sold me!" he said, laughter in his voice. "I’ll take two of those too. You know, you’ve created quite the inviting little world here. The atmosphere is so cozy, and the sweets—” he raised an eyebrow, “absolutely divine.”

“You’re making me blush,” you grinned, feeling a flutter of happiness at his words. “I just love sharing my creations. It’s great to see someone appreciate them. What’s your name, by the way?"

“Satoru Gojo,” he said, extending his hand in an exaggerated fashion and pulling hers to his mouth to kiss it “Pleased to meet the master behind the mochi.”

You blush and when he lets go of your hand you hold ot to your beating heart , a spark of heat igniting between you both. “It’s lovely to meet you, Satoru. I hope to see you here often!” you blush as winks at you and a mischievous grin, he gathered his treats. “Count on it—if I keep coming back, it would strictly be to fuel my addiction to your mochi, not to distract you from your work and see your beautiful smile or anything,” he grinned, stepping toward the door.

As he walked out, you couldn’t help but flush at his words and smile, already anticipating his next visit. The energy he brought with him lingered in the air, promising more delightful encounters with the sexy white haired blue eyed man.

[keepmovinjunior]

i just wanted to talk about something (under a read more bc it is out of character)

everyone is here for their own reasons, and that's cool. i totally get that. i'm not about to tell anyone how to spend their time or operate on their own blog.

i, personally, am here for fun and that's it. i'm here to write. i'm here to ramble about fictional characters and have silly little interactions on the dash / expand on my character's relationship with your character's. my real life has its own stressors (i have a great life but obviously not everything is peachy keen and being someone who is politically informed and inclined, i want to have a safe space in which i am not interacting with that type of content that i can retreat to for my own relaxation). at the end of the day this is, as i said, playing tumblr barbies for me (and most likely for most people). it's a game and it's not that serious. in fact, it's like. not serious at all.

some people are here for community and friendships and that's totally fine. i'm not against making friends, either, and i do really like and appreciate a lot of the people i interact with often and on a daily basis, even if i don't know most of you well at all. we engage in the same hobby and we're all aliases behind a screen but i really do enjoy talking to many of you. however, at the end of the day, if i don't make friends here, that's fine, too. i'm just chilling!

having said that, i've been around for a long time and have, of course, made friendships, had relationships, gone in and out of certain blogs, etc. and this is not a hobby i think i will ever outgrow (probably will just have less time for during certain periods of my life - and most people probably will experience that). i've had falling outs, i've had moments of being uncomfortable with certain people, i have had headcanons and sometimes even some of my own graphics lifted from my blog by others of the same muse, i've even had whole ass relationships with other writers in which i was very hurt. but here's the damn thing, ok: i never, ever, not even once, had a public DNI that other people had to adhere to to write with me, tried to call someone out or incite community wide drama by dragging other unrelated people into what happened over my own personal experiences, or tried to control anyone else over it. i always understood that not everyone is going to feel the same way, or have the same experience, with another person. i understood that dealing with my feelings about the situation was on me, and it was in my own best interest to learn how to move past or live with what happened. if i felt uncomfortable with seeing that other person around, it was my own responsibility to handle my own feelings as i saw fit, and no one else needed to do that for me. this is just good philosophy toward life in general, but, as it applies to tumblr: if i couldn't handle seeing someone on this platform and co-existing in this space, i would leave, sign out, or just. literally do anything else. i knew that my own friends and my own fun is what i should focus on.

there is a feature on tumblr called filtering. you can blacklist tags and users. you can filter things that make you uncomfortable if you want to stay but don't want to see those things. you can unfollow. you can block. you can literally do anything else, and you don't owe explanations for that. or, if you can't handle it even with those things done, you can sign out and leave and invest your time in something healthier and more relaxing. this is a hobby.

by all means, have your DNIs, make your call outs (leave me out of those, though, because i guarantee you that unless this person is a sexual predator, groomer, or scam artist, i am not going to care, especially if i have no relationship with anyone else involved in said drama) and will think you're ridiculous for it. just know that the moment you start to try to control how other people operate, you will lose out on a lot of really good experiences and just make this a more miserable place for you to be.

the best healing is exposure and love and support. it's not focusing on what other people do or seeking out spaces in which you will be triggered because you enjoy being a victim.

take it from me, a 30 year old queer woman who has gone through my fair share of loss in life: it's not that serious. it's really not.

[eri-pl]

So… what's the idiot envious of, exactly???

So I noticed it when reading BoLT, but the Silm also says (back in Ainulindale) that Melkor was

envying the gifts with which Ilúvatar promised to endow them [Elves and Men]

OK. Which gifts? Professor, sir, which ones? The only thing that makes half of a sense here is the out-of-Musicness of Men, let's leave this for later.

Elves' harmony with Arda? Melkor is an Ainu, he has this innately.

Elves' cool skills? See above.

Them liking each other and being able to have a normal social life? Nah, the Valar (those who aren't jerks) have this too I suppose. He would be envious of them too.

Men being able to leave Arda? Again: as an Ainu, Melkor is innately bigger then Arda… OK, I suppose he would like to come and go as he pleases, go to Arda and be as harmonized as Elves, and then leave freely… but nobody has that! I mean ok, I can see how he overestimates what the Incarnates have and talks himself into envy, but this feels somewhat stupid and counterproductive even for him. (Ofc if we were to assume that Men originally had both, it does become easier to understand… But then also we're getting near the "aren't Elves kinda nerfed?" landmine, which gives me some trouble in general)

OK, now let's talk about the out-of-musicness. I think Melkor assumes that he's got this too, I think? "It came to Melkor's mind to add themes of his own invention" or whatever the wording is. And tbh all the Ainur have the quality of "having existed before the Music", so… OK, I can see how he maaybe would be envious of the Men being able to ignore the Music after it was sung, and maybe he is (subconciously, I think) aware that he can't do so. And this fits well with the story of children of Húrin, which is basically "Melkor proving to Húrin that Men are bound by doom too". So… it's not like the Men have a lot of this ability, it seems. In general it does not feel like a wholly satysfying explanation.

Still, why is he envious of the Elves too? Because Féanor made will make the Silmarills? This sounds like a stupid reason even for Melkor.

And don't tell me about the Second Music, because then we're back to the category of "Melkor is an Ainu, he has that innately". Well, had until he got himself kicked out from the orchestra, but this happenned a lot later.

Unless it's the "I was here first and I'm better, so why do they get to have the cool stuff too?!?" which I feel is a slightly different vibe of envy (is this even proper envy or just jealousy?) than what Tolkien was going for. (But the "why new baby so loved?" syndrom about Manwë and then about incarnates makes Melkor even more similar to Feanor, which I like).

Like… there is the vibe in the Silm that Men-and-Elves are getting sooo muuuch and so of course Melkor is jealous… but when I unpack it, what are they getting exactly that he did not? Professor?

Oh, and also in BoLT Ainulindale: "the giving of that gift of freedom [to Men] was their [the Valar, in modern terms: the Ainur] envy and amazement" — what. The other Valar were envious of it too? Which ones? Names, please. (Makar I suppose but tbh he's to dumb to appreciate it)

Seriously, sir, what.

It almost starts feeling like "the Men are more real and the fairies and spirits get envious of that"

[peachiejeongin]

The Phantoms Part 10 (Finale): Stand Tall | Bang Chan

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 (You Are Here)

Synopsis: After restless planning, the phantoms and y/n finally book a life-changing gig in order to accomplish 3RACHA's unfinished business. Will they perform in time, or will they flicker away?

Genre: 3RACHA/Julie and the Phantoms AU, Angst, Crack, Fluff

Pairing: phantom!Bang Chan x fem!reader [Occurs in this chapter], Minsung if you squint

Warnings: Mentions of death, a little rushed

Notice: And just like that, darlings, we have reached the end. I want to thank you all for the love you have shown for this series. I know it has been long, and the parts are rushed at times; however, I have loved writing this series, and every note on it makes my heart light up. In order to go out strong, I may or may not have added a scene we all wanted to be in the actual finales :) For one final time, I own no rights to 'Julie and the Phantoms,' nor do I believe Han Jisung is gay in real life. Without further ado, enjoy the finale of 'The Phantoms.'

"Don't worry guys," Han said as the three phantoms walked under the bright, flashing sign of the Orpheum Theater. "Minho said he would get us on the set-list tonight, and I trust him."

"This is going to work, right?" Changbin questioned, doubt present in his tone.

"It has to," Chan replied. "It's our only shot."

As if on cue, a shocking, angry jolt coursed through the guys' bodies, making them double over in pain just like so many times prior.

"Are you guys alright?" a concerned voice asked from behind the boys. All three turned around to meet Minho face-to-face, agonizing and confused expressions etched onto their faces.

"We're great," Han answered, sarcasm laced thickly in his voice. "Nothing we haven't felt before. Nevermind us, though. How did derailing the band go?"

"Well let's just say," Minho began with a smirk, "that when the opening band wakes up, they're gonna find themselves 200 miles outside of Vegas!" Minho turned around, showing off the back of a merchandise jacket he had no doubt snagged from the tour bus, smiling as he displayed it proudly. Chan stepped forward, fist-bumping Minho with pride in his motions and demeanor.

"Which means, there is definitely a manager upstairs right about now freaking out," he commented, chuckling as he did so.

"No way, man," Minho replied. "I'm sure he's being very professional as a Hollywood business man."

If by professional, Minho meant the promoter was upstairs banging his phone against his desk while yelling a plethora of profanities, then yes; he was being extremely professional.

The air was silent after Minho's last statement, and Han stepped forward, anxiety present in his gut. Chan and Changbin caught wind of the seriousness and stepped away, giving the two boys time to talk.

"I know how much you're risking for us," Han began, his demeanor a mix of regret and appreciation. "Thank you, Minnie. Truly."

"I told you," Minho responded, swatting playfully at the younger's chest, "I would do anything for you."

Han did not reply verbally; before he could think, he had thrown himself into Minho's arms, hugging the male in a tight embrace as if it would be the last time they ever spoke.

Which it very well could have been.

Minho reciprocated the action without a second thought, burying his head in the crook of Han's neck and squeezing the afterlife out of the younger. They stayed like that for a minute or do before Han pulled away, resting his hands briefly on Minho's shoulders.

"You better get out of here," Han giggled, although his words were genuine. "Y'know, before Seungmin catches you with us."

"Yeah, you're right." Minho's gaze flickered down, sadness etched into it before he looked back to Han. "I'll see you around, Hannie. I promise this isn't the last time."

Minho did not give time for Han to respond before he skated away, tears threatening to well up as he reminisced on the moments he had spent with the boy. Han watched as he left, his heart aching; he held onto Minho's promise sacredly, genuinely praying that it indeed was not the last time they would speak to each other.

As soon as Minho left Han's line of sight, Changbin stepped forward, resting a tight, comforting hand on Han's shoulder.

"You alright?" he inquired, his tone full of care.

"Yeah," Han lied, swallowing a lump in his throat before turning around. "Yeah, I'm alright."

"Well, mate, thanks to your boyfriend, Panic! at the Disco needs an opening band," Chan enthusiastically commented, smiling at the blush spreading on Han's cheeks at the mention of Minho as his "boyfriend."

"Then I guess someone upstairs needs to know that Y/n and the Phantoms is available," Han replied, a sincere smile replacing the faux one that was there prior.

---

The phantoms warped to the upstairs room where the manager was residing, and further slamming his phone against his desk as he yelled at whoever was on the other line to, "stop saying the bus drove itself."

"Minho was right," Changbin spoke up, his voice cheeky. "Guy's a total pro."

"Alright, mates," Chan began, rubbing his hands together. "Let's make this happen. Just, Han, no dancing this time."

Han ignored the boy, erupting into a sequence of ballet steps as he made his way over to the assistant's laptop; Chan only chuckled in response, shaking his head at the younger's actions. On the last step, a perfect pirouette, Han reached one hand down to knock the assistant's pencil-holder off of her desk.

Show time.

Changbin used the time she was distracted to pull up the YouTube video your father had uploaded of the 'Edge of Great' performance on the assistant's laptop; meanwhile, Han scribbled down your number onto a Post-it. Both phantoms snapped away once they noticed the assistant rising back up.

"Tasha, get CJ and tell him I need a band to open in three hours!" an angry manager screeched.

"Sure, but come check this out real quick," she retorted, motioning for the manager to come over. He leaned over her shoulder, his eyes in awe as he watched the video. "Somehow, this video started playing on my laptop, and its got nearly a million hits in just two days. They're a hologram band called Y/n and the Phantoms."

"Tell your friends!" Changbin smirked as Chan threw an arm around him.

"Where are they located?" the manager asked excitedly.

"Our very own City of Angels."

"Book 'em, then! What are you waiting for?!"

The phantoms threw their hands up in success, cheering as the assistant noticed the Post-it with the number scratched onto it; she looked around in fear, wondering how on earth it managed to get there.

---

You were pacing around the studio, worry etched into your features as you attempted to steady your breathing. Suddenly, the phantoms appeared in the garage, causing you to let out a deep sigh.

"Oh my gosh!" you yelled. "What took you guys so long? Did Minho do it? Did you talk to them? Did they watch the video? Did they like it if they did? Are we playing the freaking Orpheum or not?!"

"Okay, that's a lot of questions!" Changbin screamed back, motioning for you to halt in your interrogation. "Chan, I'm leaving this one to you."

"Take a seat, Love," Chan commanded, and you obliged, looking at him with a blend of nervousness and optimism in your gaze. All three phantoms crouched in front of you as he continued. "It's fine, everything is fine!"

"Yeah, you should be getting a call right..." Han paused, pointing to you first and then to your phone, "now!"

In contrast to his words, your phone stayed muted; you looked at the boys, worry returning to your stare as they looked to each other, shrugging for answers.

"Okay, how about," Han tried again, "right....now!"

This time on cue, your phone began buzzing, the caller ID popping up as unknown from Hollywood, California. You and the boys began jumping around, squealing from excitement and stimming enthusiastically as the weight of the moment came upon you all.

"What are you waiting for? Answer it!" Chan nearly screeched as he motioned to your phone. You nodded your head, muttering a string of 'okays' as you slid on the phonecall; you cleared your throat before talking in attempts to sound professional.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Tasha from the Orpheum in Hollywood."

Upon that statement, you, Chan, Han, and Changbin began parading around the studio, silently cheering for yourselves as Tasha continued speaking.

"Is this y/n of Y/n and the Phantoms?"

You held your hands out, signalling for the phantoms to halt in their celebration as you picked your phone up from the coffee table where it had been on speaker-phone.

"Yes, it is!"

You gave the boys a thumbs up, a sign that they continue their excited antics; as such, they went back to screeching happily as you told Tasha you could indeed open for P!ATD that night and thanking her for the opportunity. Chan and Changbin picked Han up, swinging him around the room as you happily declared that you were playing the Orpheum tonight.

"I'm swimming!" Han playfully said as he moved his arms in a scuba-motion, causing all three of you to chuckle.

---

"Y/n and I were thinking we start with 'Stand Tall,'" Chan excitedly explained as he circled the song on a piece of paper laying atop the grand piano; it was a setlist for the night, with songs that you and Chan had picked carefully marked in a bulleted list.

"Cool," Han remarked.

"Sounds good," Changbin followed.

"Sounds good?!" Chan yelled, his voice coming off sharper than intended. "Mate, are you serious? We're getting to play the show of our dreams! I want to hear that it sounds awesome! I know it's not how things were supposed to turn out, but not many people get a second try at this sort of thing!"

"I get that," Changbin blankly stared, his voice cracking slightly, "but it's hard. We don't know what's on the other side when we cross over, Chan. Do we all still get to be together?" His voice faltered, and his gaze shifted to the floor.

"You guys are the only family I have. I don't wanna lose you guys."

"Yeah, I mean," Han began, "I don't know what's gonna happen either, but it's not like we have a choice."

At that moment, another agonizing jolt flickered over the boys, knocking them backwards intensely; as they recovered, Changbin rubbed his wrist, soothing it from the electrifying pain he had just experienced.

"Well, we technically do," he corrected. "Only thing is it rhymes with Bollywood Toast Snub."

Before Chan could protest, you swung open the studio doors; you had a clothing hanger in hand, which contained the outfit you were going to wear for the night: a purple, flowing dress with a black leather jacket. Both pieces of clothing had previously belonged to your mother, and you felt they were only appropriate to wear for the performance.

"We ready?" you excitedly asked as you approached the boys; contrary to what you had expected, they were silent, painful and regretful gazes upon their faces as they looked at you.

"What's going on?" you followed up, a pang in your chest arising as you looked between all three of them.

"Nothing," Han instantly assured. "We just got rocked really hard by one of those jolt things." You nodded, unconvinced but allowing it to slide.

"Okay, well uh, Channie? Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course," he stumbled over the affirmations, walking quickly towards you and facing you. You went to hand your outfit on the door handle of the garage door before returning to him; your figures were much closer than normal, and as you looked up at Chan, a smile came over you, shy but genuine.

"What?" Chan asked, his eye-contact filled with adoration as he looked at you and his heart swelling from your beauty.

"Can you do me a favor?" you questioned, your gaze morphing into one of solemnness.

"Anything, y/n," Chan replied quickly, shining a brief smile. "You know I will."

You exhaled deeply, struggling to find the way to word your favor.

"When you guys cross over," you began, your tone quivering from how hard the statement was to materialize, "if you happen to see my mom, can you tell her I love her...and thank her for bringing you to me?"

Chan's eyes softened as a small, close-lipped smile formed. He nodded, slowly but surely.

"Yes, I absolutely will," he replied, his own voice shaking just barely. "And I will also thank her for bringing me to such an amazing girl." You felt your cheeks flush at his comment, but you kept your gaze upon him, making intimate yet sincere eye contact.

"Band circle?" you asked in attempt to break the tense moment.

"Yeah," Chan answered, the two of you joining Han and Changbin by the piano as Chan told them about the plan. Han, Changbin, and Chan joined hands in the circle, and your hands hovered above theirs, a habit you had picked up from not being able to physically touch the boys.

"We don't know what brought us here," Chan started, his gaze flickering between Changbin and Han before landing on you once again. "What we do know is that you're a star, y/n."

Chan's eyes were filled with nothing short of pure love as he spoke to you; the weight of both his words and his stare making the heat in your cheeks spread across your face. The both of you displayed bright grins before Chan continued.

"And just because this is our last night together, it doesn't mean we won't be watching you from above, or..." Chan clicked his tongue, nodding his head to the ground; the comment made you giggle as the other two phantoms shook their heads.

"Now, let's rock this show," he yelled out. "We're gonna give Hollywood a performance that they'll be talking about until the sun comes up. Legends on three." Chan stuck his right hand in the center of the band circle; Han and Changbin laid theirs overtop, and yours hovered just above the aforementioned three.

"One," Han began the countdown.

"Two," Changbin added.

"Three," you finished.

"Legends!" all four of you screamed as you threw your hands up victoriously. The moment was broken up by a horn honk, which made the boys turn their heads in the direction of the noise.

"That's my dad," you explained. "He's driving me to the Orpheum, so I'll see you guys there."

You begrudgingly walked away from the phantoms, your gaze lingering on Chan as you strided. His eyes followed you as you exited, fondness washing over his stare as he focused on you.

"She's awesome," he muttered to himself.

"Yes she is, isn't she?"

The ghosts snapped their heads around as a dark, ear-wrenching voice sounded from behind them. Their gazes widened and their hearts sunk as they met the figure.

"What are you doing here, Seungmin?" Chan demandedly asked, absentmindedly approaching the phantom with his brows furrowed and his lips pursed.

"Such hostility, Chan!" Seungmin dodged his question, instead teasing him for the rough edge to his words. "I'm just here to congratulate you on the big night! Not everyone gets to play the Orpheum! Especially not twice!"

"Cut the crap, mate," Chan snarled. "We know it's you that's doing this to us. We already told you: we have a band, and we don't want to join your little club."

"Hmm," Seungmin hummed out, ponderation bright in his eyes. "Y'see, boys, the funny thing about crossing over is that no one knows what really goes on on the other side. But I know exactly what's happening on this side."

With that, he blew a kiss towards the phantoms, puffing out a huge plume of smoke at them; as the fumes reached their figures, they disappeared, warping away as Seungmin cackled.

"You may not want to join, but you're going to."

---

"Well don't you all look so nice?"

The boys had appeared in the Hollywood Ghost Club, now wearing formal suits in their respective colors instead of their previously-adorned casual wear; Chan had already begun tugging at the tight collar of his blazer.

"Sweet threads?" Changbin questioned more than answered.

"How did you know our sizes?" Han held his arms out in front of him, gaping at the soft, pink material of his suit.

"All the questions you could've asked, and that's it, Han?" Chan snapped at the younger boy, causing him to retreat back into himself.

"Look," Seungmin began, disregarding all three of their comments and questions. "I know you three aren't my biggest fans, and an eternity at my club seems overwhelming, but I just put you in sweet threads, so humor me this last pitch. For starters, isn't it nice that you're all here together?"

The question was mainly directed at Changbin, as he Chan, and Han looked at each other, their gazes filled with uncertainty; Seungmin had definitely been listening to their prior conversation. Despite the intrusion, the idea of sticking together was tempting.

"And trust me," Seungmin continued, pointing to Han this time. "Everything you want, including Minho, is here." Han looked at the ground in order to avoid looking at Seungmin; thus, the magician shifted his focus to Chan.

"And on my stage," he remarked as he approached the guitarist, "you don't vanish when the music stops. You soak in the applause for as long as you want. The connection that you will feel with that audience will feel like no other. I promise."

Seungmin's hands adjusted Chan's bowtie from where he had tugged at the irritating material, before they moved to Chan's shoulders, rubbing them reassuringly. Undeniably, Seungmin was playing to their hearts' desires, from Changbin's want to stay with his friends, Han's yearn for Minho, and Chan wanting people to feel his music rather than just hear it.

The temptation was becoming overwhelming; however, they could not harp on in for too long as suddenly, a wave of applause came over the club.

"Do you hear that, boys?" Seungmin asked smugly. "Those cheers are for you. They're waiting for you!"

Before they could answer, the phantoms jolted once more, clutching their chests and making Seungmin wince.

"Yeah, that one did look like it hurt," he commented, quickly shrugging the matter off. "Now, let me remind you that you don't know if playing the Orpheum is your unfinished business. Do you really have time to make that mistake?"

The phantoms stood in silence, watching as Seungmin strutted through the sparkly curtain nearby and onto the stage, entertaining the croud as he belted out some form of melody. As he performed, he shot glances at the three, only increasing their wants that Seungmin had so designatingly played to.

They observed Seungmin in stunned awe, his voice singing a melody so enchanting it seemed to pierce straight through to their souls. Before they could comprehend the weight of the circumstance, an inexplicable force took hold. Their feet began tapping to the rhythm, first hesitantly, then with an eerie synchronicity, They exchanged horrified glances, watching themselves succumb to the haunting pull of Seungmin's song.

Before they could fully grasp the chaos unfolding, Han's fingers instinctively began twirling a drumstick with an almost hypnotic rhythm, the motion effortless and precise. In the next moments, Han had vanished. When Chan and Changbin caught up to him, he was perched on Seungmin's stage, entirely absorbed in drumming along to the beat.

"Han!" Seungmin yelled out on stage. "Show me what you got!"

Mere seconds later, Changbin held up his bass, looking at the instrument purely terrified before he too warped onstage; his fingers plucked against the strings absentmindedly, as if he already knew the melody of the song by heart. His body swayed to the rhythm, but his face still had a look of pure horror etched onto it.

"Changbin!" Seungmin called next. "Sing it baby!"

Chan, watching the supernatural actions of his bandmates, held back as much as he could, even when Seungmin had motioned to him afterwards. He threw his guitar in the air, his body unintentionally following Seungmin's footsteps no matter how hard he shook his head or tried to step backwards. Eventually, he was fully on stage, scaredly looking at the audience as he, Changbin, and Han played the cursed, entrapping melody. They were fearful, worried that they had missed their shot at escape.

Yet, moments after the song had ended and as Seungmin took a cocky bow, the three had vanished...

---

"Hey, yn. It's time to go on!"

The stage manager knocked at your door, interrupting your anxious pacing. Flynn watched as you lost yourself in worried thoughts, every scenario as to where the phantoms could be consuming your mind.

"Just a second!" you yelled out, attempting to mask the crack in your voice. You walked over to Flynn, eyeing her with a nervous bewilderment.

"I think something's wrong," you told her, your arms wrapping around your middle as if to soothe the unease in your gut. "The guys were getting those jolts pretty bad as I was leaving, and there's no way they would stand me up again...I think they ran out of time."

Flynn took in a deep breath, her eyes widening slightly in dejected shock.

"I'm so sorry, y/n," she apologized, standing up to grip your shoulders lightly.

"They didn't get to cross over," you sorrowfully convinced yourself. "They're just gone, and I didn't get to say goodbye."

Flynn did not think twice before wrapping you in a tight embrace, allowing you space to let out your tears; however, the moment was brief, as the stage manager knocked on the door once again. The mere sound was enough to have you running away from Flynn, despite her pleas, and out of the backstage room, past the manager and outside into the alleyway of Sunset Boulevard.

You stood in the middle of the walkway, throwing your hands down as you sobbed. You looked up at the sky, your voice thick with hurt.

"I don't know if you can hear me, Mom," you began, sniffling through your speech, "but I can't handle this. Flynn says that you're behind everything, but I don't know! If I was supposed to help the guys, I didn't. They're gone, Mom, and I am so sorry. They were my friends. My band. My family. And I loved them."

You paused for a moment, your heart breaking with every word.

"Especially Chan," you continued hesitantly. "Mom, he was so amazing. He knew me like you did, and I really, really grew attached to him. I can't even believe I'm admitting I love a ghost, but...Why can't you just come pick me up, and hold me in your arms and tell me everything's okay and that I'm gonna get through it?! And that even though the phantoms aren't with me, they're in Heaven with you."

You fell to your knees, burying your face in your hands as you loudly sobbed. The weight of everything overwhelmed you; it was not just the boys anymore. It was the boys, plus the loss of your mother, plus the intensity of the night; you were supposed to help them, and you could not. Thus, you lost out on two amazing best friends and one incredible lover.

A woman passed by you, analyzing your sorrowful stance. She looked at you, nothing short of empathy within her gaze, and handed you a flower, patting your shoulder lovingly. The flower was a Dahlia.

Your mom's favorite.

You looked at it for a moment before clutching it to your chest, hugging it tightly. It was then you realized: maybe your mom was behind everything, and maybe you had lost the boys, but one thing was for certain.

You had found yourself.

With this revelation, you ran back inside, determined to not smear the reputation you had built for yourself. You swung the doors open as the stage manager was yelling something about Panic going on now. You held up the floor, looking at Flynn with a newfound optimism.

"Signs," you breathed out, mirroring her words from two nights prior and causing her to smile brightly at you.

Walking onto the stage felt like wading through a thick fog, each step deliberate and heavy with anticipation. The soles of your shoes tapped softly against the polished floor, the sound swallowed by the buzz of the expectant crowd. Your gaze swept over the sea of faces illuminated by soft, golden lights, the murmur of excitement cresting into a wave of cheers as the intercom boomed your band’s name. Applause erupted, thunderous and alive, reverberating through your chest as you approached the sleek, black piano waiting for you. A deep breath escaped your lips as you eased onto the bench, fingers trembling slightly as they placed the delicate Dahlia on the edge of the keyboard, its vibrant petals a stark contrast against the dark surface. Clutching the cool metal of the microphone, you steadied yourself and began to speak, your voice laced with a mix of nervousness and resolve.

"Hi, I'm y/n," you shakily introduced yourself as you scanned the crowd; your eyes landed on your dad, who looked more proud than words could describe. You kept your focus on him as you continued: "I'd like to dedicate this song to my mom, tonight. She may be gone, but she has been there every time I have played. I want to thank her for not giving up on me...I'd also like to dedicate tonight's performance to three special friends, who have changed my life completely. They brought music back to me, and I cannot thank them enough for that. This song is for anyone who has ever lost themselves. Don't give up, and stand tall. Thank you."

You took a deep breath as you began to play, looking to the sky briefly as if to signal to your mom for help; as you did so, a wave of peace rushed over you, and you adjusted your microphone while stroking each key in melody.

"Don't blink No, I don't want to miss it One thing, and it's back to the beginning 'Cause everything is rushing in fast Keep going on never look back

The onlookers erupted into a thunderous symphony of applause as your voice carried into the chorus. A flicker of transformation crossed your face—melancholy giving way to a spark of determined excitement, your eyes alight with purpose as the music flowed through you.

"Whatever happens, even if I'm the last standing I'ma stand tall, I'ma stand tall Whatever happens, even when everything's down I'ma stand tall, I'ma stand tall I gotta keep on dreaming 'Cause I gotta catch that feeling Whatever happens, even if I'm the last standing I'ma stand tall, I'ma stand tall"

What happened next was astounding. As you finished the first chorus, you heard a whoosh! from the left of you, and as you snapped your head to the source of the noise, you were met with a squirrel-esque boy in a pink suit, smiling brightly as he rocked on his drumset.

Han.

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you mirrored the grin, your heart swelling with an emotion you couldn’t quite name. Somehow, against all odds, the boys were still here. Their determination to see this performance through matched your own, unwavering and steadfast.

Seconds after Han's appearance, Changbin came in, adorned in a red blazer and tuning his bass casually as you began the second verse; you looked at him as you began, your eyes softening with gratitude.

"Right now, I'm loving every minute Hands down, can't let myself forget it, no 'Cause everything is rushing in fast Keep holding on, never look back"

Your voice crescendoed on the last lyric, a new fire coursing through you. As you started on the second prechorus, you heard a flashing sound, and as you looked to the left of the stage, you saw Chan; he had not fully materialized, however. He was flickering in and out on the stage, attempting to appear but not being able to. Han and Changbin exchanged worried glances, and absentmindedly, you began to sing louder, in hopes that maybe your voice would give him the spark to appear.

Little did you know, that is exactly what it took.

"I'm going out of my mind!"

Chan had finally mustered the strength to appear, his presence sending an electric jolt through you. Excitement bubbled over as you grabbed your microphone from its stand, your feet barely touching the stage as you bounced in exhilaration. The music swelled, your voice harmonizing with the haunting resonance of the phantoms as the second chorus soared into the air.

Amid the vibrant chaos, Chan's gaze found yours. His eyes crinkled with a warmth that matched the brightness of his smile, and he slipped seamlessly into his verses, each note carrying a quiet yet unshakable confidence. The connection between you sparked something deep, a newfound pride blooming in your chest. You felt unstoppable, striding across the stage with a radiant energy as your voice filled the venue, carrying a piece of your soul to every corner.

As the bridge approached, you made your way to the edge of the stage, Changbin following close behind; the two of you rocked the verse out as you high-fived and waved at excited fans in the venue.

"Like I'm glowing in the dark I keep on going when it's all falling apart Yeah, I know it with all my heart Oh, oh"

Chan rang out a, "Never look back!" as you and Changbin rushed back to center-stage; Han then stood up, singing a solo line in a higher, enthusiastic pitch.

"Whatever happens, even if I'm the last standing I'ma stand tall, I'ma stand tall."

Changbin followed after, his voice deep but exhilerating.

"Whatever happens, even if I'm the last standing I'ma stand tall, I'ma stand tall!"

The energy of the crowd surged as you and Changbin unleashed your soaring high-notes, their thunderous cheers reverberating through the venue. With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you darted across the stage in an exaggerated, playful display, arms outstretched and fingers pointing theatrically at the sea of faces. Amid the dazzling lights, your gaze locked onto Chan, his eyes brimming with a mixture of amusement and admiration as he watched your exuberant antics. A mischievous grin tugged at your lips, and you snapped your fingers toward him, beckoning him to join you with a sharp motion, inviting him to share the spotlight for the grand finale.

He trailed behind you as you moved to the front of the stage, his gaze locked onto yours with a teasing gleam in his eyes. Every step you took seemed to pull him closer, his presence a steady, electrifying pull. When you reached the edge of the stage, you turned your back to him, letting the final lyric of the song linger in the air. The moment you spun back around, there he was—his grin widening as Han and Changbin appeared at your side, ready for the final encore, their energy matching yours as the crowd roared with excitement.

You held out your high note for longer than you were supposed to, in hopes to keep the phantoms with you for a moment or two longer. Yet, the music eventually came to an end; as such, you and the phantoms took one last painful yet exciting bow. Once you had risen up, you heard gasps from the crowd, no doubt signalling their disappearance.

For a final time, they had vanished.

---

That night, you made your way back to the studio, opening the doors solemnly as your gaze saddened. You looked to the couch, where Chan had spent all of his time writing songs with you, then to the piano, where the band had all of the meetings over what songs to play and when. You sucked in a deep breath, finding the confidence to speak to them one last time.

"I know I already said this, but uh." You looked to the sky, feeling connected with the boys once more as you took another deep inhale.

"Thank you guys."

"You're welcome."

You did not know what you were expecting, but it was not Changbin accepting your gratitude with a breathy groan, followed by Han and Changbin scoffing and sighing from frustration. Your eyes widened at hearing the boys's voices, so you ran to the lightswitch, flicking it on to see an unpleasant sight.

The boys were laying on the ground of the garage, side-by-side, coughing and groaning from agony. You felt bewildered tears seep into your eyes as you approached them. Chan's head looked up to meet you, sorrow present in his features.

"Why are you guys still here? I thought that-"

You were cut off by another sharp jolt piercing through the phantoms; this one was the worst of them all, knocking them all further down and causing them to squirm in pure pain. The sight of it all sent worry down your spine and made a feeling of pure dread settle in your heart.

"No, no!" you screamed. "Why didn't you cross over?!"

The phantoms climbed off the floor, Chan sitting himself up and Han and Changbin leaned on the edges of obscure furniture.

"Only one explanation," Han replied, his voice breathy. "Playing the Orpheum wasn't out unfinished business."

"Point Seungmin," Changbin punctuated with a groan.

"We wanted you to think we crossed over so we pretended to," Chan admitted, his eyes tearing up as he wiped at his runny nose. It was clear all three boys had been crying. "We didn't have anywhere else to go, y/n."

"Yeah, we thought you were going to go straight to bed," Changbin confessed.

"Well, I knew she was going to come out here, but no one ever listens to me." Han stood up, doubled over the piano. Another jolt rocked their bodies, causing you to run up to them.

"You have to save yourself!" you pleaded. "Go join Seungmin's club, for me, please! It's better than not existing at all!"

"No!" Changbin yelled, unintentionally. "We're not going back there."

"No music is worth making, y/n, if we aren't making it with you." Chan approached you, his lips quivering as he made dejected eye-contact with you. "No regrets."

Without a second thought, you hurled yourself into Chan’s arms, wrapping your arms around him with a desperate intensity. It was as if you needed to hold him so tightly, so completely, that there would be no chance of him slipping away, even if you clung to him forever. Your heart raced, and in the quiet of the moment, your lips trembled as you finally whispered the words you’d been aching to say all month.

"I love you, Chan."

Chan’s heart ached, a sharp pang echoing through his chest as your words hit him. The weight of them, the raw vulnerability, brought tears to his eyes, and they fell silently down his cheeks. Fear gripped him, but he clung to you just as fiercely. His arms tightened around you, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered into the crook of your neck.

"I love you, too."

Han and Changbin watched in sorrow, Changbin's lips quirking up into a sad smile as he sobbed.

In that moment, you pulled away, realization coursing over you as you glanced up at Chan; however, something was entirely unfamiliar about the boy:

He was glowing.

Your hands ran up his forearms to his shoulders as you studied him in a dazed confusion.

"How can I feel you?" you questioned, hoping he had the answer.

"I don't know," he answered, his voice barely audible. His hands came up to cup your cheeks and yours to grip his as he continued, both of you longing for the touch you had so desperately craved from one another. "But I...I feel stronger."

Han and Changbin stood frozen, their expressions mirroring the same bewilderment that mirrored your own, eyes wide and hearts heavy with confusion. The room seemed to hold its breath as you reached out to them, your hand a silent invitation. Slowly, they moved toward you, drawn by the quiet gravity of the moment. Without a word, the three of them joined you in a single, tight embrace, pulling you into the warmth of their presence. 

Just as you had suspected, you could feel them as well, and their bodies became enveloped in the same, golden hue that Chan was. The hug lingered for moments on end before the four of you broke.

"Woah," Changbin sighed. "I don't feel weak anymore!"

"Me neither," Han added on. "Not that, y'know, I was ever that weak." The comment caused a giggle to echo in that moment of tension; suddenly, the three phantoms felt a weird sensation on their wrists, almost like a tingle. Han and Changbin rolled up the sleeves of their blazers and Chan held his sleeveless arm out.

The purple, Hollywood Ghost Club stamps on their arms floated lightly above them before disappearing entirely. All four of you looked at one another, a knowing look present in your gazes.

"I think the band's back," Chan whispered, smiling from ear-to-ear at you. Your eyes flickered to his, pride and adoration visible; before you could act, Han spoke once more.

"Can we uh...can we do that hug thing again?"

"Absolutely!" you, Chan, and Changbin happily sounded at the same time; with that the four of you enveloped into another tight hug, jumping around from excitement at the night's events.

"We played the Orpheum, guys!" you yelled, pulling away from the phantoms.

"Yeah, we did!" Chan responded, his hands gripping your shoulders with an exhilerant intent. As he gazed at you for longer, however, his demeanor shifted.

He took in the weight of being able to feel you, to caress you, and to hug you, and it made him wonder.

"Boys, you mind giving us some space?" he looked to Han and Changbin, who smirked, knowing what the boy was planning. As they walked away, he took your hands in his, smiling brightly at you.

"So we can hug," he said, "and we can hold each others faces, so I wonder-"

You did not give Chan time to finish before your lips closing the gap in between you two. His lips were warm and soft against yours, tentative at first from astoundment. The kiss was everything, from sweet to electric to gentle, carrying the passion you had felt for one another for so long.

When you finally broke apart, your forehead rested against his. Chan smiled the boyish, lopsided grin that never failed to make your heart race.

"Stole my thunder," Chan remarked cheekily, eliciting a chest swat from your end.

"Whatever," you mumbled. "So, since the band's back, can we also be back? Or, can we at least start something?" Chan responded by interlacing your fingers, a motion he felt a certain relief at finally being able to do.

"Didn't know we were ever gone, Love."

---

Taglist: @velvetmoonlght, @amararosesblog (If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!)

[cookienort]

Ven is here to support you today!!!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Smell Check [Easy: Failure]

MDZS Disco Elysium AU part 1 (part 2 - part 3)

[lizzylucky]

Draxum hadn't accounted for the fact that when he gave four hatchling turtles the DNA of a human being in order to give them greater intelligence, he would effectively be making himself a surrogate father to actual children, with wildly different needs.

When he sent his gargoyles to obtain a sample of DNA from Big Mama's prized warrior, the intention was to create his own. They were to be the prototypes for an army of simple creatures with just enough heightened intelligence to learn combat and follow commands, that he might defend Yokai kind with.

Instead, he quickly discovered the integration of human DNA had been a little over successful in allowing his test subjects to learn and think and feel in a civilized manner, going so far as to override some of their natural instincts as turtles that would otherwise allow them to learn to care for themselves. He had to feed them, by hand, with bottles.

Like infants.

They were easily distraught by unfamiliar things, and quickly became dependent on Draxum in every sense of the word. They babbled, they cried, they explored things with their hands, their tails, their mouths.

It was an unplanned adjustment needed to be made, but no matter. If anything, learning to understand the new hybrid emotions of these turtles would allow Draxum greater advantages when they grew enough to safely learn combat. Preferences, likes and dislikes, needs, diet, and so on, all became more complex areas of study.

Even a couple years in, he found himself continually surprised. Brain scans had shown that the turtles were more intelligent, still, than anticipated. They, truly, seemed more human in mind and function than anything else, with only some base instincts and behaviors left to influence their personalities. They retained many reptilian traits, but overall had the bipedal anatomy and function of humans and some Yokai. It had been an infuriating discovery at first, but Draxum had to admit that over time he became fond of it.

Each turtle had developed his own personality. The eldest, for example, had a love of plush toys, and showed a fierce protective instinct over the others. The youngest, Draxum had learned, was contrastedly reckless and excitable, not nearly so reserved or gentle as the first. Additionally, he was, decidedly, to be kept away from any and every writing utensil unless under strict supervision (unfortunately, this was learned a little too late, as was evidenced by the clear markings left in several work benches). Then, of course, were the slider and the softshell, who had the most bizarre relationship. They were constantly fighting with each other, but utterly inseparable, and each showed an incredible and unique curiosity, constantly exploring and watching and studying, with concentration filling their eyes in ways Draxum had never seen in other children so young.

Embarrassingly, it took another couple years before Draxum realized he couldn't simply refer to them by their species' names. It certainly was effective, but they were not the mild, simple creatures he had once expected them to be, and he knew that they never would.

Now, they were vocal, playful, inquisitive... energetic. By the gods, were they energetic. They never stopped moving, never stopped talking, never stopped eating, never stopped wanting or needing.

...This is why Draxum never had children of his own. It took all the time and energy he had to spare, and then some. Although it would be a lie to say he wished they were any other way.

They had so much capacity to learn, and with their emotional propensity could one day come to understand exactly why Draxum was doing this, which he knew would be an edge in their combative styles.

As he introduced them, slowly, to more of the world's culture and knowledge, he felt, in a new way, that their very existences were revolutionary. A perfect, synergistic unity between two entirely different families of genetic material, with numerous enhanced abilities. And they were children. They maintained all the properties of regular children, but had so much more in store! Such grand destinies! They would be, inarguably, the greatest warriors of their time when they were grown. They would be the compassionate, skillful heroes of all Yokai, the first of a new generation of super mutants, and the key to overcoming the evils of the humans who had overtaken the surface and posed such threat to all who lived below.

It was with great reluctance that he allowed himself to accept, however, that not all of mankind was evil. There were many forms of art, beautiful in different ways, there were some rare people filled with kindness, inventions that utilized resources in ways Yokai kind had never thought to. Perhaps he had been a little stubborn in his ways, a bias cementing over time that blinded him to some of the beauty that did yet exist in such a species.

Make no mistake, humans were a threat. Innocent families lived in fear, in hiding, of the governments and ruthless sciences designed to invade, to blaspheme the name of knowledge, with no regard for the safety of this people.

Draxum could live with being an outlaw to the Yokai if his experiments would lead to their salvation. He may be their villain in today's papers, but in history books he would be a hero.

Still, he wished to amend some of his practices. Even if only to his turtles, he would be known for his ability to change and understand. He would be fair, and he would be truthful.

And so it was that he told the turtles the nature of their existence. Perhaps he muted some of the details, to protect their minds until they had more understanding, but he would not lie to them about their DNA. He told them of Lou Jitsu, and their human genetics, and he begrudgingly allowed them access to the culture of the humans. He would let them choose their interests unbiased.

In the process, he came to know of some of the revolutionaries of human history. Though he wasn't particularly inclined to believe there were no evils involved, he was intrigued by the strange moral code that the humans boasted from their different time periods. The turtles, as well, were fascinated by the stories of war heroes and generals, seamstresses and inventors, artists and royalty.

Initially, when it came time to redesignate his turtles, Draxum had been inclined toward the names of those whose legacies persisted in the humans' culture even today- perhaps a president for the slider, a scientist for the softshell, a great general for the snapper, and an artist for the young box turtle. It seemed, somehow, clandestinely right; carefully considered to exemplify each of their personalities.

And although he had begun to get used to the possibility of names like "Monroe" and "Edison", his indecision on the matter seemed to be working against him. He was taking too long, and the boys were growing smarter.

It was a day in August, later that year, that he found his two youngest arguing over a Renaissance book, oddly enough. The elder two took to a game of knocking "secret patterns" on each other's carapaces, which he dismissed before he could allow himself the confusion that came with wondering why a five year old would want to knock on a spiked shell for fun.

After breaking up the fight and confiscating the book (which, as it turned out, the youngest only wanted because it had pictures in it, much to the chagrin of the other, who insisted that reading it was much better than just looking at the pictures), Draxum found himself idly flipping through pages of rustic images and rudimentary ideas, developed by people with strange names.

Maybe he was simply too tired to consider it properly, but, feeling defeated in his endeavor, he chose four names at random and assigned them to the young turtles, deciding it had been long enough.

It took a while to get used to, but soon "Raphael", "Leonardo", "Donatello", and "Michaelangelo" truly fit.

Over time, the boys grew... ravenous. They devoured everything- food, information, technique. They were learning quickly everything Draxum taught them. They practiced with Huginn and Muninn, leapt up, around, over, and through everything in the lab, and took special interest in action-filled films.

And Draxum grew fonder. He wasn't entirely surprised, of course; it's natural to develop some sense of sentimentality when caring for anything this long. Even if they had been the simple minded turtles he expected, he knew this was inevitable, to a degree.

What startled him was the sudden sense of fear that came with watching them train. The alarm that made his heart beat harder when one of them fell from somewhere high or any time they ran simple drills with weapons not blunted and made from wood.

He subtly began to intensify their defensive strategies, taught them where they were most vulnerable so they could protect those spots, insisted on perfecting their abilities to parry, block, and dodge before anything else.

And, over time, he found himself training them less often than before, thinking, "I must preserve their innocence and prolong their childhood experiences". After all, it was an essential part of development, was it not? If it were tarnished too much, they might become unwise or unjust as warriors. And, really, Raphael was only 8 years old, and he was the eldest; they were much too young to be exposed to the harshness of what their combative training was really for.

He told himself that, time and time again. He told them that, making certain they understood that their training was not a game. It wasn't untrue, certainly.

Really, he just wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to admit to what extent he cared about them, because it was too much. It was more than he could ever have been prepared for. It was more than that passion to protect Yokai kind ever was, and if he ever realized that, he might become the compromise to his own purposes, to the very reason these turtles exist this way to begin with, and then what? What was he to tell them, why was he to train them, who did they exist for if not the inhabitants of the Hidden City?

No. He couldn't do that. He simply would not allow it, not when so much was at stake.

And yet...

More and more often he desired simply to watch them. He was growing weary with worry, and with that tight feeling that arose in his chest each time one of his boys so much as frowned.

Raphael loved to carry his brothers on his shoulders. And he prided himself on being the big brother, in every way. He liked repeating instructions Draxum gave to the others, and tended to play caretaker anytime someone was sad, or had a bruised knee. He often played the "bad guy" in their made up games so the younger ones could "win", he was the mediator in big decisions, like what book they should read before bed, and he seemed always ready with an armful of stuffed animals when he wanted to express affection. So strong, incredibly strong, but soft spoken and sweet.

Leonardo adored Raphael. Just as Raphael did Draxum, Leonardo liked to imitate and repeat instructions. He tended to take charge in many of their childish endeavors, and had a propensity for dramatics and heroism, often pretending to rescue his brothers. This seemed to irritate Donatello to no end, unless he was also playing the hero, and often times he was. The two were usually glued to the hip, though Leonardo liked to make a point to tell all his brothers about everything that went on, and would take a movie night with the three of them over a one on one outing with Draxum any day. He was exuberant and joyous, and very driven by the concept of justice.

Donatello, similarly, seemed to care very dearly about maintaining a bond with all three of his brothers, but he was peculiar, often more reserved and enjoying his alone time. That child read and read like he might never get a chance to again, and he absorbed what he read like a sponge. Quite a few times Draxum found him pulling apart whatever he could get his hands on, and though an effort was made, there was no hiding place the boy couldn't discover in his quest for Draxum's tools. In spite of his quizzical, sometimes stoic nature, Donatello was sensitive, and very thoughtful. He would spend hours talking about his books and his ideas- some of which were very clever- and he was expressive in secondary ways- sitting nearer his brothers even without interacting, crafting things out of paper as gifts. Even the little heart-shaped mark on the back of his soft shell seemed a fitting part of him- he wore his heart on his sleeve, so to speak, and didn't even realize it.

And Michaelangelo. There was an innocence and joy and goodness about the smallest turtle that had struck Draxum. Even when he was younger he always wore a smile and liked to see the good side of things. And he idolized his brothers. With him had grown his creative inclinations, filling every colouring book, drawing on every wall, and absolutely plastering the other turtles with stickers. They were a pain to wash off, but Draxum couldn't bring himself to mind it, especially given the elder three always loved their baths. Ironically, it seemed Michealangelo did not, enjoying it only under specific circumstances. Heat, bubble bath, and bath toys had quickly become a necessity. So too did bath crayons, the need to express himself coming through even when bathing. Everything about the ornate box turtle was bright and colourful.

Draxum... loved them. Dearly. Every facet of their personalities and growth. Every unique trait and behavior.

It was terrifying. He couldn't afford to love them. He couldn't afford to see any more goodness in the humanity they showed. He couldn't afford to change his goals right now.

So he continued disregarding the feeling, trying to reason that everything he did for them was to nurture their instincts as warriors, as science experiments, as specimen.

But a pained scream one day, different from any of the ones he heard when they were frightened as infants, when one of them tripped and fell, when a spat led to hitting, sent his heart into his throat and had him racing through doorways with more urgency than he had felt for anything before.

He had demanded an explanation, panic translating to perceived anger, and three of his boys looked up with teary eyes. Three, but Donatello remained curled up on the ground, wailing his little heart out without ever looking up, and it was one of the most heart wrenching, painful sounds Draxum'd ever heard.

Raphael sat not far from the smaller boy, looking over his shoulder seemingly at nothing, at Donatello, then up at Draxum and back again. Both Leonardo and Michaelangelo burst into frantic, panicked explanations, none of their words coherent enough to understand through their tears.

When Raphael stood, exposing red-tipped spikes on his shell and pointing frantically to Donatello's, it didn't take long to figure out well enough what had happened.

It became quickly a very long day. All four turtles were distraught, and though Draxum had more than enough first aid knowledge to address the situation, bile had threatened to rise the very moment he pulled out the suture kit.

The cuts were deep, and jagged. And poor Donatello cried the entire time, even after a numbing agent had been applied.

Draxum had never thought that in depth about Donatello's soft shell. Not like that. He chose a softshell for the experiment because it would provide greater flexibility, greater agility. It gave an advantage that the hard-shelled turtles did not have.

Now, here... The soft carapace, spongy and leathery and bloody...

It was an accident. Of course it was, Draxum never doubted that. He had to assure that none of his boys were in trouble, no one was in trouble, no one had done anything wrong.

But for the first time he had to be honest with himself. For the first time he couldn't deny how much he cared about the turtles. His turtles. His boys.

He wouldn't, either. If this was what it was, if this was something that could happen again because he insisted on making them into warriors, into fighters- if this could happen on purpose, if this could happen worse, if this could happen with malice and hatred in mind...

Draxum wasn't unused to physical affection, by now. All four boys adored hugs, although Donatello was usually more reserved about them. Now, Donatello clung like his life depended on it, sniffling and whimpering, having cried so long he had no more tears. Draxum clung back, idly smoothing over the edges of the bandages, holding the frightened, exhausted turtle to his chest, cradling.

He did so until well after Donatello fell asleep. He couldn't bring himself to put him down. He accompanied the others to bed, assuring them once more that things were alright, and then simply stood in the walkway, holding his boy tightly.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't go through with it. They were children, every bit as innocent and deserving as the Yokai he wished to avenge and protect. He could train them, prepare them to protect themselves, but he could never send them into battle, ask them to put their lives on the line, much less demand it.

How could he?

It took months of processing, of agonizing his way through the healing process with Donatello, of watching the other boys proving their humanity, their curiosity, and their innocence time and time and time again. His mind was constantly at war with itself, his heart constantly in turmoil and distress, worsened by the turtles' confusion at his sudden change in behavior.

What was even worse was that they would.

They would absolutely sacrifice everything they had for his approval, and for what they understood as "right". He could see them, easily, being willing to submit their very lives to a greater cause if he asked it.

But was he "right"? Even if this experiment had gone exactly as planned, was he right for ever considering putting these turtles into the station of a warrior? Even if they had remained turtles in mind, if they never expressed complex emotion, if they could not speak, if they did not have distinct and colourful personalities, would it have been right?

Was what he saw in them now what they would have been at heart, regardless of circumstance?

Or was it the humanity, that he stole from Lou Jitsu?

Perhaps... perhaps it was time to learn. To consider the root of his motivations.

He couldn't do this to them.

How could he?

[undead-moth]

I know I've been on about this for a while now and I'm being a hater but you're telling me SydCarmy was "always meant to be platonic" even though there are two seasons of writing making use of tried-and-true explicitly romantic tropes, themes and writing signals, and SydLuca is going to be romantic because...he was nice to her on screen for a few minutes?

I don't even care if people ship SydLuca, or if they just prefer it, but you can't honestly tell me that you believe Carmy was always meant to be a friend but Luca is an obvious love interest.

Just because Syd and Carmy haven't kissed or confessed their love to each other doesn't mean that isn't very obviously the direction this show is going. The Bear has already shown you who is endgame. It has shown you every episode of the show so far.

Honestly I really don't think The Bear fanbase understands this show or cares about these characters or the story being told here, which is unfortunate because this show is shockingly well-written in comparison to most shows right now, and we should be so grateful for it but all we're doing is complaining that the writers led us on by not making a ship canon fast enough. It's just. Sad.

[moregraceful]

it was once observed by a dear friend that the hours in which i am most alert are like 7pm to 2am which probably explains a lot about how my posts get worse throughout the evening. but also sometimes i look at today where i was just sort of gnawing the couch all day until about 5pm when i wrote an entire fic in two hours and then another entire post about kaapo which to be clear took another two hours bc i had to chase links and explain my passions in a kind way and this was in addition to a church meeting. i would excel as the person who lights and then extinguishes lamps in the night