#he's not. he's not the straight man. he needs to be as much of a goofball and as much of an embarrassment as wade. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lowrisemiller · 3 days ago

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thoroughfare °˖⋆ ℧

“i met you there in texas, somewhere on the thoroughfare”

“on the side of the road in the same torn up clothes with a pistol in my pocket”

arthur morgan x fem!reader x joel miller

| masterlist | 4.4k words | picture doesn’t depict the appearance of the reader just for aesthetic |yearning, tension, kissing, oral f!receiving, gettin tossed around by two burly cowboys, praise, unprotected piv sex, cuddling fucking from mr miller, aftercare !

summary- Two rugged ranchers, lifelong friends Arthur Morgan and Joel Miller, find their quiet world upended when a younger woman arrives to work their land—and slowly works her way into their hearts. As desire grows into something deeper, the three of them cross the line between friendship and longing, discovering a love too wild and tender to tame.

They didn’t talk much, and that suited them both just fine.

Arthur had always said the land did most of the talking anyway. The wind in the grass. The lowing of cattle at dawn. The metal clang of fence wire tightening under calloused hands. After years of gun smoke and ghosts, the quiet wasn’t so much peace—it was penance. And Joel understood that better than anyone.

They’d run the ranch together for nearly a decade. Fifty head of cattle. A weather-beaten barn. Long days spent working fence lines or chasing down strays in the hills. Evenings filled with whiskey and silence by the fire. Arthur cooked. Joel carved. They didn’t need much. Just the land, the dogs, the horses, and the kind of friendship you didn’t have to label.

They were men who’d lost too much to ask for more.

The work was hard, and that was good. It gave their hands something to do. Their thoughts are something to drown in. Neither of them said it, but the house felt too big for two men their age. There were extra bedrooms no one stepped foot in. An empty porch swing that never moved. Sometimes, Joel would glance at the seat across from him at dinner and imagine someone laughing there.

Arthur would look out across the pasture at sunset and feel the ache in his chest like a ghost pressing a hand to his ribs.

Then came the girl.

She rolled up in a truck that coughed smoke and looked like it hadn’t seen an oil change in ten years. It was early spring—the thaw barely settled. Joel had just come back from hauling feed when he spotted the dust cloud and narrowed his eyes at the figure stepping out.

Boots in the mud. Soft flannel. Strong arms. A stubbornness set to her jaw.

Arthur stepped out onto the porch, wiping his hands on a rag. “You lost, darlin’?”

You shook your head. “Looking for the Lyle property.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed. “Old George Lyle’s place?”

You nodded. “He passed a few months ago. Left it to me.”

Joel leaned against the post, arms crossed. “Didn’t know he had any kin.”

“I’m not,” you said simply. “Just someone he trusted. Taught me everything I know about cattle and fixing fences. I owed him.”

Arthur blinked, then smiled faintly. “That man was a hell of a card player.”

You smiled back. “So I heard.”

Joel muttered, “Place’s damn near falling in.”

“I can handle it.”

You didn’t ask for help. That was what caught their attention first.

────🌾────

Arthur watched you from the hilltop as he lit a cigarette. Joel noticed the way your back stayed straight, even when your shoulders shook from exhaustion.

By the end of the week, Arthur brought you a wheelbarrow and a fresh pair of gloves without a word. Joel handed you a water bottle and said, “You’re stubborn.”

You grinned. “So are you.”

You worked from sunup to sundown, bandaged your own blisters, and cursed loud enough to make Arthur chuckle into his coffee. You shared dinner with them one night, then two, then a week’s worth.

Eventually, Joel fixed the plumbing at the Lyle place. Quietly. Arthur rewired the porch light. You thanked them both with a smile that made something shift behind Joel’s ribs.

Then the rain came. And the roof leaked.

Joel stood in your doorway with his arms crossed, dripping wet. “Get your things.”

Arthur leaned in the truck window. “Spare room’s open. Ain’t much, but it’s dry.”

You moved in that night. One duffel bag. One quiet “thank you.”

────🌾────

Weeks passed like molasses, slow and sticky and sweet in their own strange way.

You never expected to stay this long.

The old Lyle property was half reclaimed from the brambles, but the rain had done a number on the roof, and more than once you’d found black mold in places you didn’t want to name. Arthur had patched what he could. Joel came over one morning with a cordless drill and never really left after that.

Eventually, they offered you the spare room in their house. Said it was temporary. Said it just made sense.

But after a while, no one brought up the word temporary again.

You all slipped into rhythm without meaning to. Mornings started with coffee and bare feet on cool wood floors. Joel took his black, Arthur loaded his with too much sugar, and you drank yours leaning against the counter in a sleep shirt and shorts, eyes half-lidded. One of them always made eggs. The dogs—Boone and Lady—sat at your feet, loyal and lazy, with their heads in your lap.

You fixed fence posts beside Arthur, sweat beading on your skin, nails between your lips as he handed you the hammer. He liked the way you didn’t flinch around mud, the way you cursed like a 70-year-old rancher and sang old songs under your breath.

Joel taught you how to ride his favorite quarter horse. Big, quiet gelding named Shimmer. Said you had good balance. Strong thighs. His voice always got rougher when he said thighs.

Sometimes he’d linger behind you in the saddle, correcting your grip with a hand on your waist. Sometimes his breath would hit the back of your neck, and you wouldn’t move. Wouldn’t even breathe.

You rode fence lines together at dusk. Swam in the creek on hot days. Played cards and drank beer on the porch at night. You started calling Arthur cowboy when he got bossy, and Joel sir just to see his jaw twitch.

They teased you back, sure—but never touched. Not really.

They were good men. Older. Quiet. They didn’t want to scare you off.

But something was shifting.

Joel caught himself looking at your hands. Your neck. The soft line of your spine when you bent over to stack feed bags. He started lighting his cigarettes farther from the porch—so he wouldn’t be tempted to sit too close.

Arthur got quieter around you. His laugh lingered a little longer, but so did the way his eyes drifted lower when you walked into a room. He fixed things that didn’t need fixing. Made excuses to be near you.

They never talked about it.

But you felt it.

Like that one night you were in the stables brushing Shimmer’s mane and Arthur joined you.

It was late. The horses were fed, the sky painted in fading streaks of gold and mauve. You were still brushing Shimmer down in the barn, sleeves rolled, boots muddy. Arthur stepped in, quiet as always, carrying a mug of tea like it was just something he’d thought to do.

“You keep brushing that horse, she’s gonna shine like polished silver,” he said in a low tone.

You smiled without looking up. “She likes it.”

Arthur leaned against the post. “So do you.”

You paused, glancing at him over your shoulder.

He stepped forward and handed you the mug. You took it, your fingers brushing his—rough against your smooth. He didn’t pull away.

“You work too hard,” he said.

You raised an eyebrow. “So do you.”

He gave a soft laugh, but didn’t move. He was close now. You could smell cedarwood soap and old tobacco. His eyes dropped to your lips, just briefly, and that alone made your breath catch.

“Got dirt on your cheek,” he murmured, lifting one hand.

His thumb brushed your skin. Slow. Careful. You swore he lingered. His hand didn’t drop right away. Instead, it cradled your jaw for just a second too long—his thumb ghosting over your bottom lip.

You didn’t speak. Didn’t dare.

He held your gaze like a man about to say something dangerous—but instead, he only stepped back, knuckles brushing yours as he whispered, “Night, darlin’.”

You stood there in the hay dust, heart pounding, wondering what would’ve happened if you’d leaned in.

That morning with Joel in the kitchen.

The house was quiet except for the soft clink of dishes. You were in the kitchen rinsing out a coffee mug when Joel came up behind you—close, not touching, but close enough that your body noticed.

“You always leave your mugs in the sink?” he asked, voice low and dry.

You smirked. “You always hover behind people in the kitchen?”

Joel didn’t laugh. Didn’t move.

“You been wearin’ my flannel all day,” he said instead, voice rough.

You glanced down and shrugged. “Yeah. It was on the hook.”

He reached past you, slow, grabbed a plate from the drying rack. But his body brushed yours just slightly—his strong chest at your back, his hand ghosting near your waist.

You stayed still.

“I like how it looks on you,” he said, almost to himself.

You turned to face him, breath caught halfway. He was too close now. His eyes dipped to your lips, then back up. His hand rested on the edge of the counter beside your hip.

“I’m not tryin’ to start somethin’,” Joel said roughly.

“Then don’t stand so close,” you whispered.

But neither of you moved.

His knuckles brushed yours. You swallowed hard.

“I do things slow,” he said finally. “But when I want somethin’—I want it all the way.”

Then he stepped back.

And your knees nearly buckled.

────🌾────

It became too much. The two men took over every single thought. Before you’d go to sleep at night you would replay memories and little things they both have done.

You hadn’t meant for this to happen.

At first, it was just about survival. About fences and feed and early mornings with dirt on the window. You were too busy trying to patch the roof and clear out the barn to think about anything else. Joel and Arthur had been kind—quiet and rough around the edges, but kind. You respected them. Trusted them.

But something changed.

It was in the small things. The way Arthur always made your tea just right. How he’d linger near you in the barn, his warmth close enough to touch. The way he looked at you like you were soft, like you were some delicate thing he didn’t dare grab with dirty hands.

And then Joel—God, Joel. That man carried tension like it was sewn into his spine. Everything about him was hard angles, clenched jaw, calloused hands. But the way he watched you in his flannel, the way his voice dropped when he was near—it made your whole body buzz.

You liked being near them.

Too much.

Sometimes you caught yourself comparing them. Arthur’s steadiness, Joel’s intensity. The way Arthur said darlin’ with that gravel-deep gentleness. The way Joel’s hand would rest on your lower back for a second too long, fingers twitching like he was holding himself back.

It was starting to keep you up at night.

You’d roll over in bed, heart pounding, wondering what would happen if you reached out. If you chose.

But the truth was, you didn’t know if you could.

Because they were both slipping under your skin.

And then—

One night, it all cracked open.

You were curled up on the couch, legs tucked under you, a throw blanket pulled to your chest. The movie playing was old and slow—some western Arthur liked. Joel had fallen into the armchair, nursing a beer, and Arthur sat beside you, closer than usual.

You said something about the sky, about how it was turning purple outside. Arthur hummed.

And then you felt it.

Joel’s eyes on you. Arthur’s hand against your leg, heavy and warm. The silence between all three of you stretched, pulled thin.

You turned your head—and both men were looking at you.

Not casually.

Not kindly.

But like men who had been trying not to want you for a long, long time.

Joel’s gaze dipped to your mouth. Arthur’s thumb traced a lazy circle against your thigh. You didn’t stop him.

Your breath caught.

No one spoke.

But the silence was loud.

And you knew—without a doubt—that this thing between the three of you wasn’t quiet anymore.

It was burning.

Still no one spoke.

Arthur’s thumb was still brushing circles against your thigh, slow and patient like he was memorizing your skin through the blanket. Joel hadn’t moved, but his eyes were darker now—hooded, jaw clenched, fingers tight around the neck of his beer bottle. The air in the room was charged, thick with heat and breath and something unspoken.

You swallowed hard.

And then, just barely above a whisper:

“…what are we doing?”

Arthur’s hand paused. Joel leaned forward.

You looked between them—at Arthur’s calm, unreadable face and Joel’s gaze flickering over your lips like he was already imagining what they’d feel like against his.

Neither of them answered.

So you pulled the blanket back, just enough to show the curve of your thigh, bare under the hem of Joel’s old flannel.

Arthur’s breath caught.

Joel stood up.

He crossed the space in three slow steps and knelt in front of you on the rug, large hands bracing on either side of your legs.

“You really want this?” he rasped. His eyes were locked on yours—hungry, hesitant, already gone.

You nodded, whisper-soft. “I do.”

Arthur let out a breath behind you. You turned slightly, meeting his eyes.

He was leaning close now too, hand still on your leg. “You sure, darlin’? Once we start this…”

“…we’re not stopping,” Joel finished.

You let your knees part between them.

That was all the answer they needed.

Joel leaned in first—slow, deliberate. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing your lower lip before he kissed you. It was careful at first, his lips warm and slightly chapped, tasting faintly of beer and restraint. But when you sighed into him, he deepened it—tilting your face up, tongue sweeping into your mouth with a hunger he’d clearly been holding back for weeks.

Behind you, Arthur’s hand slid higher on your thigh.

“You two gonna make me sit here and watch?” he murmured, voice thick with heat.

Joel pulled back just enough to glance over his shoulder. “Thought you liked watchin’, Morgan.”

Arthur chuckled low, and then his hand moved beneath the hem of your—Joel’s shirt—his palm warm and rough against your bare skin.

You gasped, turning toward him, and his lips were already there—softer than Joel’s, slower, his kiss all patience and promise. He kissed you like a secret. Like he wanted to keep you.

You moaned softly, body caught between them, and Joel let out a sound from deep in his chest.

“Bedroom,” he muttered.

Arthur didn’t answer—just stood and lifted you effortlessly into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct. Joel followed close behind, one hand guiding your back, the other grazing your hip.

You were dizzy with it—wrapped in warmth and want, floating somewhere between them, their hands anchoring you. They moved like they’d talked about this before. Like they’d been waiting for the moment you’d fall into them.

And now?

They had you.

And they weren’t about to let go.

Arthur laid you down with care.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight, creaking softly under the solid strength of his body. Joel stood at the edge of the bed, watching—his eyes burning dark, like he was trying to memorize you just like this: flushed and breathing heavy, hair mussed, legs parted slightly on the sheets.

“You’re beautiful,” Arthur murmured.

His hands were on you already, calloused palms sliding up beneath the borrowed flannel. You gasped when his fingers brushed over your ribs—feather-light at first, then firmer as they moved up to cup your breasts, thumbs stroking lazy circles over your nipples.

“God,” you whispered.

Joel leaned over, hands braced on either side of your thighs. “Look at you,” he muttered. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

Arthur was kissing your neck now, his beard rough against your skin, lips soft. He moved slow, like he wanted to savor it—each kiss dragging lower as he pulled the shirt higher, exposing your bare stomach inch by inch.

Joel’s hand slid up your thigh, spreading your legs wider. “She’s shakin’,” he rasped.

“I know,” Arthur murmured. “I got her.”

He kissed the curve of your hip as Joel leaned in and kissed your mouth again—this time harder, deeper. His tongue met yours with raw hunger, his grip on your thigh tightening. You moaned into him, your hips twitching upward, aching for more.

Arthur moved between your legs now, dragging his mouth lower, slower, lips brushing your inner thigh.

You whimpered.

“Patience, sweetheart,” Arthur said, voice low and warm. “We’re gonna take care of you.”

Joel’s hand came up to cup your jaw, turning your face back to his. “Gonna treat you so fuckin’ good. You hear me?”

You nodded, breathless. “Yes.”

Arthur’s mouth pressed right where you needed it, hot and open, licking and sucking on your clit, and your back arched. Joel swallowed your gasp with another kiss, his hand sliding under your head, cradling you there, grounded and worshipped all at once.

They worked in tandem—Arthur’s tongue slow and methodical, like he was learning every response you gave him, every tremble. Joel’s lips at your ear, whispering things that made your skin burn:

“Can’t believe you’re lettin’ us have you like this.”

“Such a good girl.”

“Never gonna forget the way you sound, takin’ us like this.”

You reached down blindly, fingers threading through Arthur’s hair, and he groaned low against you, the sound vibrating through your core.

“Joel—please,” you breathed.

He growled softly, undoing his belt with one hand, kissing along your jaw with the other. “You want both of us tonight, baby?”

You nodded frantically. “Yes. Please, I want—”

Arthur’s mouth dragged up your body again, kissing your sternum, your throat. “Then you got us, darlin’. Every fuckin’ inch.”

Joel’s mouth met yours one more time, possessive and rough.

And as they undressed—hands and mouths and quiet praise—you realized something:

This wasn’t just desire.

It was need.

Arthur kissed you again—slow, steady—his mouth hot and tasting faintly of you. He’d shed his shirt somewhere between the bed and your thighs, and now his body was pressed against yours, warm and solid. You could feel every inch of him, every deliberate drag of his chest over your nipples, every reverent pass of his hands over your hips.

Joel was behind him now, kneeling on the bed, jeans tugged halfway down. His eyes never left your face.

“You want Arthur first?” Joel asked, voice low, almost a growl.

Your breath caught.

“I—yes,” you whispered.

Arthur groaned. “Good girl.”

He kissed down your body again, this time moving slower. Not teasing—just devoted. He wanted to feel every shiver. Wanted you pliant beneath him when he finally slid into you.

You reached for him, fingers threading through the back of his hair as he nudged your thighs apart again, lining himself up with practiced care. You felt the thick press of him at your entrance, and your whole body tensed in anticipation.

Arthur cupped your face with one hand, brushing his thumb over your lip.

“Breathe for me, darlin’.”

You did.

And then—he pushed in.

A long, slow slide that made your toes curl and your jaw drop, gasping as he filled you inch by inch. He held himself there once he was fully seated, forehead pressed to yours, both of you panting softly.

“You feel that?” he whispered. “How good you take me?”

You nodded helplessly, overwhelmed by the fullness, the stretch, the heat.

Joel sat beside you now, one hand stroking your hair back from your damp forehead, the other trailing down to your chest. He cupped your breast, watching Arthur move inside you with a hungry, reverent stare.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel muttered. “Look at you.”

Arthur started to move—slow, deliberate thrusts that rocked your body up the bed. He kissed your neck, your collarbone, whispered soft praise as your fingers clawed at his back.

Joel leaned in, kissed your cheek, then your lips—deep and lingering, tasting every moan Arthur pulled from your throat.

“You’re so good,” Joel murmured. “So fuckin’ good for us.”

You were unraveling, every nerve lit up, caught between Arthur’s steady rhythm and Joel’s mouth and hands. You felt possessed, held, worshipped.

And then Arthur pulled out slowly, pressing one last kiss to your sternum.

“Think she’s ready for you,” he murmured, looking at Joel.

Joel didn’t wait. He was on you in seconds, flipping you gently onto your side, spooning in close behind. His chest was slick with heat, breath ragged against your ear.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured, lining himself up.

“Please,” you whispered.

He pushed in with a groan—deeper than Arthur, thicker, dragging a broken cry from your throat as he filled you completely. Joel’s hand curled around your waist, holding you in place as he began to move—grinding slow and deep, his mouth pressed to your shoulder.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he hissed.

Arthur knelt in front of you now, brushing hair back from your face, kissing your mouth sweetly while Joel fucked you slow and unrelenting from behind.

“You’re ours now, ain’t you?” Arthur murmured. “Both of us.”

You nodded, tears at the corners of your eyes from how full you felt, how overwhelming it was to be held between them.

Joel’s thrusts grew harder, his breath turning rough against your skin. “Say it,” he growled. “Say you’re ours.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped. “I’m—yours.”

And when you came—loud, shaking, completely undone—they didn’t stop holding you. Didn’t stop whispering how good you were, how beautiful you looked, how they’d never let you go now.

You belonged to them.

And tonight, they made sure you knew it.

────🌾────

The room was quiet.

The kind of quiet that settles in after a storm—soft and sacred, broken only by the sound of three tangled breaths.

You were between them again, your body boneless and glowing, cheek pressed against Arthur’s chest. His heartbeat was a slow, steady thump beneath your ear, and one of his hands ran lazy circles along your spine, grounding you.

Joel lay behind you, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, his body flush against your back. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the heat of his skin, the quiet way he breathed your name like a prayer.

“You okay, baby?” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

You nodded, lips brushing Arthur’s skin. “Yeah. Just… wow.”

Arthur chuckled low in his throat. “That a good ‘wow,’ or a we-gotta-run-away-and-never-talk-about-it-again kinda wow?”

You laughed softly. “The first one.”

Joel hummed, and you felt his lips move against your shoulder. “Good. ‘Cause we’re not lettin’ you go now.”

Arthur shifted just enough to cup your face, thumb brushing over your cheek. “Didn’t hurt, did it? We didn’t push too much?”

“No,” you said, voice thick and quiet. “It was perfect.”

They exhaled together, that tension in their bodies finally melting all the way out of them.

Joel sat up first, kissed your shoulder, then leaned over to grab a warm cloth from the bedside. He was slow and gentle cleaning you up, murmuring quiet things like I got you, just relax, you were so good for us. Every motion was careful, reverent. Like you were something fragile. Something theirs.

Arthur pulled the blankets up, letting you settle again between them.

You felt completely safe. Wrapped in warmth and worn flannel and calloused hands that held you like you were the softest thing they’d ever touched.

“You always this quiet after?” Arthur asked, his fingers trailing along your ribs.

You shrugged, half-smiling. “Not always. But I’ve never… done this before.”

“With two men?”

“With two people who actually care.”

They both stilled.

Joel leaned forward, brushing hair from your face. “We do,” he said quietly. “Care.”

Arthur nodded, resting his forehead against yours. “This wasn’t just a one-time thing for us. Not if it ain’t for you.”

You looked between them, your heart thudding louder than it had all night.

“I don’t want it to be,” you whispered.

Joel smiled—soft and warm and rare. “Good. Then stay.”

“I'm already here.”

Arthur kissed you again—slower this time, with all the gentleness in the world. Joel tucked himself closer to your back, his hand slipping under your shirt to rest flat over your heart.

You fell asleep wrapped in both of them.

And when the sun rose through the dusty window panes the next morning, they were still there—one hand in your hair, the other tracing your spine, like they’d never let go.

And maybe they wouldn’t.

tags: @zevrra @xodilfluvr @whimsydoe

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ferrstappen · 3 days ago

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happy mother’s day, we didn’t make a mess this time | MV1

a/n: the verstappen twins have the most special place in my heart. This can be read as a continuation of happy mother’s day, sorry for the mess hopefully my imagination will come up with something for baby Norris and baby Leclerc, you can find them here 💘

so English is not my first language and I didn’t proofread so yeah…

pairing: dad!Max Verstappen x mom!reader

summary: its mother’s day with the twins and newborn baby Lia, and Max always has a few surprises of his own.

The house was quiet, a rare thing in the Verstappen household, especially during the last month with the arrival of the fifth member, baby Lia.

Not even the distant hum of traffic from the city below crept into the penthouse, muted by the spring morning air and the thick balcony doors Max had shut hours ago. The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, casting shadows across the ample living room, where a cluster of handmade decorations dropped slightly from the ceiling: green and pink balloons, red hearts full of glitter, all courtesy of the twins.

Lia had woken up just past seven. Max checked the time after glancing the baby minitor on his nightstand and carefully sliding from bed, trying not to wake you. The baby’s was face scrunched and pink, fists balled tightly against her cheeks as she let out a wail that Max was still learning how to distinguish, hungry, tired, or just bored. He figured it was a little bit of everything as he was half-asleep and fully barefoot, one arm cradling the newest love of his life or his newest twin. The gene game was strong, even if he shrugged in interviews or when family member brought up that there was absolutely no doubt they were his kids, with round faces and the clearest blue eyes known to man, Max enjoyed it maybe too much.

You’d barely stirred after he left the bed, murmuring something unintelligible and turning into the warm sheets as if you knew he had it all under control. He smiled to himself, you deserved to sleep in, especially today.

Lia’s tiny fingers gripped the edge of Max’s hoodie as she nuzzled against his chest, the soft rhythm of her breathing slowly returning to calm as if she knew nothing could happen to her while on the arms of her Papa. She smelled like baby lotion and milk, and her little eyelashes fluttered each time Max shifted.

“I know,” he whispered, swaying gently. “You’re not a morning person either, huh? Maybe you need a Red Bull… No, don’t tell Mama I said that, okay?” He said as if it was a state secret.

A soft rustling from down the hall made him glance over his shoulder. He didn’t need to guess to know it was Mila and Luca. The pitter-patter of their feet was distinctive, mismatched in rhythm like their personalities. Inside the house, that’s it; in the outside world no one would doubt for a second that Mila and Luca were twins, communicating through some sort of telepathy.

“Papa?” Mila whispered as she peeked into the nursery, her hair in the messiest braid Max had ever seen, probably courtesy of Luca. “Can we do it now?”

He pressed a kiss to Lia’s temple before motioning them to go to the kitchen. “Quietly,” he said. “Mama’s still sleeping.”

Luca padded in behind his sister, holding a folded piece of paper decorated with stars and squiggly lines. A crayon-stained masterpiece of love.

“We finished the card last night,” Luca announced proudly. “And we didn’t fight.”

Mila nodded solemnly. “Except a little. But it was about the glitter so you don’t have to worry, Papa.”

Max chuckled softly, careful not to jostle Lia as he crouched and ruffled their hair.

“You two did great,” he whispered. “She’s going to love it.”

The three of them stood quietly in the kitchen for a moment, as if revering the peacefulness of the morning before the real chaos began. Max had already ordered your favorite pastries from that tiny bakery tucked away in the old quarter of the Principality, scheduled to arrive within the hour straight out of the oven. A bouquet of your favorite flowers waited in the dining room beside a stack of neatly wrapped boxes; one of them was the scrapbook the twins had been working on since Christmas with the help of both their grandmas, filled with blurry photos, and scribbled notes, alongside a new photo of baby Lia wearing Max’s Red Bull cap. That last thing had taken some convincing because as the twins said it was their gift, the baby could do something on her own.

Max hadn’t dared look through the whole thing. He wanted to see your face when you opened it first, knowing they could give you a small piece of paper with a heart and you’d be crying.

“Can we go give her kisses now?” Mila asked, tugging at Max’s sleeve. “We promised we’d be the first ones.” M side eyed the baby and Max who had to hide his smile.

Max looked down at Lia, fast asleep and warm against him, her tiny breaths steady and even. He hesitated for a moment, knowing not even a month had passed since the birth of Lia and that sleep wasn’t something that came by easily for you, but then he nodded.

“Alright,” he whispered. “Let’s go.”

You were already half-awake when they reached the bedroom. Your eyes blinked open as Max pushed the door open with his hip, twins tiptoeing in behind him like little spies.

Lia stirred first, her nose scrunching at the light, and Max could feel your smile even before you sat up fully.

“Happy Mother’s Day,” he murmured leaving a peck on your lips and settling Lia in your arms.

You looked down at her, her cheeks still pink from sleep, then up at your husband, who now had two wriggling kids (completely ignoring his voice asking them to be careful) climbing onto the bed, nearly elbowing each other in a rush to press kisses to your cheeks.

“You guys made a mess, didn’t you?” you said through a laugh as Mila handed you the card.

Luca gasped, eyes wide. “Mama, how did you know?”

“I always know,” you replied while winking, pulling them both into a warm hug. “I love it so much. I love you, my babies.”

Max sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with a look so soft it made your heart twist. You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

He kissed your knuckles, then bent forward to kiss Lia’s forehead, her lips puckering in her sleep.

“No, liefde,” he said, voice low and full of warmth. “Thank you.”

And for a moment, the five of you stayed there in the soft morning light, tangled in each other, wrapped in the kind of love that made even the messiest kitchen or the earliest cries worth every single second.

The apartment was quiet again, but this time, it was the peaceful kind of quiet that came after a full day of chaos, laughter, and crumbs. You were barefoot in the kitchen, your hair still slightly damp from a quick shower, wearing one of Max’s hoodies over your sleep shorts.

The twins had finally given in to sleep after insisting on watching Mulan for the third time, both of them passing out mid-dialogue with drool on the pillows and chocolate stains on their pajamas. Lia had gone down not long after, heavy with milk and warm in her swaddle, her tiny body rising and falling with each gentle breath that seemed hypnotizing.

You’d been certain that would be the end of the night, ready to collapse into bed,’but then Max had taken your hand, wordlessly pulling you toward the balcony. You’d barely gotten out a “What are you doing?” before he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and simply said, “Wait and see.”

Now the door slid open behind you, a cool breeze curling through the air. Max stood there, smiling quietly, a dark hoodie pulled over his head and a blanket draped over one arm.

“Come on,” he said, holding his hand out. “It’s warm enough. I checked.”

You let him guide you outside, and your mouth parted slightly when you saw what he had done.

The balcony, always a quiet retreat from the cats and kids, was glowing gently under a string of fairy lights. A small setup blankets, cushions, a tray with strawberries rested in the corner beneath the soft shimmer of stars above. The city lights twinkled below, but up here, it felt like you were in your own world.

You turned to look at him, eyebrows raised in quiet awe.

“You did this while I was in the shower?”

He shrugged, leading you down to sit beside him. “Had to do something special. You survived another year of being the best person in this house and the best mother in the world, keeping us Verstappen family in business.” He kissed your forehead. “You deserve all of this. And more.”

After holding each other in silence, Max reached for the small box he’d hidden beneath one of the pillows. Not fancy, just wrapped in a soft ribbon. You gave him a look, playful and suspicious.

“Another gift? You do remember I said no more, right?”

He smirked and handed it to you anyway.

Inside was a delicate gold necklace. Thin, minimal, but when you lifted it, your breath caught.

Three charms. A tiny “M,” a tiny “L,” and a delicate little “Lia.”

“I figured you might want something… daily. Not flashy. Just yours.”

You stared at the necklace for a moment, then looked up at him.

“I love it,” you said, voice soft, eyes glassy. “God, Max. I love you so much.”

He tugged you close again, letting you curl your legs into his lap and your cheek pressed into his chest before kissing his full lips. His hand found the back of your neck, thumb rubbing slow circles against your skin as your lips separated enough for you to peck the mole on his lip.

For a few minutes neither of you spoke. There were no cameras, no race weekends, no schedules or noise. Just two parents, three kids asleep inside, and a quiet night carved just for you.

Max exhaled slowly. “Do you ever think we got lucky?”

You turned to look at him, your face lit by the fairy lights. “Every day.”

He nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “We built this, you and me… and the cats.”

“And we’re just getting started,” you said with a soft smile, reaching up to kiss him.

It wasn’t rushed or needy, was the kind of kiss that said we’ve seen each other at our best and worst, and I still want you in every moment that follows. It lingered, stretched by the years you’d shared and the life you’d created.

Back inside, three little ones were dreaming.

And in the hush of the night, you and Max climbed into bed; parents, partners, soulmates, knowing full well that morning would come loud and early, but for now, everything was exactly where it needed to be, while ignoring Mila’s pleas for a dog that looked like Leo.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen au #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fluff #dad!max verstappen #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic

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lustlovehart · 3 days ago

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Warnings: Biting, Possession, Death (Indirect Murder?)

Yandere Tweel spirit guides?!?! Maybe you’re a fortune teller, determined to help people find a good future for themselves! You’re not too famous, but enough people know you, and that’s all you need really.

Until… You finally meet your guides. It’s only when they look you straight in the eyes do they realize, they don’t have to tell you the truth about your fortunes, do they? Well… it’s a widespread occurrence for those you’ve helped to come back, attempting to ask you out… It wouldn’t hurt to give them a little scare yeah?

… You won’t lie, the two are an extremely suspicious pair, but if they’re the ones helping you… maybe they’re not all that bad?

While you’re holding hands with the first poor unfortunate soul to their discovery, Floyd brushes your cheek, his thumb rolling over your bottom lip. You try your best to conceal any reaction lest you scare the man in front of you, but you can feel Jade's fingers crawl up your spine as they take hold of your shoulders.

“Hmm… He will live a long, prosperous life. He shall suffer no misfortunes. Isn’t that right, Floyd?” You can hear his smile in his words, but you don’t push him any further.

“Yeahhh… Long and whatever— Go on an’ tell 'em Shrimpy, he’s got a good life to live yeah?”… You can sense something is amiss, but they’ve been with you long enough, that not trusting them would just feel… wrong. With a deep inhale, you can feel both of them lean into you, Floyd's cheek smooshed against your right, as Jade’s face places itself on your left shoulder.

“You… You’ll live long. And… and everything will come to you in good fortune.” You muster a soft smile, the guy in front of you visibly brightening at the news. He leans over the table, thanking you for your services.

It’s only when the light hits him just right do you realize… He’s the guy you had some childish crush on in high school.

You can tell the twins must have some way to read minds because the moment you connect the dots the two of them are staring at the way your eyes practically form hearts. When he realizes how excited he seemingly became, he awkwardly sinks back into the chair, doing everything to avoid looking you in the eyes.

“Honestly… I didn’t even come for the fortune… I just heard you were here and wanted to see you.” The two of them are forced to watch you on a mini date, having small talk with some rando… No matter how many times they pinch, poke, or even bite you, the two of you just can’t seem to stop.

When he finally leaves through the door, you finally react to their ministrations, yelping when Floyd bites you hard on the base of your neck as Jade pokes your rib.

“Ohh, so we only matter to Shrimpy now huh? At this point, you should just let him be your guide…” Is… is he sulking…? When you turn around you can hear the sound of Jade sniffling burying his head on your shoulder.

“You’re so cruel… After we’ve spent so much of our time helping you…” Jade finally peaks up, that sadness he displayed completely unfound as he smiles. You know what they’re getting at here… They’re not too secretive with their motives. With a sigh, you let them drag you out of your chair and into your office.

Though, all you can think about is the date you have tomorrow… Unknowing to the lie you told the poor guy. The two of them can only smile as they internally laugh at the fact he won’t take any precautions against the impending doom that comes for him tomorrow.

…

You can only stare absentmindedly at the sea of flames in front of you, Jade and Floyd’s spirit discreetly shielding you from any stray fires. As well as covering your view from the hand that reaches out for you.

Long and prosperous. That was the fortune you told him. No…

That was the fortune they told you.

#vesconcepts #twst deets #Floyd and Jade continue to tell you false fortunes #some of them are true #but they’re so vague they don’t help anyone #at some point I like to think darling tries finding a way to have a new guide(s)#except when they finally do… It’s azul #and now Floyd and Jade are upset because you replaced them with someone who’s just as equally evil >:(#spirit guide Azul who just tells you each fortune must be paid for now #and even then he still (lies) omits certain pieces of information from you #at this point you’re so fed up… Third times a charm!#and you get a Riddle who’s your saving grace and tells you the exact fortune #oh but don’t forget about your other three spirit guides :)#they’ll figure out a way to get back at you for replacing them (manifesting into itl and stopping you from any more fortune telling)#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yan twst #vesperwrites #jade leech x reader #yandere jade leech #floyd leech x reader #yandere floyd leech

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cap-winter-barnes · 1 day ago

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One Day (Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader)

Okay, so I saw Thunderbolts* last week and Bob has reawakened the fangirl within me and I just HAVE to write for him. So please, get sending in those requests!!

Warnings: slight mentions of depression & anxiety, mention of children

The long days of press are tedious, especially when there so many interviews and television appearances for the "New Avengers". But the family press days were always the ones that took the most toll on the whole team. Despite them being a day of making children and their families happy, they were exhausting. Especially when cameras are shoved in your face for the entire duration.

It's one of those days and you are counting down every second until the cameras and families go home. As you say goodbye to a young family that have just welcomed a new addition, you catch Bob watching you in the corner of your eye, sitting patiently cross-legged on the floor. Family press days mean that Bob is to watch from afar, by order of Valentina. Your heart breaks as you see the lost expression on his face as he watches his found family interact with so many adoring and grateful fans. You hand back the sleeping infant to his mother and politely make your leave, heading straight for Bob who is anxiously wringing his hands together.

"Hey, baby." You keep your voice down as you sit next to him on the ground, gently leaning your head against his shoulder before taking one of his hands in your own. With your thumb you softly begin to draw patterns, a habit that you know calms Bob down, grounding him when he needs your comfort. "You ready for home?" With an agreeing nod, you chuckle. "Yeah, me too." It's in these moments that you find yourself admiring the man you so dearly love. A man who has fought so hard to take care of himself since the New York incident all that time ago.

"Hey, Y/N?" Bob's grip on your hand tightens and relaxes repeatedly as he works out what to say next. You daren't interrupt his train of thought or his determination, so you wait patiently for him to continue. You notice his gaze shift back over to where Bucky is having photographs taken with a family with two small children, before his eyes flicker back to you and your hands. "Do y-" there's a tremor in his voice as he calms himself. "Sorry."

He breathes out a laugh as he focuses his attention solely on you. "Do you ever think about that?"

"Hmm? Think about what my love?"

"Do you ever think about having kids?"

The question shocks you but you soften the expression on your face as you take a glance again at the family saying their farewells to the rest of the team.

"One day, hopefully." A delicate smile passes across your face as an unreadable look moves across Bob's. "What ab-"

"Would you want kids with me?" The interruption has you breathless for a moment. Of course you'd thought about having children with Bob - but you've never mentioned the idea to him, too scared that the expectation and pressure would be too much at the time.

An unexpected hesitation settles on your tongue as you try to find the right words without scaring him. Yet those minute seconds have a wave of fear passing over Bob's face as he moves back from your hold. Immediately anticipating his need to retreat, your hold on him tightens, fingers wrapped carefully yet firmly around his own hand.

"Of course I have, but only when you're ready." An invisible weight seems to lift from his shoulders as he crashes into an embrace in your arms. "There's no rush, baby. Okay?" You place a kiss on his forehead as you both hold each other, taking a moment to show him how much you have come to adore him. "We have all the time in the world."

#bob x reader #robert reynolds x reader #robert bob reynolds #lewis pullman #bob reynolds x reader #sentry x reader #the void x reader #thunderbolts imagine #thunderbolts #new avengers #spoilers

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luza-wayne · 13 hours ago

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who fell in love first.

pre-timeskip!

characters: kageyama, suna, kuroo, tsukishima, sugawara, tendou, kenma, sawamura, oikawa, aone, atsumu, atsumu, ushijima, iwaizumi, osamu

will try to make kny and knb vers!

you.

man is canonically a pretty boy with no weakness except studying and animals hating him.

he just happened to know of your existence when he, along with Hinata, were searching for someone to tutor them. (You tried to volunteer, because you didn’t want to waste the chance.)

most definitely, you.

he's the type of guy who will consciously make you fall in love with him as a joke.

but, also the type to unconsciously fall in love with you while in the process of making you fall for him.

of course, you.

his charismatic aura is enough to be drawn to him.

maybe you'll only notice that you are head over heels for him if one of your friends will point it out.

this dork is also the type to tease you by flirting with you so that you make sure to return the favor by flirting back with him.

definitely him.

but, this big ass tsundere will never admit that he fell for you even before you did.

he'll annoy the hell out of you to make you notice him, though sometimes it turns into bickering between the two of you that will make you think twice whether you're falling in love with him or not because sometimes you just want to kick him in his guts.

it was suga first.

i see him as someone who would fall for people who excel in academics, doesn’t need to be at the top, but he’s attracted to someone who cares deeply about education.

he’s definitely the type to tell his friends about his crush as vaguely as possible, but his actions and how he acts when he’s close to you basically screams who it is.

maybe he was just a few steps ahead of you when it comes to realizing it.

when he realized he was in love, he made a mission that will indirectly tell you that he's infatuated with you.

but, those were the times when you've already realized your feelings for him too.

‌he fell first.

‌but! he won't notice until his friends will tease him about how he treats you differently from others.

at first, he'll be like "don't be stupid.", but then will also be super bothered by it and will ask himself whether he does fall for you or not.

i love him so much, but he definitely won’t be the first one to fall in love.

he’s canonically oblivious (in haikyuu-bu! man’s was stressing me)

does the most gentlemanly, most romantic, best actions to make you fall in love, but still wouldn’t realize that people might just develop feelings for him because of that, so yeah, it’ll be you.

‌yes, it's you.

‌let's be real. no matter how annoying he can be (though you also love it about him), the way how passionate he is when doing the thing he likes will most probably be the reason you fell into the hole of love.

‌but, since he's popular, it might take you a bit of time and courage to confess.

not sure who it will be.

because, you might fall in love with him by seeing how his demeanor is completely different from his personality or how he might fall in love with you, just by being yourself.

but, he might confess first though. could be because of futakuchi's plan to get him to confess, or just koganegawa's big mouth.

yeah, you, no doubt about it.

another canonical ikemen.

will not notice if you’re not close with him or any of the inarizaki players, but if it’s otherwise, then be prepared to get teased by suna or osamu, sometimes he’ll even join in if he enjoys how you react.

‌it might be you.

because, there can be a possibility where you have heard his name and saw how good he is and that'll be the deciding factor, but you know how dense he can be, so confessing is a difficult task.

though, if he realized he's captivated by you, he might just walk up to you and tell you straight about his feelings.

you.

the ace of the boys’ volleyball team that is always in the finals, truly the school’s pride, so who doesn’t know him in your school, that includes you.

his attentive nature— how he’ll notice that you always watch their games and practice might be either a hole to make you fall deeper for him or finally take notice of you.

i’m not sure, but i’m getting the feeling that it’s him.

he’s the type to be secretly in love with you for a long time and only his closest friends would know.

osamu’s the person to fall for people who have the same preference about food with him, he thinks it’ll be easier to get along and hang out with them if they share something in common.

if you'd like to support me, you can tip me here! ❤︎ ྀི˖ ko-fi. ❤︎ ྀི˖ patreon.

i hope you enjoyed it!

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dark-l-angel · 3 days ago

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I love your omnilingual reader…i require more…pretty please with a cherry on top😫‼️🙏🏽

A/N: We're making it a series, Huh? 😂

Batfam x Omnilingual Reader - PART 5 : The UN Called, They Want Their Interpreter Back

~ Batcave - 10:42 PM ~

Bruce is doing his usual brooding-in-the-dark routine, while the rest of the Batkids are gathered around the table arguing over who broke the coffee machine again. Reader walks in, sipping Yerba Mate like a world peace delegate on vacation.

Dick: "Okay but can we talk about how you straight up seduced a weapons dealer in Romanian?!"

You answered "Correction: I flirted in Dacian Latin. Man was a sucker for ancient dialects. Not my fault he folded like a lawn chair."

Tim (holding his head): "Do you realize how much damage control I had to do?! I had to pretend to be a UN translator and accidentally told the ambassador’s wife she smelled like wet ham!"

Jason (genuinely impressed):

"Lowkey though, that’s a power move. ‘Yo girl, you smell like deli meat’ Boom. Dominance."

Damian arms crossed, offended: "Tt. That’s not even the worst part. They managed to negotiate a peace treaty between two gangs. In Tagalog. With puppet theatre."

You said innocently : "Puppets transcend violence. Learn the art, gremlin."

Alfred passing by with a tray of cookies: "If anyone needs me, I’ll be re-reading the Geneva Convention to see if ‘Diplomatic Menace’ is a chargeable offense."

~ Flashback : Earlier That Week

In gotham museum gala ~

You’d been tasked with “behaving” and “blending in” Naturally, that meant playing interpreter for Bruce while he schmoozed politicians. But somewhere between the second flute of champagne and the Prime Minister of Spain asking you out, chaos ensued.

Prime Minister: "¿Te gustaría venir a Madrid conmigo? Tengo un yate."

You Translating : "He wants to know if you'd like to visit Madrid and see his boat."

Bruce flatly: "Tell him I don’t date politicians."

You in fluent Catalan, smirking : "He says your boat is probably compensating for something."

Dick trying not to snort champagne :

"That’s the y/n we know and love."

~ Back to the Batcave ~

Tim typing furiously: "I tried to look up what you said to the German arms dealer yesterday and all I got was: (Your soul is as soft as a day-old pretzel.) What does that even mean?!"

You(dead serious): "It’s a German idiom. It means he's emotionally constipated."

Jason slamming the holy ghost of the table : "I knew it. That guy did look like he hadn’t cried since 1997."

Damian: "You’re a linguistic weapon of mass destruction. Father should lock you in the vault."

You tilted your head: "Aw, sweetie. If I’m a weapon, then why did you just ask me to help you write a love letter in Arabic last week?"

Entire cave goes dead silent.

Dick: "Ooooooooooohhhh.. exposed."

Jason (laughing so hard he chokes on a protein bar): "You used the love language cheat code?? You sly little demon."

Damian reddening: "She understood the cultural nuance! Do you know how hard it is to convey sincerity in romantic MSA?!"

You with smug : "Maybe next time don’t call her ‘a rose that blooms even in bloodshed.’ That’s... a bit intense for a first date."

Bruce (rubbing his temples): "We’re banning all languages but English in this cave."

You smiling sweetly : "Fine. But you’ll miss me when the next French assassin refuses to speak English and you accidentally offer him custody of Gotham instead of a ceasefire."

Tim googling 'can one person cause an international incident' ):

"Yup. We're doomed."

~ Later that night ~

~ Rooftop Patrol ~

Jason: "Hey, how do you say 'You’ve got pretty eyes' in Russian again?"

You : "Твои глаза, как два сапфира в ночи."

Jason smirking : "...Damn baby girl. Say that again but like, lower. Slower. With a little bit of threat behind it."

You leaned in : "Твои глаза... как два сапфира в ночи."

Jason: "...Okay, now I have to kiss someone or commit a felony. Possibly both."

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swizzlemynizzle · 3 days ago

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I need a ChrisMD fic where George is streaming and the reader is trying to have sex with Chris. Chris gives us and goes into George’s room and unplugs his stream because he’s so over it. George tweets that chris is in a bad mood but chris is too busy having sex with his girlfriend to care

thanks love

Stream interrupted - Chrismd

Chris was trying—really trying—to focus.

The bed creaked under him in protest, the sheets warm and tangled, Y/N’s leg slipping over his hip as she shifted closer, mouth brushing just beneath his ear. The kiss was soft, slow, a question asked without words—one that Chris very much wanted to answer.

Her fingers skimmed up beneath his shirt, nails dragging lightly down his back. He let out a low breath, eyes fluttering shut as she kissed down the column of his throat.

And then—

“NO WAY—chat, did you see that? Man’s moving like his controller’s got a five-second delay. Actual disgrace.”

Chris’s head hit the pillow with a frustrated thud.

Y/N paused, lifting her head with a stifled laugh. “Is he playing GTA again?”

Chris groaned. “He’s got the entire flat sounding like a Twitch convention. I’m literally being heckled through the wall.”

“Could be worse,” she teased, grinning against his jaw. “He could’ve said your name.”

Another yell echoed through the wall.

“I SWEAR if you clip that—Chris is gonna get demonetised just from proximity!”

Chris sat up with a muttered curse. “That’s it. I’m ending this man’s career.”

Y/N blinked, half-laughing. “Babe, you’re literally—wait—Chris—”

But he was already halfway across the flat, joggers hanging low on his hips, no shirt, barefoot stomping down the hall like a man possessed. He didn’t knock. He didn’t hesitate.

He kicked George’s door open.

George spun in his chair like he’d been caught watching something illegal. “Jesus Christ—what are you—”

Chris didn’t answer. He walked straight over, leaned down, and with zero hesitation—click—yanked the plug from George’s streaming setup. The entire rig went dark.

Chat died mid-‘LMAOOOO’.

George blinked. “Did you just… kill my stream?”

Chris was already halfway out the door. “I’m trying to have sex, George. Kindly shut the fuck up.”

Back in the bedroom, Y/N was laughing so hard she’d rolled onto her stomach, face buried in a pillow.

Chris shut the door behind him and crossed back to the bed, all mock irritation and flushed cheeks. “Right. Where were we?”

She grinned, grabbing him by the waistband and dragging him back down into the sheets. “You were trying to focus.”

This time, there were no interruptions.

—

Ten minutes later, a tweet appeared on George’s feed:

chris is in a mood btw

Not five minutes after that, Chris replied:

in my girlfriend actually. cheers x

———————————————————-

A very short one shot but I’m back after a short break!! I’m a teacher and I started this blog while on school holidays, finding time is a littler trickier now but I hope you enjoy xxx

Requests are open xx

Masterlist

Tags

@the-internets-girlfriend

#george clarkey #arthur hill #chrismd #george clarke fics #chrismd fics #ukyt #uk youtubers

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hainge · 2 days ago

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hiiii hope ur doing well!!

could you do blue lock dads at the beach with their kids? like what they do and chaos some can create. can you do kaiser,rin, isagi, bachira, sae,ness and any of your choice?!

PS: I love your writings so much please dont die

Vacation Foul: Blue Lock Boys, Off Duty

a/n: hihi I’m doing good! hope you’re doing well too!! and don’t worry I’m imortal...and I’m sorry I couldn’t do bachira's one :( I really tried writing something for him but nothing sounded good for me and thank you for the request! I enjoyed writing this!!

bllk!dads ft: Michael Kaiser, Itoshi Rin, Isagi Yoichi, Alexis Ness, Shidou Ryusei, Nagi Seishiro and Itoshi Sae

Michael Kaiser

The sun was relentless over the Greek coastline, casting golden rays over the sparkling blue sea and warming every grain of sand beneath your sunbed. The three of you, Michael, Felix, and you, had flown out for a short family vacation to escape the chaos of city life. Kaiser, naturally, had insisted on bringing a soccer ball. Felix had insisted on bringing his ever-present attitude.

You were stretched out comfortably on a lounger, sun hat tilted just enough to keep the glare off your face as you flipped a page in your book. The Mediterranean breeze smelled like salt and summer fruit. Your son was parked nearby with a bright red plastic bucket and a frown, methodically building a rather intimidating sandcastle complex with tall, crooked walls. His brow was furrowed like a mini architect under a tight deadline.

Kaiser, sprawled on a towel a few feet away, sighed loudly for the fourth time in five minutes. He sat up, staring at the soccer ball lying beside him like it had betrayed him.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, getting up and brushing sand off his shorts. “Wanna play a little?”

Felix didn’t even look up. “Get out.”

Michael blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’re in my property.”

Kaiser glanced down and realized his foot was edging into the sandy perimeter Felix had carefully built as a fortress wall. He stepped back quickly, raising both hands in mock surrender. “Better?”

“Leave me alone.”

Kaiser rolled his eyes, used to the five-year-old’s default setting being mildly hostile. “C’mon, I’m bored. Play with dad.”

“No.”

A tense standoff. Then, slowly, Michael nudged the soccer ball with his foot, softly, gently, so it tapped into one of the towers and knocked part of it down.

“STOP!” Felix screeched. He grabbed the ball, wound up with all the strength in his little arms, and chucked it right at his father.

“Felix!” you said sharply, lowering your book. Your voice carried just enough warning to make both of them freeze. “And you, Michael, stop messing with him.”

Kaiser opened his mouth to protest, thought better of it, and flopped onto the sand with a groan. Felix was already huffing, back to rebuilding the damaged castle.

Without a word, Kaiser scooted closer and began helping, patting damp sand into walls with begrudging patience.

A few minutes later, Felix muttered, “Your castles are ugly.”

“Okay, sorry, Mr. Perfectionist.”

“Die.”

“Hey! We don’t say that!” Michael began, only to get a face full of sand.

“Jeez man calm down” he sputtered, spitting grit and shielding his face as Felix reached for his plastic shovel.

Before the shovel war could escalate, you stood and called, “Let’s go to the water, boys.”

Felix instantly dropped everything. “Yes!”

Michael, still recovering from his sand attack, muttered something in german under his breath but followed as Felix ran ahead, kicking up sand in excitement.

You walked beside Michael toward the waves, and he quietly slipped his arm around your waist, leaning into you like he needed emotional support just to survive his own child. “Why is our son so aggressive?”

“You raised him,” you said lightly, nudging him with your elbow.

Once at the water, Felix didn’t hesitate, he sprinted straight in, no floaties, no fear. He’d been swimming confidently for months now, thanks to Kaiser’s patient lessons (even if one of those lessons had ended with Kaiser choking on seawater while Felix had calmly doggy-paddled circles around him).

As soon as Kaiser stepped in, Felix turned around and immediately began splashing him. Relentlessly. Wave after wave of cold water to the face. Michael stood there, drenched, blinking as you laughed from the shallows.

Then, with one swift motion, Kaiser lunged forward, grabbed Felix, and launched him into the air with practiced ease. Felix shrieked, pure, high-pitched glee as he soared for a second before crashing into the water with a splash.

“Michael!” you gasped through your laughter, hand to your chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“He’s fine!” Kaiser called, grinning as Felix resurfaced, cheeks puffed and hair slicked to his forehead.

“Again!” the little gremlin shouted, already swimming back toward him.

Michael glanced at you, water dripping from his hair, and gave a long-suffering sigh. “He hates me.”

You just smiled, stepping into the waves beside them. “He adores you. That’s the problem.”

“No wait! Throw Mama! Throw Mama!” Felix chanted, splashing toward you with sparkling eyes and betrayal in his tiny heart.

You backed up slightly in the water, waving your hands. “No. Michael, don’t even think about it.”

But Kaiser was already grinning. That smug, mischievous grin that meant you were doomed.

“C’mon,” he teased, wading toward you like a predator in beach shorts. “Just once.”

“I don’t want to wet my hair!” you argued, voice rising as you instinctively started to flee deeper into the sea. “Michael- no. I’m serious!”

He caught you anyway, wrapping his arms around you from behind like some dramatic, soaking-wet Romeo.

“MICHAEL, NO!” you screamed as your feet left the sand.

You were airborne for half a second, a blur of sun and sky, and then you hit the water with a loud splash.

When you surfaced, your hair was plastered to your face, your expression absolutely murderous. Felix was clutching his stomach with laughter, Kaiser right beside him howling like it was the funniest thing he’d seen all year.

“Ugh! Baby, why?” you groaned, blinking water from your lashes.

Felix wheezed. “Mama looks like a sea monster!”

“Watch it,” you warned, splashing water at them both, but they only laughed harder.

Kaiser leaned in, brushing a soggy strand of hair from your cheek with zero remorse. “You still look hot, by the way.”

“Flattery won’t save you,” you muttered, and pushed him to the water.

Kaiser accepted your rejection with a dramatic groan, hands lifted in surrender, and let himself flop backward into the sea. Water splashed up around him as he sank, arms splayed like a fallen martyr.

Felix immediately swam over with enthusiastic strokes, his little arms slicing through the water with impressive determination. The waves barely came up to your hips, but to him, it was the open ocean.

You swept your hair back, still wet and clinging to your cheeks, and watched as your two troublemakers rejoined like magnets.

“Throw me again!” Felix demanded breathlessly while jumping like a kangaroo.

“Nah,” Kaiser replied with mock laziness, leaning back on his elbows in the water.

“Please!”

With an exaggerated sigh, Kaiser stood up and hoisted Felix effortlessly into his arms. But instead of tossing him right away, he began spinning him around in slow, exaggerated motions, one arm cradling his back, the other under his knees like he was lifting a sack of potatoes.

Felix shrieked in delight and mild panic, flailing as he was held upside-down, sideways, and every which way. “You’re doing it wrong!”

“That’s the only way I do things,” Kaiser said smugly.

Then, without warning, he launched the boy into the air with perfect form, like a human trebuchet. Felix went soaring with a high-pitched scream and belly-flopped spectacularly into the water.

You gasped, hand flying to your mouth. “Michael!” You smacked his arm. “Don’t throw him like your dad again!”

Kaiser, clearly unrepentant, wore the smug grin of a man who had just nailed a personal best. “That throw had finesse.”

“Finesse my ass,” you muttered, eyes darting to the water. “Felix, baby, you okay?”

The boy resurfaced with a splash, blinking water from his lashes and grinning like a gremlin. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

You froze. “What?!”

You turned to Michael, aghast. “Was it you?!”

Kaiser raised both hands in mock innocence. “What? Me? No, of course not.”

He casually turned and began swimming away, shoulders hunched in retreat, but you weren’t letting him off that easy.

“Oh no, you’re not leaving like this,” you said, wading after him. You reached out and grabbed those infamous rat tails.

“OW-!” he yelped, flailing backward as you tugged him toward you.

“You taught our son to swear!” you accused, dragging him through the water like a soaked cat.

Michael turned with a sheepish smile, saltwater dripping from his lashes. “In my defence…he used it correctly.”

You sighed, releasing his braids with a splash. “You’re impossible.”

“But sexy” he added with a wink, rubbing his head dramatically like he’d been mortally wounded.

Felix ran toward you both again, bright-eyed and fearless. “Your turn!”

“Absolutely not,” you said firmly, stepping back as both boys turned on you with matching, mischievous glints in their eyes.

Kaiser smirked. “You said ‘absolutely.’ That’s halfway to ‘abso-fucking-lutely.’”

You shoved his head in the water.

Itoshi Rin

The sun hung high above the glittering sea, casting shimmers across the calm, glassy waves of the portuguese coastline. It was one of those rare, perfect afternoons, quiet except for the gentle hush of waves and the soft voices of your little family.

Rin sat cross-legged beside Masako on the beach towel, carefully applying sunscreen to her porcelain-smooth shoulders. She sat perfectly still, hands folded in her lap like a little empress awaiting her coronation.

“You can go now,” she said politely once he’d finished, flashing him a soft smile.

Rin arched an eyebrow but said nothing. He was used to taking orders from this particular seven-year-old.

“Papa, let’s go!” Masako said, standing up and smoothing down her pink ribbon swimsuit. “Let’s build a castle.”

“Castle,” Rin repeated flatly, rising to his feet.

“Hum,” she nodded with approval.

He gathered her carefully curated beach toy set and followed her down to the damp shoreline. Masako stopped just before the tide and knelt, picking up a stick. With slow, precise strokes, she drew an intricate floor plan in the wet sand.

“This is the main hall. That’s the tower. I want the bridge here,” she pointed decisively.

Rin crouched beside her, already scooping and shaping as instructed.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” he muttered, eyeing the spot she wanted the bridge to span.

Masako turned to him with a serene expression and said, “Everything is possible when you’re the one doing it.”

He paused, sighed softly, then resumed digging.

Soon Rin was carving out a small moat-like pool, carefully shaping the edge with his hands. Masako knelt beside it and dipped her fingers in.

“The water is warm,” she said thoughtfully. “But I want it colder.”

Then, daintily, she brushed the sand off her swimsuit using a little scoop of seawater, stood, and grabbed her father’s hand. “Let’s ask Mama to come with us.”

She took off running toward you, her long dark braid bouncing behind her.

“Mamaaa!” Masako called sweetly, sliding to a stop beside your sunbed.

You opened one eye “What’s up, baby?”

“Stop tanning and go to the ocean with us,” she said as if it were a polite royal decree.

You laughed, rising with a stretch. “Alright, alright. Let me put more sunscreen on Papa first.”

Masako turned on her heel with regal flair, already retrieving her donut-shaped floater. She marched toward the sea like a model on a runway, head high, arms poised.

Meanwhile, Rin stood with his eyes narrowed as you approached him with the sunscreen bottle.

“You burn so easily,” you teased, dabbing some on his cheeks. “Don't make that face.”

He didn’t reply, but leaned into your touch slightly as you smeared the cream across his nose.

A few minutes later, the three of you walked into the water together. The waves were cool against your legs, refreshing and playful. Masako let out a soft, delighted sound when the first splash kissed her ankles.

She held up her hand like a little princess awaiting a royal escort. Rin took it wordlessly and led her forward, her donut floater bobbing behind her.

In deeper water, Masako twirled with the grace of a ballerina, her float spinning with her. “I’m a ballerina!” she declared, holding out her arms.

Rin turned to her stiffly, arms half-raised as if unsure what to do with them.

“Papa,” Masako said with perfect seriousness, “you have to act like a gentleman. Not like Slender Man.”

Rin froze mid-movement.

From behind them, you burst into laughter. “It’s his nature, sweetie.”

Masako giggled and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay. You’re still my gentleman.”

And with that, he bent slightly at the waist and gave her the most dignified nod he could manage, just before she twirled again, splashing both of you with seawater.

You waded a little deeper into the sea, the water cool and refreshing as it lapped against your waist. Holding Masako’s small hands, you guided her carefully through the gentle swells. She hummed softly to herself, some delicate, dreamy tune she’d likely made up on the spot, her expression serene as always.

Her donut-shaped floater bobbed up and down with the waves, and she rode them like a queen on a pink throne, chin slightly raised, posture impeccable. Every so often she glanced toward Rin, who mirrored her pace in the water, keeping just enough distance to let her feel independent, but always close enough to catch her if she slipped.

The waves rolled in slow and calm, until they didn’t.

From the corner of your eye, you saw a larger swell forming in the distance. Rin noticed too. Calmly, he reached for Masako’s hands again. Then, just before the wave hit, he let go and gave her floater a gentle push toward shore.

She laughed, spinning slightly as the wave lifted her and carried her forward like a sea princess on parade.

Her floater touched the shallows, and she began to wriggle out of it, preparing to stand gracefully and stroll back to you like she was disembarking from a yacht.

But Poseidon had other plans.

Another wave came crashing down, larger, sudden, and completely uninvited. It hit her squarely in the back and sent her tumbling forward in a surprise backflip. Legs in the air. Head under. The kind of wave only siblings and the ocean could deliver.

She resurfaced seconds later, hair plastered to her face, pink swimsuit full of sand, mouth full of seawater, and completely stunned.

You let out a loud laugh

Masako paused. Composed herself with startling grace. Smoothed her hair back with both hands and stood up like nothing happened, only slightly staggering as more sand shifted under her feet.

She swam back to you with quiet dignity, though her swimsuit sagged a little from the weight of seawater and her braid looked like a mop. Her cheeks were pink. Her silence, deadly.

Rin, watching from where he stood in the water, had a very small, very smug smile tugging at the��corners of his lips.

You leaned down, still laughing. “That was the most elegant backflip I’ve ever seen.”

Masako huffed “I’ve decided,” she announced with great seriousness, “we are not friends with the ocean anymore.”

Rin raised an eyebrow. “You just said it was your kingdom.”

She glared at the sea like it had personally betrayed her. “It’s a rebellious province now.”

After the great betrayal by the ocean and her royal decree to disown it, Masako seemed to recover her mood. She held out her hands toward Rin, her expression once again softened, grace restored.

“Swing me, Papa,” she said sweetly.

Without hesitation, Rin took her hands, gently lifting her in slow, swooping circles over the water. She giggled as her legs skimmed the surface, droplets sparkling in the air like seafoam.

You swam closer, smiling as you floated nearby, soaking in the calm moment. The three of you drifted like that for a while, the sun painting golden ripples across the water, everything blissfully normal, like a picture of a healthy, balanced family.

Until Masako suddenly gasped, her mouth forming a perfect little "O" of discovery.

Her eyes locked onto something just behind you.

A little girl floated by in the shallows, lounging like a sea queen in a pastel purple mermaid float, complete with glitter fins and a tiny raised tail that bobbed with each wave.

Masako pointed instantly, urgency in her voice.

“I want one!”

You turned, squinting. “The mermaid?”

“Yes!” she said. “I need it!”

Rin blinked. “You already have seven floaters.”

“No, I have this donut,” she began, counting off on her fingers, “the unicorn, the turtle, the Disney princess one, the shark, the white duck, six. And now I want the mermaid!”

“That’s seven,” Rin deadpanned.

Masako pouted, hands folded over the edge of her donut like a mini lawyer preparing for trial. “You said math isn’t everything when we went to the aquarium and I got the dolphin toy.”

“That’s not what I-” “Pleaseeeeeee?” she asked, voice full of manufactured sweetness and ocean sparkle, dragging the word out like it might hypnotize him.

Rin stared at her. Then stared at you. You shrugged. “It’s really cute.”

He sighed heavily, as if agreeing was the worst possible fate.

Masako beamed.

The next morning, she strutted across the beach in her brand-new mermaid float. Donut forgotten. Order restored. Ocean forgiven.

Except she didn’t dare take it into the water. Not even once.

Instead, she carefully dragged it to the perfect sunny spot, plopped herself inside with a pair of pink sunglasses, and used it as her royal beach throne, for sunbathing only. "Are you kidding me," said Rin flatly, arms crossed as he looked down at her.

Masako pushed her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose with one finger, acting just like Miranda Priestley from The Devil Wears Prada, and said coolly, “I don’t do peasant activities.”

“And what could they be?” he asked, already bracing himself.

She pointed toward a group of kids playing in the sand, hair tangled, bodies streaked in sunblock and grit, chasing each other like little goblins. “That,” she declared.

Rin sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Who do you think you are?”

“The royalty,” she replied without missing a beat, crossing her legs dramatically in her glittery mermaid float like she was lounging on a yacht.

Rin just stared at her, defeated.

Itoshi Sae

The moment her sandals hit the sand, Kimiko took a deep breath and turned to you with the poise of a six-year-old dictator. One hand on her hip, the other gesturing grandly to the ocean, she launched into a monologue.

“So! First of all, frogs can breathe through their skin. Did you know that? And zebras, zebras are actually black with white stripes, not white with black, Mama, are you listening? Because I’m talking.”

You nodded patiently. “Of course I’m listening, baby.”

Meanwhile, a few feet away, Sae silently slipped the inflatable shoulder floaties, onto Haruki’s thin little arms. Haruki blinked once, completely unbothered by the world. The sun, the sand, the fact his sister was halfway through an impromptu TED Talk, it all washed over him like background noise.

“You two are already going to the water?” you called as Sae started walking away, Haruki’s hand in his.

“Hum,” was all he offered, monotone as ever.

Kimiko spun around like she’d just been personally betrayed.

“You have to wait for the sunscreen to set! That’s what the bottle says! You’ll get burnt and then cry, and then-”

“Kimiko,” Sae interrupted flatly, “don’t yell like a seagull.”

Before you could even try to intervene, she grabbed her rainbow floater and took off after them in a huff.

“Kimiko! I need to put sunscreen on your face-!” Too late. She was halfway to the water, dragging the float behind her like a warrior hauling a battle flag.

Kimiko marched across the sand with righteous fury, dragging her rainbow floater behind her like she was leading a revolution. She stopped just behind Sae and Haruki, arms crossed, her little chest puffed up with indignation.

“You have to wait for it to set!” she barked, voice sharp and precise. “You can’t just go in without protection.

Sae didn’t turn. Didn’t flinch. Just looked over his shoulder at her with the expression of a man being lectured by someone half his height and six years old.

“You always talk like you run a spa,” he said flatly. “We’re going in the water, not doing skincare commercials.”

Sae looked down at Haruki, who blinked up at him like a silent witness. Then he looked back at Kimiko.

“So are you coming,” he asked casually, “or are you gonna stand there yelling like a sunburnt pelican?”

Kimiko opened her mouth. Closed it. Let out a high-pitched noise of disbelief. “I was trying to help!”

Haruki quietly resumed smacking the water with his hands like a bored seal.

Sae raised an eyebrow, turning toward the waves again. “Suit yourself.”

Kimiko stood frozen, completely scandalized, before letting out a dramatic huff. “I’m not going!” she snapped.

“Good,” Sae replied. “Less noise in the water.”

Kimiko watched them, bottom lip trembling. Her fists tightened at her sides. Her pride waged war with her feelings for a good three seconds, then she tossed her floater dramatically onto the sand and turned on her heel.

You were just finishing rubbing sunscreen onto your calves when she returned, dragging her feet. Her brows were furrowed, lips wobbling, and her dark eyes brimming with tears.

“Hey…” you said softly, sitting up straighter. “What happened, baby?”

“I don’t want to be with them anymore,” she said, sniffing hard. “Papa’s mean. Haruki doesn’t care. I’m cold. My feet are sandy. And I was trying to help.”

You opened your arms, and she crawled into your lap like she was still two, her little body warm and trembling from holding in frustration.

You kissed the top of her head. “I know, sweetheart. You were trying to take care of them, huh?”

She nodded, pressing her forehead into your shoulder.

“They don’t even deserve your floater,” you whispered conspiratorially.

“I know,” she mumbled, wiping her tears.

You smiled gently, brushing her hair back. “Want to build a castle with me instead?”

She sniffled. “Will you listen to my frog facts?”

“Only if you promise to tell me everything.”

You and Kimiko had moved on from heartbreak to architecture, both of you hunched over a slowly growing sand kingdom near the umbrella. With her tiny pink shovel and an intense sense of focus, she directed construction like a tiny CEO. Every now and then she'd sniff dramatically, just to remind the world she was still mad.

Then, out of nowhere, came the sound of feet pattering over wet sand.

“Mommm!” Haruki called out, wobbling slightly as he approached, carrying something heavy in both hands.

You turned and saw him gripping a bright blue bucket, water sloshing inside. “Hmm? What is it, baby? What do you have there?”

Haruki didn’t say a word, just tilted the bucket toward you.

Inside: six crabs scrambling across wet sand, trying to escape.

Your eyes widened. “Woooow! Did you catch them yourself?”

Haruki blinked once. “No. Papa did.”

Sure enough, Sae trailed behind at his usual calm pace, a second bucket in his hand. Probably collecting sea water to keep the crabs happy, or alive. Hard to tell with him.

“Wow, they’re so cool,” you said, beaming at your son and gently tapping the rim of the bucket.

Kimiko, still kneeling at her castle-in-progress, didn’t even look up. Her lips were pursed. Her shovel was stabbing sand like she meant it.

Sae finally stopped a few feet away, glancing at his daughter.

“Are you still gonna keep fuming at me?”

Silence.

She didn’t even blink.

“I don’t like you,” she replied coldly, voice sharp like cracked seashells.

Sae’s brows lifted a fraction, but you saw it. The dangerous glint in his eye.

“Hmm,” he hummed.

And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he tilted his second bucket and dumped the cold seawater directly on her back.

Kimiko let out a scream so high-pitched a flock of seagulls took off behind you.

she sobbed, face scrunching up as fat tears spilled down her cheeks. “You ruined everything!”

You gasped. “Sae!”

He blinked once. “She looked hot.”

“Sae!”

Kimiko turned to you in despair, both arms stiff at her sides. “I didn’t even finish my castle!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you said, quickly reaching for a clean towel.

You wrapped it around her gently, kneeling to dry off her arms as she sniffled dramatically. Her mouth was still wobbling, her eyes red with fury. Even as she let you pull her into your lap, her tiny fists were clenched inside the towel.

Haruki, completely unaffected by the drama, crouched by the crab bucket again. He studied the little creatures as they scrambled around inside, then calmly reached in and grabbed one with his tiny fingers, like he did it every day of his life.

You watched him with a mix of pride and concern. “Haruki, careful-”

He stood up and turned toward his sister, crab wiggling in his hand.

“Do you want it?” he asked, holding it out to her like a gift.

Kimiko turned, saw the crab’s tiny legs twitching and absolutely lost it.

“AAAAH!!” she screamed, throwing her arms up in panic and nearly knocking the towel off. “GET AWAY FROM ME!!"

Haruki blinked, unfazed. “It’s just moving”

“I don’t want it! I don’t want it!!”

You couldn’t help it, you burst out laughing.

Sae, now squatting nearby like a man enjoying the chaos he started, tilted his head. “You said you liked marine life.”

“I meant dolphins!” Kimiko cried, dramatically burying her face into your shoulder.

Haruki shrugged and walked off with the crab, mumbling something about naming it Doraemon.

You patted Kimiko’s back gently. “No more crabs, promise. Just princess castles and sunscreen.”

She sniffled one last time. “And dolphins.”

“Of course.”

Sae leaned back, eyes on the sea. “She’s definitely your daughter.”

You smiled. “Oh really? I was about to say she’s all you.”

After the chaos with the screaming and the cold splash, Sae and Haruki returned to the shoreline, a bucket full of squirming, twitchy crabs in tow.

They knelt near the water’s edge, Haruki squinting at the shifting tide.

“Daddy, look! A seagull!” Haruki pointed with his whole arm, his voice full of wonder.

Sae followed his gaze lazily. “Hm. Yes. A seagull.”

“Can I give it the crabs?”

Sae glanced down at him, half-lidded eyes calm as ever. “Do what you want.”

And so Haruki did.

One by one, he plucked the crabs from the bucket and lobbed them toward the unsuspecting seagull. The bird jumped, flapped wildly, and then pecked curiously at the offering. None of the crabs made it to safety except one.

“Can you catch the seagull?” Haruki asked suddenly.

“Why?” Sae raised an eyebrow.

“It’s like a duck.”

That made something flicker in Sae’s expression, half disbelief, half amusement. He let out a soft chuckle, rare and short-lived. “You want to eat it?”

“Yes,” Haruki said, completely serious.

“You know we can’t.”

Sae stood up, brushing sand from his hands before grabbing Haruki’s small one.

“Let’s find another crab and put it on your sister’s head.”

Haruki nodded like it was a noble quest. “She’ll scream again.”

“That’s the point,” Sae muttered.

Shidou Ryusei

You knew it was a mistake before even stepping foot on the plane. Thailand sounded like a dream getaway, until you remembered you were traveling with the human equivalent of a sugar-rushed raccoon and his pint-sized twin in spirit.

The airport? Chaos. The hotel? A war zone. Temples? You don’t even want to talk about it.

So by the time you reached the beach, your expectations were buried six feet deep in the sand.

“RYUSEI, THE SUNSCREEN!” you shouted like a lifeguard with no authority, watching two gremlins, one large, one small, bolting into the waves like wild animals. You barely managed to slather a protective layer on Shoko’s little cheeks before she escaped your grasp and leapt into the water with a feral “RAAAWRR!”

They were yelling like jungle creatures, Ryusei hunched over in the waves like some unhinged sea monster, eyes wide and mouth stretched in a toothy grin as he chased Shoko in zigzags. You caught a few concerned glances from nearby parents. You just smiled politely, mentally preparing your apology speech.

Once you’d finished laying out towels and beach bags, because of course they hadn’t thought to help, you stood at the shoreline, still in your sheer beach shirt, shielding your face from the sun.

“Ryu, come here!” you called.

“Nah, Mama! We don’t need that!” he yelled back, flicking saltwater dramatically as he twirled with Shoko clinging to his back like a barnacle.

“I’m serious!”

“Don’t be! It won’t kill me!”

“At least let me put some on your back"

But he was already swimming off with Shoko screaming gleefully, her little arms waving as she shouted.

You groaned and after like five you stepped into the water. The cool waves lapped at your legs as you waded deeper, tension loosening from your shoulders as the sea pulled at you.

You reached Shoko, who had now migrated to her yellow duck floater, bobbing like royalty. You swam beside her, gently holding the float as she kicked her feet and hummed something vaguely off-key.

“Where did your dad go?” you muttered, scanning the surface. The water was deep enough now to reach your chest, and there was no pink-haired chaos gremlin in sight.

Then-

Something grabbed your legs.

You shrieked, flailing on instinct.

Suddenly, two strong arms hoisted you up, and the next thing you knew, you were on Shidou’s shoulders, high above the waves, hands gripping his damp hair for dear life.

“RYUSEI, PUT ME DOWN!” you yelled, voice half panic, half fury, hair dripping seawater over your face.

“Anything for my beautiful wife!” he chirped like this was some kind of honeymoon.

Before you could deliver a proper threat, he grinned wickedly, grabbed your ankles, and pushed them up. Your body tilted backward like a ragdoll, and with a scream, you went tumbling into the sea behind him, hitting the water with a dramatic splash.

You surfaced with a gasp, soaked, furious, and already planning his funeral.

Shoko was cackling, nearly tipping out of her duck.

Shidou swam over, smug as ever, pushing his wet hair back. “You look majestic”

And just when you thought your day couldn’t possibly get worse, Shidou decided it was crab-hunting time.

“Shoko, be careful-” you warned, eyes flicking over from where you were prepping snacks on the mat, trying to enjoy at least five minutes of peace.

“Let’s catch dinner, Shoko!” he interrupted gleefully, already jogging toward the rockier part of the coast, your five-year-old cackling as she bolted after him, plastic bucket swinging in her grip.

You blinked. “Dinner?”

By the time you looked up again, Shidou was climbing onto the rocks, water splashing over the stone as waves rolled in, and he had the audacity to lift Shoko higher, like she wasn’t a tiny human with fragile limbs and zero fear.

You dropped the fruit container with a sigh that turned into a growl and marched across the sand, heart racing.

“RYUSEI, GET OUT OF THERE!”

“Woman, calm down,” he called without looking back, that stupid grin plastered across his face as he dunked a crab into Shoko’s bucket.

“Ha! Daddy, this is the biggest one so far!”

“Shoko, get down! You’ll slip!”

“I won’t, Mommy. Don’t worry!” she placed the bucket down and started crawling toward another crab, her little hands and feet finding shaky purchase.

“Shoko--RYU--goddamn it, GET HER!”

“Uuuh~, another crab!” Shidou announced like he was hosting a cooking show. “This one’s small, right Shoko?”

“Yes, we don’t need it.”

“Have it, Mama.” And he threw it.

At. You.

You yelped, leaping back as the crab landed in the sand at your feet like it had been launched from a trebuchet. “Are you INSANE?!”

“Daddy! There’s a big one righ-ah!”

Her scream made your soul leave your body.

You saw her hand slip on the wet rock, her little body tilting sideways.

“SHOKO!”

But before panic fully kicked in, Shidou moved like lightning. He dropped the crab, lunged, and caught her mid-fall with a grunt, pulling her tight against his chest.

“Gotcha,” he said, breathless.

You didn’t move. You just stood there, pale, heart thudding, fists clenched.

Shidou glanced at you, then smirked.

“Get. Down. Here.”

That did it. He and Shoko finally took your words seriously, making their slow descent from the rocks. The moment Shidou’s feet touched the sand, you stormed over and grabbed his ear like he was your third, most difficult child.

“We. Are. Going. Home.”

“Noooo, Mommmm!” Shoko whined, holding the crab bucket protectively.

“No crabs. No more swimming. No more fun,” you said, dragging your overgrown gremlin of a husband away by the ear.

He pouted. “You're being dramatic.”

You glared at him. “Wait until tomorrow when your body feels like it’s on fire.”

He rolled his eyes.

He stopped rolling his eyes at 2 a.m., when he woke up screaming with the worst sunburn of his life.

You, of course, offered no sympathy. Just aloe vera, and a smirk.

The crabs were released. Shoko forgave you.

Shidou? Not so much.

But that was his problem.

Next year? Mountain vacation.

No crabs allowed.

Isagi Yoichi

The first thing you did when you stepped onto the beach was let out a long, satisfied sigh. The warm sand under your feet, the salty breeze tugging at your clothes, and the sun casting a golden shimmer over the ocean, it was perfect.

“Feels so good,” you murmured, closing your eyes for just a second of peace. “What do you think, Isamu?”

No answer.

You turned.

There he was, standing beside you in his little sunhat and sandals… completely glued to his Nintendo.

“Isamu,” you said, unamused.

Still no answer.

So you did what any mother would do, you snatched it from his hands.

“NOO!!” he whined, arms flailing as he jumped for it. “Give it back!”

“What did I tell you about bringing games on vacation?” you scolded, holding it up like a trophy out of reach. “You need vitamin D!”

He pouted, kicking the sand dramatically like a boy betrayed. “This IS my vitamin D…”

“And where’s your father?” you asked, scanning the beach.

You spotted Isagi already at the assigned beach chairs, setting up the towels like the responsible MVP dad he was. “Oh. He’s already there…” you muttered. You sighed again, less relaxed this time, and walked over to help him.

Once you’d gotten everything in place, you finally walked back over to where your boys had started kicking a soccer ball between them.

“Wanna go to the water with me?” you asked sweetly.

“Yeah sure-” Isagi started.

“No,” Isamu cut in flatly, not even looking at you as he flicked the ball back to his dad.

“Why not?” Isagi frowned.

“I wanna play soccer with you,” Isamu said, determined.

“We’ve been kicking the ball for fifteen minutes.”

“I’m not done.”

They launched into a low-grade argument, Isamu passionately arguing for just five more minutes and Isagi trying to remind him that even pro players take breaks. You just shrugged, gave them a little wave, and walked off to the water.

You floated in the waves, enjoying the serenity, alone with your thoughts and the sound of gulls overhead. It was blissful. But the second you turned to look back at shore, you spotted your boys still at it, and Isamu now begging for something.

“Dad, get me ice cream.”

“You already had two before we even left the hotel,” Isagi replied, clearly exhausted.

“I want another one,” Isamu whined, retrieving his Nintendo (from your beach bag, no less) like it was his emotional support device.

“I think that’s enough screen time for today...” Isagi said with a sigh, glancing at the water. His eyes softened when he saw you, drifting peacefully in the waves, completely detached from the father-son showdown on land.

He wanted to join you so badly.

But he couldn’t leave Isamu alone.

“Will you go in the water if I get you an ice cream?” he bargained.

“No.”

“Then no ice cream.”

“…Fine. I will.”

“Then c’mon,” Isagi said, standing up. “Let’s go to the beach café, and then we’ll swim.”

Isamu stood up, eyes still glued to the screen.

Isagi rolled his eyes, took the Nintendo from his son’s hands, and zipped it firmly back into the bag.

“And we are leaving that here.”

“NOO”

They strolled across the warm boardwalk toward the little beach café, sandals kicking up dust.

“So, what ice cream do you want?” Isagi asked, glancing down at his son.

Isamu stared at the freezer like it held the secrets of the universe. “Uhhh…this watermelon-shaped one. No, wait—the Oreo one. Nah… the, uh… the, wait, no, um…”

Isagi’s patient smile slowly faded as Isamu’s brain short-circuited under the weight of too many options. “I’m not buying you anything if you keep nagging,” he said flatly.

“Vanilla,” Isamu blurted.

“Fine.”

“Strawberry.”

Isagi sighed through his nose, rubbing his temples.

They finally left the café, Isamu holding a two-scoop vanilla-mint cone like it was a trophy, tongue already painted faint green.

“Is it good?” Isagi asked.

“Hm,” Isamu mumbled, too absorbed in the dessert to give a real answer.

“Good. Now hurry up and eat it so we can go meet your mom.”

“Take the ball,” Isamu added, holding it out with sticky hands.

Isagi blinked. “Magic word?”

“Please.”

“…Fine.”

You were floating near the shore, sunlight glinting off the water as you lazily kicked your legs. The breeze tickled your skin and the waves gently bobbed you like a buoy. For a moment, it was heaven.

Then you spotted them.

“Finally,” you called, pushing damp hair out of your eyes. “Took you long enough.”

“Yeah,” Isagi muttered, wading in beside you, one arm holding the soccer ball and the other herding a very full Isamu. “We’re here. And he’s had his third ice cream of the day.”

“The water’s cold,” Isamu announced dramatically, dipping in toe-first before slowly letting his body float with the help of the soccer ball clutched under his arms like a life ring.

“You don’t need floaters Isamu?” you asked, smiling as you swam over to wrap your arms around Isagi’s shoulders, letting him hold you close in the water.

“I don’t” Isamu mumbled stubbornly, paddling his feet in place and clinging to the ball like a sea otter.

“He’s so cute,” you whispered, nose brushing Isagi’s cheek.

Isagi leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, his hair tickling your forehead.

You grinned.

“Ew,” Isamu deadpanned from a few feet away.

“Sorry?” Isagi called, eyebrows raised.

“Disgusting,” Isamu said louder, turning his back to you dramatically. Then, without warning, he kicked both feet out, splashing water right into your faces.

“ISAMU!” you yelped through laughter, wiping your eyes.

“I didn’t see anything,” he declared innocently. “I was just swimming.”

“Oh, you little-” Isagi lunged playfully, sending another splash his way while Isamu squealed and paddled away as fast as he could, giggling like a maniac.

After drying off and towel-wrapping Isamu like a spring roll, you settled onto the lounge chair with a cold drink and a wide-brimmed hat. Meanwhile, your boys couldn’t sit still for more than two seconds.

“Let’s go, Dad!” Isamu chirped, already bouncing the ball between his feet.

“Didn’t we just come out of the water?” Isagi asked, towel still draped over his shoulders.

But Isamu had already run ahead to an open patch of sand, looking back expectantly. Isagi sighed and jogged after him.

The next ten minutes were filled with laughter, sand flying, and father-son one-touch passes. Isamu was getting bolder with each kick, trying to copy every trick Isagi demonstrated, even if it meant falling on his butt half the time.

“Alright, last one before we head back,” Isagi said, dusting his hands.

Isamu nodded, eyes sparkling with determination. He pulled his leg back for what he clearly thought would be the most powerful kick of his life.

“Careful with th-”

Too late.

The ball shot through the air like a cannonball, and nailed a little girl in the face as she walked by, ice cream splattering dramatically.

Everyone froze.

“Oh no,” Isamu whispered, eyes wide.

“Shit” Isagi muttered.

Nagi Seishiro

Having Shizuku with you was like having a tiny angel, calm, sweet, and never demanding too much. If only you could say the same for your husband.

It had been nearly an hour since your feet hit the warm sand, and Nagi Seishiro had done absolutely nothing but sleep under the umbrella, his hoodie pulled over his face like he was avoiding reality. You looked over at him, sprawled like royalty, arms folded, lips parted slightly, and drool dangerously close to escaping.

Meanwhile, your daughter had been content enough with you, eating a small vanilla ice cream, giggling when it dripped on her hand, and building modest sandcastles shaped like lumpy clouds. But eventually, her gaze wandered to a group of kids near the shoreline, splashing around in little dug-out tide pools. One in particular caught her eye.

“I want to make a pool,” Shizuku said softly, pointing.

You brushed some sand off your legs and smiled. “Sure.”

“With papa.”

You followed her eyes back to the umbrella where Nagi remained deeply committed to his beach nap.

“Sei…” you nudged his side gently with your foot. “Seiii…”

A groggy “hmm~?” came from beneath the hoodie.

“Make a pool for your daughter.”

“A pool?” he mumbled, already curling tighter. “Such a hassle…”

“Come on, don’t make her dig it herself,” you coaxed.

A pause. Then a long, dramatic sigh. “Hm… fine.”

With his usual slouchy gait, he dragged himself off the towel and joined the two of you in front of the sandcastle ruins. Shizuku looked up at him with quiet excitement, holding a small red plastic shovel.

“Where do you want it?” he asked, squatting beside her.

“Here,” she said, pointing at a patch of damp sand closer to the tide.

He grabbed a plastic pail and started scooping.

“You know we have an ocean ten feet away, right?” he muttered.

Shizuku was gently patting a mound into a wall. “The ocean water is cold.”

“Then why not ask your mom?”

“You rarely play with me.”

His hands stilled.

He looked up at her, blinking slowly, that guilty pang landing somewhere in the middle of his chest. Shizuku wasn’t the kind to complain, she barely raised her voice when she wanted something. For her to say it… it meant she’d been thinking about it.

“Sorry,” he said quietly.

Shizuku turned to him, her cheeks pink from the sun, and smiled. “It’s okay. I still love you.”

Nagi exhaled, then gave her head a gentle pat. “I love you too, Zuku.”

He got back to digging, more focused now. The pool was sloppy, but wide enough. He started dragging buckets of water over from the sea, sloshing most of it out along the way, but trying.

Shizuku giggled as she smoothed the edges with her hands. “This is the best pool.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Because you made it.”

Nagi looked over at you then, you were watching, chin resting on your hand, lips curled in a smile.

“…Not bad for a hassle,” he murmured.

Shizuku sat back, satisfied, as her little pool glimmered under the sun. Plastic toys floated lazily on the surface, her rubber dolphin, a chipped pink shovel, and a yellow cup shaped like a duck. You were dusting your hands off after finishing the last bit of the sand wall she asked for when she reached up and tugged at her father’s sleeve.

“Papa,” she said, gripping her small blue bucket. “Let’s get more water.”

Nagi blinked at her slowly, then glanced at the nearly full pool.

“Still not enough?” he murmured with a yawn, but took her hand anyway.

You smiled watching them walk to the edge of the ocean together, your sleepy husband matching her tiny barefoot steps, both of them silent in that serene, quiet way they shared. They came back moments later, carefully pouring more salt water into their handmade pool. After a few tries, it was full.

Shizuku then busied herself again, searching nearby patches of sand. “I want shells. And pretty rocks.”

“Mm,” Nagi hummed, dropping lazily onto the towel beside you.

She returned a few minutes later with a palm full of damp, glistening things. “Papa, what do you think of this one?”

Nagi sat up slightly and peered at the flat speckled stone in her hand. “Hm… it’s pretty.”

You leaned over and wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder to take a look too. “Yeah, sweetheart, it’s beautiful.”

Time passed peacefully, until Shizuku stood up again, staring out toward the sea.

“I want to try going to the water.”

You blinked, surprised. “Really?”

“I want to learn how to swim.”

You grinned and gave her a little kiss on the cheek. “Alright. Let’s get your floaters hm?”

You carried it over your shoulder, adjusting their straps as Shizuku held her father’s hand. Nagi walked beside her, more alert now, already watching the water patterns. When the tide brushed her toes, she squeaked and jumped back.

“It’s cold,” she murmured, tucking behind Nagi’s leg.

“Shizuku, it’s okay,” you said softly. “You’ll get used to it, promise.”

It took… a while

Shizuku sat like a queen in her floater throne, legs tucked, arms relaxed over the sides, slowly drifting back and forth with the tiny waves. You��and Nagi sat beside her in the sand, the sun warm, your feet buried. Nagi had his hand lazily resting on the edge of her float, keeping her from floating off too far.

“This is nice,” you murmured.

“Mm,” Nagi agreed with a yawn, eyes half closed.

Then the ocean had other plans.

A new wave appeared in the distance. It didn’t seem that big. Just… a little suspicious. You squinted.

“Sei… that one looks kinda-”

Too late.

The wave came in fast, suddenly not so little. It barreled in with the force of a caffeine-rushed toddler and slapped right into Shizuku’s float. The girl let out the tiniest “hm?” before the entire donut flipped dramatically, legs up, arms flailing, one plastic toy flying like it was ejected from a spaceship.

“WHOA-” Nagi lunged for her like he was doing a beach version of a FIFA save. He caught her mid-splash, but the wave wasn’t done yet.

It smacked both of them like a giant wet pancake and dragged them backwards like socks in a laundry cycle.

You stood up, mouth open in shock as you watched your husband and daughter being politely escorted by the ocean eight full feet downshore, looking like soggy laundry drifting away.

“SEI?!”

“Mmgh I got her,” Nagi replied, barely lifting his head above the water. He sat up with seaweed stuck to his hair and Shizuku dangling over his shoulder like a soaked burrito.

Shizuku blinked slowly, clearly trying to understand what dimension she had just entered. She had a clump of wet sand on her cheek and a single plastic dolphin toy wedged into her armpit.

“Papa… the ocean betrayed me,” she mumbled.

“Yeah,” Nagi coughed, looking mildly offended. “That wave was aggressive.”

You ran to them as they returned like two castaways from a shipwreck. Shizuku didn’t even cry, just looked incredibly done with nature. (she’s never stepping a foot on the ocean again)

Nagi plopped down on the sand with a grunt, holding her upright like a broken action figure.

“She still wants to learn how to swim?” he asked you, blinking away saltwater.

“I think we just learned how not to.”

After the chaos of the wave incident, Shizuku officially called it quits on beach life.

She didn’t whine, didn’t cry, just quietly wrapped her arms around her dad’s neck and mumbled something about “not trusting wet things anymore.” Nagi, soaked to the bone, didn’t protest. He sat on the shaded lounge chair like a human towel rack while Shizuku curled up in his lap like a little dumpling, wrapped in a dry towel from head to toe, only her nose poking out.

You brought them a warm juice box and sighed as you watched your daughter knock out completely in Nagi’s arms, her tiny breaths matching the rhythm of the ocean.

“She’s done for the day,” you murmured, pulling your phone out. Nagi looked up, a strand of seaweed still clinging to his hair like it lived there now.

“Don’t take a pic,” he groaned softly.

Click.

Too late. You zoomed in. Nagi’s arm wrapped securely around her, his other hand lazily draped over the towel like a cat napping in the sun. His face was still a little squished from the wave attack, hair sticking in weird directions, but the moment was perfect.

“You look like you just survived a shipwreck,” you teased.

He peeked one eye open. “Feels like it.”

You chuckled and sat beside them, resting your head against his shoulder.

The ocean roared, kids screamed in the distance, and yet here you three were, silent, warm, sun-kissed, and completely still.

Vacation chaos? Absolutely.

But moments like this?

Worth every wave.

Alexis Ness

You thought it would start the vacation well? Oh, you were totally wrong.

Your little kids were already fighting over beach toys while you and Ness placed your things in place. You had barely finished laying out the towels when you heard the first screech.

“I got it first!” Emma whined, pulling the red shovel to her chest “But it’s mine!” Hugo grunted, tugging it back with both hands like it was a medieval sword.

You looked up from the bag of snacks you were organizing, already regretting not packing earplugs. Ness, meanwhile, stood with his hands on his hips, sighing like a man preparing to walk into a hurricane.

And then, Hugo bit her.

“OUCH!” Emma shrieked, clutching her finger like she’d been maimed.

“Papa! He bit me!”

“She’s lying!” Hugo snapped, eyes wide with faux innocence.

Ness didn’t flinch. He walked over calmly, in full Dad mode. “Give me the toys. All of them.”

Hugo reluctantly handed over the bag full of plastic shovels, buckets, and a tiny rake like it was a national treasure.

“Apologize to your sister.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

Ness smiled the way a patient executioner might. “Fine. Then no toys for either of you until you both settle it.”

Cue the dramatics. Emma let out a wail and plopped down on the towel, arms crossed. Hugo threw himself onto the sand and stared at the sky like life had no meaning. It was silent warfare.

Meanwhile, you were trying to make lunch with the portable cooler balanced on your lap, slicing fruit like this was a survival challenge.

Ten minutes passed. Neither child moved an inch toward the other. Just passive-aggressive silence and the occasional glance of death.

You and Ness, side by side now in the shade, were deep in a conversation about some ridiculous thing that happened at work last week. It almost felt like a date—if your date had a background track of grumpy children sighing every thirty seconds.

“Emma, do you want some fruit salad?” you asked, offering the chilled container as you knelt by her.

“No,” she muttered, not sparing you a glance as she angrily dug her heel into the sand, creating a sad, stubborn little crater.

“Alright… Hugo?” you turned, spotting your son sitting with his arms crossed and his lower lip sticking out like he was chewing on it.

“Hugooo.”

“What,” he replied without moving.

“Want some fruit salad?”

“No!”

You huffed, louder this time, and stuffed the container back into one of the beach bags. “Fine.”

You dusted off your hands and stood, grabbing Ness’s wrist like a lifeline. “Let’s have a walk.”

“No.”

“No,” the kids echoed in perfect unison, like gremlins.

“Why not?” you frowned, dramatically placing a hand on your hip like this was the final straw.

“We’ll get ice cream,” Ness added smoothly, already reaching for his wallet.

That did it. Their heads snapped toward him like meerkats. They stood up silently and followed like obedient ducklings.

You blinked. “They listened to you.”

Ness smirked. “They know who funds dessert.”

Now the four of you sat at a beach café. Music played softly from overhead speakers, the scent of sunscreen mixed with espresso and sea salt. People laughed, seagulls screeched, and the beach stretched in golden heat just beyond the railing. It finally felt like an actual vacation.

Hugo was at your side, quietly eating his ice cream with the most aggressive scooping motions imaginable. Emma sat across from you, next to Ness, and made sure not to look at her brother even once. She licked her cone with the delicacy of a cat pretending not to be mad.

Ness leaned forward on his elbows, looking between them. “Are you two gonna be like this for the rest of the day?”

No answer. Not even a twitch.

They both stared at their ice creams like they’d just been given divorce papers.

“I want a sister,” Emma muttered suddenly, licking a stubborn drip of strawberry ice cream off her thumb.

Ness blinked. “What?”

“I want a sister. I don’t like Hugo.”

You nearly snorted your iced coffee through your nose. Ness chuckled quietly beside you.

“Charming,” you said, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I want a brother,” Hugo added from your side, not missing a beat. He didn’t even look up, just scooped another oversized bite of his vanilla-mint like it was a declaration of war.

You burst into soft laughter. Ness leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out with a smile.

“I think you two are more than enough for each other,” he said. “Trust me. No one else could handle you.”

There was a moment of silence, the café chatter humming around you like a warm breeze. Then:

“Mom should’ve been more cautious when birthing Emma,” Hugo mumbled, quiet and deadly serious.

You froze, straw halfway to your lips.

Ness turned to your son slowly. “What?”

“Where did you even hear that?” you asked, trying not to choke on a laugh. “Hugo, you’re seven.”

He gave no reply. Just kept eating his ice cream with that unreadable older-brother expression like he was pondering the mysteries of life… or Emma’s existence.

Emma, not to be outdone, calmly lifted her middle finger and pointed it right at him across the table. No emotion. No hesitation. Just a slow, theatrical gesture of tiny-sibling fury.

He looked at you, eyes amused “Next time, we’re bringing noise-canceling headphones. And duct tape.”

You leanedforward, laughter still lingering in your chest. “And birth control.”

Emma looked up innocently. “What’s that?”

“Your bedtime,” you both said at the same time.

Back on the beach, the sun was gentler now, casting a warm golden hue across the shore as the afternoon slowly leaned toward evening. Ness handed Hugo and Emma each a colorful bucket and a bright orange net, the kind used to catch unlucky butterflies.

you felt strong arms circle your waist. Ness rested his chin on your shoulder, humming softly as he watched the kids with you.

“Why did you bring the net, Emma?” he called.

She turned back toward you both, proudly holding it high like a sword. “I’m going to catch a fish!”

You stifled a laugh at her seriousness.

“You can’t even swim, idiot,” Hugo muttered behind her, squinting at the waves like he was judging their strategy.

“Shut up,” Emma snapped, but it was already too late.

Hugo shoved her with the casual cruelty of an older sibling. She toppled forward with a surprised shriek, landing face-first into the shallows, just deep enough to earn a mouthful of gritty seawater and damp humiliation.

You gasped, hand flying to your chest.

“Oh my god-” you started, but Ness didn’t move.

“She’s fine,” he said with zero concern, still holding you calmly. “Call it a life lesson.”

Emma stood up sputtering, hair soaked and tangled over her face like seaweed, sand stuck to her cheeks, eyes wild with betrayal.

“I’M TELLING MOM!”

“She is watching,” Hugo said smugly.

Emma flung her net at him like a weapon, and missed.

“Okay,” you sighed, patting Ness’s arm. “Time to play referee again.”

“You got this,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. “I believe in you.”

You groaned. “Coward.”

He just grinned and tightened his arms around you, watching as chaos unfolded before you both like a perfectly scripted sibling disaster movie.

Emma had long abandoned her dreams of catching a fish.

The net now lay forgotten on the sand, tangled in seaweed like a monument to her failed hunt. Instead, she happily floated near Ness in a bright pink boat-shaped floater. she sat comfortably like a tiny captain.

“Wheee!” she squealed, kicking her legs in the water as Ness gently spun her in slow circles.

You lounged nearby in the shallows, half-submerged, arms lazily drifting at your sides as you watched them. Ness gave her a small push with both hands.

“Let’s send you to sea,” he joked.

“NO! Dad, take me back!” she shrieked, already paddling awkwardly with her hands to get closer again.

You laughed. “You made her sound like a siren.”

“I just wanted a moment of peace,” he teased, rolling his eyes fondly as he brought her back.

She grinned, dripping water and joy. “Again!”

He pushed her off again, slower this time, and she squealed dramatically like she was being cast off a pirate ship. “I’m abandoned! I’m alooooone!”

“She’s got your flair for drama,” you murmured to Ness, watching him chuckle.

But the peace didn’t last.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Hugo inching closer in the water, suspiciously quiet, and suspiciously smirking.

“Hugo,” you warned too late.

He grabbed the side of Emma’s floater and yanked hard and it flipped.

With a splash and a squeal, Emma toppled into the sea, limbs flailing like a startled octopus. Her float bobbed upside down, abandoned. She popped back up with her hair plastered to her face and sea foam in her lashes, gasping for air.

“HUGOOOO!” she roared.

Ness immediately pulled her toward him, checking her quickly. “You okay?”

Emma coughed and clung to him like a drenched koala. “He tried to murder me!”

“She’s fine,” Ness said over his shoulder to you.

“She inhaled half the ocean.”

“She’s dramatic.”

You came closer, pushing Emma’s float upright. “Hugo, get over here.”

“I was just helping her get more used to the water!” he said, shrugging like a lifeguard-in-training.

“Your sister’s going to file a lawsuit.”

“She’s got no evidence.”

Emma stuck her tongue out at him as Ness carried her back to the shallow waters. “You’re not getting my ice cream later!”

Hugo scoffed. “I’ll get dad to buy me two.”

You sighed, looking at Ness as he carried Emma back. “They’re exhausting.”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning as Emma wrapped her arms around his neck. “But they’re ours.”

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louferrignojrofficial · 1 day ago

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It’s weird to say that I (a Hispanic gay guy) connect more with Lou/Tommy than with Eddie/Ryan??Like idk people in the fandom make it so it’s a crime to connect with one over the other. But the way Lou has been treated by his dad and his strength to fight the mold, and abuse to become someone better is inspiring. There’s a clip of Tracie(Karen Wilson) saying how Lou is big but sweet. Makes me think of the interview you mention how Lou senior used his size to intimate his family. Ryan seems to have a lot of unlearning of toxic mindset compared to Lou. The way Ryan spoke about women in that one podcast was so weird, and his push for religion. It makes me think of so many people who either use the “women’s role” to keep them down and then use religion catholic/christian to excuse actions. Then as well people in the fandom excusing Eddie’s behavior because that’s how he grew up etc.

Eddie is a grown man, with a son he needs therapy. Expressing emotions is okay, what isn’t okay is hurting others while blaming them. Like Eddie’s arc in Texas of not being his parents was amazing to see, like finally they will address his ways of deflecting. Instead we get another instance of Eddie blaming everyone around him without accountability.

i don’t think this is weird at all! who says we need to only relate to people who look like us.

eddie could have had so much better stories and things that show off his development way better and instead we’ve got multiple scenes that span seasons, which show he’s not growing as a person or learning and it’s just sad.

and then ryan. well. i don’t know how we got from ryan wanting to show healthy male friendships between queer and straight men… to this. like what is healthy or supportive about this. it’s just straight up manipulative and weird.

#anon #ask

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localcursedfriend · 2 days ago

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Ok everyone is talking about Doctor Damian and I know that's like the path he seems to be going. However, I think Charge Nurse Damian would absolutely hit. Like all of those traits that made him a little odd as a kid, before he went through unpacking all the stuff with the LoA, would serve him beautifully as a charge nurse. Clear, quick, efficient communication? Exactly what you need when you're in charge of people who are in charge of making sure people stay alive and healthy. A firm prioritization system? A must if you are overloaded with work and need to do everything all at once (Nurses straight up deserve so much more help man). Confidence in yourself and how you operate in your space? Absolutely. He would get to use all the cutthroat confidence and attitude he was raised in while getting to be kind and empathetic like he is at his core. (Also he gets to use all his like Robin skills, but I think a lot of that can be cross applied to if he became a doctor, sooo)

But more importantly Damian wants to help people in a special way. I'm not saying doctors don't help people, they absolutely do, but nurses get much much more face time with patients. They get to see the impact that they are making. I think that's something that NEEDS to be a part of Damian's story. It's important for him to see the change he's doing, seeing goodness grow one person at a time because it's part of his story and his growth.

#Its just important to me that damians story is about sharing kindness #and to me that is nurses #also hed run the nurses station like alfred runs the manor and that is goddamn scary #dc comics #batman #dc #dc robin #robin #doctor damian wayne #damian wayne #damian al ghul

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clovercap · 24 hours ago

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unsaid

2.1k

note: hellooo! this is my first post on this blog and i hope you enjoy ˊᗜˋ i want to make this a series so pls let me know what you think, send me asks, and reblog and like if you enjoyed it!! thank you so much for reading ˘³˘

pairing: bsf!rafe and bsf!y/n

summary: rafe may or may not have feelings for y/n, and there's a confession of sorts

warnings: this is 18+. drug mentions and alcohol use.

“Did you know that Sarah broke up with Topper?” You say, your eyes darting to Rafe through the mirror. He’s laying on your bed, holding his phone over his face as he did…whatever it was he did on his phone. It certainly wasn’t answering texts, because you swear he’d leave you on delivered for years if you didn’t call him.

His gaze meets your through the mirror, as you continue fiddling with your necklace. He drops his phone on the bed and sits up on his elbows, his face knitting in confusion.

“Wait—what?”

You nod, your lips curling inwards as you occasionally meet his gaze in the mirror.

“Yeah, she told me last night. Said he got pissed at her for not wanting to give it up.” You scoff.

“Okay, first of all, I don’t wanna hear that shit about my sister—”

You roll your eyes, turning to face him. “Okay, I literally just said she didn’t have sex—”

“No. No, no, no, no,” Rafe’s voice raises slightly.

He’s not actually upset, you know that, but to anyone else it would certainly seem like it.

“No,” he continues, and you can’t help but crack a smile at his disdain. “Don’t say that again, please. And second of all, why would Topper do that? Doesn’t seem like him.”

You purse your lips and Rafe sits up on your bed, his legs hanging off the edge. Of course he would rather find fault in his sister rather than his friend. Any chance he had at putting Sarah down, he would do so. Ward’s influence was heavy, and his disappointment in Rafe even heavier. You would be blind to not recognize the obvious favoritism that Ward shows his daughter.

You sigh. “It is totally something Topper would do. He’s gotten mad about it like a million times, ‘cause he’s desperate for—”

You cut yourself off, not wanting to mention Sarah’s sex life. Again. “Listen, I’m not saying he’s this horrible person, Rafe, but that’s fucked up of him.”

Rafe just presses his lips inward. “You might be right, but I don’t—I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. It’s grossing me out.”

You roll your eyes again, turning back to the mirror to take yourself in. “Fine,” You look back at Rafe. “How do I look?”

“Fine.” He says, disinterested eyes flickering over your form.

That was the most you’d get from him. A ‘fine’ in Rafe’s world was a ‘great’ in yours. You smile and start putting on your shoes.

“Why is Kelce even having this party again?”

“Because,” You drag the word out slipping on your sneaker. “His parents are out of town and it’s summer. You’re asking like you need a reason to party.” You tease, standing straight.

His lips quirk up ever so slightly. He hates how you know him so well, but he can’t help the way his heart skips everytime you show it.

“True,” Rafe shrugs. He stands and slips on his own shoes. “Shots before we go?”

You laugh and walk to your closet, pulling out the bottle of tequila you keep hidden in the corner. You uncap it and take a swig, your face twisting at the harsh burn spreading down your throat. He takes it from your hand as you wipe the corner of your mouth, your body involuntarily shuddering.

He chuckles, taking a sip of his own, barely reacting as he passes it back to you.

“You’re such a lightweight.” He grins, watching as you hide the bottle back in your closet.

“Maybe because I’m not 200 pounds, over six feet tall, and a man.” You roll your eyes.

“Hey, Ruthie can down five times more shots than you can. It’s not just about size.” He teases, following you out of your house.

“Sue me for saving money, I guess.” You huff as the two of you walk down the street, the setting sun casting a glow on the pavement.

You try not to think about how Rafe knows that about Ruthie. She was in your friend group after all, but you and Rafe had spoken about your shared distaste for her. You shook your head. If Rafe simply talking about another girl got under your skin, you knew you had to mentally prepare yourself for tonight, when he was bound to flirt with or even hook up with some random tourist or kook.

You knew why you were jealous. Your affection for Rafe had grown into something much less freindly over the years you’ve known him. But you’d never say anything. He was your best-friend. One of the most stable relationships you’ve ever had, and Rafe was notoriously unstable, so that was saying something. He was your rock, and you couldn’t imagine loosing him because of some stupid feelings.

The walk to Kelce’s was fast, but the increasing absence of the sun was giving you goosebumps. Before you realize what’s happening, Rafe’s right next to you, his arm around your shoulders, and his hand rubs the top of your arm. “Cold?” He asks.

It’s things like this that confuse you. His affection was rarely given out, but recently, he’s been doing things like… whatever this was.

“Kind of,” You lean into him. “I think I just need to drink more.”

You can tell he’s grinning, even though you aren’t looking up at him. “I think so too. We should get fucked up tonight.”

You nod in agreement. “Oh, we will.”

When you get to Kelce’s house, he drops his arm, and a feeling of emptiness wells up in your chest before you push it down. You walk in, and he’s behind you for only a second before someone pulls him away.

You’re used to that, so your eyes dart around for someone you know, but before you can find anyone, Rafe’s back at your side again.

“Sorry,” He says, leaning down just enough so you can hear him over the pounding music and chatter. “Dan thought I had shit with me tonight.”

You look up at him. “You don’t?”

You try not to act too suprised, but you know he can read it all over your face. It was true, he usually did have coke, and sold it (and did it) at parties like this, but not tonight. It was also somewhat shocking considering that just the other day Ward had ripped into him, again, about getting his life together, being irresponsible; the usual flaws he found in his son.

Rafe had rarely divulged any details, as per ususal, but you could tell it was bad. Especiallly considering he had called you at 10 P.M. and just took you for a drive in his car. Not to talk about it, or go anywhere in particular, but to just be with you. He did that sometimes.

“No, I don’t.” He says simply, jaw clenching.

He didn’t feel like talking about it, but he knew you would want him to. Sure, you wouldn’t say anything. But you would look at him a certain way that told him you wanted to know more. He hated how it usually worked, and he ended up saying something to you he didn’t plan on telling anyone.

It was strange, how you were able to get him to talk with just a look. It was also strange to him that you cared enough to want to know. Well, he knew why you cared. You were best-friends. Recently though, he’s been feeling…strange, around you. There was just something about you that made him think about you all the time. But he doesn’t know what that means, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to find out.

You smile slightly. “Let’s get a drink.”

He sighs in relief as he follows you to the kitchen, grateful you changed the subject. Truthfully, he didn’t want to be coked-up tonight. It always made his chest do that weird achy thing when you saw him like that.

You resign yourself to one more shot and a seltzer for the night. Partially because you were anxious that if you were around him while you were excessively drunk, you might say something about how you’ve been feeling, and you coudn’t have that.

Rafe, however, was throwing back shots and shotgunning beers like there was no tommorow. Maybe it was because of him and Ward’s conversation, maybe it was because he just wanted to party. Or maybe it’s because everytime you get a little too close to him his palms start sweating. He’s not totally sure.

The party rages on, and Rafe sticks by your side most of the night, talking to other people, or playing pong, but he disappears a few hours in and you find yourself with some girls from school. They’re all talking about Sarah and Topper’s breakup, but your mind wanders to earlier that night when Rafe and you played a game of pong.

Some guy had come up after the two of you had won and asked you to play. While you were politely declining, Rafe’s hand found its way around your waist. Like you were his. You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the delusions you allowed yourself to create when he did those things.

You eventually got bored, and left the group of girls, meandering around the party to find where Rafe had gone. You do a lap, and he’s nowhere to be seen, so you walk out on the front porch for some air, only to find him sitting on the porch swing.

“Hey,” You smile, walking up and sitting next to him. “Why’re you out here?’

He looks over at you, and his eyes are glazed over, a signature look that tells you for certain; he’s plastered. He grins lazily as you sit down.

“Needed some air.” He says, staring at you.

You tilt your head, and as you're about to ask why, he speaks up. “I looked for you.”

“I was by the staircase, like, the whole time.” You can’t help but crack a smile at his obliviousness.

“Oh,” He nods, eyes flickering in recognition. “I missed you.”

You let his words wash over you, and you suddenly feel hot.

“I missed you too. But I’m here now.” You smile softly. He smiles back, and looks out at the neighborhood.

“You’re here,” He nods, like he needs to repeat it to know for sure. Then he looks back at you, with something in his eyes.

“Whenever I need you, you’re there, and I always need you," He scoffs like he wishes he didn't. "You’re like—it’s like I can breathe when you’re around, you know? And when you aren’t here, I just like…” He trails off, but makes a clutching motion at his chest. “It all comes back.”

I can breathe when you’re around.

You almost stop breathing at his words. They hit you like a train, and you feel like the Earth had stopped spinnning on it’s axis. He always needs you? How the fuck were you supposed to repond to that?

“Well, I guess I can never leave then.” You say, forcing yourself to smile like it was a joke. Because he can’t be serious. Can he?

He just looks at you, and rubs his chest with his knuckles, like it’s physically hurting him. But then he drops his hand back into his lap, and he smiles, tilting his head slightly, like he had just processed your words.

He had just laid himself bare in front of you, and you suddenly felt a wave a guilt wash over you. You couldn’t be what he needs. You can’t even be honest with him about how you feel.

You furrow your brows and look towards the street for a moment, trying to gather yourself. He wasn’t asking for help. No, he was just…telling you how he felt. You knew that. But it scared you, the weight of his words. How could you ever be enough for him? How could you be what he needs?

You take a deep breathe and school your face into something soft, and look back at him. He’s still looking at you, but he’s miles away.

“That’s…” You trail off, grabbing his hand. “I’ll always be here for you. Seriously. I need you, too.”

He looks down at your intertwined fingers and squeezes your hand. He doesn’t say anything in response, and he loosens his grip. You pull your sweaty hand back into your lap as you both look towards the flickering street lamps.

“Yo!”

Your heads turn in unison to the front door, where Kelce had just burst out of.

“You guys need to see this shit, Top’s gonna drink the bitch cup.” He grins, panting.

“Fuck, yeah.” Rafe stands, a bit wobbly and laughs, following Kelce inside, leaving you on the porch without a glance back at you.

Like he hadn’t just flipped your world around.

#hi!!! thank you for reading :))#my writing #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #bsf!rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron and reader

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ilyprs · 1 day ago

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P I S T A N T H R O P H O B I A | s.geum

───𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛───

pistanthrophobia : the fear of trusting people, forming close romantic relationships, and being vulnerable in interpersonal connections

' in which she can't escape her first love

•seong-je x reader

•part 7. (other parts are out on my profile !!💐)

ׂׂૢ་༘______________________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။•✩♬ now playing: crazy over you | blackpink

„There are all kinds of teams out there,” Baku’s loud voice tore the girl from her thoughts. She blinked a few times in surprise before refocusing on the conversation with her friends, slowly remembering where she was. The three of them were sitting in their classroom, chatting loudly as always. Baku had finally returned to school — something that made the girl genuinely happy — but truth be told, she wasn’t really present.

Her thoughts spun endlessly around Seong-je and what had happened between them. It had been a terrible mistake, one she couldn’t get past. Serim had been so foolish — why had she done it? Another sleepless night had passed, her mind racing, leaving her utterly exhausted. Still, she knew she couldn’t afford to skip school — it would’ve drawn too much attention. So, she fought her body every five minutes just to stay awake, forcing herself to concentrate on the conversation unfolding around her.

„A true master doesn’t care who he plays,” Baku finished with flair. Gotak, who was sitting in front of him, turned to Serim with an incredulous look. Even she couldn’t help but smile — he was talking nonsense again, but it was entertaining. The school day, though painful, provided a welcome distraction — something to pull her attention away from the man who had haunted her thoughts for a week straight.

The boys continued their lively debate, but at some point, Serim simply tuned out. They were fun, sure — but sometimes, their energy was just overwhelming, especially for an introvert like her. Lost in her thoughts, she idly drew little hearts in the notebook she hadn’t touched in hours. Serim was smart, but even she could benefit from paying a bit more attention in class, especially now that everything felt like it was getting harder. She sighed, frustrated, just as someone else snapped her out of her daydreams.

She turned around, confused, and saw Jun-tae standing with the new student in front of their group. Jun-tae lingered a little behind, gaze lowered, clearly nervous. The sight made Serim smile. She found him incredibly endearing.

„Hi, Jun-tae!” she greeted him warmly with a wave. He looked up, startled, but visibly relaxed when their eyes met. He gave her a quiet reply. God, he was just too sweet.

„We’re wanted in the teacher’s office,” the new student said, not paying attention to the girl, his voice rough and cold — which surprised Serim. Given his looks, she’d expected something softer. But she liked his voice; it had a calm sharpness that made her perk up. As his words sank in, she blinked. „Wait, me too?” she asked, confused, pointing to herself. Her friends just shrugged, just as clueless. Her gaze flicked back to Jun-tae, who nodded quickly, eyes full of pity.

A quiet „Yeah,” left his lips seconds later. Serim groaned internally. Of course. She didn’t regret helping her friends at all, but she’d arrived too late to actually do anything — which meant now she got in trouble for nothing. Just what she needed: a lecture from the principal when her life was already falling apart. She sighed audibly and followed the others as they trudged off toward the teacher’s office.

⸻

„This is such bullshit!” the girl shouted angrily across the schoolyard, kicking a rock hard as they walked toward the basketball court. The group had been assigned to volunteer at some random museum, and Serim was already groaning at the thought of wasting her day on pointless chores. What pissed her off the most was that she had absolutely nothing to do with the incident.

„I-I think it won’t be so bad,” Jun-tae offered in his usual soft tone, surprising Serim. He rarely spoke to her — she assumed he was scared of her, which made her laugh inside. Lee Serim wasn’t exactly terrifying. Maybe she’d left a bad impression after hitting Gotak in the tunnel, but he had totally deserved that. She made a silent decision to treat Jun-tae more kindly. She wasn’t against new friends, and he was genuinely sweet — something she couldn’t quite say about the new guy.

Yeon Sieun — she’d finally learned his name — was also quiet, but unlike Jun-tae, he didn’t really care to be polite. He was brutally honest, never sugarcoating anything. Surprisingly, Serim admired that about him. Sometimes, you just had to speak the truth, even when it wasn’t convenient. But still- he was kind off weird an off putting so Serim didn’t try that much to make a conversation with him.

„I think a little community service won’t kill us,” Hyun-tak added cheerfully, draping an arm around Jun-tae. Jun-tae flinched slightly but offered a nervous smile. Gotak mirrored the gesture. Serim tried to be as positive as them but failed miserably. There was nothing positive about wasting a free day on a school assignment.

Cute.

⸻

The next day, the teenagers were seated by a window, eating eagerly, exhausted from the mind-numbing work they’d done at the museum. Serim munched on a sandwich she’d packed the day before, listening quietly to the others’ conversation. Gotak and Baku still wore their silly costumes, which looked hilariously out of place. Suddenly, Baku held out his chopsticks, offering her a bite of his ramen. Serim accepted gratefully, her eyes rolling back in pleasure at the taste. Mouth full, she nodded enthusiastically and gave him a thumbs up.

„Good bite!” Baku laughed, wiping the sauce from the corner of her lips with a napkin.

„Are you two a thing or anything?” Sieun asked suddenly, and Gotak, two seats away, burst out laughing. Serim choked on her bite, coughing uncontrollably while Baku patted her back to help. Even he grinned at the ridiculous question.

Gotak was nearly in tears from laughing, clutching his stomach as he looked at Sieun in disbelief. Sieun just continued to stare at them confused, he was being dead serious, which only made Gotak laugh harder. Serim took the glass of water Jun-tae handed her and quickly drank, trying to clear her throat. That couldn’t have been a serious question… right?

„No, but I can see how someone might think that. The three of us are close — like siblings. So it could never be more than that,” Baku answered between chuckles. Serim shot him a grateful look, eyes still watery from the coughing fit. Gotak had finally calmed down but still wiped away tears from laughing so hard. The very idea was just absurd to them.

Sieun just nodded and kept eating as Baku shifted the conversation back to himself, proudly telling them how a girl had given him her number — only for it to turn out to be a joke, which made the group erupt in laughter all over again.

After a while, Serim excused herself and headed to the restroom to freshen up. She was sure her lip liner had smudged, thanks to Baku. In the mirror, she noticed she looked a little more put together than the last few days — she’d managed to wake up earlier and was now thankful for it. The museum visitors probably would’ve been horrified otherwise. Humming, she reapplied her makeup and washed her hands before leaving — not without adjusting her hair one last time.

Still humming and in slightly better spirits, she walked back out — until she saw a familiar figure emerge from the bathroom as well.

Fuck. No. This couldn’t be happening.

What the hell is he doing here? She barely had time to think before he noticed her, strolling up with that signature grin.

„I didn’t know you liked museums. If I had, I would’ve taken you to one sooner,” he said, eyes scanning her with amused interest. Serim forced herself not to let her thoughts drift to last time. Instead, she focused on something mundane — like his glasses. She didn’t want a conversation. She knew exactly where it would lead — just like it had before. Her stomach twisted. She couldn’t give him that kind of power over her again, no matter how much he intimidated her, no matter how much she still wanted him.

„There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” she shrugged. A lie, of course. If anyone knew her inside and out, it was Park Hu-min, Go Hyun-tak, and Geum Seong-je. She crossed her arms and tried to meet his gaze with confidence. Keyword Tried.

Seong-je saw right through her act. He held back a laugh and quickly brushed his fingers over his lips.

„Sure. Whatever you say,” he said playfully, challenging her. Serim rolled her eyes, heart pounding. She stared at him, saying nothing. What was she supposed to say? She couldn’t tell right from wrong anymore — every glance he gave her twisted her thoughts inside out.

„How about a date then? Just us. Tomorrow afternoon, you know to start things over and maybe pick up where we left off last time?” he asked, stepping closer. Serim stayed rooted,as her thoughts ran back to last time, her arms still folded across her chest. A faint blush appeared on her cheeks. He adjusted his glasses with a swift motion, watching her closely. She didn’t know what to say — but she wouldn’t let him see her nerves.

„How about a no?” she retorted, a wicked grin spreading across her face. Internally, she applauded herself. Petty? Maybe. But kind of hilarious. Even Seong-je laughed, deep and rough — a sound that gave her goosebumps.

God, how she’d missed that laugh.

She had to fight the urge to smile. All she wanted was to go back to the way things had been. But she hadn’t made peace with the fact that they never could.

„You’re cute when you pretend like I don’t have this effect on you,” he murmured, lifting her chin with one finger. Serim froze, staring into his eyes, terrified by how weak she felt. Damn him. Damn Geum Seong-je and the hold he had on her.

„You think I don’t notice how you look at me? How your eyes search for mine, how your body stiffens the second I’m near?” He leaned in. There was barely any space left between them.

His gaze dropped to her lips, and hers flicked to his — still curled in that damn grin. How badly she wanted to feel them again. What was wrong with her?

„This is what I do to you. And I think it’s time you gave in, just like your body already has.” His voice was a whisper now — low, close, dangerous.

Serim wanted to respond, but no sound came out. She was like a mouse caught in a trap. She should’ve known he’d pull her into this again. She cursed herself. Cursed him.

„Serim?” Baku’s voice came from behind — and Serim froze all over again.

No. No. No, no, no. Anything but this.

Seong-je looked surprised, too. He glanced over Serim’s shoulder and rolled his eyes when he saw Baku. He didn’t move away, but slowly withdrew his hand from her chin, muttering a quiet “Motherfucker,” just loud enough for her to hear.

She didn’t want to turn around. But she had to. Slowly, she turned, face burning with shame. Baku looked between them, confused, then stepped forward. Serim’s heart pounded — terrified of what he might say. She’d messed up, and her friends were going to call her out for it — exactly what she didn’t need right now.

Before Baku could speak, she spun around, jabbing a finger into Seong-je’s chest. “If you don’t leave me alone soon, you’re going to have a real fucking problem,” she said in a low, threatening voice, just loud enough for all three of them to hear.

Then she turned sharply and walked away, leaving them both standing there. She didn’t need more problems — especially not the kind that looked like Seong-je. And she definitely didn’t need the lecture Baku was probably about to give.

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#enemies to lovers #fanfic #geum seong je x reader #kdrama #toxic #weak hero class two #geum seong je #weak hero class x reader #weak hero class 1 #weak hero class one #wolf keum #seongje x reader #keum seongje

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