#like he thinks it makes him a bad brother

[xjulixred45x]

I'm doing nothing right now, and to kill time (because I can't write requests from here), I decided to bring up this TWST idea that's been plaguing my mind.

A Yuu who's a parent

And I'm not talking about a Yuu who's a teenage or young parent, no, I'm talking about an adult Yuu, of legal age, who has had a job for YEARS, EVEN HAVE MULTIPLE CHILDREN!!

Who had the bad luck of being run over by the black carriage while doing something mundane like taking out the trash or coming home from work😅

Can you imagine the characters' reactions to an adult man/woman appearing out of nowhere at the entrance ceremony? Not even a member of the staff, just a random human without magic who is suddenly surrounded by teenage boys (almost the same age as their children).

An adult Yuu can probably "make themself understood" better by Crowley than a minor Yuu, since they understand the gravity of the situation and their basic civil rights, especially how to negotiate. Of course, that doesn't mean the Ramshakle dorm room is spotless, but at least it's fixed faster than in canon.

OH GOD, GRIM! Part of me thinks Grim would have more patience/respect for an adult Yuu, and the other part knows that's a complete lie. Although at least Grim seems to have more trust in this new maternal/paternal figure in his life.

Did you see how Inosuke gets when Tanjiro is friendly to him? That's Grim every time YuuMom/Dad says something maternal/paternal to him or is friendly/patient with him.

Ace is still a little shit at first, obviously, but I think he softens quickly, just like in canon. DEUCE, on the other hand, is almost immediately bland. Yuu reminds him so much of his mother that it's not even funny. If you thought these two were protective of the normal Yuu, brace yourself. This is THEIR PARENT NOW, AND THEY'RE THE ONLY ONES WHO DISRESPECT THEM>:(

Their relationships with the other dorm leaders would be just as funny and/or cute.

Riddle DEFINITELY needs a Yuumom/Dad in his life the most. Even though their first interaction was probably fatal (no parent, ESPECIALLY a JAPANESE one, would put up with Riddle's tantrums), I can see Riddle being naturally drawn to them these days.

This kid needs a father/mother figure who makes him understand that making mistakes is a way of learning, and Yuumom/Dad help make learning fun! Just like the Robinson family.

I also get the feeling Riddle would like to know the basics of the original work/world of Yuu (especially if they work in a field like a doctor or lawyer) and it ends up being a two-way street, with Riddle learning about Yuu's world and them learning about Twisted Wonderland.

Leona, another who needs someone to recognize him as his own person and not as a hindrance or a lesser version of his brother. It's obviously one of the hardest to have a positive relationship, but not impossible. Especially after Book 3, where Leona sees Yuu in a more respectful light instead of annoying.

They do the typical things you'd think of as a parent-child relationship, like when Yuu does certain things like scold Leona for sleeping too much, skipping classes, and straightening his uniform—things Leona complains about but doesn't stop them. It's a rare kind of positive attention.

Or when Yuu congratulates him on something specific they NOTICED he's improved, when they let him wander around the ramshakle dorm, etc. Let's just say it's an unwritten rule in Savanaclaw not to mess with Yuumom/dad from now on.

Azul also has a certain trick. He probably had more trouble with an adult Yuu than a student due to, well, life's advantages (any adult knows that contracts made by minors aren't valid—) and ends up having a mixture of fear and respect for them.

Fortunately, there's also a certain soft spot for Yuu, especially because of his age and paternal/maternal attitude. they probably reminds him of his mom.

For that reason, it's not unusual for Yuu to end up going to the Monster Lounge from time to time just to catch up with Azul, make sure he's not doing anything suspicious, and get something to eat. The usual.

KALIM. LOVES. YUUMOM/DAD. Yuu can barely keep up with all his energy, but it's contagious.

Jamil will have to get Kalim to tone down the intensity a few notches for the sake of Yuu's blood pressure, especially if he wants to surprise them with a magic carpet ride. they liked it! they swears! Just let them know next time!

they are also a great source of comfort after Jamil's Overplot. Let's just say that with their help, Kalim is trying to learn a few things about social norms.

Have you seen that typical mom/dad style of dress? Mothers in plain/patterned blouses and fathers in knee-length pants? Yep, that's Yuumom/dad. And Vil won't STAND IT. Practically their first interaction is picking out a new wardrobe for them. IT BURNS HIS EYES--

Aside from that, I can see Vil being genuinely flustered when Yuu criticizes his behavior, whether out of habit or because, well, parents are good at making points (and knowing the entertainment industry, very few adults care THAT much).

There's also the fact that Yuu's compliments are painfully sweet and genuine, like that "you're such a handsome young man!" meme, and Vil can't help but feel more arrogant than usual when Yuu compliments him like that. Parental stuff.

Idia ironically has a good relationship (within reason) with his parents, but that doesn't mean he's scared of Yuu at first, precisely because there's nothing more terrifying than seeing them angry.

He's also bothered by Yuu trying to get him out of his room so often, or by joining Ortho in bringing him food that isn't fast food. Damn it, he gets it!

He's a huge tsundere, which is why he hasn't banned them from Ignihide after all.

Malleus is definitely the one who most relies on Yuumom/dad's positive attention. Not only does this human lack fear of him, but they treats him like a normal teenager, with normal problems, even going so far as to scold him when he deserves it. What does Yuu care if he's a prince? He speaks to people with respect!

Yuu has so much power that he can make Malleus apologize by sounding arrogant, stop him from electrocuting people, or make him think about his actions, all because Malleus would rather put aside his ego than think that his new friend/father/Mother figure is angry with him :(

Thanks to this, Malleus goes to the ramshakle dorm even more often than expected, whether it's to tell Yuu something new he learned about the school's gargoyles, ask for advice on how to make friends, etc.

I like to think that this Yuu is very homesick for being around the kids, especially if they have children at home waiting for them. Which probably does something unusual: it causes the principals to unite to pressure Crowley to return home as soon as possible.

They have grown attached to Yuumom/dad, yes, but the thought that Yuu's children don't have their parent, that they are waiting for their return, that they are suffering, twists their stomachs.

Until then, They'll be in charge of protecting Yuu as much as possible until they can return home to their family!

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Let me know if you want me to share any more ideas I have for Yuus!

[katsu28]

oooh kait i love the list!!

what about lando + 50. putting a hand over the other's mouth where lando is yapping abt smth?

got a little carried away with this but fuck it we ball

lando norris x sainz!reader, 1.7k. request something from here :)

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

You glance up from your phone to see a grinning Lando leaned up against the wall next to you, and you raise an amused brow. “It’s my brother’s wedding.” 

“Yeah, I know, I was just—” 

“Why would I not be here?” 

“Jesus, I was just trying to be funny, you don't have to be mean about it,” He huffs, bumping his shoulder against yours with a roll of his eyes. 

“Sorry, Lan. You’re just too fun to mess with.” You tease, reaching out to pinch Lando’s cheek. 

He scowls, batting your hand away haphazardly. “Carlos said you were gonna be here early to help get everything settled.” 

“Aw, were you waiting for me?” 

“No, I wasn't.” You shoot him a disbelieving look. “Okay, maybe I was. I had to work with your great aunt, and lemme tell you, that woman is handsy.” 

“Oh, you poor thing.” 

“I know. All because you abandoned me.” 

“I had to help Rebecca with some last minute adjustments. And besides, It takes time to look this good, Norris,” You tut, gesturing towards yourself. The bridesmaid dresses Rebecca had picked out are absolutely gorgeous. Hopefully gorgeous enough to get you what you want. 

“You do look amazing,” Lando murmurs, eyes not-so-subtly raking up and down your body a little too long to be considered innocent. Mission accomplished. 

“You don’t clean up too bad yourself,” You reply, letting your gaze do the same. His tailored suit fits him wonderfully, and his hair is styled to perfection. You fight the urge to run your fingers through his curls and ruin it by pulling him close. 

Things between Lando and yourself are…complicated, to say the least. You were both young when you’d met, all the way back in 2019 when Carlos had done his time with McLaren. Since then, you’ve both grown up, kept in touch, and somewhere along the way, you’d come to a realization. 

You like Lando. A lot. And you think he might like you back, but neither of you have done anything about it. You flirt with each other like people who have feelings for each other and tease each other like friends, dancing around the elephant in the room whenever you’re in the same vicinity. 

It certainly doesn’t help that Lando is one of your brother’s best friends. He looks up to Carlos, respects him as a mentor, and wouldn’t dare make a move against his baby sister. But honestly, you wish he just would. This back and forth is starting to get a little old. 

Now is as good a time as any, with Carlos distracted on his big day. And what was that again people said about weddings being the perfect chance for blossoming romance? 

Someone with a headset and a clipboard comes up and whispers something in your ear, cutting your moment with Lando short. You stow away your phone in your purse, already prepared to follow them to attend to whatever needs doing. 

“Duty calls. I’ll see you later, Lan,” You say, straightening Lando’s tie with a sweet smile aimed at him. “Don’t miss me too much.” 

Lando chuckles, looking equal parts fond and amused. “I’ll try my best.” 

The next time you see him is right before you're meant to walk down the aisle together. You take your mark right next to him, smoothing out your dress one last time before looping your arm through his. 

He leans towards you, lips almost brushing your ear with his whisper. “Missed you.” 

“Thought you said you’d try your best not to?” 

“Guess it wasn't good enough. Listen, can we talk later?” 

He sounds uncharacteristically serious, and it has you giving him a cautious sideways glance. “Of course,” You say. You nudge him gently with your elbow. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s good. Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry.” 

“Well, now that you tell me not to worry, I think I might,” You reply, brows furrowing. 

“Then don’t.” 

“Seriously, Lando? You couldn't have waited until after the ceremony for this? I mean, honestly—” 

Suddenly his lips are on your cheek briefly, causing your outburst to die off mid sentence. You stiffen momentarily at the unexpected action. When you turn to gawk at him, he’s looking straight ahead, a satisfied little smile gracing his face. 

You don’t have time to process anything any further before you're being guided towards the beginning of the aisle. Straightening up, throwing your shoulders back, you tighten your fingers around your bouquet of flowers. 

Now isn’t the time. 

The ceremony goes swimmingly. There isn’t a dry eye in the place at seeing just how much Carlos and Rebecca love and cherish each other. Every so often, you’ll catch Lando’s eye across the aisle and he’ll wink back at you, settling your nerves at standing up there in front of everyone. 

You start to wonder what he wants to talk to you about. Your mind immediately goes to the worst possible thing, but surely it can’t be too bad. Right?

Lando doesn’t bring it up until well into the reception. He catches your eye from afar, tilting his head towards the nearest exit. Everyone is on the dance floor now, nobody would notice if you left. 

He slips out of the large hall silently and you follow a few seconds later, only startling a little bit when he grabs your hand and leads you further down the corridor until you can’t hear the lively music anymore. 

“What’s going on, Lando?”

He drops your hand in favor of starting to pace, rubbing his palms over his thighs nervously. “I’m gonna be really honest with you right now. Probably brutally honest. And it might fuck things up, but I think I might explode if I keep it in any longer.” 

“Uh…okay. That sounds concerning,” You say hesitantly, shifting on your feet. 

“It is. I mean, no, it’s not, it’s nothing but, I just…” 

“Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you all night, because you look absolutely stunning,” He blurts. “But not just today. I wanna kiss you all the time, and I know—I know I probably shouldn’t because Carlos is one of my best mates and you’re his little sister and he’d likely kick my ass if he ever finds out, but I don’t care, I—” 

“Lando,” You interrupt, fighting to keep your voice level. Finally, finally, something is happening. 

He continues on as if he hadn’t heard you at all. “—can’t keep doing this…this whatever thing we’ve been doing. I really like you, and I need you to know that even if it ruins our friendship.” 

Normally you’d entertain his yapping tendencies, but you want to tell Lando you feel the same way and he just keeps on talking like he’s the only one in this conversation, so you’re left with no choice. 

You push him back against the wall behind him with one hand splayed across his chest, the other hand coming up to cover his mouth. Lando’s ranting dies off the moment your hand touches his face, like you’ve just found his off switch and powered him down. 

“Can you please just shut up for a second?” You say exasperatedly. He nods quickly, completely doe eyed under your palm. “You gonna let me talk now?” Another nod, this one a little slower. “Good. I like you too. Have for ages.” 

Lando’s fingers curl around your wrist, prying your hand away from his mouth with furrowed brows. “You—you do? Really? Why’ve you never said anything?”

“Why haven’t you?” You shoot back, cocking your head. 

“Because…because!” He says incredulously, wrinkling his nose. “You’re Carlos’s little sister, I—he’d have my head.” 

You scoff. “Carlos isn’t my keeper, Lando. I’m an adult, I can make my own choices without having to consult my brother. If I want to date you, I can!” 

Lando’s gaze sharpens, the edges of his mouth curving into a smug little smile, and you know you’re in for it now. 

“Then let me take you out. On a proper date,” He proposes. It’s a bold move, considering you’ve still got him pinned against the wall with one hand, but his bluntness makes your focus flicker. 

Lando takes the opening and makes his move, now suddenly you’re the one with your back against the wall and he’s pushed himself closer than you’ve ever been before. For someone who was just worried about Carlos finding out mere seconds ago, he seems quite confident. 

“You’re sure you want to do this?” You ask softly, searching his face for any trace of doubt or uncertainty. What you’ve wanted for a long time is finally happening, but that doesn’t make you any less wary. If anything, it feels even more daunting. 

Slowly, Lando’s hand comes up to cradle your cheek almost delicately, like he’s afraid you might disappear into thin air if he moves too fast. His tongue darts out to wet his lips just before he leans in, deft fingers shifting from your cheek down under your chin, tilting your head up just enough to meet him in a gentle kiss. 

His lips are softer than you expect, tasting a little like the rum and cokes he’s been nursing all night mixed with something else sweet, and definitely living up to every dream you’ve ever had about this very moment. 

Lando’s thumb rubs along your cheek, a soft smile playing across his face when you break apart. “Believe me, I’m more sure about you than I’ve ever been about anything in my life.” 

You smooth out the lapels of his suit jacket from where your fingers had bunched into the material, beaming at him happily. “Always such a sweet talker, you.”

“Worked on you, didn’t it? I mean, it took years, but I’ve got you now, don’t I?” 

“Depends on where you take me on our date,” You joke. 

“Oh, I’ll take you anywhere you want, baby. Name it and it’s done.” 

“A sweet talker and a smooth talker. That could come in handy for when Carlos finds out.”

“No, it—why?” His voice squeaks on the last word, eyes widening almost comically.

You give his chest a firm pat, ducking out from under his arm to return to the reception. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see, hm?”

“Sweetheart, c’mon! He won’t try to fight me, right? Right?” 

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[invincibledc]

⋆˙⟡#HEATING PAD ⋆˙⟡

⋆˙⟡ KOLE ANDERS (OC) X BATSIB!READER⋆˙⟡

SUMMARY: when your body hurts so bad, you have to call your personal heater.

GENRE: period comfort/hurt comfort, fluff

INFO: this OC is an OC I’ve written for my own amusement. He’s the adoptive son of Kori/Starfire. Full HUMAN name, Kole Anders. His Tamaranean name is Koldond'r. Reader is the twin sibling of Damian, but Damian is the older twin of course. Im only a writer so you can imagine who he looks more like but all I can is he is handsome canonically, plus freakishly tall like a Tamaranean should be.

WORD COUNT: 654

Body aching, you feel like shit. Complete dog shit as you lay on your bed, bandages flooded across your body as you tried to move.

Wincing—you feel your abdomen be the worst of the pain ever. It keeps coming and coming, discomfort written all over your face. You groaned loudly annoyed.

“This is such bullshit!” You exclaimed angrily, training with your twin brother is not for the weak. Sure you both are ex-assassins, but Damian is a fucking beast! You aren’t much about that life til you are extremely pissed off.

Alfred helped patch you up the best he could ever do, which is always his best. But damn, laying down as of now, staring at the ceiling—you wish to die cause why the hell were you in so much pain for.

So you called the only thing you could, your heater.

☀︎

Kole was at his home, his blazing green eyes watching his adoptive mother, Kori, clean the kitchen as they talked in their native language about dinner. Thinking about bringing some zorkaberries from Tamaran for dessert. As Kole gets excited about the decision, his phone rings. He gets from the bar stool, pulling his phone out to see the name “Y/N” with a pink heart close to it. He frowns with worry as he answers it.

“Hello?”

“Anders..” your voice is what made him alert as he immediately started to float with wide green eyes. Kory looks worried as she knows how much he cares for you, he goes over to a window and opens it quickly.

Not wasting time—he flew. “Don’t talk. I am on the way to get to you.” He hangs up leading you to scrunch up your face.

“The fuck?” You said softly, not seeing a red-haired boy with curly fiery hair burst into your room. You jolt at the loud crashing and the tall buff teenage male whose body is tense.

“W-WOAH!” You yelled as Kole just shook his head from the glass and turned to you. “WHO do I need to harm for your safety!” He screams with a warrior's voice.

“Kole! No one, I’m fine dude!” You sat up, only to be flinching at the pain in your stomach. You then fell back with a whine.

Kole could only frown, and move closer to you, “You are not well. Is this because of someone?” He says softly, despite the hidden rage ready to be unleashed for you.

“Well yes but no—”

“Name.” He interrupts with a low voice.

“Let me finish.” You said with a pointed look, pointing to him weakly as he pouted and sat on the bed. Nodding for you to finish your words.

“Thank you. No one harmed me intentionally, it was just training between me and Damian. And I’m hurting like a bitch. So.. can you like.. be my heating pad?”

You said with a small grin, Kole gave you a slow blink like a cat before he tilted his head confusingly. “Heating.. pad?”

“Yeah, like you just lay on me like this—” You pulled his tall body over you, his face hovering over yours. He breathed softly as he gazed over your bandaged face and your small smile. “You can just lay on me like this, maybe place your hand on my stomach?” Kole slowly obeys, putting his heavy hand on your abdomen.

His warm hand feels so good, that it makes you let out a soft sigh, reveling in it while closing your eyes.

Kole then lays his head down on your chest when he feels comfortable, he gently rubs your stomach up and down. To make sure you felt fully comfortable—and you sure did as you fell asleep quickly. Kole glanced his full green eyes up to your face, a blank face before he smiled gently.

He soon closed his eyes as well, holding you close as he made sure nothing could disturb your peace.

He’s your sweet heater.

[writting-stuff-sometimes]

Play with fire Pt 3- LN4 X Fem reader

Pairing: Lando x Y/n Fewtrell

Warnings: Angst, Smut, fingering, oral fem reseiving, mutual masturbation. (I've marked where the smutty parts begin and end with ----- in case you don't feel comfortable with those, they don't mention anything too relevant to the story.

Notes: This is a long one, but I wanted to finish it in one part.

Thanks for the love.

Part 1 | Part 2

If only your brother knew he was responsible for this happening.

It was almost New Year, your parents had booked a honeymoon kind of trip to Africa, you had plans with Leah to go to Paris, and your brother was going to Greece with his friends. But it all took a turn when Leah fell in love, and Pablo- her boyfriend- asked her to spend the holidays with him and his family in Spain, so now you were alone. Your brother found out about it and felt guilty you were spending the holidays alone, so he asked you to join them.

“Hell nah, nope, you’re not wearing that” said Max as soon as he saw you walk down the stairs in a white see-trough bikini cover-up and one of the bikinis scandalous enough you only wore around your friends, and since this was a friends trip you didn’t see why you couldn’t wear it.

You turned to look around searching for something.

“Dad, is that you?” You kept looking around as the other guys in the living room laughed.

“Stop laughing you idiots! Baby, some help? Please” He turned to his girlfriend searching for backup.

“I think she looks amazing” said your now favorite sister-in-law, winking at you.

“Oh come on, Ria?”

“I wore the same bikini two days ago, just in a different color”

“Oh, fuck you guys” he stood from the sofa and rushed outside cursing under his breath.

“Thanks” you mouthed to both girls.

The rest of the guys turned to look away, you could almost see them blushing, but there were a pair of eyes glued to you. You looked where your brother had been sitting and caught Lando staring at you with a devilish grin. The way his eyes traveled your body flustered you, making your heart beat faster.

You had always thought of Lando as a platonic crush. At around 15-16, you had lost all hope of something happening when he started mimicking Max's attitude, treating you like a little sister and always protective, but at the same time bullying you in a brotherly way.

But for the last couple of years, he had turned into a good friend, you two taking turns to bully Max, talking and messaging about everything and nothing, him asking about school, you sending him encouraging messages after a good race and even deeper after a bad one. It all seemed like regular, friendly interactions until a few months ago when he had been a little too flirty and protective during your brother's birthday party. His arm once or twice going around your waist, holding you a little too close, talking to your ear when it wasn’t necessary, and bullying away any other boys who dared to flirt with you. You always thought it had been the alcohol, but from the way his eyes were stripping you naked right now, you doubted it was just the extra shots of tequila.

"Let's freaking go!" Your bother yelled from the entrance making everybody inside the villa take their stuff and jump into the van that was taking you to the marina.

________________________________

Everybody else was enjoying the water as you decided to tan before jumping in.

“I think I should’ve supported your brother against that bikini.” Lando sat on the lounger next to yours at the back of the yacht you had leased for the day.

“Why is that” You turned your head looking at him over your sunglasses. His sight traveled from your naked back all the way down to your asscheeks barely covered by the cheeky bikini bottom. “Lan?”

“It is quite distracting”

“I don’t see how that's an issue” when the fuck had you become such a flirt? And with your brother's best friend?

“Well I do, I don’t particularly like how the rest of the guys are staring at you, I’ve held myself back from punching a couple of them” his voice quite husky, making your core ache.

“Never pictured you as the jealous kind”

“I’m protective of what’s mine”

“Yours?” You lifted yourself a little from the lounger, settling on your forearms, your arms barely covering your tits. The moment he caught a small glimpse of one of your nipples his blood rushed from his cheeks down to his dick, causing an uncomfortable boner inside his swimsuit.

He stretched his arm to caress your face. His finger touched your cheek and you could feel your core beating in need. His finger traveled from your cheek to your neck down to your collarbone.

"Y/n" Pietra's voice startled both of you, Lando quickly sat back trying to cover the raging boner inside his shorts. "Max is looking for you, he's video chatting your parents"

"Seriously? He told on me?"

"Haha, no, your mom called him, they just want to say hello"

"Fine, I'll be right there"

"Ok, hurry" She said looking at Lando with a smile, and walked back inside. Lando helped you tie your bikini top, your skin burning at the feeling of his rough fingers.

"This isn't over" said Lando as you walked inside, making your heart rush.

Even if Max hadn't called them to tell on you, he didn't waste the opportunity and teamed up with your dad, claiming the bathing suit was too inappropriate.

"I'm not discussing my fashion choices, ok? It was nice talking to you guys but I want to swim before we go back. Love you Mom, love you Dad" You sent kisses to the screen and went back outside, jumping into the ocean, hoping it would ease the heat inside you.

A couple of hours later you were on your way back to the villa. Everybody was exhausted, it had been quite a day, this was when everybody got their headphones on to enjoy some "alone" time. And here you were, trapped in the back window seat, Lando by your side. His thigh in contact with yours, you could swear the temperature between you two was hotter than the sun. After a few minutes, he placed his hand on your thigh, making you gasp. You turned to look at the front to see if anybody had heard you, but no one seemed to have noticed. You searched for your brother, who thankfully was at the front dead asleep, his head laid over Pietra's, who was also sleeping, leaning against his shoulder.

When you looked over to your side, you found Lando's eyes on you. His cheeks flushed as his chest moved up and down fast.

He started drawing lazy figures on your skin, making your heart beat faster as your skin pebbled from the contact. He moved upwards slowly and you couldn't help but open your legs slightly. A mischievous grin on his face as he noticed your complicity. He took a finger against his lips, signaling you to keep quiet, then returned to your body. You held a gasp when his finger finally reached your bikini bottoms. The touch was light, barely there but he could feel how warm and wet you were, he bit his lips holding a moan himself.

"You ok with this?" He mouthed. You nodded, too scared any noise coming from you could bring attention to the situation at the back of the van.

"Good, let me know if you want me to stop," he whispered in your ear, leaving a wet kiss under it, making you bite your lip. This was going to be harder than you thought.

________________

He increased the pressure against your clothed core, making you shiver from the anticipation. You kept biting on your lip a he drew circles around your clit and moved down to your entrance, the pressure just enough for you to feel it over the fabric.

"Lan, please" you whispered.

A devilish smile on his face as he indulged in the way you were trying to hold your moans and how your hips slowly grinded against his hand.

"Feel what you do to me" he took your hand and led it to his crotch. You pressed against his hard bulge. "Fuck" He moaned in a low growl, both of you turned to the front, but everyone seemed to be oblivious to the unholy situation happening at the back.

You both turned to look at each other and smiled nervously.

He returned his attention between your legs as you started to palm his boner over the fabric. As much as you were scared shitless that anyone could turn around and discover you, you had never felt so horny in your life. You loosened the knot from his swim trunks and sneaked your hand inside, the moment your hand touched his warm leaking tip, Lando pushed his head back biting his lip hard. Your soft touch was even better than he could ever imagine. You smiled at his reaction, you had never thought you would be in this situation with him, your brother's best friend.

You softly stroked him as he turned his head down to look at your small hand jacking him off under the fabric. He turned to look at you, and couldn't help to imagine how heavenly your mouth would feel around his cock. You took your hand out as he frowned from the lack of contact, but his eyes darkened when he saw your precum-stained fingers enter your mouth, your tongue savoring it as if it was the most delicious gelato.

"Fuck" he mouthed.

He couldn't waste more time and pulled your bottoms to the side, sneaking a finger between your soaked folds. His dick twitched at the thought of how amazing it would feel to enter your slick pussy. But it was too dangerous to actually fuck, so a couple of fingers had to be enough. You brought your hand to your mouth when two of his fingers entered you, stretching you just enough to feel a slight burn.

He started fingering you as much as the constricted space allowed him to, and even when it wasn't the ideal setup, you could swear this was exactly what heaven felt like. You moved your hand to release his rock-hard cock from his pants and started jacking him off matching his fingers' pace. You stared at each other in complicity, trying to keep a straight face.

It only took a couple of minutes for you to feel the tightest knot ever inside your stomach, you closed your eyes and pushed your head down trying so hard to hold every little sound that tried to leave your mouth. The sight of you cuming just from his fingers sent Lando over the edge too, with the little consciousness he had left in his mind, he pulled his shirt to cover your hand and his dick, avoiding his cum to fall all over the seat.

As you tried to recover from the amazing orgasm and before the post-orgasm clarity washed over you you took your cum stained hand and licked it clean as he did the same with his soaked fingers.

"Finally," Aarav said as the van parked in front of the Airbnb door. "Dibs on the shower!"

_________________

You and Lando tried fixing yourselves quickly before anyone noticed your flustered appearance.

"Hell no mate, I called dibs on it before we left the yacht" Niiran rushed behind him inside the house.

Before everybody was out of the van you started to feel shame wash over you, what the fuck had you done?

You were the lasts to step out, Lando turned to help you down but you took your stuff and rushed to your room ignoring him, what the fuck had you done?!

You slamed shut the door and threw yourself in your bed, trying to make sense of what had happened, how the fuck did you end up jacking off Lando? The taste of his cum was still in your mouth as you tried to understand the last hours of your life. Your mind switching between a thousand thoughts a second to complete emptiness and panic.

You had lost track of time when a knock on your door startled you.

"Y/n? Are you there?" Ria's voice calmed your racing heart.

"Yes, coming" You stood up and opened the door.

"Hi- wait, you're not coming with us tonight?" Ria said, looking at you still in your bathing suit. You had completely forgotten about the nightclub plan for that night.

"No, sorry"

"Please tell me it's not because of your brother! You should not listen to Mr. I only wear jeans and quadrant merch"

You finally laughed a little.

"No, it's not because of him, today drained me out, that's all"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, totally"

"Ok"

"But you're not here because of that" You said with a faint smile trying to convince her you were fine.

"Nope, but now I feel bad asking"

"Tell me"

"Can I borrow your black Prada bag? I didn't bring anything to match tonight's dress"

"Sure! Come on in" You tried to use Ria as a distraction from the madness inside your head.

"Are you sure you're ok?" She asked before stepping out of the room.

"Yes, Ria, I'm perfect"

"Ok, we will miss you tonight" She hugged you tight.

"Have fun"

Before leaving for the club, your brother stopped by your room to check that you were ok. Ria had told him you were staying and missing a nightclub was a strange thing from you.

"Max, for the hundredth time, I'm fine, I'm just tired, and I want to save energy for the New Year's celebration." You walked to the door to open it and let your brother out of your room.

"Fine, but if anything comes up call me and I'll be right back, ok?"

"Yes"

"Fine, love you, sis"

"Love you." You hugged him and returned to your bed, melting into the anxiety.

When you heard the front door close, and silence filled the house your eyes started watering again. Your head was a mess; images of that afternoon mixing with memories from years ago, you and Lando messing around. Was this over?

Somewhere inside you felt like he should have stopped by and talked to you, asked if you were ok, like Ria and your brother had done. Maybe he regretted the situation too, maybe he hated what had happened, maybe he hated you too. Was it your fault? It couldn't be; it wasn't you who had started it all, was it? He had started with the flirting, and you didn't stop him. Was it your fault your friendship was now ruined? Was the friendship ruined?

A panic attack was approaching, and it seemed like a good time to shower, hoping it would help wash away some of the regret.

The cold water felt like a soothing breeze to your burnt skin and soul. A short break from the pain.

You threw yourself back on your bed, an oversized shirt the only piece that didn't feel asphyxiating. You scrolled through social media for some distraction, but all you got was fashion, F1, and Lando Norris. You couldn't blame the algorithm; you had built it brick by brick. You turned off your phone, wishing to fall asleep soon.

You spent an hour, or was it two?, rolling on your bed, the bed sheets too uncomfortable, and the AC's slight buzz driving you crazy.

"Ugh, fuck it!" You stood up and walked down to the kitchen. Maybe a glass of wine or two would numb you into sleep.

As you struggled with the stubborn cork, the sound of the front door opening froze you. You looked at the oven clock: 1:12 am. It was too early for the guys to be back, and whoever had opened the door was not as loud as a group of 7 would be.

You thought about turning off the light and hiding, but the sound of steps approaching the kitchen told you it was too late. You had seen enough true crime documentaries to know you were screwed. A tennis shoe was barely visible through the corner of the wall leading to the kitchen when the loudest scream left your body.

"It's me!" Lando said as he raised his hands in surrender.

"Fuck, Lando!" You said, on the verge of crying.

"I'm sorry. I didn't expect you to be here so late- Wait..." He pointed at your left hand; you were holding a wine glass towards him. "You were going to toast me to death?"

"Shut up, I was scared." You turned to leave the wine glass on the counter before your shaky hands dropped it.

"Remind me we need to work on your survival skills."

"What are you doing here?" You hid your blushing cheeks by leaning on the counter and looking down at it.

"I... I need to talk to you."

Your heart stopped; his voice had turned serious.

"Y/N?"

"Hmm hmm." You humed.

"Please look at me." You heard him walk towards you and instinctively took two steps away. He stopped, and you could hear him sigh, your eyes still locked in the granite material from the counter.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry" He leaned agains the kitchen island and stared down at his feet. "I fucked up"

His words felt like daggers. You knew he regretted the situation, but hearing him say it broke your heart; for a moment, you thought something could happen between you.

"Lando." Your voice was so low he couldn't hear. You were going to ask him to stop and forget everything, but your voice was gone.

"Y/N, please tell me you forgive me. I don't want to lose you. I know I fucked up, but I couldn't help myself. I've never felt like this about anyone, and I know this isn't ok. How I feel about you is not ok. You're Max's sister; you're almost like my sister, but I can't help it. I couldn't help it, and I'm just a man. Like I don't want you to think that this was just because I was horny, the way you looked today was mega, but I do love you, which I don't think makes this situation better, I mean, if anything it makes it worse, me having such strong feelings towards you is just wrong, How can I explain that I fell in love with my mate's sister? It's just idiotic."

You stood there frozen, your hands holding tight to the counter. For a moment, you tried to focus all your attention on the cold feeling under your hands, worried you were hallucinating. Maybe you had fallen asleep and you were dreaming.

"This is the moment you say something... anything, tell me to fuck off or something, but just say something, please."

You took a couple of deep breaths and turned to finally face him. The way he looked didn't help at all. The half-open white shirt, the baggy jeans, the curls falling over his eyes, the mustache you had mocked so many times, looking so appealing.

Something in his eyes told you he was as lost as you were, your feelings matching perfectly. You started into his eyes. Those green, beautiful eyes, filled with love, backed up everything he had said.

You started walking towards him, your eyes locked with his.

When you reached him, your hand stretched toward his chest, and you firmly pushed him back until he stumbled with one of the kitchen island stools.

"Sit" you whispered. He did, his eyes never leaving yours. You could see he was trying hard to decipher your actions.

Your hands dropped to his knees, pushing them apart, and you placed yourself between them. His breath hitched as his heart raced faster than his F1 car.

You bit your lip, giving one last thought to what you were about to do.

Lando's eyes traveled down to your lips and then back to your eyes.

Your hands moved from his knees up his thighs. You heard him hold his breath as they passed over his hips and up his stomach towards his chest. You kept one hand over his beating heart as the other went further up to caress his cheek.

You smiled at him, and after a second of confusion, he smiled back.

"Fuck this" You whispered and pulled him to join your lips.

His arms instantly went around your body, holding you tight against him; it was as if he feared you would disappear.

The kiss was magical, something both of you had longed for so long.

You broke the kiss in desperate need of air. You smiled, both your lips plumped from the heavy makeout.

"Does this mean you don't hate me?" He whispered.

"Not sure just yet." You joked.

"You're mean" he said pulling you against him, both his hands indulging on the feeling of your covered ass under them.

"The bullying won't stop just because I love you," You said with a cheeky smile.

"You love me?" He asked in a serious tone.

"The jury is still debating on that one."

"They better hurry." He said with a smile as he held your neck and pulled you to kiss again. He had tasted your lips and now desperately needed more.

He pushed you back without breaking the kiss, got off the stool, turned around, and pulled you to sit over the kitchen island. You gasped at the feeling of the cold surface touching your warm, bare thighs. His hands started their journey from your calves, up your thighs, sneaking under the hem of the oversized t-shirt. He grunted at the feeling of your bare skin under the cotton fabric.

He broke the kiss to stare into your eyes, fire consuming both of you.

"I fucking love you so much" He whispered against your lips.

"I love you too," You whispered back. You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug.

His hands went around your waist as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, your shirt riding up your body, exposing your bottom part. He inhaled your shampoo scent, a mix of coconut and vanilla; it was intoxicating.

He pulled back a little, and his eyes traveled down to where your body had been left exposed.

"You really want this? I love you, and I don't want to do anything you don't want to. I don't want to rush you in any way. But just know, if we keep going, I don't think I will be able to stop. I need you so bad."

"Lando, I want you more than anything I've ever wanted in my life."

You could see those green-loving eyes turning dark. A wicked smile took over the lovely, curly-haired guy's face.

He attacked your mouth again and then traveled down your neck, gently pushing you to lay over the kitchen island. His hands indulged in the warm feeling of your soft thighs as he got your knees apart.

The moment you felt his warm breath hit your hot core, you propped on your elbows.

______________

"I love you," he said, looking into your eyes and slowly approaching your apex, leaving small love bites on your thighs. The first contact of his tongue was mindblowing, and it kept getting better. You tried holding on to something; you needed to ground yourself before you lost your mind, but only his curls were in hand. You pulled on them hard, making him moan, and he increased the pressure of his mouth.

Your first loud moan echoed through the house, making you aware of exactly where you were.

"Lando, wait!" You pulled his head from between your legs, you cursed at yourself a little, you needed him so bad, but you had become aware of how exposed you were.

"What?" His glistening lips caught you off guard. Just when you thought he couldn't look any hotter, there he was, messy hair and his face covered with your juices.

"We eat here."

"What do you think I'm doing?" he answered with a shit eating grin.

"You know what I mean, Norris."

"Ugh, fine, I'll have it for takeout" he rolled his eyes and leaned down to take your legs and pulled you over his shoulder, your shirt riding up, your ass was on full display.

"Lando, wait!" you tried to pull the shirt back but he slapped your ass.

"Shush! I would like to have my dinner in peace, please." He walked to his room and laid you down gently on the mattress. He stopped at the foot of the bed, staring at your figure. Finally, he had you there. He had dreamed about this for so long; he was afraid this was just another one of those dreams.

"Do you really want to do this?" He asked, the playful tone gone. You knew this was as nerve-racking for him as it was for you.

"Yes, I want this. I want you," You answered, matching his tone. To back up your statement, you opened your legs, letting him enjoy the view of your exposed needy core.

"Are you waiting for a written invitation?" You spoke when he remained in the same place.

"So sassy," he said, taking off his clothes. You almost choked when looking at his hard boner. You had seen it before, but now that he was standing up, it seemed even more impressive.

He climbed between your legs, making sure not to lay all his body weight over you.

"I love sassy" He whispered and attacked your lips again.

__________

The way he kissed, bit, and touched your body was out of this world. You couldn't exactly say you had a lot of experience. You have had your fair share of sexual encounters; some had been good, and some others were completely forgettable, but with Lando, it felt different. There was something about knowing him for so long that you could speak without using words. You always dreaded the corny movies where the first time people had sex seemed magical and like a fairytale, but the first time he entered you felt like that, it was a strange feeling. You knew it was impossible, but if you could live like that until your last day, you would; having him inside felt incredibly right. He knew how to read your body and your expressions, when to slow down, and when to go harder. And thank god he knew the difference between harder and faster.

The moment you reached your second climax of the night, you were sure the neighbors were calling the police, there was no way they hadn't heard you scream out of your mind, but then the loud moan Lando let out when he came was equally as loud, probably letting them know you weren't in danger it was just two people having some adult fun.

You had never enjoyed the post-sex cuddling part; all the times you had done, it was at a place where you weren't supposed to be spending the night, a friend's house, some dude's car, or your own house where parents or Max were coming back in the morning, leading to you or your companion to part ways before sunrise. So, being able to experience the first actual night with Lando made things even more special. You tried to stay awake as much as possible, softly caressing his beautiful features, tracing over every single mark on his skin, but after two long, incredible orgasms, you were out and eventually fell asleep.

The feeling of rough but gentle fingers caressing your shoulder and neck woke you up, your back pressed against Lando's bare chest. You knew you eventually had to leave the bed and return to your room before anyone noticed you weren't there, but it felt too good to move. Your pebbling skin let him know you were awake, and like you, he was aware that you had to leave soon, but he was willing to deal with any demon your brother might turn to just to have a couple more minutes with you like that. You turned slowly, looking at him, and without a word pressed your lips against his; the kiss was soft yet hungry.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me, mate" Your brother's voice echoed loudly all over the top floor.

You turned to look straight at the door, scared, but it was still closed. You let out a relaxed sigh, but fuck, you were not in your room what if Max had gone to look for you.

"That was your brother," Lando spoke, too loud for comfort.

"Shhh." You covered his mouth, trying to discover if his voice was coming from your room.

"Nah, mate, how the fuck did that happen, are you kidding me?"

"X-ray vision doesn't run in your family, right?" Lando tried to joke the nerves away.

"Not that I know of."

"Fuck's sake" you heard Max's voice get further and heard him step down to the first floor.

"This is our chance. You leave first, distract him, and I'll get out later." You stood up, picking up your shirt.

"I think you should go first," He said as he stayed in bed

"Not a good time to be a gentleman, Lando"

"Oh, it's not a gentleman thing. It's a... well, a male issue." He looked down at his lap, and you followed. An impressive tent between his legs; you could trace the figure under the white sheet, and it made your core beat in need, but there was no time for that, not when your brother was screaming like that.

"Don't look at me like that. It's all your fault."

"How is that my fault?" you whispered-shout.

"For looking that hot and being so beautiful." You blushed at his words, but a door slaming shut reminded you of the current situation.

You rushed to him on the bed and laid a hurried kiss on his lips.

"Meet you down there."

"Ok, baby." Hearing him calling you baby made your knees buckle.

You rushed to the door and carefully opened it to make sure no one was around. Thankfully, your room was just a couple of steps down the hall from Lando's, so when no one was around, you rushed to it. You got some underwear and pajamas on and walked down to the living room. There, you found your brother on his phone, passing around angrily, Pietra sitting on one of the sofas and Aarav sitting on the one across from her.

"What happened?" You whispered to your sister in law, sitting next to her.

"Someone rear-ended the McLaren."

"What?"

"Yes, and the garage has no idea who did it because of some issue with the cameras."

"Oh, shit" You felt bad. You knew your brother was heartbroken; it wasn't the fact that it was a McLaren; it was the fact that Lando had gifted him that car on his last birthday, and it had been the first McLaren Lando had bought with his F1 money. That car was special.

You sat in silence as your brother kept passing around. A couple of minutes later, Lando walked down. You stared at each other, a knowing smile on both of your faces. He sat next to you, asking in a low voice what had happened. You and Pietra filled him in.

You looked at each other, a silent agreement not to say a word about your situation.

He took his phone and started tapping around.

"Ugh, fuck!" Max hung up the phone and threw it to the closest couch. "Mate, I'm so sorry, someone rear-ended the McLaren"

"How bad is it?"

"The whole back on the right side is messed up." Max sat next to Pietra, the blond girl pulling him into a hug. "I'm sorry, mate."

"Don't worry about it; it wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, mate, but you've had it for years, and it was good, but just a couple of months with me, and I've destroyed it." Hearing your brother so sad made your heart ache.

"It wasn't your fault, and actually I've sent an email to the MTC, they'll fix it, don't worry about it. It will be as good as new."

"You don't have to do that."

"Don't worry about it." You turned to look at Lando; you could just jump onto him and kiss him, but instead, you discretely took his hand laying next to your thigh and gave it a thankful squeeze, and he squeezed it back.

Max had woken everyone up, and since the situation had put everyone on high alert, you decided it was time for breakfast. You and Aarav started cooking. Who would've thought Aarav had turned into such a good chef? After a couple of quadrant cooking videos, he discovered a hidden passion for cooking, and the rest of the team was willing to take advantage of it, making him cook as much as possible.

You all had breakfast, trying to stay as far away as possible from the McLaren topic.

"Can we please skip the beach today and stay by the pool?" Ria begged, laying on the sofa with a Stanley filled with electrolytes.

"I second that." You spoke, sitting on the carpet next to her.

"How do you look worse than us if you skipped last night's club?" Your brother said, walking towards the other end of the living room to the sliding door leading to the backyard, where a fresh pool was calling your name.

"Thanks, brother, I love you too," You bit back quickly, trying to hide the mild heart attack his statement had caused.

"Not nice, love," Pietra scolded your brother.

"I'm just saying, she's younger and had a full night of sleep. She shouldn't look like she was at a rave last night."

"Ok, enough, c'mon, let's all go get our bathing suits. I'm with Ria on this one, too." Pietra took your brother's hand and pulled him up the stairs.

Lando stared at them with an odd look on his face.

"Chop-chop, guys." The blond girl clapped, and everyone walked up to get ready.

"Do you think she knows?" Lando sat on the lounger next to you.

"I don't know," you spoke, keeping your eyes on your book, both of you trying to pretend you were just sitting there, your lips barely moving when you talked.

"Do you think she will tell him?"

"I hope not. This doesn't seem like a good moment to do it"

"I agree." He finally turned to look at you, and you turned to look at him.

God, he looked so good, his curls wet and a couple of drops traveling down his chest.

"You're staring," He said, turning back at the pool to make sure no one was up to you.

"It's your fault for looking that hot and being so beautiful." He rolled his eyes at you copying his phrase from that morning.

"Oi, Lando, 2 vs 2?" Niiran yelled from the pool.

"Sure" he stood up from the lounger and cannonballed inside the pool, splashing you.

"Rude!" you yelled at him without being able to hold back the big smile on your face.

And that's how it ran for the last couple of days. You and Lando sneaking in and out of each other's rooms every night. Touching and kissing whenever you were out of sight. Silent sex had been the hardest with how good Lando made you feel, but you managed to keep everyone in the dark about you.

Finally, New Year's came. You both were looking forward to the celebration but dreaded the date at the same time since it meant there were only two more days left of the vacation, only 2 more days of you two together 24/7.

"I don't think I will be able to keep my hands to myself with you looking like that," Lando said to your ear when he caught you walking out of your room, his hands around your waist as you rested your head on his chest.

"I don't think we can come clean yet," you said, tracing the veins from his forearms with your fingers.

"I know." He sighed, burying his face on your neck, indulging in your perfume's sweet and citric scent.

A door opening made you jump, and you stepped away, pretending you were chatting.

"Hey guys, are you ready?" Steve walked out of his room, trying to roll up his sleeves.

"Sure, let's go" Lando walked past you but sneaked a soft slap to your ass as he walked towards his friend who still struggled with the stuborn material.

You rode to the restaurant for New Year's dinner. Lando sat beside you; you were nervous this would raise suspicions, but everyone seemed so excited for the night that they didn't notice, not even when your cheeks flushed as he sneaked his hand under your dress and started caressing your thigh. You were relieved but also frustrated when his hand remained there for the rest of the dinner. Just his thumb drawing circles every once in a while, sending shivers down your spine.

After dinner, you reached the nightclub; it was one of Mikono's clubs with a private beach. The music and drinks were amazing, and you all were having the time of your life.

"Meet me down at the beach in 5," Lando said to your ear as he gave a soft squeeze to your hip.

"But, count down..." You were going to protest, but when you turned around, he was gone.

You looked at your clock; it was 11:20. Maybe he just wanted to have a quick makeout session before the new year.

"I'm going to the toilet," You yelled to Ria and Pietra.

"Want me to go with you?" Ria offered.

"No, it's ok, I'll be right back." You winked at the girls and walked toward the toilets. When you were out of sight, you changed paths and walked down some stairs that led to the beach.

"Miss Fewtrell?" One of the waiters intercepted you.

"Yes"

"Follow me." He walked you towards a secluded part of the beach. As you approached, there were some candles and tons of white roses.

"That way." The waiter signaled a lighted path where Lando was waiting next to a small table with a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

You approached him slowly, not sure of what was happening.

"It's not what you think," He said, holding back a smile.

"You have to admit it does look like it," You answered, breathing deeply to calm your rushing heart. Not that you didn't want to, but marrying Lando was still further down the line.

"I know, but I just wanted to do things properly, and when the club told me they had this available, I took it just to see your reaction."

"You're an idiot," you nervously laughed.

He took your hand and pulled you next to the little table. You nervously turned back to look at the path you had walked in. The music was loud, and you were afraid someone could see you.

"It's ok, nobody can see us here. When I called to arrange this, they told me all sorts of 'activities' were allowed because of the level of privacy". His crooked smile told you exactly what he meant.

"You know we're not doing it here on the floor, right? Plus, in no time, they will be searching for us."

"I know, I know. But it sounded like a great idea."

"You're crazy." You smiled and threw your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

"Don't start something you're not planning to finish, you muppet."

"Ugh, fine."

He smiled against your lips and gave small pecks.

"Baby, listen. We don't have much time, but I want to do things right. I don't want you to think this is just some rushed decision. I love you; I've loved you for as long as I can remember. And after that first 'approach', the heartache I felt by just thinking I had lost you made me realize how much I need you in my life. So, y/n Fewtrell, will you give me the honor of being my girlfriend?"

"Of course." You said between soft sobs trying to hold back tears. You had thought about torturing him for a little bit, but his words had caught you off guard; you didn't expect such beautiful words to come from him. Not that he wasn't nice, but romance had never been his forte.

"12, 11, 10, 9..." the countdown started. Lando took the champagne glasses, handing you one

"Happy New Year!!" You heard everyone shout.

He pulled you in for a kiss. Making this the best New Year's celebration ever.

"Happy New Year, baby," He said, clinking your glasses.

"Happy New Year, love." The word shooting sparks all over his body.

You spend a couple more minutes in that little piece of heaven when your phone buzzed.

Ria Y/n, all good?

"It's Ria. We need to go back."

"Do you thin-"

"Not yet, he just got over the car problem. If we drop this on him now, he might lose his mind."

"You're right." But as soon as we can, we're coming clean about this, ok?"

"Of course." You pulled him in for a kiss, and both walked back to the top part of the club. Right before you stepped back inside, he pulled you hard against him.

"I love you," He said and kissed you hard.

"I love you" you said back and gave one last peck as you took separate paths back to your table.

"Where were you?" Ria asked when you rejoined the group. Lando was already there, drink in hand. "Oh my god, did you make out with someone?" Her voice was loud, thanks to the amount of drinks in her.

"What?!" You and your brother asked at the same time.

"Your lipstick, it's smudged over here." She handed you a napkin, and you cleaned the bottom lip. "Who was it?" the question made your heart rush.

"Nobody, I mean, I don't know him. The guy just surprised me."

"WHO WAS IT? I will teach him a lesson or two about consent." Your brother left his drink on the table and was about to walk away, but you and Pietra held on to him.

"Calm down, avenger." You rolled your eyes at your brother's reaction.

"Yeah, mate. Plus, it looks like she had a good time," Lando said with a shit-eating grin.

"Meh, he seemed desperate, that's why I let him do it," You bit back, a challenging look on your face.

"Was he cute? Where is he?" Ria looked behind you, trying to find the mysterious guy.

"He was ok, nothing extraordinary." You kept your sight on Lando, and he narrowed his eyes.

"Yoooo, who's ready for another round?!" Steve approached the table with a tray filled with shots.

The party ran until the first rays of light started to paint the sea. You all went to a public beach to enjoy the last two bottles of champagne.

You were sitting on the sad, Ria holding your hand while her head lay on your shoulder as you two enjoyed the sunrise. She had become your best friend in the group. Being the only two girls when it all started tied you.

Lando sat by your side, escaping the group of drunk guys playing, or at least trying, to play football on the beach. His body pressed to yours as his hand took your free hand in his. You turned to look at him, a big smile on your face.

"I love you," he mouthed.

"I love you" you mouthed back

You lay your head on his shoulder, confident that if anyone would see you, they would only see a group of drunken friends, enjoying the last couple of moments of the New Year's party.

You went back to the villa and stalled in the kitchen, waiting for everyone to go to their rooms so you could sneak into Lando's room. The perfect ending to a perfect day.

The hangover the next morning was god awful. Everyone was unable to stand the sun or each other's voices, so you all spent the day locked in your rooms. Which worked out perfectly for you and Lando, no hiding, no sneaking, just you two in bed, enjoying each other's company.

The last day was a bitter one. You wanted to say a proper goodbye since he was flying straight to Barcelona for some pre-testing, and you were flying back home with the rest of the group. But it was impossible, all sorts of things were making you late to the airport, and no privacy, only allowing you to say goodbye with a tight hug and a silent promise to come clean so you wouldn't need to hide anymore.

But the moment never seemed to be right, whenever you tried to talk to your brother, something always came up, a problem with Quadrant, a fight with Pietra, some issue with your parents. It felt like life was against you and Lando to finally come out.

Until now. Maybe you had pulled the band too much, and since you weren't willing to understand, life ripped the band-aid off at once.

________________________

You tried to find the words, your brother was stubborn as fuck and it wasn't going to be easy trying to explain this to him.

"Max, listen, we didn't expect this either, like it just happened, I'm not-"

"Sure, it just happened, for... I don't even know how long, how long has this been going?"

You turned to look at Lando.

"How long?" He asked again.

"Since New Year's"

"Since New... you were fucking in greece?! with everyone around?!"

"We're not fucking!" You yelled at him, it really bothered you, he was still talking about hits like just a boothycall.

"Listen, Max" Lando spoke, his voice the only one still in a reasonable volume and tone. "Do you remember our last conversation in Abu Dhabi?"

"What does that have to do with this?"

"How we talked about special people in our lives, how sometimes you can feel like nothing makes sense, like you're going nowhere, but suddenly, someone appears, someone with the right words, the right feel, someone that in a weird, magical way makes everything fall into place?"

You could see your brother's face change; you had to remember this and use it to bully him at a less inappropriate time. You never thought your brother could be so soft and romantic. But it seemed to work. His face softened.

"I told you I had no fucking idea what you meant, and I realized it was because I had it with me already. Y/n has been grounding me and giving me that level of comfort since we met, that's why I had no idea what you meant. I wasn't aware of it until I came close to losing her, and I realized why I didn't understand what you meant about it finding you, she had found me a long time ago, I just didn't know".

Lando turned to look at you and moved to sit next to you. You got nervous when his hand stretched out to touch your face. It seemed like his words had calmed your brother, and you were anxious that his approaching you would ruin everything. The moment his finger touched your skin, you realized you were crying. He cleaned your tears with his finger and held your hand in his. You turned to look at your brother, his expression still uncomfortable, but calmer than the one he had had a couple of minutes ago.

"I'm still not fully ok with this, I think it's still sick. But you will be the one telling our parents about this. You have a week or I will tell them, and I won't be nice about it."

"I will call them tomorrow."

"And if you break her heart or make her cry...again. Your career is done because there will be no more Lando Norris in this world, deal?"

"Deal"

"I need a drink." Your brother walked to Lando's kitchen.

"Do you think that orgasm tears count like crying, because I don't think I will be alive for a long time if those count"? Lando whispered in your ear.

"Too soon for those jokes, Norris."

"I suggest you keep those jokes to yourself," Pietra added. "You're bad at whispering, Lando," the blond girl said, standing up to join her boyfriend in the kitchen.

After a few hours, you were all sitting at the dining table. Peace had been restored, sort of. Your brother sat between you and Lando, pretty immature, but if it made him feel better about it, you would let it pass.

"Oh, come on baby, you can't tell me you never suspected it, it was right there all the time" P looked at your brother amused.

"What do you mean?"

"They were always looking at each other with lovey dovey eyes, the excessive inncesesary touching, Lando was never as careful with any other girls, the twitch streams, it was so evident."

"What? Twitch streams?"

"Who do you think was Bobcat?"

"You were BobCat?" Your brother turned to look at you.

"In the flesh, you're welcome btw, I spend a lot on those streams"

"Why BobCat? That's a terrible name."

"What's Lando's nickname?" Pietra said

"Bob"

"Exactly, BobCat." Your brother stared at his girlfriend, still confused. "Think Puss in Boots"

"Cat, Puss- You're nasty. Our parents didn't raise you like that."

You all laughed and could feel the tension wash away.

"Oh, what was all that about losing her?" Your brother turned to stare at Lando.

"We can talk about that at another time," Lando answered still unsure on how to let him know he had fingered fuck you in a van full of people and that had caused a panic attack on both of you thinking you had screwed your friendship.

"Should I start digging a grave?"

"No, just we'll tell you at another time, ok? Trust me,"You took your brother's hand, and he silently agreed.

Your parent weren't probably going to be as amused with the news, as much as they loved Lando, they always expected you to marry some doctor, lawyer, or in general someone who didn't travel around the world risking his life every weekend. But that was a problem for tomorrow. Now you would just enjoy having your boyfriend and your brother in the same room without having to hide.

___________________________

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[velaenam]

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𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 – non!mc. caleb deals with the events after getting deployed. 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 – NSFW!! (18+) wartime setting/era, swearing, hand job, mature themes, sexual themes, angst, PAIN. LITERAL ANGUISH notes – not proofread. haha..im so sorry, you'll still love the story right..? right..?? LOL 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 2 of 3 | previous chapter / next chapter — reblogs comments & likes are appreciated. let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

caleb sits on a rusted ammo crate, elbows on his knees, the weight of the sky pressing down on him. feels like a gut punch. he wants to go home. gunfire echoes in the far hills, sharp and distant like a memory you try not to think about. the air is thick with smoke and burnt earth, but in this moment, everything feels muted—like the world’s holding its breath… for you.

he pulls off one glove with his teeth, fingers fumbling into the fold of his helmet. it’s there, right where he always keeps it. the polaroid. the sweet polaroid of his beloved woman..

it’s a little bent at the corners now. worn from the way he keeps unfolding and folding it. but the image is still clear. your lips are glossed,your eyes laughing and cheeks flush with absolute embarrassment as he held you in an almost bridal position. his hand in your hair.  his eyes soft. a piece of warmth in a place that has none.

the girl who called him sweet. the one who laughed at his fake radio voice and looked at him like he was a poem to be loved, not a soldier. he stares at the photo for a long time. like if he looks hard enough, you’d speak. like you’ll lean through the image and remind him he’s still a man. still human. still yours. to come home..

caleb presses the photo to his lips. “soon,” he whispers. his voice barely makes it past the wind. “i promised.” 

caleb’s still holding the photo when boots crunch over gravel behind him. he doesn’t look up—he already knows the rhythm of those steps. it’s tom, call sign iceman . loud, lopsided, always dragging his left foot like it owed him money.

“you moonin’ over that girl again, brother?” tom’s thick accent shines through the sounds of planes above them. he grins, plopping down beside him with two steaming tin mugs. he offers one to caleb, who takes it with a quiet nod.

“you’d think she was the only woman in the world, the way ya look at that thing.”

caleb lets out a dry chuckle, tucking the polaroid back into the fold of his helmet like it’s sacred. “she’s not. but she’s the only one that looked at me like i was something worth coming home to.”

tom hums, blowing on his coffee. “mine’s got this way of fussin’ at me when i forget to call her sweetheart. like it’s a crime against the state.” –  “you forget on purpose just to hear her yell,” caleb smirks.

“damn right i do,” tom laughs, shaking his head. “that woman’s got fire. married up and i know it. but i love her like life itself. we got two kids already. tryin t’ be there for the third.”

they sit there for a moment, sipping coffee, watching the sun try and fail to break through the smoke-choked sky. he thinks about you, what you’re doing now. wondering if you’re still in that damn bar. maybe he could take your fine ass back home and give you a couple of kids himself.. or maybe he could be your house husband while you put your degree to work. either way, win win for him. 

“what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you get back?” caleb asks, voice low, almost like he’s afraid the question might jinx them.

tom doesn’t hesitate. “take her dancing. somewhere with shitty music and bad lighting. doesn’t matter. i just wanna spin her around till she’s laughing so hard she can’t breathe.”

caleb smiles into his cup. “you soft bastard.” – “what about you, captain war hero– or should i say, lieutenant war hero?” tom bumps his shoulder against caleb’s. “you gonna find your girl and write her a sonnet? propose?”

caleb shakes his head, gaze far away. “nah. not yet. just wanna take her out somewhere quiet. real quiet. where she can wear whatever she wants, and i can hold her hand in the open. maybe get her a slice of apple pie.”

tom squints, quizzical at his odd and random choice of dessert, “apple pie?” a beat as they pause, then, “yeah,” caleb says, eyes soft. “she laughed like apple pie.” – tom  blinks. “...what the fuck does that even mean?”

“don’t worry about it,” caleb mutters, cheeks pink, trying to hide behind his mug.

“nah nah, you don’t get to drop poetry on me like you’re some socrates or somethin’ and just walk away from it,” – “socrates wasn’t even a fuckin’ poet.” tom  grins. “jesus, you are in love.” caleb shrugs, a small smile forming in his face as he fake punches tom. doesn’t deny it.

they sit in silence for a bit longer, the kind of quiet that only happens between people who’ve nearly died together. then caleb says, almost too soft to hear, “i promised her i’d come back.”

tom’s palm connects with calebs chest, patting him in a brotherly manner. “then you better keep that promise.”

dear captain caleb,

i don’t even know where to start. it’s been a month since that night, and somehow i still hear your voice in my head like it’s trying to call me back on a poor shoddy makeshift radio i don’t have. “10-4, captain caleb out.” i still laugh when i think about it. you were so serious about it too. pardon my french but that was kinda sexy. you should pretend to be a pilot next time we make love ;) .

... i miss you. i miss you so bad it feels like i swallowed a stone and it never passed. i’ve replayed that night more times than i can count—how your fingers fit between mine, how you kissed me like i was something soft and fragile. i know we didn’t have a label or promises or anything, but god, caleb… you made me feel chosen. and i’ve been holding onto that feeling like life is depending on it.

i graduated. can you believe that? your girl finally made it out with a degree and a tiny piece of paper that says i’m supposed to know what i’m doing now. i still don’t. but hey—i’m the manager at the bar now. yeah. me. in charge. the same girl who threw a bottle of tequila at a patron for slapping her ass.

they still do “thank you troops” night, and sometimes i wonder if the bell will ring and it’ll be you walking in, tired but looking for me. i know it’s stupid. i know how this works. but i still glance at the door more than i want to admit…

anyway—this letter’s getting long, and i know you probably don’t have time for much reading. so i’m tucking a little surprise in with this. it’s... well. let’s just say it’s a polaroid of me. not one you’ve seen before. think burlesque..risque. think red silk and not a whole lot else. thought maybe if you missed me—really missed me—you’d want something to look at that might help.

don’t worry. it’s just for you.

come back safe, caleb. i mean it. i don’t care how long it takes. just come back. you still owe me that date, remember?

all my love, the girl who still thinks you’re a war hero– which.. you will be after you come back.

♡

caleb reads the letter twice. once with trembling fingers. twice with a shaking breath. he’s sitting alone in the back of the hangar, a single bulb swaying above his head, casting long shadows on the concrete. the air smells like oil and gunpowder and something dying in the distance. but your words cut through the static, warm and bright like you wrote them in candlelight. he sits in silence as he listens to troops around him outside, but not in the room.

his thumb grazes the edge of the polaroid. thinking about it.. burlesque red. lace and soft skin. your smile like a secret only he gets to know. the kind of picture that could kill a man in the middle of war.

caleb exhales hard through his nose, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. he presses the photo to his forehead like it might cool the storm behind his eyes.

“fuck,” he mutters. caleb was a powerful man, but lust was a different beast. 

the longer he stared your beautiful lingerie the harder his dick twitched. to press his fingers against your soft and supple breast, and to kiss every inch of you again like he did that night. the translucent fabric leaves little to no imagination as he fumbles his belt, unzipping his uniform. 

he was rock hard. his cock twitching to be inside you, to watch you suck him dry. caleb stares  at the photo as he palms the tip of his dick, his moans quiet like a mouse, but his pleasure skyrocketing. his jaw tightens, teeth gritting at how divine it felt. he was long overdue to cum. 

his fingers trace his tip, slowly tracing circles until he got tired and slow stroked himself, lazily and slowly thrusting into his hands. he rubs his cock on your polaroid, imagining that it was your skin that he was rubbing it on. his moan grew an octave louder, thanking god that the sounds of tanks, planes and helicopters– and men shouting, were stifling his voice. 

though – he felt shameless. he was jacking himself off in the middle of a battlefield, but he needed this. he needed to give into his pleasure, because after all, you did send him such a beautiful photo to remind him that he was still a man, that you missed him greatly and dearly. 

caleb starts to thrust harder, his fingers wrapping tighter on his cock. his face red with want and embarrassment as he stared down at your gorgeous smiling face. he bites his lip, to silence himself. it was loud but he still wanted to not chance it.

he keeps pumping until he feels his head spin. his heart beat quickens, his breath getting ragged and his carnal instinct overtaking him. his cum shoots– into your risque polaroid, and his eyes roll back slightly, thinking as if his cum just landed on your beautiful face in front of him. 

he catches his breath, ragged with need, as he quickly goes to wipe the polaroid off from his nut, and quickly cleans himself, before zipping his pants and getting ready to go back out.

caleb’s name echoes through the camp.

“lieutenant caleb, sir! you’re needed at the ridge, immediately! colonels orders! ”

he stands immediately, instincts snapping into place like clockwork. the softness in his shoulders fades, replaced by the rigid posture of someone who can’t afford to hesitate- especially with that sound of urgency. he tosses the rest of his coffee, glancing once at tom, who sits on a dented supply crate chowing down on a chili mre like fat kid with cake.

“hold down the fort?” caleb says, already halfway to the tent flap.

“yeah, yeah. go be heroic, lieutenant,” tom nods with a mock salute.

the flap swings shut behind caleb, leaving tom in the dust of his wake. tom rolls his eyes, stretches his back, then turns toward caleb’s cot. it’s nothing special. just a stiff mattress, dusty boots beneath it, and caleb’s personal sack propped against the side like always. the one no one’s allowed to touch.

except caleb left it half open today. tom doesn’t mean to snoop, he swears he doesn’t, but something peeks out—just enough to catch his attention. a photo.

he blinks, leaning forward, the corner of the image curled just enough for him to pull it free. he expects the bartender girl. the polaroid caleb always kept close, the one he waxed poetic over like she was god’s own muse.

but it’s not her.

it’s another woman with soft, proud eyes, —nothing like the girl with the saddened smile at the dock. this woman’s holding a baby. maybe 11 months old. curly hair. wide cheeks. a onesie with ducks on it.

tom freezes.

the handwriting on the back is delicate, almost like a whisper.

our baby says goodnight, always waiting for you, and so am i. love, mc.

tom exhales, slow and shaky, holy shit!  he stares at the photo a second longer, the reality sinking in like cold water.

“you son of a bitch…” he mutters. he puts the picture back exactly where he found it, seals the sack shut, and sits back down on the crate, mind spinning. he looks toward the tent flap, still swaying from where caleb had disappeared.

so many things suddenly make sense.

the silence. the restraint. the almost in caleb’s eyes whenever he talked about you. 

tom drags a hand down his face, like he was guilty by association.

caleb was never just in love.

he was already someone else’s.

“ this dumb fucking bastard. ”

i hadn’t seen him in a year and a half.. i wonder if he misses me.. the letters stopped coming about a couple months ago.. i wasn’t given any updates on what was going on, and if… he was…no... all i know is that– i miss him. i miss the scent of him when he hugged me. i miss the way he calls me sweetheart.. i want him home. 

“mommy mommy!” my eyes snap open, to see my beautiful baby boy babbling to me in his high chair. i blink slowly before i give him a sweet little grin, as i go to pinch his cheeks and raise the bowl to feed him. 

after he goes to take a nap, i go to the bathroom. i lift my hands on the cold sink, staring deeply into my face. eye bags, messy hair– when was the last time i even went out with my friends? i don’t look good.

.

the baby woke up crying again. third time tonight? maybe fourth. i’ve honestly stopped counting. i lift him from the cradle, his tiny fists balled up like he’s fighting the whole world. his cheeks are flushed, lashes stuck together with tears. snot from the crying. i hold her against my chest as i pat him back to sleep– or as best as i can, but i go on. i bounce him gently, swaying as i stare off into the window and the moon. my back hurts. my wrist hurts. and my heart.. oh my heart.

they sit down. her back hurting from the walk. caleb was careful, gentle, as he held her and supported her on her way down to the chair. he sits next to her, his widened childish grin very visible. he then takes a look at the sky as if he’s daydreaming in a field full of flowers. his merriment, a sign that this was his dream: “i’m so excited pipsqueak. i love you. i can’t wait to be a father.” 

‘you were so proud of me. of the baby growing inside me. you’d kiss my stomach every night like it was sacred tradition.’  i tear up at the thought, lips trembling with overwhelming sadness. ‘god i wish you were here.’ 

. 

i open my eyes, listening to the trumpets go off. i lay there longer than i stay awake. the peacefulness surrounds me as if i am in heaven. no crying. just silence as the trumpets die down. i can’t believe i’m saying this but– i’m happy for the silence. it reminds me that there are good parts in life.. not that the baby is bad… 

i used to daydream about being a mom. i thought i’d be better at it. softer. more patient. but i get angry sometimes. not at the baby, never him. just at the world. at caleb. at myself for crying quietly into my pillow so my son doesn’t have to see me fall apart.

i go through the motions like muscle memory. warm bottle, rock him gently, hum a lullaby even though my throat is raw. and sometimes, only sometimes, i talk to caleb out loud like he’s still here. like he’ll answer me back from the hallway or the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes and wrapping his arms around my waist like he used to.

“i folded your shirts the way you like,” i whisper sometimes, even though no one’s listening.

today i found one of his old t-shirts. the one he wore religiously back when we were in college. his aviation shirt that he wore loud and proud like a silly kid. it was stuffed in the back of the closet like a forgotten piece of a past life. i held it against my face. it didn’t smell like him anymore. it just smelled like time. it looked like time as well. it was worn out– can’t even make out the words anymore.

i sat on the bathroom floor and cried until my stomach cramped. the kind of sobbing that makes you want to scream but you can’t because the baby’s asleep in the next room.

i just want someone to take care of me for once. sometimes i wonder if he’s still mine. i don’t want to think that. i feel sick for even writing it. but when the letters stopped coming, something inside me went quiet. and that silence has been growing.

maybe he’s just too busy. maybe he doesn’t know what to say. maybe something happened. or….. or… maybe he’s found someone who doesn’t look like she’s unraveling at the edges.. who is happier.. or prettier…. god, i hope not. but the fear lives here now. curled up next to me in bed, whispering things i try not to believe. but i still set his plate out at dinner. every night. just in case. i feel like a stupid woman gone insane, but i can’t help it.

i heard the door before i heard my name. the jingle of keys. the shuffle of boots. then…his voice.

“baby?”

i froze. hands still in the dishwater, heart leaping into my throat. i almost didn’t believe it. i didn’t move until i saw his silhouette in the kitchen doorway.

it was him. god, it was really him.

caleb.

my caleb.

i dropped the dish towel and ran. threw my arms around him so hard i thought we might both fall over. he caught me like he always used to—arms strong, steady, wrapped around me like armor. i sobbed into his neck, breathing in the scent of dust and metal and something familiar underneath it all.

“you’re home,” i whispered, voice cracking. “just for a few days,” he said.

i nodded against his chest, too busy memorizing his heartbeat to care about the details. our son stirred from the other room, like he could feel something had shifted. caleb looked toward the sound, then down at me.

his face didn’t match mine. i was all joy and disbelief. he was... something else. tired. distant. ready.

we sat on the couch later that evening. our son asleep in his arms, little fists balled up against caleb’s chest. it was one of those picture-perfect moments. one i would’ve killed for six months ago. then he cleared his throat.

“i pulled some strings,” he said, softly. i blinked. “what?”

it was quiet…. the quiet that i had experienced months and months ago…

“i... arranged something. the papers should be finalized by sunday.”

papers? 

it didn’t hit me all at once. it sort of hovered there between us, like fog creeping in through the cracks. then i saw it. the manila envelope on the coffee table…

divorce.

“you’re kidding,” i said, even though i already knew he wasn’t. he shook his head. didn’t look at me. just cradled our baby like he couldn’t look at both of us at once.

“caleb,” i said, and my voice cracked on his name like it didn’t want to come out. “you’re divorcing me? this weekend?” he nodded. still quiet. like being silent would make it softer.

i wanted to fucking vomit. to throw all his shit out of the house. to slap him. to break down. 

“after everything? after this?” i gestured toward the baby, toward the house, toward the life i’d been dragging uphill by myself for a year and a half. “you came home just to leave me?”

he finally met my eyes. and that’s when i saw it. he wasn’t just tired. he was already gone.

“you came home just to..... leave me?” my voice is barely a whisper now. he nods. again. silent. again….that’s what sets me off.

“no. no, fuck that, caleb – say something. don’t just sit there and nod like this is something we both agreed to. i have been waiting for you faithfully. i have been fighting for you. for us. i raised your son by myself, and you walk in here and hand me paperwork to fill out like im a fucking kid with homework?”

his jaw tightens, his eyes darken. he doesn’t look away this time. “don’t act like you didn’t know this was coming.” i blink. “what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

caleb sets our sleeping son down on the couch with careful, practiced hands– like a man who still remembers how to be gentle.. and.. and it breaks me even more. he rises slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, and for a second i see the tension brewing in his shoulders like a thunderstorm.

“i’m not stupid, okay?” he says finally. “i’ve seen the way you talk about zayne.” my stomach drops, “…what?”

“don’t play dumb,” he snaps, sharper than i’ve ever heard him. “it’s always zayne this, zayne that. you write him letters. you talk about how he helped you fix the fence. how he brings you groceries when it storms. how he’s always there. comforting you. you think i don’t see what that means?”

“zayne is our friend–”

“was,” caleb cuts in. “was my friend. now he’s just the guy you fell in love with while i was out in the sky getting shot at.”

i reel back like he slapped me. “you think i planned that? you think i wanted to fall apart while you were gone? do you know how lonely it’s been, caleb? how empty this house felt without you? i was holding on by threads, and zayne…he– he didn’t ask for anything. he didn’t touch me. he just showed up.”

caleb scoffs, shaking his head, pacing now. “yeah. of course he did. he’s always been waiting for the right moment, hasn’t he?” i feel my chest heaving. the hurt burning so hot it almost blisters from the fucking pain. “i never slept with him.”

“you didn’t have to,” caleb says quietly. “you gave him the part of you that used to be mine.”

silence. that’s the one that breaks me. my arms wrap around myself, more out of instinct than comfort. i feel naked. exposed. furious. broken. “so that’s it?” i ask. “you come home, accuse me of being in love with zayne, drop a divorce on my lap, and just go?” he doesn’t answer at first.

then: “ i pulled strings to make sure it wouldn’t drag. this way, you can move on.”

“i didn’t ask to move on.” – “but you already did,” he says, and it’s not angry anymore. it’s just tired. wrecked. resigned. “and i think i did too.”

i pause. he was like a bastard, repeatedly dropping weights on me. and every weight weighed more and more.

“did you?” he looks at me. and that’s when i know. he won’t say it. but i see it in his eyes. there’s someone else.  somewhere.  someone who’s not me.

“get out,” i whisper. “what?”

“i said get the fuck out.”

sunday.

caleb sits on the hard bench in the waiting area outside the clerk’s office, back straight, hands in his lap. the papers are in a folder on his lap– signed, dated, pre-reviewed. the military expedited the process, which he thought would make it easier. cleaner. quick in, quick out. no mess. a thin stack of papers that’s about to undo years of life built together. it’s strange how light it feels.

he thought it would feel heavier. the door opens, and he doesn’t need to look up to know it’s her. he does anyway. she looks tired. not just tired– worn. her hair is pulled back messily, like she barely remembered to brush it. her coat is rumpled, one sleeve slightly pushed up. there’s no lipstick, no perfume. her eyes are puffy, red at the edges. she looks like she’s been crying in the car. behind her, zayne lingers. not close enough to touch her. just there. quiet, like a shadow.

caleb’s jaw tenses. she meets his gaze, then looks away. “hi,” she says, voice hoarse. he stays silent, then: 

“hey.”

they don’t hug. don’t touch. they just move into the office when they’re called, sitting stiffly across from each other with a worn wooden desk between them. the clerk is polite. efficient. her voice is soft, like she’s handling something delicate.

caleb signs the papers first. his hand doesn’t shake. he doesn’t look at her.

she signs second. hers does. she presses a tissue to her nose halfway through and quietly whispers “sorry” when her tears blot the edge of the signature line.

he can’t help it– his eyes flick over to her. and for just a second, something inside him aches. not for the marriage. not for what they had. but for her, looking like this. alone. Undone.

he clears his throat. doesn’t say anything. when the clerk brings up custody, he answers before the question is finished.

“i’m not asking for it.”

her head snaps up. “what?” and without a beat missed, “you’re already raising him. you’ve been doing it without me for a year and a half.” he keeps his voice level, calm. “i won’t fight you on it. he should be with you.” she blinks, like she wasn’t expecting it. like maybe some part of her thought he would make this harder. she was unravelling by the second.

“i’ll pay support,” caleb adds. “whatever you need. that won’t stop.” she nods, silent, jaw tight. this was no longer a battle she could fight. he was hellbent, and he never usually was.

zayne hasn’t said a word this entire time. just sits near the corner of the room, arms crossed, gaze cast downward. caleb notices the way he glances over every now and then, eyes flicking toward her like he wants to step in, to say something, to help— but knows better. because if he did, he’d get knocked the hell out.

when it’s done, the clerk gives them copies and a muted “take care.” caleb tucks his into the folder and stands. no one moves to speak. “guess that’s it,” he says. she wipes at her eyes and doesn’t look up. “yeah.” caleb takes one look at her before he mumbles,

“take care, pipsqueak.”  that did it for her.

caleb turns toward the door. as he passes zayne, their eyes meet for a second. just a flicker. there’s no fight. no words. just quiet understanding between two men who both lost and gained something neither of them can name. as he walks out of the door, he could briefly hear the faint sobs of his now ex wife. steel your nerves. he’d say to himself.

outside, the sky is gray. the air is damp. caleb doesn’t bother pulling his coat tighter– he doesn’t feel the cold right now. when he gets to the car, he sits for a while. he doesn’t start the engine.

instead, he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out the photo.

you.

the bartender girl, all red silk and soft smiles. frozen in time, untouched by war, by marriage, by regret. he holds it there in his hand.  and stares. and stares.

until something inside him starts to break loose and his chest pulls tight and he realizes…

he really did it.

it’s over. he can be with you like the way you deserve.

-

the station is louder than he remembered. or maybe he’s just quieter now. boots scuffing across the dirt, pilots calling out over static, the occasional mechanical clang from the hangar bay. it should feel like coming back to something familiar…. but it doesn’t.

caleb steps off the transport with his duffel over one shoulder and the same folder still tucked under his arm. the one with all the paperwork. he hasn’t let go of it yet. not really.

it doesn’t feel like closure. it just feels cold.

“look what the desert dragged back,” tom says, leaning against a stacked crate near the comms tent, squinting against the sun. “you look like a ghost.”

caleb lets a half-smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “feel like one too.” tom falls into step beside him, the kind of easy rhythm only forged through long nights and near-death moments. they head toward the barracks, letting the silence settle in like dust.

then, tom breaks it. voice casual, but not careless. “so uh… just so you know… i, uh… might’ve snooped.” caleb glances over, one brow raised. “your sack was open. when you left. didn’t mean to, but a photo was sticking out.”

caleb doesn’t react much. just keeps walking, a part of him smiles inside, chuckling almost. felt like two teenagers walking to class. “you see it?” he asks eventually.

“yeah. your wife. the baby. looked like a holiday card. kinda gut-punching, actually.” caleb’s quiet for a beat. then shrugs, slow and tired. “yeah, that’s whatever.” tom snorts, but there’s no humor in it. “doesn’t feel like ‘whatever.’ why keep it at all?if you were gonna go through with the divorce anyway.”

caleb stops walking. shifts the weight of his duffel, then lowers it onto the ground with a soft thud. his voice is quiet when he answers.

“i feel like a damn deadbeat.”

another pause. tom allows his friend to be soft. “he’s my kid, tom,” he says, voice rough. “he didn’t ask to be part of this mess. didn’t choose to be born to a father who didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.”

tom blinks. doesn’t say anything. just waits. caleb sits on the edge of his bunk, running a hand through his hair. “i wasn’t there when he was born. wasn’t there for his first steps. first words. i don’t know if he likes sweet potatoes or if he sleeps on his side like i do. i honestly don’t even know what eye color he has. since we got married i got pulled away to different missions, different countries... i missed everything.”

his voice gets quieter.

“and now i’ve made sure i’ll miss everything else.” tom exhales, cigarette burning slowly between his fingers. “you think that makes you a deadbeat?” — “what else does it make me?” caleb mutters. “some guy who left. who paid his way out.”

“you could’ve stayed.” caleb shakes his head, jaw tightening. “i didn’t love her, tom.”

that makes tom freeze. not because it’s shocking, but because it confirms what he’s suspected all along. “i married her because her grandmother backed me into a corner. old school– bloodlines, family name, all that shit. said if i didn’t marry her, i’d be ruining her future. ruining the baby’s. and i mean.. we’re childhood friends. man and woman who were stuck to the hip since we opened our damn eyes. what do you think would happen?”

tom leans against the frame of the bunk, arms crossed now, expression unreadable. “so you did the honorable thing.” “yeah,” caleb scoffs, bitter. “the honorable thing. and then resented it every day after.”

he rubs his hands over his face, voice muffled.

“i didn’t want to live like that. i didn’t want to live at all, for a while. war sounded cleaner than divorce. sounded easier. go out a hero, leave them a folded flag and a paycheck. maybe that would’ve been enough.”

“jesus fuckin’ christ, caleb.” — “i’m not proud of it.”

a long silence. then caleb reaches into his pocket. pulls out the polaroid. the other one.

the dock photo. holding you up, cheek to cheek.

tom glances at it, then back at caleb.

“her.”

“yeah.”

“you in love?”

caleb doesn’t answer right away. he turns the photo over in his hands like it might give him the words he doesn’t know how to say. “she made me feel like i wasn’t already dead,” he murmurs. “like there was still a version of me worth saving. even if it was just for a few hours.”

tom’s quiet, nodding slowly. “you ever gonna tell her about all this?” caleb shrugs.

“maybe..” a pause, “and what if she doesn’t want a man with this kind of wreckage?”

“then i’ll let her go,” caleb says, folding the photo back into his coat. “but i’d rather show her the wreckage than keep pretending it never happened.”

.

the sirens come fast.

no warning. no time to breathe. one second the base is still, the next it’s pure chaos—alarms screaming, boots slamming the ground, red lights flashing across hangar walls.

tom drops his cigarette and grinds it under his boot. “shit.” caleb doesn’t say a word. he’s already running.

the two of them sprint for the flight line, gear half-strapped, adrenaline thundering louder than the blaring horns. behind them, explosions crack through the sky. someone yells “incoming!” and the tarmac rattles under the weight of something falling from above.

enemy aircraft. sharp and fast.

caleb throws on his helmet, grabs the throttle, and thinks of you.

your laugh. your voice. your body tangled in his. that polaroid you gave him, tucked inside his flight suit.

you don’t know he’s up here. you don’t know he’s about to throw himself into the fire just to make sure there’s still a chance in hell he can see you again. he launches. followed by tom.

the sky’s already on fire– jets slicing through clouds, tracer rounds burning white-hot through the air. caleb banks left, tight and fast, heart hammering in his chest like it’s trying to rip through the suit. tom’s voice crackles in the comms. “got three bastards comin' in at 4 o’clock.”

“i see ’em.” he dives.

you flash behind his eyes again. your lipstick. your fingertips trailing down his neck. the way you looked at him like he wasn’t a soldier—like he was a man. a man you wanted. a man you trusted.

he can’t let this sky be the last place his name is spoken. “you better be waitin’ for me,” he mutters under his breath. “i swear to god, you better be.”

one enemy fighter locks on. missile warning blares. caleb twists, rolls under the fire, pressure slamming him into his seat. another pass. he clips the wing of the bastard on his tail– watches it spiral down in smoke and heat.

“two down,” he says, breath sharp. “how you holdin’ up?”

“still alive,” tom calls. “barely.”

caleb grits his teeth. turns hard into a climb, missile lock blinking red again. he pulls vertical, bleeding speed, letting the other jet overshoot him—and fires.

clean hit. the sky erupts again. you’re the only thing anchoring him now. not duty. not guilt. not even the kid he left behind. you.

you, waiting behind some bar, maybe still laughing with customers, maybe wearing red. maybe reading his letter and wondering if he means it.

he does. he means every goddamn word.

the final wave hits harder. three more fighters, slick and ruthless. caleb grits his teeth, pushes his jet harder. he’s burning fuel fast. sweat beads down the side of his face. “come on. come on.” he twists through a hail of gunfire, missiles clipping just behind him, smoke trailing in his wake. he feels the vibration in his bones.

you are the reason he’s still moving. still breathing. still alive. he’s not fighting for survival. he’s fighting to see your face again.

and if he makes it through this—

he’s going to find you. and tell you everything.

totally did not get emotional writing this.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ! - @leannathespacewerewolf , @rcvcgers, @sanzy4, @flwerie, @mcdepressed290, @genshingeeksworld, @rena-library, @petitepacifist, @kaemaybae,

[beasangel]

the quiet between us

⤷ Joel Miller x youngerfem!reader | age gap

💭 “I ain’t gonna be good at this,” he said. “I’ve done a lot of bad. I don’t know how to be what you need.”

summary : he’s too old for her, too haunted by the past to let himself feel, but he does anyway. She’s too young to be carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, too stubborn to stay away from the one person who makes her feel safe.

warnings: injury (stabbed), light smut, age gap.

joel masterlist main masterlist

my first time writing smut so idk how i feel about it

You were twenty-six when you first met Joel Miller.

He was… not what you expected.

You’d heard his name whispered around town like a cautionary tale. Ellie’s guardian. Tommy’s brother. The man who walked across half the country with nothing but a gun, a girl, and a mission.

He was older. Weathered. Eyes like flint and a voice that could make people flinch. And when he looked at you for the first time, it was sharp assessing. Like he was trying to figure out if you were going to be a problem.

You weren’t. You didn’t want to be. You were just tired. You’d been on the road since you were nineteen—too young to have seen what you did, too old now to pretend you hadn’t.

Tommy offered you shelter. A bed. A patrol schedule.

Joel offered you silence.

You didn’t mean to care about him. But then you started getting paired up for patrols.

He didn’t like that at first. Said you were too green, even though you'd proven otherwise a dozen times over. You didn’t argue. Just kept showing up. Bleeding, bruised, breathing.

At first, he barely spoke to you outside of missions. “Watch your six.” “Stay low.” “You good?”

No softness. Just the rhythm of someone who’d been doing this too long to waste breath.

But you noticed things anyway.

How he always walked a half-step ahead. How he double-checked your ammo count when he thought you weren’t looking. How he’d never let you take the first watch on patrol nights. It wasn’t kindness exactly. It was… guilt. Protection. Like he’d decided that if you died on his watch, it would be one too many.

You were used to people brushing you off. Too young to be listened to. Too old to be coddled. But Joel? He didn’t brush you off. He watched you. He remembered things you said.

And when he let you patch a wound on his shoulder after a firefight, his eyes never left yours.

That was the first time you thought: he feels it too.

-

The age thing was always there.

Not in the way people stared—Jackson wasn’t like that—but in the way he held it. Quiet, heavy. Like a weight he carried between you.

You weren’t a kid. You were grown, capable, had seen more than anyone should. But still, when you laughed, Joel’s expression would twist—like it made him ache. Like it reminded him of a life he lost.

It happened after a patrol gone wrong. You and Joel had been paired together, again.

This time, it was a group of raiders on the road to the old hydro station. Too many, too fast. You both fought hard, but you took a knife to the side before Joel dragged you out of there, blood soaking through your shirt, your voice cracking with pain as you half-collapsed behind an abandoned truck.

He pressed down on the wound with his jacket, his hands surprisingly gentle. “Stay with me,” he said, voice rough. “Hey, hey. Look at me.”

You looked. Not because he told you to, but because you wanted to. His eyes were wild, scared, and that scared you more than the pain.

“You’re gonna be alright,” he muttered. “Just—fuck. Don’t do that again. Don’t get yourself killed.”

“I didn’t exactly plan on it,” you whispered, trying to laugh. You regretted it instantly.

“You think this is funny?” he snapped. Then softer, almost a whisper: “You can’t die. You hear me?”

You did hear him. And not just the words.

-

You woke up in the infirmary to find him still there, face drawn with days of sleepless worry.

When you tried to thank him, he just shook his head.

“You shouldn’t be this important,” he said quietly. “You’re too young. You’ve got time.”

You sat up, chest tight. “None of us have time, all this is just extra.”

He turned away. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying.”

And Joel - strong, stubborn, selfless Joel - still couldn’t look at you. “You deserve more than a man who’s got one foot in the grave.”

You laughed, wet and bitter. “You think I don’t know what this world is? We all do, I don’t care about age. I care about you. You’re the only thing that’s made me feel safe in years.”

That made him pause. Then finally, finally, he sat beside you, hand curling around yours with a gentleness that nearly undid you.

“I ain’t gonna be good at this,” he said. “I’ve done a lot of bad. I don’t know how to be what you need.”

You leaned in, eyes searching his. “You already are.”

-

He was waiting by the door when the nurse cleared her to leave days later, arms crossed tight over his chest like he was trying to hold something in. She moved slower than usual, still sore, but he stepped forward before she could reach for her things.

“I’ll take you,” he said, quiet but firm. She didn’t argue.

Outside, the cold bit through her jacket, but Joel walked close, hand hovering at the small of her back like he wanted to touch her but didn’t quite let himself. Not here. Not yet. Not when every step toward her house felt like crossing some invisible line.

 She glanced up at him once, searching, but he kept his eyes ahead, like if he looked too long, she’d see everything he was trying not to say.

When they reached her door, he opened it for her, stood in the threshold like he didn’t know if he was supposed to go in or walk away. And she just looked at him, soft and tired and still a little wrecked, and said, “You can come in.”

 So he did.

The door had barely shut behind you when Joel pressed you back against it, slow, not rushed, like he needed to make sure this wasn’t a dream. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks like he was memorizing the shape of you.

“You sure?” he murmured, voice low and rough.

“I’ve been sure,” you whispered back. “Just needed you to be.”

That was all he needed.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, more urgent. His hands slid down to your waist, drawing you in, and when your fingers tugged his flannel open, he didn’t stop you. His breath hitched when your hands touched bare skin. Scarred, solid, warm.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, tracing a long-healed mark on his ribs.

He shook his head like he didn’t believe you, but the way he looked at you said he wanted to.

You ended up in your bed, half-undressed, tangled in each other, lit only by the soft golden spill of the bedside lamp. Joel took his time. Like he didn’t know if he’d get another chance.

His fingers were careful on your skin, unbuttoning your shirt slowly, pausing only when you shivered. You weren’t nervous, just overwhelmed. His eyes never left yours, even as he leaned down to press warm, open-mouthed kisses to your chest, your stomach, the inside of your thighs.

“You tell me to stop,” he said, voice gravel and heat, “and I will.”

“I won’t,” you breathed. “I want you, Joel.”

His hands slid beneath the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down as his mouth followed. When his tongue slid between your folds, slow and deliberate, your hips bucked instinctively. He held you in place, groaning against you, and kept going, torturously slow, then faster when you whimpered his name.

He didn’t stop until you came against his mouth, panting, one hand fisted in his hair and the other gripping the sheets.

Joel crawled up your body and kissed you like he wanted you to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Still with me?” he rasped, thumb brushing your lip.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I need you. Please.”

He slid a condom on, your heart caught at the way his hands trembled slightly, and lined himself up, pausing just long enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“This okay?” he asked.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in. “Better than okay.”

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you just right. You gasped into his mouth, and Joel groaned low in his throat, like he was barely holding himself together.

“Fuck- you feel so good,” he murmured, “so tight, so warm…”

He moved carefully at first, like he was savouring every second. You moved with him, hips rolling, hands gripping his back. The drag of his body against yours, the quiet, desperate sounds slipping from both your lips, it was overwhelming in the best way.

“Joel,” you whimpered. “Please.”

“Please what, baby?”

“Harder. I can take it.”

He growled softly, thrusting deeper, slow and rough and just right. You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, and he kissed your throat, your jaw, your mouth, whispering your name like it meant something holy.

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t frenzied.

It was real.

When you came again, he followed, grinding deep inside you with a ragged groan, like the sound had been ripped out of him.

After, he held you.

Not out of obligation. Not because he didn’t know what else to do.

But because he wanted to.

His fingers traced lazy circles along your spine. Your face was tucked into the crook of his neck, his scent—sweat, smoke, skin—like something permanent.

“Was that okay?” he asked softly.

You laughed, a little breathless. “Yeah Joel. That was okay.”

He kissed the top of your head.

“Then I guess I gotta make sure it wasn’t the last time.”

[sideblog-usernametaken]

(Don't know how I missed this until just now)

Adding a Read More here because this is going to be long and spoilery:

1) Stampede isn't a prequel it's a reimagining of Trigun.

It's certainly not a prequel to either version of the original cannons because it merges the Fifth Moon and July incidents. Plus it rearranges when characters meet, completely alters backstories, creates new characters, and changes the fates of others. There is no world where the events of Stampede take place in the same universe as the manga or '98 anime.

It's not a prequel to Stargaze either because that's not how prequels work. A prequel is something written after a established work that takes place before the events of the original. A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes is a prequel. Wicked is a prequel. Stampede and Stargaze are set in the same chronological order as they were made in, so by definition Stampede can't be a prequel.

"Prologue" is arguably correct, but when a prologue ends up being 1/2 to 1/3rd of the full work (Depending on if Stargaze gets 12 episodes or 24) then it's just the story. And even if Stampede does qualify as a prologue, that doesn't mean it can't be judged as it is right now.

2) Stampede has substantial character development it's just different from the original Trigun.

I know this section is nitpicky but I genuinely loathe how "It's a prequel!" or "It's a prologue!" is used to deflect genuine criticism of the series and how it stands as an adaptation. Prequels can have problems, prologues can have problems, but that doesn't matter because those aren't really what Stampede is. Stampede is the first Season of a Two Season show, which means his characterization in Stampede is about half the characterization the show is going to give him.

Over the course of Stampede we find out that Vash feels incredibly guilty about the Big Fall as well as all the lives he couldn't save after. He basically tries to starve himself to death once he makes contact with people in the immediate wake of the Big Fall. We find out that that's because he apparently gave Knives the codes he needed and Knives gaslit him into thinking that makes him an intentional accomplice (Which by the way, dumb plot point. There is no reason to keep those codes away from Knives but still let Vash access them. They could've gone for basically anything else around the Big Fall as a source of guilt like being unable to convince Rem to get in the escape pod or not recognizing that Knives was unstable etc.) which makes him feel responsible for all the suffering on No Man's land.

On top of that, he also has an inferiority complex because he can't get his Plant abilities to activate the same way that Knives can. So he can't try to materially make up for the Big Fall by producing something and he still needs to consume precious resources to survive, which makes him feel worse than useless. He feels alienated from both Plants and humanity because he's not a human and he can't do what Plants are supposed to do.

His arc over the course of Stampede is learning that he isn't at fault for what his brother chooses to do and that he has inherent value beyond his potential use as a battery. After the Big Fall, once he discovers he can help Plants in a way humans can't (Which also helps the humans he believes he stranded) he realizes he's not a waste of resources. He breaks out of Knives weird mind control thing at the end of the season and fights him as an equal instead of rolling over to let himself be used.

This is a developed character.

Again, Stampede is not necessarily a bad anime it's just not a good adaptation of the source material. This is essentially a different character who could've had their own original IP instead of using Trigun as a set dressing.

Vash, in both versions of the original, was shown very early on to be wearing a metaphorical mask. We didn't get to see what was under the mask, but we knew it was there. In the manga one of the first things he does is shoot a guy in the face ~5 times with a toy gun faster than anyone else can react or even process what he did. This carries the implicit threat of "I can do that with a real gun so don't try me" which someone else in the scene verbalizes. One. Of. Vash's. First. Gags. Is. Threatening. Someone. And he does it twice in the '98 episode that adapted that chapter.

The problem isn't that Vash is an undeveloped or underdeveloped character in Stampede, the problem is that this characterization is directly contributing to people simply ignoring the most interesting parts of his character in the originals. The '98 anime makes significant changes with its adaptation as well, but it still remains true to his characterization revolving around his relationship to pacifism instead of his relationship to guilt. Like, he still has guilt but it's not the main part of his character.

Meanwhile in Stampede's first episode Vash gets tied up multiple times and doesn't resist when someone after him, and only after him, decides to beat him up. The only time he takes direct action is when the town is at risk. This is a character who's so overwhelmed with guilt they don't care about their own wellbeing. This characterization is closer to original Vash after the Fifth Moon incident than it is to his attitude before July. And it's important to note that that characterization only lasts for about a chapter or two because he's trying to escape his past to have some sense of normality and have people not be scared senseless by him. It was another mask.

3) Whatever Stargaze does it cannot fix the problems that Stampede has as an adaptation.

(Side note: Trigun Maximum shows that Vash has been putting on a mask to put others at ease since he was a child [before the Big Fall] and that he has always hidden his true emotions until he hits a breaking point [when he tries to commit suicide to spite Rem and when he tries to kill her after she stops him from doing that]. In '98 they show us exactly when pacifism became an active choice for him in that version [he almost kills Knives with a rock after the Big Fall but stops himself] and the moment he decides that sometimes non-lethal violence is necessary to save lives [he shoots Knives in the leg when he finds out he hasn't given up on his "kill all the humans so make a Plant paradise" ideas]. We don't really get anything comparable to these moments in Stampede because it is about guilt instead of pacifism.)

Honestly, for a long time I figured I'd reserve judgment on Stampede until Season 2 came out. After all it's a reimagining so maybe Stargaze would make up for Stampede's faults. But then it occured to me that it doesn't really matter what Stargaze does:

They decide to continue focusing on guilt -> The same problem about Vash's character being so dramatically changed is still there.

They decide to adapt Trigun Maximum as closely to the original as they can despite how much they changed and how much time they have -> Why dramatically alter Vash's character for such a large chunk of the series if the plan is to go back to the original cannon for the last act?

They decide to move past Vash's guilt but don't focus on pacifism -> Then that's still diverging from the original principles of his character.

Stargaze does center on pacifism again but goes a different direction than the manga or '98 -> Why weren't those elements incorporated into Stampede?

Stargaze cannot change how Stampede handled Vash (Or literally any of the other characters from the original, trust me I could make 20 page paper on this if I expanded beyong just Vash) so it's irrelevant to the discussion.

See what bugs me about the babygirl-ification of Vash is because the whole reason he was cool as a character to me was because he acted silly and rakeish and was such a pacifist to the point of being ridiculous-- but he also was capable of great violence. Of anger. The fascade would slip at times and show the lonely, sad man beneath. But it also showed the rage. The power. As capable of destruction as Knives himself.

He isn't a "uwu baby". He is a weapon of mass destruction who chooses love. Who chooses peace.

[daechwitatamic]

You Think You Might - Chapter 2 || csc

(banner by @itaeewon)

You Think You Might (masterpost) Seungcheol x fem!reader angst smut fluff fake dating!au, kind of sort of exes to lovers?

NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: Seungcheol agrees to be your fake boyfriend at your sister’s destination wedding, under the condition that it “stays there”. You didn’t expect it to hurt when he holds you to that promise.

WC: 54k total, this chapter 11.7k

Warnings: angst, reader working through some Stuff, language, drinking, Soonyoung is reader’s biological little brother, family drama, scoups and his ex are mutually toxic when together but neither is villainized, full warning list on the masterpost

A/N: thank you to @sailorsoons and @eoieopda for beta-ing, and @kkaetnipjeon for naming almost every background character and teaching me about the Levels of Noona.

You wake up facing the other direction - Seungcheol’s direction - cuddling something. As soon as your brain processes this, you freeze, trying to calculate how bad the damage is.

You open one eye, afraid of what you’ll find. Seungcheol is still asleep, facing you - but he’s still a good six or seven inches away. You’re cuddling, you realize with relief, the sheet you two had rolled up and put in the center of the bed. You have woken up spooning the Blanket Wall.

But at least you aren’t spooning Seungcheol.

Slowly, you extract yourself from the Blanket Wall’s sweet embrace and roll back to what is safely your half of the bed, and lift your phone to check the time.

It’s almost time for your alarm anyway, so you check your socials and your texts. Your mother has texted already this morning, confirming your breakfast plans. You shoot back an affirmative, and head for the bathroom.

When you emerge, dressed, it seems like Seungcheol is still asleep. You creep to the foot of the bed and wiggle one of his feet through the blankets, gently.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“Mmm?” he responds, turning his head towards you and making a definite attempt to open one eye.

God, he’s cute. 

You shove the thought away - it’s neither productive nor helpful.

“I’m sorry,” you say, still whispering. “But we’re - I’m - supposed to meet my family in like forty minutes and I didn’t know how much time you’d need to get ready. If you’re coming with me. Which you don’t have to.”

“Thanks,” he tries to say, though it sounds like he says it around marbles, letting his head drop back to the pillow. Then, a minute later, he says - much more clearly - “If I’m not out of the bed in five minutes please hit me with a pillow.”

You laugh, then move to open the curtains, hoping a well-lit room will help him wake up on his own. You dip back into the bathroom to hang up your towel, and when you come out again, he’s upright, stretching his arms towards the ceiling and yawning loudly. You decidedly do not look at his arms as he does this.

You take your phone out on the balcony, able to enjoy the view of the ocean now that it’s daylight, to give him a little space while he gets ready.

When it’s five minutes until you should walk down to the resort’s main dining room, you head back inside. Seungcheol is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at something on his phone, face serious - but he’s dressed and looks pretty ready, his hair pushed back to frame his exposed forehead, his shirt sleeves clinging to his biceps.

You force yourself to look elsewhere. You clear your throat, and he pulls his gaze away from the phone screen to look up at you, eyebrows raised in anticipation for whatever you’re going to say. “Just one final time - you don’t have to deal with breakfast with my mom if you don’t want to. You and I could meet up later.”

He tilts his head a little. “I’m here to sell the idea that we’re a serious couple, right?” he asks, unnecessarily. You both know the answer. “It would be weird for you to go to breakfast without your boyfriend.”

“I guess,” you admit.

He pushes himself to standing, slipping his phone into his pocket. “I agreed to do this,” he points out. “If you spend the next two days worried about whether I really, really want to attend each event, you’re going to make yourself crazier than you would have been if you’d come alone. I’m here, so let me do it right.”

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Just… I appreciate you. And I know some of this won’t be fun for you, and I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, takes one small step closer. “Don’t be. It’s all part of the job, right?”

Something had been simmering in you, unnamed, since you’d kissed last night with sand between your toes and the stars’ reflections on ocean waves. At these words from Seungcheol, you feel it jerk to a halt behind your navel.

He’s right. You’d agreed, explicitly, on what this would be. You don’t want a mess - neither of you does. You need to be better than this - you need to be able to handle some muscley arms and kissing. 

“Yes,” you say belatedly, when you realize you hadn’t replied. “Yes, part of the job. Okay, well, if you’re ready… we can walk down?”

“I’m ready,” he says.

You check your hair and makeup in the mirror as you pass, grab the cute purse you’d bought just for this sundress, and head for the elevators, your fake boyfriend trailing just a step behind you.

“That dress is nice,” he tells you in the elevator, his voice innocent and even. You flush anyway, murmuring a thank you.

You spot your family right away when you pause at the dining hall’s entrance. They’re seated near a large window overlooking the beach. Behind them, the sun streams down, bright and unrelenting. Your stomach clenches when you see your mother’s profile, but loosens when you hear Soonyoung (and Chan, god, you can’t believe Dumb and Dumber are here with you) laughing.

You reach behind you blindly, fumbling for your fake boyfriend’s hand. He slips his fingers between yours and gives your hand a squeeze.

“Ready, babe?” he asks, one side of his mouth twitching, an eyebrow raised playfully.

Whatever shut down inside you when you were upstairs gives a tiny sign of life at the endearment.

“I am if you are,” you say, and then lead him through the dining hall, weaving around other tables until you reach your own.

“There they are!” Chan cries happily. “We thought perhaps you got delayed, what with the romance of the beach and -”

“Chan,” you say, smiling through gritted teeth, “I would like to remind you that you are not a member of my family and therefore I have zero qualms about ending your life.”

“Didn’t even make it to 9am without death threats,” Soonyoung sighs dramatically.

Your mother has risen to hug you, so you drop Seungcheol’s hand to return it.

“Um,” you say, stepping back when she releases you, “Mom, this is my boyfriend, Seungcheol.”

Her face tightens, but she covers it with a quick smile, reaching out a hand to shake Seungcheol’s. “Nice to meet you, boyfriend Seungcheol,” she says, voice dripping with sarcasm. She doesn’t even try to make it subtle. Then, she turns back to your little brother, who is still seated - eternally unbothered. “Did you know your sister was dating someone?”

Soonyoung shrugs. “Of course I did,” he says easily. “They met through me. I didn’t know that you didn’t know. Noona didn’t say it was a secret.”

Everyone looks at you again. You flush. “It wasn’t a secret,” you say defensively. “I just… I don’t know. It felt weird to bring up, and…”

You trail off, sheepish, and Soonyoung pipes up to defend you. “Ah, Noona’s always been private about this stuff,” he points out. “She didn’t tell the family about her new job until she’d been there long enough for her first promotion, remember?”

Chan rests his chin in his hands, leaning closer to you from his side of the table. “Why are you so secretive? Have you ever explored this in therapy?”

“Chan,” you growl threateningly.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Seungcheol interrupts, his deep voice coming from your left. “I’ve been telling her to set up a dinner with you for ages, but she gets so wrapped up in work - you know how she is when she’s focused on a project.”

You glance sideways at him, curious. Does he know this chink in your mother’s armor, your work? Or was it a lucky shot? Either way, your mother softens slightly, and gives him a more genuine smile.

“Yes, she can certainly have a one-track mind when she’s got a goal to meet,” she says warmly, sliding back into her seat and opening her hand towards the two empty chairs, inviting you to sit.

The rest of breakfast goes well - better than you could have hoped, really. Seungcheol fits into the conversation easily, having years of friendship with Soonyoung and Chan. You almost feel like the outsider in the conversation - though, once he’s done eating, Seungcheol leaves his arm casually draped over the back of your chair, absently drawing lazy shapes on your bare shoulder. You fight back a shiver at the sensation, and Soonyoung meets your eyes across the table, folding his lips all the way back into his mouth and biting on them to keep from outright laughing at this turn of events.

You might kill him and Chan both, “family” be damned.

Your mother asks, as you expected, about how you got together. Seungcheol follows directions and lets you tell it. You keep it simple, and Soonyoung helps by acting all smug that he set you up, to which Chan argues that he hadn’t done it on purpose and shouldn’t act like he did. It’s all so normal, so natural, that you could almost believe the story yourself.

“So if you’ve been together almost a year,” your mother muses, dabbing at her lips with the linen napkin, “you must have been together for the holidays. I’m surprised we didn’t meet then.”

“I was with my family,” Seungcheol says easily, with a small shrug. “We’d only been together around five months by then - holidays with the family felt a bit heavy.”

Your mother purses her lips, her eyes on you even though Seungcheol is the one who answered. 

“It wasn’t that serious yet,” you chime in. “I think I got him a sweater as a gift.”

“Hey, I like that sweater,” he complains, joining the bit without delay. You love how quick he is. 

“Hm,” your mother says tightly, and sips at her tea. She isn’t buying it, not completely. You need to turn it up.

You send Seungcheol a sideways smile, trying to make it a little sly. “Better presents are on the horizon,” you promise. “With our first anniversary coming.”

He raises his eyebrows at you, leaning back in his chair to look at you appraisingly. “Oh, are they?” he asks playfully. “What did you get me? A car?”

Soonyoung laughs. “Maybe a Hot Wheels,” he cackles.

“Shut up, Soonyoung,” you snap, but there’s no heat behind it. 

“Better get me a few Hot Wheels,” Seungcheol says, “if you want to keep up with what I got for you.”

Your eyes widen, even though this is a fake present for a fake anniversary. “What did you get for me?” you ask in a rush, leaning forward towards him, reaching for his hands. “Is it sparkly?”

“Yes, it’s a mirror. Enrichment for your enclosure,” Chan quips.

You turn to face him, Seungcheol’s hands still in yours. “Chan, you are quite literally the worst part of my morning.”

Your mother, the actual worst part of your morning, watches this but says nothing. 

And then, blessedly, the conversation moves back to the wedding you’re here for.

“I assume you’re joining us later, at the salon?” your mother asks.

You fight to keep your face neutral, to keep the scowl off. “Yes,” you say, as evenly as possible. “I saw that on the itinerary.” 

You’d been emailed an hour-by-hour schedule, in fact, detailing exactly where you needed to be and when for the entire weekend. You’re supposed to meet with Nayoung, her one bridesmaid that isn’t family, and your mother at a salon just off the resort to get your nails all done together. “Bonding”, Nayoung pretended, but you know it’s because she wants to make sure you all match.

“What are you gonna do all day while the girls get pretty?” your brother asks, and next to you Seungcheol shifts in his seat.

“Hadn’t really thought about it,” he admits. “I mean, we’re at the beach, so I figured I’d find something to do. Walk the beach and see if I can score any numbers -”

You elbow him in the ribs harder than necessary. He laughs, squeezing your shoulder playfully.

“She’s too easy to wind up,” he says, smirking at you sideways.

“Don’t think you’re safe just because you’re tall and handsome,” you warn.

You can feel your mother’s eyes watching this teasing exchange and you try to ignore the prickly feeling of her dissecting the interaction. As you work on avoiding her gaze, Soonyoung invites your date to join him and Chan for the afternoon.

“Do you care, babe?” he asks lightly, turning to look at you.

You can’t help it - you laugh. This is all so absurd. Him calling you babe. His hand on your shoulder. Him asking permission to go hang out with his friends. What a stupid situation you’ve created.

“Of course not,” you say brightly, your nose growing an inch as you do. “I’ll text you when we leave the salon? I think we’ll have a few hours between that and rehearsal dinner - maybe we can go down to the pool or something?”

He gives you a little squeeze again. “That sounds good,” he agrees.

When you all rise, he waits behind your chair, pushing it in for you after you vacate the seat.

“See you later?” you ask quietly, stepping into his space and looking up at him. It’s code, and you hope he hears it - we’re good? You’re okay for now?

He leans down and kisses your forehead, and something inside you longs to close your eyes and lean into it, thirsty for affection.

“All good,” he says, giving you a sweet, dimpled smile. “Text me when you’re heading back.”

“I will,” you promise, and then, since everyone is watching, you rise up on your tiptoes and give him a quick kiss on the lips goodbye. You step away lightly, but he tugs you back by the wrist and kisses you again, firmer, lingering.

“Have fun,” he says, still smiling, when you pull away from his surprise attack.

“Don’t get too many numbers,” you shoot back.

“You two are disgusting,” Chan complains.

“Quit crying because you’re single,” you sniff.

It’s believable, you think. We’re doing it.

But as you follow your mother through the dining hall - intending to share a ride to the salon - you feel something twinge behind your ribcage. It feels like nerves, like you’re afraid that when you step away the whole facade will crumble.

–

Nayoung and her other bridesmaid - her college roommate, Sheyla - are already there when you follow your mother into the nail salon.

“Oh, good!” your sister cries, rising from her seat. “You’re here!”

She hugs your mother first, then you, stepping back and saying, “Eomma says you brought a boyfriend.”

As if she just saw you last week, and this didn’t come up in conversation. As if you usually tell her things about your life, and you omitted something. As if you have some kind of relationship, and it’s normal and expected for her to tease you.

When the truth is you have no relationship, no room to tease this practical stranger, no reality where she knows even the barest details about your life. You could be married and she wouldn’t have known - just like you stand here today, not even knowing what her fiancé looks like, knowing his name only from that embossed invitation that came in the mail months ago.

“Should I have left him at home and brought the mailman instead?” you ask, a bit acidic. 

She smiles at you like your petulance is cute, while behind you your mother whispers your name sharply. 

“No,” she laughs quietly. “I just meant, it’s so weird that you’re even grown up enough to come with a boyfriend, share a room, all that stuff. You should still be too little for all that.”

Yes, you think, because the last time you were around me for any length of time, I was nine. 

You’re here for her wedding. This weekend is about her, and her new husband. You can be a brat later, in private. 

“I don’t think me having a serious boyfriend is really the big news here,” you say as lightly as possible, despite the churning need to barb that you feel. “You’re getting married tomorrow.”

She laughs and Sheyla lets out a “damn right!” from her seat. You’ve never met Sheyla before - only know who she is from your mother’s unsolicited updates about Nayoung’s life.

You let Nayoung dictate the shade and shape for your nails. You try to engage in the conversation just enough that you don’t look sullen. Mostly, you watch your sister - like if you watch her long enough, she might start to look like someone you know, and not a stranger. Like if you watch her long enough, she’ll become the sister you remember from childhood, who watched Saturday morning cartoons on the living room floor with you even though she was “too old” for them, who helped you with homework while your dad cooked dinner, who let you sleep in her bed when it thunderstormed.

It doesn’t happen. She stays a stranger, a woman you don’t know at all.

You hear all about Nayoung and her fiancé - how they’d known each other in college, but never dated, how they’d ended up working together by chance and had fallen into a relationship. The story’s sweet, you can’t deny.

“He’s so whipped for her, it’s appalling,” Sheyla jokes.

“Is not,” your sister protests, giggling. “We have a very equally-matched relationship, thank you very much.”

“Mutually whipped.”

“Sheyla, I know where you sleep.”

They kind of remind you of yourself and Soonyoung, and even Chan. 

“There’s a restaurant down this block,” Nayoung tells you and your mother as you stand near the front of the salon to pay. “Sheyla and I were going to grab a small bite and a drink before we head over to get ready for rehearsal. Do you want to join?”

“That sounds lovely,” your mother says, seemingly for both of you.

Absolutely not.

“I should get back to the resort for a little bit,” you say, trying to sound apologetic. “Seungcheol’s been with the guys all day - I should see what they’re up to.”

“I’m sure they’re just fine,” Nayoung says. “He’s with his friends at a private beach - they’re probably having a blast.”

“Maybe I miss him,” you say, a bit of challenge creeping into your tone.

“So cute,” Sheyla coos, and you can’t even examine if it’s patronizing or sarcastic or genuine because your mother’s eyes narrow and you need to get away before you cave and do what she wants instead of what you want.

“I’ll grab an Uber,” you say, turning before anyone can argue. “We’ll grab a ride to rehearsal with Soonyoung and Chan later, okay?”

You’re a thousand percent sure they’re talking about you as you slip out into the hot sun. You’d rather wait inside, in the aircon, but you’ll have to tough it out, now. Luckily, the car doesn’t take long, and you’re back to the resort in no time.

From the car you send, “omw back. where is everyone?”

Seungcheol answers, “at the pool furthest from the entrance - less crowded. see you soon”

And then the fucker sends a heart.

You roll your eyes.

You: is that really necessary?

Seungcheol: you have to admit its a little funny

Seungcheol: i have to amuse myself somehow

You don’t answer; it’s not his fault you’re in a terrible mood. You head up to the room first, relishing the quiet and the chance to be “off” for a few minutes as you fish a bathing suit out of your suitcase and get changed. You pull the same sundress back over the suit and grab your phone and a pair of sunglasses.

You have two missed texts from the few minutes you were changing.

Seungcheol: you joining us?

Mom: It’s a little rude of you to go spend time with the people you see every day when you have the rare opportunity to visit with your sister.

You slap your phone back down on the counter and try to take a deep breath, closing your eyes against the wave of fury that rises up in you.

Kind of rude of you, you answer in your head, to think I should spend all my time with someone who hasn’t cared about my existence in over fifteen years instead of the people who give a shit that I am alive.

You answer Seungcheol first - “stopped in the room. be there in a few”. Then, after much pacing, you send your mother, “sorry. feel bad letting my date fend for himself. i’ll see nayoung lots tonight and tomorrow.”

Then you head for the elevators, putting your phone on do not disturb so that your mother cannot continue to disturb you.

When you reach the last of the resort’s three pools, you spot your brother first, sitting on the pool’s edge with his legs in the water. You sit down next to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders, burying your face against his sun-warmed arm.

“Thank you for not being a horrible sibling,” you say, releasing him.

He blinks at you, surprised by this display. You and Soonyoung are close, definitely - but this isn’t a common occurrence.

“It was that bad, huh?” he asks, as Chan approaches with one of those umbrella drinks in hand.

You sigh. “Not really. Just. Made me appreciate you.”

“Well,” Soonyoung grins, “I appreciate the appreciation.”

Seungcheol swims over, pushing his wet hair out of his face. “Hey,” he says. “How’d it go?”

You shrug. “I survived. Did I miss anything fun?”

“Just this,” he says, placing his palms on the hot cement next to where you’re seated and pushing himself up out of the water to plop down next to you, water dripping from him and running underneath your legs.

“You want a drink?” he asks, and when you turn to look at him he’s looking at you so seriously, brows furrowed, as if he’s scanning you for wounds.

He may have found one. You suddenly feel choked with emotion under his investigative gaze, and you look away before he can see it on your face.

“Yeah,” you manage. “Actually, a beer sounds fucking amazing right now. Thanks.”

The concern gone from his face, he sends you a quick wink as he stands, still dripping pool water. “Anything for my baby.”

You groan, leaning against your chuckling brother again. “He’s enjoying this too much,” you complain as he walks away. You do not watch the muscles across his back ripple as he walks away.

When he’s out of sight, you sigh heavily. “Mom’s mad at me,” you tell Soonyoung. “Because I didn’t go get drinks with them after nails. But I really, really would rather be here with you guys.”

He gives your knee one quick, sympathetic pat. “Sorry,” he says, and you know he means it but doesn’t get it, because she never does this to him.

“It’s okay,” you say glumly. “She’ll get over it.”

“I think we were actually going to go upstairs soon?” Your brother says this like a question; he’s scared it’s going to upset you - you can tell. “We both wanted to nap a little before rehearsal dinner tonight.”

Your heart sinks. You wonder if Seungcheol will have the same plan, leaving you alone for the rest of the afternoon. The thought depresses you further. But when Seungcheol returns, he has two beers in hand, so he must be planning on staying for a little.

“My brother and his date -”

“Roommate!”

“-are abandoning me,” you tell him. “To snuggle.”

“Take naps in separate beds!”

“Would you like to go snuggle?” Seungcheol asks you seriously, handing over your beer.

You groan in exasperation. “No,” you assert. “I want to stay here, drinking until I’m not annoyed at every single family member I have. I just wanted to know what your plan is.”

Seungcheol nods, clearly amused at your ranting, one eyebrow raised and mouth turned down in mock-consideration.

“Well, I guess,” he says, finally, coming to take his spot next to you on the pool deck, “as your boyfriend, I better stay and help you get unannoyed.”

“Teasing me is a step in the wrong direction,” you mutter, but to be honest, the banter is kind of fun. A healthy outlet for your annoyance, really.

“I did get you a beer,” he points out.

“That was helpful,” you agree.

To your right, Chan and Soonyoung have both toweled off and gathered their stuff; they stand waiting to say goodbye. You agree on what time to meet in the lobby to head to rehearsal dinner and then they waddle off in matching slides. You watch them go forlornly, and then turn back to the sparkling pool.

“You don’t have to stay with me,” you tell Seungcheol, just in case. “If you want to go rest before tonight or something, feel free.”

His whole face scrunches. “Will you quit trying to get rid of me? I’m trying to enjoy sitting poolside with a beer and a pretty girl.”

You feel yourself flush. “You don’t have to say that when no one’s here to hear it,” you mutter, embarrassed and pleased.

“Eh,” he says, as if he isn’t so bothered by whether or not you have witnesses. “It’s true, so why shouldn’t I say it?”

“Well, thanks,” you say to your knees, swishing your feet around in the water self-consciously.

“Do you want to talk about what pissed you off?” he offers.

You sigh. “It’s nice of you to ask, but no - I’d rather just have fun and enjoy my afternoon with you.”

You sit in silence for a few minutes. Then, you ask, “Will you watch my beer for a minute? I want to cool off.”

“‘Course,” he says, going so far as to pull your plastic cup closer to his own, as if to guard it.

You slip into the water, which feels wonderful after you’ve gotten warm under the unrelenting sunshine. You tread for a minute, then slip beneath the surface and push hard off the wall into a streamlined glide. You kick and pull all the way across, then surface with a splash, pushing your hair out of your face. You tread on that side for a minute until a couple of kids splash too close to you, and you move closer to the middle and roll to float on your back. Above you, the sky spans uninterrupted blue in every direction.

You’re surprised by fingers touching your wrist and you sit up, turning to see Seungcheol has joined you.

“Who’s watching the beer?” you ask, feigning indignation.

“I finished them,” he laughs. “The water looked good.”

“It is good,” you sigh happily. “I want to live here. Do you think someone would bankroll me to just live at a beach resort year-round?”

He laughs again. “I’m sure someone would, if you tried the right website,” he jokes.

You grin. “I could be a sugar baby. I’d be great at it.”

“You would not,” he says, starting to paddle away from you. “You can’t control your attitude. Those guys want a sugar baby, not a spice baby.”

You follow him, trailing by a few feet. “They want a spice baby sometimes.”

“You don’t pick the right moments,” he tells you, treading water near the spot you’d been sitting before. Your beer cup, as he said, sits empty next to his.

“I can’t believe you drank my beer,” you complain.

“See?” he says, raising that eyebrow again. “Spice baby.”

This makes you laugh, because damn, he’s right.

“So,” he says suddenly, reaching up to grip the edge of the deck, holding himself in place instead of treading. His voice strikes you as suddenly deeper, but you’re not sure if it’s your imagination. “Am I boyfriending okay?”

The smile is on your face before you can even fully process the question. “So far so good,” you tell him, smiling warmly, delighted by the bit. “I thought breakfast with my mom was particularly strong Boyfriending.”

He nods, feigning humility. “I did try,” he deadpans.

“It was commendable, especially for a novice,” you tell him.

He narrows his eyes at you, but there’s not much heat behind it. “I’m not a novice boyfriend,” he argues. “I was with Jieun for -”

“Not to be a total spice baby about this,” you say, holding up a hand to stop him mid-thought, “but you have to calculate by uninterrupted dating time. What’s the longest you two went without breaking up?”

You swear he flushes a little, but it could be the sun or the beer causing the tips of his ears to go red.

“Five months,” he mutters, looking away from you to pick a leaf out of the water.

“And how many of those five were things actually good?”

His head snaps up, and you can see all over his face how he’s ready to fight.

“No judgement,” you add quickly. “My point is only that… it’s different to Boyfriend during a rocky five months where you’re constantly cycling between fighting and making up, and to be years into something steady. The roles are different.”

His face has gone stony. “I didn’t realize you had so many opinions about my love life.”

“I don’t,” you say, as gently as you can, but your pulse is racing; you hadn’t meant to piss him off or hurt his feelings. You try your best to do damage control. “I just have a lot of opinions about the right way to Boyfriend after the eight month mark. There are rules.”

You can almost watch him weigh the moment in his mind, deciding if he wants to lean into his hurt feelings or if he wants to let you off the hook.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and push on when he looks surprised. “I wasn’t trying to, like… make a statement about you guys. I’m sorry it came out that way, and I’m sorry if it made you upset. I’ll watch what I say better.”

His stare is absolutely blank, a hint of petulance still on his almost-pouting lips.

“People in long-term relationships have to own their mistakes,” you tell him sagely. “And apologize, and take steps to do better. That’s one of the rules.”

He continues to stare at you like you’ve sprouted an extra limb. Then, he laughs a little, shaking his head. “So you’re the expert now?”

You push back the defensive wave that rises in you. “Out of the two of us,” you say, shrugging. “My last relationship was over two years.”

His mouth twists as he considers this. “I didn’t like that guy,” he says off-handedly, as if he’d forgotten. Maybe he had. “So, why’d it end, if you’re such a pro?”

This sobers you a little. “Oh,” you say, and you hate how you can hear how small your voice is. “It was…”

He moves suddenly, pressing closer, reaching out. “No, I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “You don’t have to tell me. That was douchey.”

You smile, a little relieved. “I feel like it’s only fair,” you say. “I broke up with him because… it was two years, but I just never felt secure, you know? I never felt like… he was it, and I definitely didn’t ever get the sense he felt that way about me, either. It was just kind of… fine? And I…”

You lift your eyes to meet his, darkly watching you, the water around you glinting white in the bright sun. “I wanted more,” you admit quietly. “It was selfish, probably, but… I wanted to love someone, like… I wanted to be in the kind of love that makes you crazy, that you make bad decisions for, where you miss them before they even leave - that all-consuming, stupid love. I never felt, like, wild stupid in love with him.”

He gives a wry laugh, and when you look up at him he’s peering off at the horizon, where the sun is beginning to descend over the ocean. “That’s funny,” he says, something acidic in his tone that you’ve never heard before. “I feel like I’ve only had the bad-decision, stupid thing. I don’t even know what it’s like to have something… calm. Or sensible.”

Sensible. What a boring word. What a boring way to love.

“I think it’d be really refreshing to level up to questionable decisions instead of dumpster-fire ones,” he adds, smiling that half-smile you’re coming to recognize.

“Questionable decisions do sound better,” you agree, smiling back.

You tread closer, the water bobbing with the movement of other swimmers and pushing you closer than you’d intended. Your fingers brush his arm innocently as you both work to stay afloat. The air between you feels charged; for a second, you think about kissing him again.

Instead, you push yourself back up to the pool deck, laying back and relishing in the warmth from the cement seeking into your water-chilled skin. There’s a splash and a shadow over you for just a second, letting you know that your fake boyfriend has joined you.

“I think,” you say to the sky, “I’m gonna lay out until I’m dry, and then head up to shower."

“I’m gonna go replace your beer,” Seungcheol says, and you look over to see the little smile he sports. “And get my own.”

“Don’t overdo it,” you warn. “We’re gonna need a lot of alcohol to get through tonight. Or I am, anyway. Gotta pace ourselves.”

“I’m good. I only had like a third of yours,” he assures you, before lumbering off again. When he returns, you’re stretched out on one of the loungers, reaching for the cup he offers you. He settles on the lounger next to yours, and a minute later you feel him poke your arm as he offers an earbud, as he had in the airport.

You take it gratefully, and for the next hour you don’t speak, only sit in companionable silence, sipping at amber liquid, watching the blue sky, listening to a thundering bassline against the rhythmic crash of ocean waves.

You think you might feel happy.

—

You take a while getting ready, and when you finally relinquish the bathroom, Seungcheol is out on the balcony, scrolling on his phone.

“Hey,” you say, poking your head through the doorway, “bathroom’s all yours.”

He closes whatever he’d had open and turns, and you’re surprised to see a look akin to anger on his face before he schools it, shooting you a belated smile.

“Okay,” he says, rising. “Thanks.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, without really thinking it through.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m gonna go shower, if you’re done in there.”

He pushes past you, and you take a step back to give him room. He disappears into the bathroom, the door closing with a definitive click.

You settle carefully on the bed and start scrolling through social media to pass the time. You had posted a picture of the beach earlier, and you check the few comments your friends have left you before scrolling the new posts on your feed. You smile to yourself when you see that Seungcheol had posted an almost identical picture, coupled with a selfie in which his wet hair is pushed back from his face and his eyes are closed in laughter.

There’s one comment underneath, from an account that couldn’t be anybody else: Jieun.

“gorgeous,” she’d written, and nothing else.

Seungcheol doesn’t emerge from the bathroom until four minutes until go-time, and you’re standing near the doorway fastening the straps on your heels. He stops short as he takes in your appearance.

“You look nice,” he says, a little haltingly.

“Thanks,” you say. But you’re thinking about that instagram comment. You’re wondering if that’s why he’d looked mad when you’d called him inside.

It doesn’t matter, you know. This isn’t real. But you’re curious. What’s the deal with the two of them - what does it mean that she’s showing up in his comments? Is he happy to hear from her? Or is this a sign of trouble for him?

You don’t know how to ask. You’ve never talked about this stuff with him. And what if he thought you were bringing it up out of jealousy?

You ruminate on this the whole time you’re in the car with Soonyoung and Chan - who chatter cluelessly the whole time - heading for the venue.

You’re among the first to arrive; your mother and Nayoung and a handsome man who must be her fiancé stand outside the front doors, deep in conversation when your Uber pulls up. You slide out first, followed by Seungcheol and the younger guys.

Nayoung beams at you and Soonyoung as you approach. “Guys! I’d like you to finally meet my fiancé, Jeongwoo.”

You ignore the finally, shove down the defensive voice that says whose fault is it that we’re only meeting him now?

Instead, you show your teeth like a good girl and move to shake his hand, but he moves with clear intention for a quick hug. You adjust quickly, patting his shoulder lightly and pulling away.

“Great to meet you,” you say, as warmly as you can manage. You introduce yourself and then Seungcheol, who reaches forward to successfully shake hands. Soonyoung and Chan do the same.

“Which one’s actually the younger brother?” Jeongwoo asks, looking at Soonyoung and Chan with uncertainty.

“Both of them, really,” you joke, and then you realize that for Nayoung that simply isn’t true. As much as Chan has been like your second brother since the first week of his undergrad, this is her first time meeting him. It strikes you again, as it often does, how differently you and Nayoung experience this family.

“I am,” Soonyoung says, saving you from the moment.

“Ah, I see it now,” Jeongwoo says kindly. “You have Nayoung’s smile.”

“Should we go in?” your mother asks, just as another car pulls into the parking lot. You all pause, waiting to see if it’s another member of your party.

It is.

Everything leaves your head - Seungcheol’s bad mood earlier, his ex on his instagram, Nayoung’s absence in your life, the weirdness of meeting her almost-husband. You’re left with nothing but static as your father walks around the front of his parked car and opens the passenger door for his date.

Your mother’s hand slips into yours and squeezes tight.

You squeeze back. For all her bullshit, for all the times you get annoyed with her, she’s yours and you love her, and you know this is shitty for her. You know the family blames her, and you know more than they do how much the ruined marriage was a two-person job. You were there to witness it all.

He strides over, and you squint at the date he brought. She’s expensive-pretty, and young - probably not too much older than Nayoung. Don’t be judgy, you think to yourself. Don’t be judgy.

He hugs Nayoung for a long time, long enough that you wonder if he’s been more present in her life than yours since the divorce. Was the split two sides, not three as you’d always thought? Was it Nayoung and Dad versus the rest of you? How had you not known that, for all these years?

When he disentangles himself with Nayoung, he gives Jeongwoo a firm clap on the back and it’s immediately clear that, yes, they have met before. You keep your mother’s hand firmly in yours, squeezing tight. You feel Seungcheol shift behind you, not far from your side.

Your father moves to Soonyoung next, making a fuss over your brother’s muscular build. Something sour simmers in you and it surprises you. You’d known you were mad at Nayoung for leaving you all behind. You hadn’t really examined if the sentiment carried over to your father, too. Apparently it had.

You talk on the phone about as much as you talk to your mother… and sure, you see him on most holidays, way more than you see Nayoung. But still. He had left, too, hadn’t he?

When he hugs you, it takes you a second before you can force yourself to return it, your mother stepping backwards to give you room, to put space between herself and the man who’d left her - or whom she’d driven away, depending on who you asked. Or both.

When he releases you, you turn to Seungcheol, ready to introduce him. You find him watching this exchange with a peculiar look on his face, as if he’s doing calculations in his head - and you really don’t know if you’ll like the answer he gets.

“Dad, this is my boyfriend, Seungcheol,” you say quietly, and Seungcheol steps forward, clasping hands. There’s something hard and unreadable on his face as he shakes your father’s hand, no sign of the warm, dimpled smile he usually sports.

“Boyfriend, eh?” your dad says, and you watch his eyes flick over Seungcheol, evaluating. You feel weirdly protective, like you want to step between them. Which is stupid, because Seungcheol isn’t yours, and he doesn’t need protection from anyone even if he were.

“Nice to meet you,” Seungcheol says, his tone as hard as his expression.

Your father responds to this with a hmm that makes your blood start to boil. “I’m sure we’ll have the opportunity to talk later and get to know each other better,” he says, and to you - and probably no one else - it sounds like a threat.

Then he turns to your mother, saying her name flatly and extending a hand. They shake, and you again fight the urge to step between them. You aren’t used to this - wanting to protect everyone from the potential to wound each other. You haven’t felt this way since before the split, when the fighting was at its worst, and you’d only had your brother to protect back then. You’d put years and distance between yourself and this impulse, and it feels dizzying to be back in it so completely.

Your father introduces his date to your mother - he hadn’t for any of you kids - and you watch her smile tighten as she fights to remain gracious, reaching out to shake hands.

Seungcheol steps closer to you, wraps an arm around your shoulders, and pulls you against his side. “It’s okay,” he says, tucking his head closer to yours and speaking so quietly that no one else could possibly hear him. “It’s not your job to fix it.”

You look up at him, sideways. This moment of kindness, of soothing, is real, is from him - your friend Seungcheol. Not fake-boyfriend Seungcheol. (But it is still really good Boyfriending.)

You nod once, giving him a thankful nudge with your shoulder. He gives you a quick squeeze, but keeps his arm around you for show. You glance around, but Nayoung has her back to you now, talking to her fiancé. Soonyoung and Chan are both on their phones, side by side like oblivious bookends.

“I need a drink,” you mutter, and Seungcheol’s mouth quirks.

“Should we go in?” he asks the group, and Nayoung turns at the sound of his question.

“Oh,” she says, sounding a bit lost. “Sure, let’s head in. Everyone else is on their way.”

The restaurant staff inside lead you to a side-room which Nayoung has clearly rented out for the night. The table is set with place cards, and you find your name between Seungcheol’s and your mother’s. You set your purse on the chair and look around, finding the bar and making your way over. You glance over your shoulder to see where Seungcheol is. He’s hanging his suit jacket on the back of the chair next to yours, chatting casually with Chan on the other side of the table. It’s the happiest you’ve seen him look tonight, so you leave him alone.

At the bar, you order a beer for him and a cocktail for yourself, leaning on your elbows as you wait. Someone comes up behind you, close, and whispers in your ear, “Can you believe the nerve of him, showing up with a practical teenager? What’s he trying to prove, that he’s a big man?”

You close your eyes and take a breath. “I don’t think he’s trying to prove anything,” you say as neutrally as possible. “But I’m sure it feels very weird and uncomfortable for you, and I’m sorry.”

All those eldest daughter memes leave something out. If the real eldest daughter moves out at eighteen and leaves the middle daughter in the house, then the middle daughter gets the Mom’s Therapist responsibilities.

She continues to mutter next to you as she waits for the bartender to bring her glass of wine; you nod and mhm and pat her hand until your two drinks come.

“I’m bringing Seungcheol his beer,” you say. “I’ll be at the table - you’re sitting next to me.”

She stops her litany of complaints and nods at you, letting you go. You make your way to the guys, pressing yourself up next to Seungcheol and holding out his beer.

He looks surprised as he takes the glass from you. “Thanks,” he says. “You didn’t need to do that.”

You shrug. “Sure I did.” Then, thinking of how he’d been teasing you this whole time, you add, “Gotta take care of my man, don’t I?” You give a playful head tilt as you say this, feeling a smirk on your lips.

“I think I just puked,” Soonyoung complains.

Seungcheol’s smile crawls across his face like he’s not sure it’s safe, like he can’t believe you’re playing along with his little game. “I appreciate that,” he says, and there’s something new to his tone, something lower that makes your navel tug.

More guests have arrived and you know none of them - Jeongwoo’s family members, probably, and maybe some of the couple’s friends and coworkers. The room fills with people and noise, and you feel yourself relax a little as you lose track of everyone except the three young men you’re sticking close to. But, maybe an hour in, you catch sight of your mother - standing alone, mostly empty wine glass in hand, looking around the room like she’s lost.

“Excuse me for a minute,” you murmur to Seungcheol, stepping away before he can ask any questions.

“Hi,” you say simply as you stand next to her.

“Hello,” she says evenly, but you can see the relief in her shoulders. “Are you having a nice time?”

You shrug. “You know I don’t like events like this. Too many people. Too much small talk.”

She gives a knowing mm, eyes scanning the room behind you. “You father certainly seems like he fits into this crowd,” she observes lightly, but you hear the accusation behind it. Nayoung has let him into her world, and your mother is realizing she’s on the outside, just like you.

“He lives closer,” you try to rationalize, though you don’t know why you do it. Seungcheol’s words echo in your mind - it’s not your job to fix it. But you want to anyway.

“It doesn’t matter if you know all their work friends,” you say firmly. “Nayoung loves you. You’ll always be important to her.”

Your mother looks away, suddenly misty-eyed, reaching out and squeezing your bicep gratefully.

You glance over your shoulder to check on Seungcheol, but he’s still with Soonyoung, so you stay put. You stand in silence for a little, just so she won’t be alone.

“Jeongwoo seems nice,” you say finally.

“He’s a good man,” she agrees, turning to look at where Nayoung and Jeongwoo stand close together, talking to an older couple - maybe his parents. “She did alright for herself, even after everything.”

This confuses you. “After everything? What everything?”

She sighs, drains her glass. “Ah. You were there - you know already. Things were so ugly at the house… I’m not blaming anyone… but she left as soon as she could to get away from it all. We put her through college financially, of course, but she didn’t have the emotional support she should have; we were both very distracted by our own mess. I regret it very much. Those years are so formative, and she was all alone. I’m proud of what she made for herself.”

You don’t know what to say. You hadn’t thought about it like that at all. And you wonder, but won’t ask, if she’s proud of you and Soonyoung - for standing witness to the burning rubble of your family unit, for holding up the frame of the collapsing house for as long as you could, for keeping each other going when home became a warzone. You both grew up from that - moved on and made lives for yourselves, too.

It isn’t worth it. Not here, not now.

“She seems really happy,” you say, instead, because it’s the most appropriate thing you can. “I’m going to find the bathroom real quick. Do you want another glass when I get back?”

In the bathroom, you place both palms flat on the counter and heave a breath, shoulders sagging and head flopping forward. When the door creaks open behind you and someone says your name, you almost swear out loud.

It’s Nayoung, and she slips into the restroom, letting the door close behind her.

“Hey… is Mom okay?” she asks quietly.

You stare at her, weighing your choices for an answer. “Don’t worry about Mom,” you say finally. “It’s your weekend. I’ve got her. She’s fine - everything’s fine.”

She stares back, like she’s trying to decide if you’re lying - like she’s trying to decide if she should let you shoulder this responsibility. “Okay. Thanks,�� she says finally. “If you need me, let me know.”

I needed you fifteen years ago, you think, but, god, maybe it’s time you let it go. It is what it is - you can’t go back and neither can she. Maybe you all just did your best in a shitty situation.

“I will,” you say. 

She nods again and slips back out through the door as quietly as she’d come. You take another minute, check your reflection, and rub absently at the backs of your heels. Your shoes are killing you, blisters forming on both feet. You check the time and calculate how many more hours you’ll have to power through the pain. Too many, it seems. You sigh heavily, give your heel one last sympathetic rub, and then rejoin the party.

You scan the room for Seungcheol, knowing you’ve been away from him for a while and should probably check on him. You find him quickly, in the far corner of the room, still standing with Soonyoung. But now they’re joined by your father.

“Oh shit,” you blurt, and beeline for them.

“Ah!” Your father says cheerily when you sidle up to Seungcheol again, reaching a hand around his waist and pressing up against his side, your spare hand coming to rest lightly over his stomach. “There she is!”

“Sorry, I was with Mom,” you say. “Everyone good here? You need anything?” You direct this question up at Seungcheol, who smiles down at you.

That is not his normal smile. That is not his happy smile. He, like you, is baring his teeth and doing his best to hide the threat in it.

Your stomach sinks. You wonder what you missed.

“The guys were just catching me up,” your father tells you. “I didn’t know you were dating someone.”

“Yeah,” you say, giving a little awkward laugh. “We were trying not to put a lot of pressure on it at the beginning, and then… I don’t know, time just passed, right? And here we are. It felt weird to, like… announce it.”

Your father clicks his tongue. “You’d think it would come up over the course of a year.”

“Less than a year,” you point out unhelpfully.

“For what it’s worth, sir,” Seungcheol says, and something in you sits up straight in alarm, “I’ve been around for a lot longer than that. Since college, actually. I was there when she graduated with honors, and I was there when we all cooked to celebrate when she started at her job. I was there helping Soonyoung get her sofa up the stairs when she moved apartments after her first promotion, too.”

He says this very off-handedly, looking sideways at you, but the lightness of his tone is a lie that’s meant to be seen through. You all hear, loud and clear, the end of his thought: you, her father, weren’t there for any of that.

And he’s right - about both parts. Seungcheol has been in the periphery of your life for years now… you just hadn’t really given him much thought. And your father… he’d been around, but he hadn’t been there.

Across from you, Soonyoung’s eyes are wide. Next to him, Chan is literally pressing his hand against his mouth, eyes dancing between the two men.

Your father clears his throat. “She’s lucky to have good friends,” he says, sidestepping the dig.

“It’s not luck,” Seungcheol says, his hand tightening almost uncomfortably on your waist, “that she’s surrounded by people who love her. It’s because of who she is.”

“Cheol,” you murmur, reproach and apology both present in your voice.

He turns to look at you, and seems to snap out of it. “I’m sorry,” he says, giving your father a quick bow. “What I mean is, you raised two great people. I hope you see that.”

“We need some air,” you interrupt. You don’t wait, don’t apologize, don’t look back. You grab Seungcheol’s hand and tug him towards the doors that lead to a small, outdoor patio.

“Holy fuck,” you say, as soon as the doors close behind you. Outside, night has fallen, the sky the mottled purple of late sunset and early dusk.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately, grabbing for your hand like he’s scared you’re going to take off and leave him there to think about what he’s done. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have popped off. I just got mad - I have been around for all those things, all these pieces of your life, and he wasn’t there for any of it. How does he get off demanding answers from you?”

“It’s okay,” you say, though you’ll probably have to answer for this at some point. “It’s fine. This is just… this is just what they do.”

He sighs heavily, rubs a hand down his face. “It’s not okay. I’m supposed to be making this weekend easier for you, not causing problems. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say again, voice almost a whisper. You feel raw, coming down from the rush of adrenaline, hands shaking a little at your sides.

He notices.

“Hey,” he says gently. “God. I’m sorry.” He steps forward and wraps his arms around you. This isn’t fake-boyfriend Seungcheol, either - there are no witnesses, no one to fool. But you let him envelop you, and you take a shuddering breath in the safety of his shirt.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, voice low. “I’m sorry, really - I’ll go back in and apologize -”

“It’s fine, stop apologizing to me,” you say, swatting at his ribs lightly. “He deserved it. And I’m fine.”

To prove this, you step back out of his embrace, looking up at him so he can see your face.

“Your family is intense,” he tells you seriously. “I should have known, how else do you end up with someone as crazy as Soonyoung?”

This makes you laugh. “Is my need for emotional support making a lot more sense to you now? You haven’t even met the jackals - they won’t be here until tomorrow.”

“Honestly,” he says, leaning against the stone balustrade, “it really is.”

You both go quiet for a minute, listening to the distant crickets and frogs, the sound of muted laughter from inside. You take the opportunity to lean heavily on the low wall beside you, slipping a finger beneath the offending shoe-strap over your heels, loosening each, wincing as you do.

Seungcheol watches you silently, plump lips downturned.

“That was some very good Boyfriending,” you point out as you adjust the other shoe. “Very believable.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” he admits. “That just came out.”

“You’re a natural, then.”

“You’d think I’d have a better track record to show for it,” he says darkly, and the reference to Jieun sends you both back to silence.

“You really have been around for a lot of stuff,” you muse eventually, to move you on from the moment. “I never really thought about that.”

He sends you a wry smile. “Crazy, right? College feels like yesterday, when we would all be squeezed into Seungkwan’s dorm since he had the best tv.”

You smile, remembering. “We barely fit in there. I always ended up on someone’s lap, and not in a sexy way.”

Seungcheol’s brows furrow. “Not mine.”

“Jieun would have beat my ass. Or keyed my car.”

“That’s… probably true. Sorry.”

You shrug - it’s ancient history, and a bit funny now with the years to soften the edges.

“Do you remember that one Halloween?” he asks.

You know instantly which one he means. You and Seungcheol’s senior year, Soonyoung’s junior year, and Chan’s sophomore year you’d gone with the rest of the guys on a Halloween pub crawl in the city.

The group had split up into three after the fourth bar. Joshua, Vernon, Seungkwan, and Mingyu had continued on with the pub crawl, shouting raucous goodbyes into the night as they followed the crowd onto bar number five. The rest of you had gotten into three different cabs to head back to campus.

You’d ended up in a cab with Seokmin, Seungcheol, and Jieun - who at the time, was definitely still his girlfriend. They’d been wasted - you all were - and they’d been arguing next to you in the back seat. Seokmin had turned around from the front passenger seat and looked at you, wide-eyed, as you both witnessed the shouting and crying going on next to you.

Back at the dorm, it was clear that the cab with Soonyoung, Chan, and Jeonghan had arrived before you. Soonyoung had greeted you at the door, face drawn, with, “Chan’s throwing up.”

This was quickly evidenced by the sound of heaving from the small, dorm bathroom.

Behind you, still in the hallway, Jieun was screaming at Seungcheol, “And what about last week, when you didn’t text me for two whole days?”

He shouted back, “What did you need me to text you for? Wasn’t Rob from Econ class enough company for you?”

You covered your face, feeling the ghost-white face paint sticky against your palms. “Where did Hannie go?”

“Back to his room to sleep,” Soonyoung tells you, then turns to peer into the bathroom to check on Chan. “Chan, dude, stay by the toilet, don’t come out here -”

“Alright!” You’d called out, voice carrying, clapping your hands once for emphasis. Everyone went still and quiet. Probably shocked. You weren’t a yeller. “Lee Chan, get your body back to the toilet and don’t leave until noona tells you to, got it? You two -” you pointed at your brother and Seokmin - “are in charge of him. You two -” this, you directed at the couple still standing furiously in the hallway, “you need to come have this fight inside before someone calls campus security on you. Let’s go. Inside.”

Your sudden yelling seemed to snap everyone out of it. The guys shuffled into the cramped bathroom to babysit the baby, and Seungcheol glowered as he led his lady friend into the dorm, sulking behind him.

“Okay,” you’d said, mostly to yourself. “The rest of the guys should be back here any minute. Let’s just put on a movie or something and all relax.” You crossed the dorm - Soonyoung’s, but you were there enough that it felt like home to you, too - and dug some water bottles out of the mini-fridge.

“Here,” you said, handing a bottle to Seokmin, who was hanging in the bathroom’s doorway, unable to fully fit inside with Chan and Soonyoung. “Make him take small sips. You have one too.”

You turned to get more for the rest of the room - Seungcheol and Jieun - only to find them on the couch. He was seated, feet planted wide on the floor, and she was straddling him, body pressed tight to his front. His hands were up the back of her shirt and her hips rocked noticeably as they kissed.

Your hand flew to cover your eyes. “Maybe,” you had said loudly, hoping it would get through to them even in this drunken state, “if you two are going to make up now, you might want to go to that in your own dorm instead of my brother’s common room?”

You uncovered your eyes when you heard them shuffle close to you. Sure enough, they were on their way out. Jieun gave you a nasty side-eye as she passed, but Seungcheol had the sense to look a little embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he slipped by you.

You’d texted Jihoon - “you guys almost back?” - and went to check on the bathroom crew.

The aftermath of the night had rippled out. It was the night that cemented Chan and Soonyoung’s close friendship, one of those things you come out stronger for. Seungcheol and Jieun had broken up for two weeks and then got back together for three more.

And the guys in the third cab, who didn’t make it back to campus until sometime the next day, had somehow ended up in international waters on a boat forging a lasting friendship with a billionaire named Big Jerry. They still talk sometimes. It was a whole thing.

Now, years later, you say, “How could I forget? I can’t believe none of us got arrested that night. Or alcohol poisoning.”

“I think Chan technically did have alcohol poisoning,” Seungcheol points out. “God, we were all such a mess. That was me and Jieun at our fucking worst.”

Me and Jieun. It sounds so natural coming off of his tongue, a phrase he’s said a million times.

The moment feels heavy, now that he put it out there. You’re not sure if you should let the moment pass, or press on it. You decide, after everything he’s been through for you today, to risk it.

“I saw she showed up on your instagram today,” you say, trying to keep your voice light, free from accusation. “Is that… normal?”

His face twists with annoyance, but you don’t think it’s at you. “She shows up like that every few months, I guess,” he admits.

You wait him out, unsure if he has more to say. When he doesn’t follow this up, you tentatively venture, “Does it bug you? Or…?”

He shrugs. You wait. You know he’ll answer.

“Yes and no,” he finally says. “I get… it pisses me off sometimes, the way she shows up when I’m good, when I’m happy, like she can’t stand that she’s not part of it. But when we’re together, she could give a shit if I’m happy.”

You stay silent. You’ve wondered often about their on-again-off-again thing - mostly wondering why either of them would go back at all, after you’ve witnessed firsthand how bad things seem when they’re together. Your whole group of friends has watched time and time again as they repeated the cycle: great for a few weeks, a few weeks of fighting, a loud breakup, a few weeks of bitter silence, and repeat.

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” you say quietly, after a few minutes. “It shouldn’t be like that. Whoever you’re with… they should want you all the time, not just when they feel, like, fomo or whatever.”

“Is that one of your long-term relationship rules?”

“No,” you say meekly, responding automatically to the bite in his voice. “I think it’s just… true.”

Just common sense, is what you wanted to say.

He shakes his head a little, his gaze far away. “You think it’s possible?” he asks. “You watched your parents break up - I did, too, with mine. You think there’s actually an ending, for anybody, that isn’t just hating each other?”

“Yeah,” you admit. You don’t even have to think about it. Despite everything you witnessed growing up, you really do believe in happy endings, in lasting partnership. Maybe it isn’t promised, maybe it means effort. But still. “I do.”

He gives a soft huff of a self-deprecating laugh. “I wish I could. Maybe then I could say no to her. But most of the time… she feels like the ending I deserve.”

You move closer, sadness weighing you down. “Everyone deserves to be happy, Seungcheol. Including you. Including her.”

He shoots you a sideways look like he doesn’t believe you, but doesn’t argue. Instead, he glances back at the lit-up windows behind you. “Should we head back in?”

“Probably,” you say. “Though I’m much happier out here.”

“Come on,” he says, cajoling. “Let’s go in, or we’ll miss dessert.”

Inside, he walks ahead of you and goes straight to your father. You follow at a clip, heart pounding, your eyes on your father’s tight face - he won’t be taking an insult twice. 

“I’m sorry for how I acted before,” Seungcheol says seriously. “I just get protective when it comes to her. It makes me… kind of crazy.”

The kind of love that makes you crazy, you’d said earlier, at the pool.

He reaches backwards as he says this, reaching for you even though he can’t see you, as though he can sense you coming near. 

As you take his hand, let him pull you closer, you’re struck by how much you could believe the lie he’s saying.

—

You survive the rest of the night. You stay quiet in the car back to the resort. You feel your brother watching you carefully, but he doesn’t say anything. Back at the resort you say goodnight quietly and head to the room. You don’t talk much as you take turns showering.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, mentally organizing what you need to have ready for the wedding tomorrow, when there’s a quiet knock on the door. Seungcheol’s closer, so he opens it, letting Soonyoung in.

“Hi,” your brother says. “I just wanted to check on you?”

There’s a second where you almost ask him why, almost deny that you need checked on. Then, you shake your head, eyes rolling in frustration at your whole existence. “Tonight was a lot. Mom’s a mess, Dad’s a jerk… Nayoung’s oblivious…”

Soonyoung frowns at you. “One more day to go?” he says, his voice hopeful. You know he just wants to help. But now, in the safety of your room, the events of the evening seem to come crashing down around you. The pressure you’d been holding up finally crushes you, and you cover your face with your hands and take a shuddery breath.

“It’s fine,” you say automatically, before anyone can react. “It’s fine. I just need to get some sleep, get through tomorrow, and go the fuck home.”

There’s a tense silence above you, and then - inexplicably - Seungcheol says, “I’ve got it, bro. You can go to bed.”

Got what? you think, lifting your head, but you already know. You. He’s got you, even here in the privacy of the room where there’s no one to see it.

When Soonyoung is finally convinced enough to head back to his own room, Seungcheol sits heavily on the edge of the bed next to you.

“I shouldn’t have done this to you,” you say bleakly, all apology. “It’s too much. The family stuff, there’s so much, I didn’t mean to drag you into our mess so badly…”

“It’s really okay,” he assures you, looking over at you seriously. “I’m not part of this, it doesn’t affect me the way it affects you. Don’t worry about me.”

You look at him silently, not believing it.

“Stop worrying about me,” he repeats, this time smiling a little, knowing you’ll be hard to convince.

You shake your head, leaning back. “I’ll try,” you say finally.

“We’re all good,” he promises. “I’m doing what I’m here to do. We’ve got one more tough day, and then you’re free.”

You groan, thinking of the wedding. “God, tomorrow’s gonna suck.”

He slaps at your knee playfully. “You need some rest if you’re gonna make it. Want to watch a movie or something? Until you’re tired?”

You consider this. “That actually sounds nice,” you admit.

He pulls up a streaming service on his phone and hands it to you. “Pick something while I brush my teeth,” he says, and then lopes off to the bathroom.

When he emerges, you’re under the covers, having turned out all the lights except the small one above his nightstand. He slides into his side and reaches for his phone. You start to adjust your pillows so you can see his screen better, but he lifts an arm and smiles over at you.

“Come on, fake girlfriend,” he says, that tease back in his voice. “Come watch the movie with me the right way.”

You hesitate, unsure if this is wise. “Are you sure?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer, just gives the arm he’s still holding open for you a wiggle in invitation.

After an apprehensive moment, you follow directions, sliding closer and laying your head on his chest. He lowers his arm around your shoulders and hits play on his phone screen. You glance up at him a few times, lit up by the phone, his hoodie pulled up over his head, but he’s always dutifully watching the movie, paying no attention to the girl curled up against his side. Eventually, you settle in, relaxing against him, letting your hand rest over his stomach. You can feel it rise and fall with his breathing, can hear his steady heartbeat beneath your ear where you rest.

At some point, you fall asleep this way.

<- Prev || Next ->

thank you for reading!!! Chapter 3 will go up on Friday, April 25!

[arandomao3user]

Who in the BatFam (other than stephanie ) do you think would get along with Bernard the most and why?

Sosososososo sorry this took me so long to respond to ToT

I've been battling depression ;)

ANYWAYS!

—

Bruce likes Bernard, he thinks he's... An influence on Tim, and Bruce thinks Bernard might end up a super villain, but that applies to all the people Tim dates. So, he doesn't hate Bernard, quite the opposite, but he certainly was protective of all his children. They're his babies. They're his lil' eggs. He must protecc... But, also, upon hearing Bernard had sh$&, unsupportive, parents, he kinda ropes him in with Stephanie and Babs, into "Not my kid but my responsibility now." And pays for Bernard's college even if the blonde insists it wasn't necessary...

Dick is absolutely terrified for Tim, he doesn't shovel talk Bernard, because Tim doesn't need it, Dick knows Tim can handle himself when it comes to dating, and knows he'll be the first person (next to Steph) Tim calls if he needs advice or anything goes wrong. Still, Dick puts on the older brother act and sends Bernard plenty of death glares if he notices Tim had any visible bruises on his neck or rope burns on his arms. He knows what they are...

Jason likes Bernard, cool kid, Bernard talks about his conspiracy theories as well as questions Jason's magical soul swords at every possible moment he can. So, Jason thinks he's fine, he'd appreciate it a lot if Bernard and Tim stopped making out in Crime Alley though, also if Bernard stopped cat calling Tim every time he was patrolling with Jason, but in general, not a bad kid, they get along well enough.

Damian would change his last name and become Bernard's child if Bruce ever died (again) why? Well, they understand one another. Bernard is kind to strays and helps Damian if he finds an injured bird or stray dog or cat, he also understands things the other's don't really get, like being influenced by cults. Bernard also pushes for Tim and Damian to be kinder to one another, and Bernard makes really, really good food. So, yes, Damian rather likes Bernard and has shovel talked Tim in Bernard's honor before.

Cass gets along with Bernard, she approves, and she to as shovel talked Tim in Bernard's honor. They understand each other on a certain level, Cass' relationship and opinions on Lady Shiva and David Cain are... Complicated, and Bernard understands, even if his parents aren't deadly assassins or crazy super villains, they can understand one another. Also, they like playing Scrabble and hang man.

Stephanie and Bernard of course get along, Stephanie also loves poking fun at him and the fact he didn't think she was a real person for literal years. Stephanie will spill almost all of Tim's secrets to Bernard and he swears to take (most of) them to the grave U_U

Babs and Bernard have a mutual understanding that at any moment Babs can and will leak his internet history...

[lynzishell]

A few days later...

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

Asher: Iris? Iris: Hm?

Asher: Can I talk to you for a minute? Iris: Sure.

Asher: I need to ask that Ezra not come to the house anymore. Just while Atlas and I are living here. Iris: No. I live here too. You don’t get to dictate who I’m allowed to invite over.

Asher: That’s not what this is. I’m not trying to control you or tell you what you can or can’t do. But Atlas can’t be around him, and I need your help to make sure it doesn’t happen.

 Iris: This is ridiculous. If Atlas would just give him a chance, he’d see that Ezra’s not that person anymore. I mean, he was a brainwashed kid, for Christ’s sake. I don’t think it’s fair for him to be punished for that. Especially after everything he had to go through to break free of it. Otherwise, what’s the point? How can we expect people to learn and grow, to open their hearts and minds, if they’re just going to be defined by their mistakes forever?

Asher: I hear you; I do. Unfortunately, no amount of growth or remorse on Ezra’s part can undo the harm he caused. And it doesn’t cancel out the pain that Atlas suffered as a result of his actions. It doesn’t all go away just because he’s sorry.

Iris: I know, but…

Asher: Look, I’m not saying Ezra is a bad person, or that he doesn’t deserve a happy life. I’m not even saying you shouldn’t date him. If he’s good to you and he makes you happy, then I support that. But Atlas is family too, and we can’t turn our backs on him. I know you care about him, don’t you?

Iris: Yeah. Of course. I’ve always loved him like a brother.

Asher: Exactly. And he’s always been open and kind and forgiving, especially toward you, even when you didn’t deserve it.

Iris: [nods]

Asher: So, you and I both know he doesn’t hold grudges. That’s not what this is. He’s not trying to punish anyone. He’s hurting. And every time we minimize his feelings and his experience, and we force him to be around the person that hurt him, we’re basically re-traumatizing him. Do you see how fucked up that is? We’ve failed him. And it ends now.

Iris: Don’t you think it could be good for him, or like, healing, to talk to him though? To tell Ezra all this and get a sincere apology?

Asher: Maybe. Maybe one day. But he’s not ready to try that again, not after how things went last time. He may never be, I don’t know, but if there’s any chance of it, then the best thing we can do right now is to have some patience and compassion, to show him that we’re here for him no matter what. And the best thing Ezra can do right now, is respect his boundaries.

[A few days later]

Spencer: Mom! Is Ezra bringing Milo over today? I got him a present! Iris: What kind of present? Spencer: I got a really cute rainbow ball from the Simoleon Store.

Iris: I see. I’m sure he’ll love it. Spencer: So, can he bring him?

Iris: Actually, I have a better idea. We only have one more weekend before the pool closes for the season, so how about we bring Milo’s present to him, and then we can take Ezra swimming? Spencer: Okay! Iris: Go put your swimsuit on then. We leave in five minutes.

Atlas: Is he coming over later? Iris: No. He won’t be coming over anymore. Atlas: Really? Iris: [nods] He’s happy to talk whenever you’re ready, but until then, he’ll keep his distance. And, for what it’s worth, I’m… I’m sorry.

[thethronezone]

Silent treatment between Big E and High Consort lasting several decades...which Primarch is on which side?

Mortarion - On the High Consort's side, obviously. Encourages them to actually never speak to the Emperor again and just get divorced already.

Fulgrim - Ends up on the Emperor's side, purely because he thinks the silent treatment is very immature. Thinks they just need to talk it out already.

Angron - Technically on the Emperor's side but only because he thinks the whole 'silent treatment' is stupid and that they should just duke it out and then make up.

Magnus - Is on the Emperor's side because he thinks this silence solves nothing. Isn't it better to talk it out instead, like adults are supposed to?

Perturabo - High Consort, all the way. Does he think the silent treatment is petty? Yeah, but Perturabo is a petty bastard and so he approves the silent war of attrition that's going on.

Alpharius - Who's side is he really on? Both? None? No one is sure. One moment he's talking about forgiveness, the next he's praising the High Consort for their exemplary mental warfare.

Lorgar - On Big E's side but he's also begging the High Consort to forgive his poor father. Lorgar is on his knees, tears in his eyes, praying for his parents not to get divorced.

Horus - Of course he's on the Emperor's side, he's daddy's special little boy after all. Tries very hard to get the two of them to reconcile and plays the mediator.

Konrad - Definitely on the High Consort's side because the silent treatment makes sense to him. When he doesn't want to speak to his brothers, he ignores them too.

Sanguinius - Tries to be a neutral party but clearly aims to get his parents to reconcile. Maybe a tad partial to the High Consort's side but does his best to understand both sides.

Corvus - Of course he's on the High Consort's side. If the Emperor made them so upset that they've refused to speak to him for decades then he must have done something real bad.

Ferrus - Most likely on the Emperor's side. Finds the whole silent treatment an immense waste of time, especially considering how long it's been going on.

Rogal - Sides with the High Consort, though he does think the silent treatment should end because this is dragging on longer than it has to. Does, however, respect their tenacity.

Vulkan - On the High Consort's side but tries to get them to forgive the Emperor because he does believe the silent treatment has gone on for way to long.

Lion - Definitely on the Emperor's side. Finds the whole argument silly and thinks the silent treatment is very immature and a waste of time.

Leman - On the High Consort's side because if mom/dad is upset then fuck yeah, he's upset with them. Does however think this is getting a bit silly.

Jaghatai - Is on the High Consort's side. Does he want them to make up already? Yep. Does he tell them that? Yeah. But he ain't getting between those two when they are fighting.

Roboute - Tries to be a neutral party along with Sanguinius. Slightly partial to the Emperor's side of this argument but keeps silent about it and just wants them to get over it.

[powderpinkprincess]

License [Lando Norris & twin sister!reader]

description: You hate driving. Your twin brother, Lando, tries to help you out with that.  warnings: a few bad words

When you and Lando were kids, you shared pretty much everything. You went to the same daycare group, then to the same school, and you even shared a room until the two of you turned 8. You were twins, so it just kind of worked that way.

You also fought a lot. Over stupid things mostly – whose turn it was to pick the TV show or who got more snacks, although your parents always made sure whatever you got was the exact same amount. Classic sibling stuff. Lando was already a very competitive child when he was daycare age, and he always pulled you into his mind games.

The only thing you didn’t share was his love for driving.

You tried karting when he stared, mostly because it felt weird not to. You always went to the same afternoon activities because, for your parents, it was easier to coordinate one program than two at the same time, considering that you had two sisters and a brother as well. However, your parents quickly decided to pull you out after seeing that you were sitting on the ground and crying before most of the practices, while Lando was already speeding through other kids like nothing mattered.

That whole thing about you not liking to drive never really changed, even in your twenties. Lando was a full-on Formula 1 driver by then, and you also had your driver’s license, but you barely used it. Most of the time, you just took public transport. Driving made you nervous, simple as that. You secretly blamed your childhood experiences with karting for that.

When Lando came home for summer break, you visited your parents’ house as well to spend some time with him. You hadn’t seen him for nearly three months now, as you had your own job, your own apartment, and you didn’t have the time to travel after him. Your passion was running, and you worked as a trainer. Your family has always been a very fit and sporty one.

Of course, you and Lando quickly got comfortable around each other again, and you were back to your usual routine within five minutes, arguing and teasing nonstop. At one point, he made some snarky comment about your driving, and your mom, Cisca finally had enough.

 “Lando, why don’t you take your sister for a drive?” she asked, her hands on her hips as always when she got annoyed. “You could actually help her feel more confident instead of making fun of her, don’t you think so?”

 “What? But she doesn’t even like to drive!” Lando protested immediately.

 “That’s exactly why,” Cisca sighed. “Give her a few tips. You drive for a living.”

Your eyes widened as well. “Mom, you can’t be serious. Lando barely passed his theory test. I wouldn’t trust his advice on normal roads if my life depended on it. I wouldn’t even let him outside the track!” You were exaggerating a little, but he wasn’t the brightest in the theory, that was true. He drove out of intuition, which, in his case, worked well, but you couldn’t do that. Your intuitions would drive you into the first ditch in sight.

Lando let out a scoff. “I passed the theory. Besides, I’m still a better driver than you are.”

 “Yeah, I’m sure you’re a real menace to society in a school zone,” you snorted.

He rolled his eyes at you. “Bold words from someone who breaks down in tears at roundabouts.”

 “Lando!” Cisca raised her voice a little. You always found it amusing how it was always he who got scolded. When the two of you were young, it was mostly Lando picking fights, therefore, his name became some kind of a reflex for your parents when they heard bickering.

Lando raised his hands in defeat. “Okay, fine. We can try.”

Cisca handed him the key to the older family car – not you, you noticed -, and then you followed your brother into the garage, your arms crossed.

 "You know, you don't have to be so upset," he said as he unlocked the car.

 "You do get on my nerves sometimes," you muttered.

He shrugged and went to open the driver's side door, waiting for you to get in. You grumbled in protest, but you did sit down, fastening the seatbelt and adjusting the mirrors. Lando rounded the car and sat on the passenger seat. It was a rare sight to see, considering that he disliked giving out control of his hands when it came to driving. He put on a pair of sunglasses and rolled down the window, propping his elbow out.

 “Feeling comfortable?” you scoffed.

 “As comfortable as I can get,” he grinned at you. You just shook your head at that.

The drive started off quiet. Suspiciously quiet. Lando didn’t even say anything for the first few minutes. You were hyper-aware of every movement, already regretting every life decision that led to this moment.

 “I’m not gonna bite,” he finally said, watching you intently. His snarky attitude seemed to falter a little as he noticed how nervous you were. He wasn’t a monster, after all. He didn’t wish anything bad for you.

 “You're already annoying, and we haven’t even left the street yet,” you muttered. You pulled out with all the grace of someone trying to look calm while internally screaming. Lando was surprisingly quiet again. Too quiet.

You glanced at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Just- Didn’t think we’d make it out of there in one piece,” he said. He couldn’t resist being a little smug.

You nearly slammed the brakes right there. “Say one more thing and I swear I’m turning this into a hostage situation.”

Lando raised both hands like you were holding a weapon. “Alright, alright. No need for threats. Just drive.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You were constantly second-guessing your speed at every moment. Lando was a quiet observer for the first few minutes, but soon enough, the silence was broken. "You're going kinda slow," he pointed out.

 “If I go faster, I’ll crash and we’ll both die,” you mumbled under your breath.

 “Come on, at this speed here, you’re just going to break the car at worst, no one is going to die. And if you drive too slowly, that’s also dangerous,” he replied. “Just saying this because people are gonna honk soon if you don’t speed up, and you’ll freak out.”

Your grip on the steering wheel tightened, but you added some more gas.

 “There you go.” Lando shifted in his seat a little and leaned back, way too comfortable for this situation.

 “How are you not terrified sitting next to me?” you sighed.

He shrugged, a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I have been in far riskier situations, trust me. Besides, you're a better driver than you give yourself credit for.” Lando glanced sideways at you, observing your nervous expression and your grip on the wheel.  “Relax. What are you so scared of anyway? That you’ll hit something? That you’ll break the car?”

 “Kind of both,” you bit your lip.

 "You’re being so careful, I doubt you’ll wreck the car. If you’re too nervous, though, you’ll make mistakes. You’re doing great, just don’t think about it too much." Surprisingly, his words seemed to help. You focused back on the road. The silence returned, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

You were even starting to relax as you turned onto a quieter street. Your hands were a little steadier on the wheel, Lando had backed off from his usual teasing, and for a second, it felt like maybe this whole "practice drive" thing wouldn’t be a complete disaster.

Then Lando’s voice cut through the calm.

 “Shit- Watch out!”

You barely had time to register his words. Out of nowhere, a black SUV shot out from a side street – no signal, no warning – cutting right across your lane.

You slammed the brakes instinctively, heart jumping to your throat, the tires giving a sharp screech as the car jerked to a stop just in time. Lando reached over and grabbed the wheel instinctively, helping you swerve slightly. The SUV sped off like nothing had happened, only missing you by a few centimetres.

 “Jesus Christ,” Lando breathed, whipping around to glare after it. “What the fuck is wrong with people?”

You didn’t answer. Your hands were glued to the wheel, trembling uncontrollably. Your heart pounded so hard it hurt, and before you knew it, your eyes filled with tears.

Lando looked back at you. “Hey... Y/N?”

You couldn’t speak. Your throat was too tight, and the tears came faster. You tried to blink them away, but it was useless. You were overwhelmed by the fear, the adrenaline, and the what-ifs. It all crashed down at once.

 “Okay, okay,” Lando said quickly. “Just pull over.”

With shaking hands, you guided the car to the side of the road and parked. You didn’t even turn to him. You just covered your face, shoulders starting to shake as the sobs took over.

Lando didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then he let out a slow breath and leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You’re okay. I promise. You didn’t do anything wrong. That guy was a fucking idiot.”

You finally looked at him, eyes red, still catching your breath. “I thought we were gonna crash.”

 “But we didn’t,” Lando said. “You did everything right.”

You nodded, hiccup-crying a little, wiping your eyes with your sleeve. Lando unbuckled himself and leaned across the console to pull you into an awkward hug, patting your back. “You did great, Y/N. You’re not hurt, I’m not hurt, and even the car is fine. You were perfect, okay? I promise, it’s okay.”

 "If you didn't notice him, we would've crashed," you sniffled.

 "But you did see him in time, and you hit the brakes," Lando pointed out. "You were so quick to respond. Not many people would've reacted as fast as you did, if they would even have at all."

You sat in silence for a few minutes, Lando letting you calm down a little. After a while, you blew out some air through your mouth. "I don't want to drive home, you drive home."

Lando didn't think this was such a good idea. You were doing so well, stopping the drive with such a negative experience would definitely set you back again. Lando watched you for a moment, the tension still hanging in the air between you. He knew you were shaken, but he wasn’t about to let you give up.

 “You’re not quitting now, Y/N,” he said gently, though his voice carried a quiet firmness. “You’ve come this far, and I’m not gonna let you bail out now, okay?”

You stared at him, the exhaustion and frustration evident on your face. "But I can't do this, Lando," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

 "But you can," he insisted. "You just need to trust yourself a little more. I’m right here with you, okay? You don’t have to do it alone."

You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of his words. You hadn’t realized how much you needed that reassurance until now. For a moment, you let your eyes wander out the window, trying to steady your breath and calm the knot in your stomach.

 “Just try,” Lando said quietly, offering you a small but encouraging smile. “You’ve already done more than you think. If you need to stop, we’ll stop, but just... try.”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing with doubt, but slowly, you nodded. With shaky hands, you gripped the wheel again, the familiar feel of it grounding you.

 “I’ll try,” you whispered.

Lando nodded, giving you a reassuring look as you pulled back into traffic. When you arrived home, Lando got out of the car first, taking a deep breath and trying to shake off any remaining stress. When he saw your Mom waiting, he managed a small smile. "No casualties this time," he joked, trying to ease the potential tension.

Cisca's eyebrow twitched up in disbelief, her eyes darting from Lando to the car and finally to you. "Really? No shouting, no speeding, no cursing from your brother?"

 “He was pretty decent,” you shrugged with a smile.

Cisca looked genuinely surprised. Lando’s temper, which got him to Formula 1, wasn’t always the easiest to handle when it was between the two of you.

 “See? You raised a gentleman out of me,” Lando said with a smug smile.

Cisca just shook his head with a laugh and walked back into the living room, leaving the two of you there.

[machveil]

You've got a big beautiful brain I hope you know that. And I'm gonna steal it.

If I may ask ur big brain:

Who of any of the cod characters idk idc do you think is the best cook? But I'm talking, can make gourmet meals outta nothing. Like, all you've got is an MRE and some extra little goodies that someone gifted? Hell yeah brother lemme introduce you to your second favorite thing every to bless your tasters.

Oh you've got essentially nothing in your fridge because you forgot to shop? Np. 👩‍🍳

anon, my brain is all yours, beloved 🧠✨

I’d say König, but he’d just eat anything as is, that’s my truth for him. he could make something nice, but if he’s just hungry he’ll eat what’s there. if you want something, sure, he could probably fix something up, but we’re not talking about the best

I’d also say Simon, but I think he’s just good with meat specifically. sure, he can make sides, a good hearty steak and potatoes guy. and he could definitely make something edible out of nothing, but it might not be great. it would definitely sustain you, but that’s about it (Butcher!Simon, Butcher!Simon, Butcher!Simo—)

honorable mention, I think Keegan would do alright. I think he could actually make MREs not mid/bad. I’ve only tried one (1) MRE that wasn’t kind of shit, but this man? I think Keegan could pull through with some sort of bullshitery to make it somewhat enjoyable. maybe the man smuggles fast food sauce packets, who knows

dream team, because they do it together, I think Johnny and Kyle could put their heads together to make anything. specifically together though, they need two brains firing to cook the good shit up. they’re good by themselves, but destroying it as a team - so much so I want to say they FaceTime each other on leave to cook over the phone. on missions? they’re concocting ways to mix and match different MREs, making Price and Simon sweat with their antics (it always turns out better than they expect). I think they get their cooking skills from their families, they were definitely helpers in the kitchen growing up

Nikolai. no further words

[burreauxsss]

why me? part 2

background: a causal hookup turns into you becoming his baby mama, or so you thought.

(all pics from pinterest, all rights reserved.)

notes: part 1 to the angst is here.

word count: 804

warning: this is a alternative universe, joe would never do this (most likely). time jump of 1 year later.

<- Part 1 -> Part 2

 

 A year ago, if someone told you that an NFL quarterback was going to get you pregnant and abandon you on the spot,ot you would have laughed in their face. But it happened, he tried to finesse you over text to keep silent for 18 years for a million dollars. Su, re it was stingy; you didn't take the offer. Joe realized that you also have hold of his career in your hands if this gets out to the public. One day if he just pissed you 

off just the slightest, you’d be on your couch making a five-part series about how bad of a deadbeat he is.

A few months ago, he knew you gave birth to his child, and he didn't care. As a single bachelor, he flourished out into the world during the offseason, started hooking up with multiple models (five of them to be specific) and went to Miami and LA frequently. Some teammates saw this as him branching out and opening up to the celebrity life. Others, thinking the fame had gone to his head in a horrible manner. The thoughts he had were ‘she would have taken the million dollars and been done with it’.

But one day, the state hit him with a child support payment out of his paycheck. Unknowingly, what happened, he complained. The clerk told him that you applied for child support to be taken out of his account, and he immediately knew you betrayed him. What kind of sick person could do that, part of his paycheck to you? It was all your fault that you were pregnant in the first place; the antibiotics you previously had for a medical issue backfired on your birth control. And while he never blamed himself, he always blamed you. 

You were never his type, allegedly,  he saw you as a release of pleasure; every month, you’d get flown in by him. The fact that you thought that you had a chance with him was horrifying in the meanwhile, many people on social media started comparing things, the features of the baby. The baby had Joe’s eyes, and definitely his nose at that, lots of people clowning him on social media for being a deadbeat, for telling you to hide that child from the world to save his career. 

During the summer, his dad and brothers sat down with him and told him that he needed to make things right. So the next day at training camp, he did as you came to watch him as he requested. The first thing you noticed is that he buzzed and bleached his hair again as you held the baby, who so graciously watched their father run drills and sign autographs. He saw you and waved. Furthermore, soon after training camp, he knew he had to confront the fears he had had for nearly 2 years. So, meeting you in your car in the passenger seat with the baby in your arms as you parked and fed in a secluded area away from the public to protect your emotional health from the cameras.

“Y/n, I wanted to talk to you. I know it's not perfect that you're here with my baby, and the baby is wearing her deadbeat father’s jersey, but I'm sorry. I'm sorry for offering you money to hide the baby from the truth, I'm sorry for being selfish.” Joe said while he was looking at you and the baby.

“I don't know Joe, you told me the truth a year ago.. You never loved me and never will do-” 

“No. I'm a horrible dad, I know you won't forgive me, but just give me one chance at being a dad. It hurt me that I wasn't there at the birth.” He noticed the tear in your eye as you looked down to avoid it messing up your mascara. “Don't cry, baby, I can't watch you do that.” He says, swiping a tear from your face.

You nod and give him the baby. She looks at Joe and somehow relaxes into him as she gets held.

“What's her name?” He speaks

“Kailani Marie.”

Joe looks at Kailani and sees the similarities that social media talked about. Her beautiful blue eyes shone right at him when she opened her eyes again. Her nose is just like his, with a head full of brown hair. She was just a mixed version of him with a slight enhancement of your features. He jokingly asks, “Whose last name does she have?” 

“Yours.” Your voice echoes in his mind, and a few tears rise up into his eyes.

“Why mine? I've never  been around ever.” The now blonde mumbles

“Because she deserves it. She deserves to know eventually that her dad is #9, one of the best players in the NFL.” 

y/n

❤️ 1m 💬 82,918

Liked by: joeyb_9 theshaderoom duexmoi and others

y/n: my little life.

username_1: so joe IS the father??

username_2: the baby...

username_3: okay bodyyy!

duexmoi: 🍵 y/n: i know my body is tea, stay out of my stuff.

joeyb_9: ❤️ *liked by creator*

*load more comments*

joeyb_9 posted a story

caption: K ❄️

notes: how do we feel about this..

[rizzoreads88]

It doesn't matter what happened in ACOWAR or ACOFAS. Where do E/riel stand after ACOSF? Using the previous books "build-up" argument is poor.

It is like arguing, “Hey! Aelin said she will always choose Chaol, so Chaol is her endgame.”

Acosf? You mean the book SJM gave us canon confirmation Elain and Azriel are into each other? Ok let’s look at all the little elriel breadcrumbs there..

✨Azriel gets upset when he finds out something happened between Nesta and it upset Elain..

“Because of the shit with Elain?” Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?” Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened. Cassian blew out a breath. “I take that as a no regarding the meeting topic, then.” “It’s about what I discovered. Rhys said he requires you both there.” “It’s bad, then.” Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. “You all right?” His brother nodded. “Fine.” But shadows still swarmed him.

( azriel has a bigger reaction to elain being upset by Nesta than gwyn being kidnapped to the blood rite 😬😂)

✨Azriels shadows wanted to physically strike nesta for insulting Elains personality

“Look who decided to grow claws after all,” she crooned. “Maybe you’ll become interesting at last, Elain.” Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain’s face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike.

✨Azriel is protective of Elain the same way Cassian was protective of Nesta

Amren said, “We do not have the time to wait for Nesta to decide. I say we approach Elain tomorrow. Better to have both of them working on it.” Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, “There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.” “But Nesta should?” Cassian growled.

✨Nesta notices Azriel has feelings for Elain & is upset seeing her near Lucien

Shadows darkened his eyes, full of enough pain that she couldn’t stop herself from touching his shoulder. Letting him see that she understood why he stood in the doorway, why he wouldn’t go near the fire. His secret to tell, never hers.

✨3 days after his Soltice scene Bonus Chapter he’s around Gwyn in training but is thinking about Elain and is upset

Three days passed with no word from Cassian. He’d been replaced in training by a stone-faced Azriel, who was more aloof than usual and wouldn’t even give her a smile.

✨Azriel doesn’t need his shadows to read Elain

Lie. Well, the second part was a lie. He didn’t need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face.

✨Azriel saved Elain Soltice gift and kept it on his nights stand to look at

She hadn’t bought her mate a present. But she’d gotten Azriel one last year — a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he’d done every night he’d slept there. Or attempted to sleep there.

Interesting observation SJM says she likes to keep things she loves in her night stand too…

SJM: (talking about the book the song of Achilles)"when I really love a book I don't wanna like.. like-"'putting it in the shelf feels like l'm like putting it away'''so sometimes l'll just keep them on my nightstand for months... "like, and so I just - I kept it there""cause every time I-I look at the cover"''' just like smile and it makes me happy...

✨Azriel has a physical reaction to Elain and Lucien’s mating bond and it upset him to see them in the same room together

Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn’t stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much.

✨Azriel has been staying away from family dinners because of his feelings for Elain and not being able to do anything about it

Elain’s large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

✨Azriel got Elain a gift specifically tailored to her and her interests and his head goes quiet when he touches her even though he’s been having “sharp thoughts”

Too many razor-sharp thoughts sliced him any time he grew still long enough for them to strike.

His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck.

✨Azriel loses his control just by touching her throat

Azriel’s fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine. Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.

Elain bit her lower lip, and it took every ounce of Azriel’s restraint to keep from putting his own teeth there. “I should go,” Elain said, but made no move to leave. “Yes,” he said, his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.

But he could have this. This one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it.

✨There has been attraction and tension building between Elain and Azriel

It had never gone this far. They’d exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.

✨Offer and Permission

Azriel’s hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain’s mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut. Offer and permission. He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers.

✨Azriel questions the cauldron over Eluciens bond

. “I’m talking about you, about to kiss Elain, in the middle of a hall where anyone could see you,” he snarled. “Including her mate.” Azriel stiffened. Let his cold rage rise to the surface, the rage he only ever let Rhysand see, because he knew his brother could match it. “What if the Cauldron was wrong?”

Then in hofas we learn the cauldron was corrupted..

The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced … those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage.

✨Azriel is losing sleep over Elain..

Sleep, they seemed to whisper in his ear. Sleep.I wish I could, he answered silently. But sleep so rarely found him these days. Too many razor-sharp thoughts sliced him any time he grew still long enough for them to strike. Too many wants and needs left his skin overheated and pulling taut across his bones. So he slept only when his body gave out, and even then only for a few hours,

✨Azriel would beg on his knees for Elain

He’d beg on his knees for a chance to taste

✨Elain understand Azriel they can communicate silently

“Yes” Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

Sooo yeah ide say we got a lot of foreshadowing and Elriel moments in Acosf.

The biggest clue of all is how she left Azriel & Elain unsettled and unresolved after his bonus chapter. The same way she left Cassian & Nesta unsettled and resolved in Acofas and then we got their book next. The same way she left Feyre & Rhysand Unsettled in Acotar and then we got their love story in the next book. Ya noticing a pattern here right?!?!

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

Inspired by the alien-cat species and the dragon!Ford:

How about a borrower!au in which both brothers are borrowers and Stan gets cursed to be a cat? And after finding a borrower running from a bird (?) he decides to help him out, only to discover that it's his twin!

Cue cat!Stan trying to (over)protect ford while ford, after realizing this cat isn't going to eat him, decides that he is now unstoppable

If ford is living in Fiddleford's walls you could have Stan being an asshole to fidds all the time

Alien cat? Where's the alien cat? Am I forgetting something I made, or is this a reference to something else.

I'm not an expert on borrower lore, so don't quote me on their culture, fwi.

Borrowers au Stan gets kicked out after accidentally messing up the family's chance to get into some deluxe or super secure house/community for borrowers. Not sure what, but it would have kept his family comfortable and safe. Gets told he has to find somewhere equally safe/great for borrowing if he wants to be a part of the family.

Maybe the house they're living in has someone who had a chance to go to college, which are borrowers hot spots and Stan messed up their presentation? Or Ford figured out some grand scheme to get into some building and Stan messed up the timing? Whaterver happened, the twins still had their falling out and Stan's on his own.

Stan lives life constantly moving from place to place, trying to find the perfect home that will keep his family safe and have enough resources to support them, but fails. Either because someone was already living there or it was too dangerous, or something. Eventually breaks into a witches house, and she panic curses him, not realizing he wasn't a human man breaking in and is now throwing a regular sized cat out of her house, none the wiser. Stan now has to survive as a cat, but it's actually not too bad, living the life of a mini giant.

Then he stumbles onto Ford. Ford lives in the walls of the McGucket cabin in Gravity Falls. He followed them from backupsmore, where he was trying to get a higher education while also trying to survive after getting separated from the rest of his family. The McGuckets live in Gravity Falls so that Emma-May can study the fossils in the area, and Ford researches the smaller borrower sized anomalies when not focused on survival.

Stan saw the bird, saw it chasing a borrower, and figured 'hey, I'll help the guy out, now that I'm huge and basically unstoppable' only to realize later that it's Ford, who, wow, is tiny. Stan could squish his brother if he wanted! Ford, meanwhile, is already waiting for the end. Got saved from a bird just to wind up in the belly of something worse. His life is flashing before his eyes when the giant cat licks his hair, flops it's head on top of him, and starts purring like crazy. He scrambles for freedom, flinching as he prepares for it to bat at him, when it just. Doesn't do that. Lays there watching him, only moving to follow when he makes a break for it. By the time he gets back home it's fairly obvious Stan is not going to eat Ford, and in fact attacks anything that tries.

Cue protagonist moment. Fords made a special connection with this giant murder beast, and now he's basically the most powerful borrower alive. No need to worry about predators with his brand new steed, he's zipping around the forest like nobodies business, and the cat listens when he tells it to go places or distract the McGuckets so he can borrow. But it also bullies him, stopping him from checking out cool anomalies and carrying him home when it gets too late. The first time Stan picks him up by the back of his shirt Ford thinks he's about to get eaten, only to glare when Stan drops him off at his outside door and lays in front of it so he can't sneak out.

(The McGuckets are not so happy with the new local stray, that attacks their ankles and runs off with their stuff. Except for Tate, who loves Mr. Mystery and please won't they let him keep him please please please!!!)

Not sure where the plot would go from there, but I'm loving the premise.