#it's 7 am i can't sleep help

[madbalalaika]

Am I weird for this? Does anyone else sometimes look at a fictional character and get a very strong urge to sniff them cause they look like they smell really good?

[heartshattering]

I really want to believe that things will get better but then I find myself back in 2018, being told by mental health professionals that I can't return to the psychiatric services center because "Your case is too severe for us to handle" and "You're too unstable" and "We just can't do anything for a case like yours here"...

[daz4i]

it's incredibly hard not to despair over all of this ngl

[apollo-zero-one]

I hate being alone when we are at high occupancy. If One Person pitches a fit over a room tonight I'm calling my manager and quitting or else I'm going to turn into a human nuke and explode the entire building

[catastrophic-crow]

*insert an unhinged and deranged screaming rant about migraines and how they wreck my emotional regulation and pain tolerence*

[bahrtofane]

husband Jude headcannons

jude just really really enjoys married life

Word count - 2.3K+

Watch it - i got carried away sorry guys, proposal lore?? insanely sappy, even by my standards

—--

He's not a fan of you being known as his, rather he's your husband. Always correcting people during interviews and giving you the spotlight. Even when you shy away, not knowing where to look or what to say. He's always there, a gentle hand on your knee rubbing circles as he nods for you to continue. 

Every red carpet he wants to match, doesn’t care how big or small the event is. Gotta be a way you two look look a pair 

His fav is when you wear exactly the same thing so there’s no way to confuse anything for what it really is hehe 

Bouncing around while you get ready together, helping you get your shoes on while he tries his best to stand still while you fix his tie 

“Look okay?” he asks, head tilted 

You rub his arm, “you look great.” 

And he smiles wide, giving you pecks all over while you giggle, trying to shoo him away from you and closer to the door. your ride is waiting, but he doesn’t care. pouting for just one more kiss. please ? 

All his socials turn into your personal fan page, a big fat married in every bio, ring and all 

He has more posts about you then his actual job 

His teammates poke fun at it, “when are you gonna post us huh?”

He just rolls his eyes,”when I marry you i’ll think about it”

And that’s that

You're the first he runs to post a match, greeting you with the silly hand shake you perfected years ago. You think you could do it in your sleep at this rate. You came up with it ages ago when you kissed him after practice, playing with his fingers till he came up with the idea, and you with the actual hand shake. 

You're his biggest supporter, and him likewise. In every and anything you do, give him pompoms and he'd be your personal cheerleader at this point.

He just likes to have you at games. Waving obnoxiously while you tell him to pose. And he does, every time, sending hearts your way. He dedicates his goals your way. The kisses he would send the crowd in his youth now only go your way where you catch them like a teenager.

You see complications of it everywhere, he thinks it's endearing. He makes you watch them together on the living room tv while you grimace

“My face looks so weird there, oh my god.”

He flicks your arm, “you look great shush. Ha that was during el clasico, ah good times.” 

You roll your eyes but snuggle up against him anyway.

One of your favorite past times btw, nothing he loves better than a lazy morning in with you in his arms while he hits snooze on every alarm.

He tries to cook, with his stupid kiss the chef apron he got just for you. but he will need help, which you gladly give. You end up eating on the couch, covered in pillows watching cheesy shows. You've watched keeping up with the kardashians too many times to count and he still laughs out loud every time.

Jude is soft and sweet when he's not forced into a picture perfect smile and self 24/7. He's a silly guy, always trying to make you laugh. Teasing is his love language by the way.

But he's still sweet, leaving notes around your house for you to find when he has to leave for away games. Hearts and smiley faces littering every inch of the paper. Some frowny faces when he knows he'll miss you extra. 

He likes bringing you to family events and bragging about how cool you are, but everyone already loves you as is, he just likes to brag. Look at how cool the love of my life is everyone, I am sooo lucky you guys look look. 

Jobe has rolled his eyes far too many times, but he's happy to see his brother so happy. Plus you guys threw a fantastic wedding. A win is a win.

When you can't be there he facetimes you every second he possibly can. Blowing kisses when he has to go. 

“Judes been complaining all day I hope you know,” Aurélien pops his head into the screen. 

You snort, “ hello to you too Aurélien.”

He gives you a wave before ruffling the top of Judes hair as he pouts, fixing it just how he likes again, “they just don't get it,” he sighs dramatically.

You laugh, “sure baby, sure.”

You make sure to keep up with the match the best you can, texting him live reactions, even if you know he won't see them till later. He likes them all the same.

Your name on his phone is a simple "mine" with a bunch of heart emojis, the contact pic is one of the two of you together on vacation, smiling with your faces squished together while laying in the sand

It makes him smile every time. he thinks you’re the cutest

He's a big fan of nicknames, weather its a version of your first name, or just a good ole fashion baby. He rarely uses your actual name. He called you something so insane like pooki bear in public once and you have yet to let him live it down.

"in a restaurant was crazy," you squint at him.

He only giggles, "but it was soo funny baby come on."

Speaking of restaurants, this guy loves a good date night 

Gigdy as he comes down the hall in his pjs, grinning while showing you the new reservations, it’s your fav place ! 

Every anniversary he somehow finds a way to outdo himself, don't ask, because in truth he doesn't even know how he pulls it off, but anything for you. Anything. 

Even if it means hunting down the stuffed animal you had as a kid and couldn't find after you lost it in your couch cushions. He finds it, after months and months of searching, making Jobe help him look, it comes in the mail and he has to get creative to get you out of the house and away from the mail the day it's supposed to come.

It gets neatly wrapped and placed on your shared bed the morning of, surrounded by a collection of other gifts, your favorite flowers, and a cheesy note that you always end up crying at. 

The look on your face makes it all worth it, when you tackle him in a bone crushing hug, tumbling into the covers in a tangle of legs while you laugh in between sniffles, he loves you. Oh how he loves you 

It's been a tradition to end the night with the very place he proposed, his home, now yours. 

He doesnt think he could forget it even if he tried. It was a whirlwind of a day. Picture this: 

He's lost all his black socks, his (and your) favorite body wash just spilled all over the shower, his hair looks awful ( he got a haircut that morning), his cologne isn't where he left it, and the private chef he hired isnt replying. All while you're not even awake yet. 

He calls his mom because what else are you supposed to do when you're set to propose and everything is going wrong. 

She only chuckles softly over the phone, “calm down jude, just breathe. You'll find your things, just take a breather and come back to things with a clear head okay?”

So he does. Sitting on his bed, towel still on, frowning. He chooses to instead pat himself dry, get dressed, and give himself a pep talk in the floor length mirror at the corner of his room. 

Turns out his mom was right, things fix themself for the most part, his socks are stuck at the bottom of the dryer, his hair isn't as bad as he thought, he finds a better cologne in his collection, and a perfect body cream. It's gonna be a good day. 

He finishes the last of the day of prep, getting fancy candles, a lighter, and greeting the decorator. Yes he hired a decorator. 

It's nothing over the top, just little changes to make his home look a little softer, changing out the curtains, placing lace table cloth with details in your favorite color. The main event is his second living room that gets covered in an arch of your favorite flowers, gentle curling to just kiss the top of the new antique chandelier that will be holding the fancy candles too. He hopes you like it. He really really hopes you like it.

He's had this planned for ages, since the moment he first met you he thinks. 

When you greet him with a silly good morning text he only grows oh so fond of you, excited to see you. He told you it was a fancy dinner at his place. A change of pace from the resurates. Both of you prefer a much more intimate night in then cameras shoved into your face while a hundred people all yell a hundred things while you're trying to chew your food. 

So you get ready, dress up and make it for dinner. When you see the familiar face of the chef, Karlos, you give him a wave and get seated. Noticing the new table cloth but you don't say anything. You don't want to be wrong so early into the night. 

Jude comes in, nervous as a school boy as he takes your hand for a quick peek, running around like a maniac back and forth. He looks nice, in a signature all black suit, and smelling amazing per usual. 

Dinner is amazing, full of your favorite courses and Jude is jittery in his seat. 

“You okay?”

He nods, a little too fast, “oh yeah. I am. Don't worry.”

You raise a brow but dont push, thanking Karlos for the amazing meal as he cleans up and heads out for the night. 

Jude gets up, telling you to stay put while he'll be righttt back. Don't worry, remember! 

He comes back, unable to meet your eyes while he gives you his hand. You take it, sliding out of your seat and following him down the hall. There's flower petals on the floor now, you look at him, but he looks anywhere but at you, chewing his cheek.

He leads you to the second living room, where the furniture has been cleared out. Replaced by a walkway of flowers and candles, leading up to where an arch of your favorite flowers hugs the curtain, new ones.

Gently pulled back to reveal the floor to ceiling windows that give way to his yard. And the most gorgeous sunset you have ever seen. A chandelier hangs above you, decorated with more flowers, and the most ornate candles and bulbs you have ever seen.

Your eyes begin to water before he even gets down on one knee, his lip wobbles, holding your hand the whole time as he confesses every little moment and reason for his love.

He loves you, he adores you. You're- youre everything. Truly and fully. You're the sunlight that kisses his skin, the stars he wishes to touch, to know, he yearns for you. Years to know you in your entirety, till he knows nothing else but you. For your name to only fully know his lips, for only he will fully know you. He sees no other, he knows no other. He wants- no needs, to give himself as he is. 

You see him, see him as more than just Jude Belingham. You see what others can not, will not. You see him, you know him. You know him better than he knows himself most days. You've seen all there is to see, all that makes him who he is. You know his stupid sandwich order at the place you hate but keep going to because you know how much he loves it.

You sit in freezing weather for the full game just to make sure you don't miss a second of him. The first to congratulate him, the first to mourn with him, the first to sooth his aches and pains. You're the face he looks for in a crowd, you're the first person he calls when anything happens. 

 And you love him with such ferocity it amazes him. 

You're full crying at this point, fat tears rolling down your cheeks till you can barely see him, and he finally gets down on one knee, fishing out a small velvet box from his inner pocket, opening it with shaky hands.

And he whispers, “will you marry me?”

You fall next to him, sobbing into his shoulder while you repeat yes over and over. He cries with you, till you're both laughing from pure joy. 

Who better to spend the rest of your life with then the man who loves you so?

Telling his family is the best part. You have them over for what was supposed to be a quick lunch, turned dinner, and you break the news at dessert, showing off your ring while they all gasp. 

They pile you into the biggest hug, smiles so wide they hurt and you laugh, you're going to get married! You think they just might be more excited than you are.

Wedding planning comes and goes both so fast and so slow. Youre so excited you can't wait, and yet every step of the way seems like it takes excruciatingly long.

Your wedding planner tries her best, bless her soul, but you want it to be completely and utterly perfect. Down to the types of chairs at the venue.

Jude lets you have your way for the most part, chiming in now and again, he trusts you fully. Knowing you're going to make it the best regardless. 

Leading up to the big day you think you just might pass out from stress and never be seen again, but the almost year of planning pays off, and you're married! 

The honeymoon is spent traveling all over while jude is wide-eyed, unable to believe he's married to you of all people. 

The press catches on soon after, even if your wedding was small and intimate. News comes out one way or another.

Jude only responds with a picture of you two slow dancing among your family and friends, captioned, “all you need to know.” and he pins it to every social media page. 

What a man huh?

[ariel26c]

🎀Things I’ve learned about Shifting 🎀

1. Background noise doesn’t matter. I come from a Hispanic family household and let me tell you hun it’s freaking loud as hell. It’s like a zoo lol but guess what? I still shifted. At some point you will start to feel your CR kinda “fade away”. I have been in this state where I am in between my CR and DR. I can hear background noise from my CR but I still feel like I’m in a different room or I hear sounds from my DR as well. Has anyone experienced this?? Let me know, I’m curious 🤨

2. Have patience. Allow yourself to relax and naturally connect to your DR. Don’t stress about having random thoughts or having an itch or things like that. Have patience with yourself like seriously you got this babe. Sometimes for me it’s feels like it’s takes 1 or 2 hours until I feel fully connected to my DR. (It’s different for everyone btw) you may take less time than I do. Those things don’t matter if you decide that those things don’t matter.

3. Methods really aren’t needed. If you think about it all methods consist of the same thing usually. It usually consists of affirmations, visualization, subliminal audios, meditation, counting, blah blah blah. If you want to use a method, then do that but don’t force yourself to do a method that doesn’t resonate with you. If you don’t like counting, then don’t count. If you don’t like visualizing, then don’t visualize. Change things up a bit and listen to music that reminds you of your DR or do something that you think is fun.

4. Just because some people like to lie about their shifting experiences doesn’t mean that shifting is fake. Just like in every community there is going to be people that are dishonest or don’t have the best intentions but that doesn’t mean that shifting is a big inside joke. Don’t allow these people to discourage you from shifting to your DR or make you doubt in its existence. Don’t depend on other people's content to feel motivated or believe in shifting. Just KNOW it’s real and motivate yourself to shift. (even though motivation isn’t needed to shift)

5. Shifting is Real. I think we all should know this by now, but I don’t think people really fully understand just how REAL shifting is. I mean you are going to be able to use all of your senses. You will be able to taste food, see your reflection in the mirror, talk to people that may be considered as fictional in this reality, etc. The process of shifting is safe but if you are shifting somewhere that has violence or gore make sure you script your own well-being. High pain tolerance, no trauma, etc.

6. Time isn't important. Just because it's been 4 years or 5 doesn't mean you can't do it. Time doesn't apply to shifting because time is just man-made thing. We created the concept of time not the Universe. Don't blame the Universe for your "Failure". (Spoiler alert: it's not failure) You just need to realize that no matter what, it will happen. It is completely inevitable. Some people have shifted after 5 years so don't give up! It will be worth it.

7. You can't fail at shifting. When you do your method, you will shift to your DR or shift to your CR. You shift all the time. We are constantly shifting consciously or unconsciously. Manifestation and shifting are very much closely related. (But that's another discussion for another time) Just like how we are manifesting on autopilot we are also shifting on autopilot. So, when you do a sleep method, and you wake up in this reality instead of your DR you still shifted. (Just not to your DR) (Get it?)

I hope you found this post helpful! :)

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Heart Eyes? More Like Death Glares | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader [Face Claim: None]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Summary: Max and Y/N continue to pretend they absolutely, totally, 100% hate each other—like, seriously, they couldn’t possibly flirt less if they tried (spoiler: they’re not trying). Lando, George, and the rest of the grid are busy stirring the pot, calling out the obvious heart-eyes energy between them, while Max and Y/N would rather crash a golf cart into a wall than admit it. Instead of confessing, they resort to their usual routine of roasting each other online, dragging anyone who dares suggest they’re into each other. But hey, if threatening to run someone over with a golf cart isn’t romance, then what is?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A/N: someone help me I can't stop writing. and thank you everyone for all the love 😭

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Part 2 of my wheel-to-wheel but still in denial series : Masterlist

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

📸: Y/N and Max standing side by side at a paddock event, Max smirking while Y/N sticks her tongue out at him. Max’s arm is slung casually around her shoulders.

Caption: Guess I’ve decided to tolerate him. For now. But if he says one more thing about karting from 2006, I’m breaking his arm. 😘 maxverstappen1

Liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, landonorris, and 420,876 others.

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

I’m more concerned about your aim with the trophies. Not the arm. 😬

↪ y/n_leclerc:

I throw trophies with purpose. You should be scared.

charles_leclerc:

Am I seeing this right? Are you two…tolerating each other? I’m disturbed.

↪ landonorris:

charles_leclerc This is either the start of a rom-com or a murder documentary. There is no in-between.

redbullracing:

Max surviving Y/N’s wrath one weekend at a time. #PrayForMax 🙏

scuderiaferrari:

Sorry, Y/N’s under our protection. 🔴

danielricciardo:

This is giving “enemies to friends to lovers” energy. Just saying. 👀

user1:

THEY’RE TOUCHING. PEOPLE. THEY. ARE. TOUCHING. 🔥🔥🔥

user2:

Y/N has him in a chokehold. This man used to talk about winning, now all he talks about is Y/N. 😂

user3:

MAX. SMILING. WHILE SHE THREATENS HIM?? SIR, DO YOU NEED HELP????

user4:

“Guess I’ve decided to tolerate him” OKAY BUT THAT’S 2024 LOVE LANGUAGE.

user5:

ARM AROUND HER SHOULDERS ARE WE JUST GONNA IGNORE THAT?

maxverstappen1 posted a photo:

📸: Max and Y/N standing in front of a karting track, Max holding a first-place trophy with a smug grin while Y/N rolls her eyes, holding second place.

Caption: She tried. #StillTheKing 🏆y/n_leclerc

Liked by landonorris, pierregasly, alex_albon, and 500,903 others.

Comments:

y/n_leclerc:

MAX. I SWEAR. I WILL LAUNCH THAT TROPHY INTO THE STRATOSPHERE.

danielricciardo:

Max holding onto that 0.2-second win like his life depends on it. 😂

scuderiaferrari:

It’s a team sport, Y/N. We’ve got your back. 💪

↪ redbullracing:

Max doesn’t need backup, just speed. 😎

charles_leclerc:

I’ve never seen two people who love violence this much.

user6:

Y/N is gonna murder him in his sleep. You can see the murder in her eyes.

user7:

THE DRAMA. THE CHAOS. I need a live stream of this rivalry 24/7.

user8:

This man really can’t let the karting thing go, huh?

user9:

Not Max smiling like a kid who just stole candy, HELP. HE’S WHIPPED.

redbullracing tweeted:

We don't know if Max's biggest challenge this year is winning the championship or surviving Y/N's roasts.

Comments:

scuderiaferrari:

Y/N roasting Max is our favorite part of race weekends.

↪ y/n_leclerc:

I mean, I do provide quality entertainment.

↪ maxverstappen1:

Yeah, at my expense. 🙄

danielricciardo:

Max getting roasted by Y/N has become my new personality trait.

user13:

MAX FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE OUT HERE, SEND HELP.

user14:

“Surviving Y/N’s roast battles” is a bigger challenge than Charles winning Monaco. FACTS.

user15:

I swear, if Y/N roasts him into confessing his feelings, I’m DONE. 💀

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

📸: A blurry photo of Y/N sneaking up behind Max and putting bunny ears over his head during a team meeting. Max looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

Caption: Stealth mode activated. maxverstappen1, you’re welcome. 🤡

Liked by georgerussell63, alex_albon, landonorris, and 450,786 others.

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

You’re not as stealthy as you think, Y/N.

↪ y/n_leclerc

You were laughing, don’t even lie. 😏

redbullracing:

Max, blink twice if you need rescue.

scuderiaferrari:

We support this. 100%.

charles_leclerc:

This is becoming ridiculous. You two are like 12-year-olds at recess.

↪ landonorris:

charles_leclerc But like…flirty 12-year-olds.

user16:

The “I hate you but I’m gonna tease you all day” vibes are immaculate.

user17:

Imagine going from rivals to flirting openly on social media. Icon behavior.

user18:

Y/N’s gonna drag Max into the friend zone just to climb back out and wreck him emotionally. I’m CALLING IT.

y/n_leclerc posted a meme:

Caption: Max seeing literally anything and thinking it’s a win. Cute but tragic also hella fucking childish. 😏

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

I am a winner. I can’t help it. 😎

↪ y/n_leclerc:

The only thing you win at is being a nuisance. Congrats. 👏

danielricciardo:

Y/N ROASTS MAX AND MAX JUST SMILES?? WHO GAVE THEM THIS MUCH POWER?

user22:

He’s literally simping at this point. Max, blink twice if you need help.

user23:

Not Max and Y/N roasting each other like an old married couple. Someone hold me.

user24:

I swear they’re gonna end up confessing through memes.

y/n_leclerc tweeted:

Max Verstappen? More like Max Disturben my peace. Can someone collect him before I accidentally run him over with a golf cart? 🙄

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

You wouldn’t survive without me around to entertain you.

↪ y/n_leclerc:

Max, if I wanted entertainment, I’d watch Ferrari’s strategy team at work. They’re more chaotic than you.

↪ landonorris:

Wow, so now we’re dragging Ferrari and Max? This is getting spicy. 🌶️

↪ charles_leclerc:

landonorris She drags Ferrari on a daily basis. I’ve accepted it. 😤

georgerussell63:

Y/N would 100% aim for Max with a golf cart and miss, then blame it on the steering.

↪ danielricciardo:

George, don’t give her any ideas. We don’t need Max in a hospital bed because Y/N can't drive straight. 😂

scuderiaferrari:

We don’t condone violence, but if it’s Max… 👀

↪ redbullracing:

Nice try, Ferrari. Max is bulletproof.

user1:

MAX DISTURBEN OMG I CAN’T BREATHE. 💀

user2:

The fact that y/n_leclerc almost ran him over with a golf cart is PEAK romance. I love it here.

user3:

Ferrari roasting their own strategy, Y/N dragging Max, AND Lando just living for the drama? ICONIC.

danielricciardo posted a meme:

Caption: Me, 100%. Honestly, watching them trying to flirt is more entertaining than Netflix. 🤣

Liked by landonorris, georgerussell63, y/n_leclerc, and 650,420 others.

Comments:

pierregasly:

Welcome to the chaos, Danny. We have memes and bad decisions.

maxverstappen1:

Why is everyone so obsessed with this? We’re not flirting.

↪ georgerussell63:

Max, mate, your whole personality is flirting with Y/N at this point. Just own it.

↪ danielricciardo:

georgerussell63 He’s in denial. It’s kinda cute. 😇

landonorris:

This entire thing is funnier than watching Max try to figure out TikTok. 😂

user4:

NOT GEORGE SAYING MAX’S PERSONALITY IS FLIRTING LMAO. HELP, I CAN’T.

user5:

Daniel dropping the truth bombs like Ferrari drops strategy. 🔥

user6:

Max: "We’re not flirting." Also Max: keeps posting selfies with Y/N and calling it ‘winning.’ 💀

user7:

Okay but why did girly pop like this?!? y/n_leclerc explain this sus behaviour

scuderiaferrari tweeted:

Y/N’s roast game is as strong as our engines. 🔥

Comments:

redbullracing:

Your roast game might be strong, but Max still wins every race. 😎

↪ scuderiaferrari:

You can have the races, we’ll take the memes. It’s all about priorities. 💅

maxverstappen1:

Can I just drive in peace?

↪ y/n_leclerc:

You wouldn’t know peace if it hit you with a tire gun.

mclaren:

We’re just here for the memes and the chaos. Carry on. 👀

user7:

THE TEAMS GETTING INVOLVED IS SENDING ME. THIS IS NEXT LEVEL.

user8:

“Max still wins every race” OKAY RED BULL COMING IN HOT WITH THE SALT. 💀

user9:

This has turned into the F1 version of Mean Girls and I am OBSESSED.

landonorris tweeted:

At this point, Max and Y/N are flirting so aggressively that I feel like we’re all third-wheeling their relationship. It’s giving “enemies-to-lovers.”

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

Lando, are you high? We’re not flirting. We’re fighting. There’s a difference. 🤨

↪ y/n_leclerc:

landonorris Excuse you?? Flirting?!? I don’t even like looking at Max. I’d rather become a papaya wearing norizz supporter. 😤

↪ mclaren:

y/n_leclerc why the sudden papaya slander?

↪ landonorris:

Sure…fighting…with heart eyes, but okay. 👀

↪ maxverstappen1:

landonorris Do I look like I have “heart eyes” to you? Lando, have you forgotten what I do for a living? I destroy things. Mainly Y/N’s patience.

↪ y/n_leclerc:

Lando, blink twice if you’ve lost your mind. Max is as appealing to me as wet socks.

↪ GeorgeRussell63:

Is this fighting? It looks like denial to me. 😏

↪ y/n_leclerc:

georgerussell63 Oh, I’ll fight you next, George. Keep testing me.

↪ maxverstappen1:

Yeah, George. Do you want to die?

landonorris:

Max threatening to fight people while Y/N fake-cries. The definition of an old married couple flirting and supporting each other

↪ y/n_leclerc:

MAX? FLIRT? With me?? Lando, I’ll race you backwards on a unicycle before I ever flirt with him. 🚫

↪ maxverstappen1:

landonorris The only “relationship” here is one where Y/N loses at everything. This isn’t flirting, this is winning. Learn the difference. 😎

↪ charles_leclerc:

This denial is strong. Like…Ferrari-level strong.

↪ y/n_leclerc:

charles_leclerc I WILL DELETE YOU FROM THE FAMILY. STOP THIS.

user1:

“I don’t even like looking at Max” is the funniest lie Y/N has ever told. 💀

user2:

The denial is STRONG in this one. They’re roasting everyone just to avoid the truth.

user3:

Max and Y/N: “We’re not flirting!” Also Max and Y/N: have entire conversations with heart eyes.

user4:

The way they’d rather start a fight than admit they’re into each other? ICONIC.

user5:

Y/N: “I’d rather become a papaya wearing norizz supporter.” OOF. That’s the kind of denial that needs therapy.

georgerussell63 posted a video:

🎥: George filming Y/N and Max mid-argument during a drivers’ briefing. Y/N is poking Max in the chest while Max smirks down at her.

Caption: Y/N and Max, doing what they do best: arguing like an old married couple. When’s the wedding? 💍

Liked by alex_albon, lilymhe, y/n_leclerc, and 700,432 others.

Comments:

y/n_leclerc:

GEORGE. DELETE THIS OR I’M SENDING YOU TO THE SHADOW REALM.

maxverstappen1:

You call this an argument? This is just foreplay. 😉

↪ y/n_leclerc:

MAX WHAT THE— TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW.

↪ charles_leclerc:

WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY

↪ landonorris:

Max, you said that way too casually. What’s going on here? 👀

↪ alex_albon:

“Foreplay”? I just dropped my phone. Max, you’re playing with fire.

↪ georgerussell63:

Oh no, this is staying up. The internet needs to see it. 😂

redbullracing:

We’re not saying this is a Red Bull-sponsored relationship…but 👀

↪ scuderiaferrari:

Can we take credit for this relationship too? We did provide Y/N, after all. 🤔

↪ y/n_leclerc:

THERE IS NO RELATIONSHIP HERE YOU FUCKERS

user10:

DID MAX JUST SAY FOREPLAY? I CAN’T WITH THIS MAN, OMG. 💀

user11:

George stirring the pot is chef’s kiss. THE DRAMA.

user12:

Max has been WAITING to say something like that, I know it. The tension is REAL.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[felinecyan]

Perfectly Fine

[Keigo Takami x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Hawks plays off that everything is “perfectly fine,” but you know better than to believe him.

WC: 2186

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Soft!Reader, Slight Angst

I don’t know why I’m so obsessed with Hawks and angst, I blame Conan Gray being stuck in my head 24/7, but here you go! 😀👍

『••✎••』

You knew he wasn't okay.

You saw him every day. You spent more time with him than anyone else in his life. He had always been so bright and so positive that it was jarring when you realized just how exhausted he truly was.

He tried. He tried so hard. He was smiling and making jokes like normal. It was so hard not to get caught up in his infectious positivity. But you knew him well enough to see through it all.

And his eyes said it all.

They weren't as bright and golden as they normally were. They looked dim. The dark circles underneath were a clear indication that he hadn't been sleeping well lately—or at all.

This was the one thing you absolutely despised about Keigo. His independence was a good aspect to have for a pro-hero, but not when it was detrimental to his own health.

He was always doing things on his own. He was a people pleaser, so of course, he didn't want to ask for help. It was his problem, so he'd handle it himself.

And you wished you could just knock some sense into that bird brain of his.

The last straw was when he came home in the middle of the night, completely disheveled, and collapsed on the couch.

It wasn't uncommon for him to come home late, and you were usually already asleep, but tonight was different. Tonight, you were still awake.

And it was almost 3 am.

You had heard him enter the house. You were about to get up to greet him, but his heavy footsteps had paused at the doorway. The silence continued for a few seconds until you heard him stumble and collapse onto the couch.

You got up immediately and rushed into the living room. Your heart broke at the sight of him.

He was sitting on the floor with his back on the couch. He had taken off his jacket and boots. His wings were limp, and the feathers were ruffled and messy. His head was in his hands, and his hair was an absolute mess.

"Keigo," you whispered, walking up to him.

You had a million questions going through your mind, but you were also worried he was hurt, so you decided to keep it simple.

"Are you okay?"

He didn't move. Not even his wings.

He did speak, however, but you wished he hadn't.

"Perfectly fine."

The words were like poison. His tone was so cold, so dark, so unlike him. You hated it. You had to force yourself not to recoil in disgust.

Just as he said those words, he made himself even worse by letting out a dry, humorless chuckle. It was so unnatural and wrong coming from him.

It scared you. It angered you. You couldn't understand how he could be like this.

You knelt down in front of him, placing your hands over his.

"Keigo," you murmured. "I’m begging you. Please don't do this."

"Do what?" His eyes met yours, completely focused. It was almost unnerving. "What am I doing?"

"You're pushing me away," you stated, trying to keep your voice from cracking. "Again."

His gaze lingered for a few moments before his eyes trailed to the floor. He let out a sigh, sounding almost irritated.

"I told you, I'm fine," he muttered, his expression hardening. "You should get some sleep."

His tone was much harsher than before, and it was beginning to frustrate you.

"I can't do that," you whispered.

"Why not?"

"Because I can't, Keigo," you said, your voice rising. "You make it so… so difficult for me to just sit back and watch you do this. You keep saying that everything is fine, but it isn't. It's not. You know it's not."

He was silent, and you were beginning to think that he was refusing to respond to you.

"You've been coming home at weird hours, and you don't even try to hide the fact that you're exhausted. Your eyes have bags under them, and your wings are a complete mess. You look so pale, Keigo."

"I’m—"

"If you say you're fine one more time," your voice was trembling, and your eyes were starting to burn. "I swear, I will throw myself out of this window."

That made a small smile creep onto his face. It wasn’t genuine, but it was a start.

"As much as I love pancakes, you know I wouldn’t let you go through with that," he said, his tone becoming lighter.

You didn't hesitate.

"Then why are you making me go through with this?"

You didn't miss the small flinch he did. If you’d been in this situation a couple of years ago, you would’ve missed it.

But not anymore. You knew him better than anyone.

"We’re supposed to be partners, remember? You’re a harder book to read, Keigo, and I’m sorry I’m too easy for you, but we should be able to trust each other."

He only looked down and let out a sigh. He was trying so hard to keep his composure, but his emotions were beginning to break through.

You reached forward and gently placed your hand on his cheek, turning his face so he would look at you.

"And if something is bothering you, you should want to tell me. But I can’t help but feel like I'm not good enough to be someone you can confide in because if you did, then maybe you wouldn't look like this right now." You brushed a lock of his golden hair away from his forehead.

He looked so tired. So defeated.

And he was. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he was struggling with himself. It was as if he were weighing his options.

Stay silent or talk to you.

Stay strong or admit his weakness.

You wanted him to choose the latter. You needed him to choose the latter. If he was going to keep pretending everything was fine, your heart couldn’t take it.

A moment of silence passed, and then two, and then three. It was like an eternity had gone by.

Then, finally, the room was filled with his deep, shaky exhale. The environment changed. The air was thicker. You felt the tension and the stress and the sadness.

"I'm not the person you deserve."

It was such a simple phrase, but you were stunned. He sounded so broken, and you didn’t understand why.

"I don't deserve you," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. “I never did."

You were just speechless. You were expecting his troubles to be something along the lines of work or the Hero Public Safety Commission. It probably still is, but you weren’t expecting him to feel… insecure about himself.

"That’s…" You shook your head. "No, Keigo, that's not true. Why would you think that?"

"Why wouldn't I think that?"

He didn't wait for your response.

"I'm too focused on being a hero," he started, his expression hardening again. "I'm always out. I'm never here. Sure, I kidnap you and make you my hostage every once in a while, but even then, I'm always thinking about work. Always thinking about how I can save more people. I'm always busy, and when I'm not, I'm exhausted."

His hands tightened into fists.

"You deserve someone who can be here with you all the time. Someone who can take the time to actually appreciate you, not just a text here and there, or a quick phone call, or a stupid note. You deserve someone who doesn’t have to leave the house before the sun even rises."

Your eyes were beginning to water, and you tried not to sniffle, but it was becoming more and more difficult to control yourself.

"You deserve a life where you can relax. You deserve someone who you know is always going to be there when you need it. I can't be that for you, and it's frustrating because I really wish I could."

"Oh, Takami," you whispered, pulling him towards you.

His arms wrapped around your waist, and his face was buried in the crook of your neck. He was holding onto you as if he were hanging on for dear life.

"I hate being like this." His voice was muffled, but you could still hear the disgust in his tone.

"Like what?"

"So pathetic," he grumbled. "I hate acting like a kid. Like an immature, needy little… little child."

He had trouble getting the last word out. You couldn't tell whether it was because he was frustrated or ashamed, or both.

"Hey," you whispered, running your fingers through his hair. It seemed to always soothe him. "It’s not immaturity, and it definitely is not childish. It’s just being human."

You could feel him let out a long, deep exhale.

"You are the Number 2 Pro-Hero. You're a very busy man. I knew it then, and I know it now. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to be with you."

You paused, taking a deep breath.

"Yes, sometimes I get lonely, and I miss you, and it sucks. Sometimes, I want to lock you in the house and not let you leave until the end of the world, but that wouldn't be fair to your fangirls.”

That earned a small chuckle from him.

"And it wouldn't be fair to all those innocent people who need you too. I don't like having to share you with the entire city, but that's just the way it is, and it's something I knew I had to get used to."

His arms squeezed around your waist. You felt his warm breath on your neck, which made you shiver slightly.

"And it's not your fault, either. We will have times like these, where you're too busy, and we won't see each other for a while, but at the end of the day, I'm still going to be waiting for you. At the end of the day, we’ll be perfectly fine."

"What a sap," he mumbled, though you could hear the smile in his voice.

"Hey! I'm trying to be romantic!" You playfully smacked his shoulder. "Be grateful."

He chuckled and pulled away from the embrace. You didn't want him to at first, but when you saw his expression, you smiled.

He was grinning. He was finally genuinely happy. There was a twinkle in his eye, and his wings were perked up. His feathers were starting to look much cleaner and fluffier. He was starting to look like his old self.

"I'll make a mental note of that," he replied, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. "You are the cutest sap ever."

"Shut up." You rolled your eyes and let out a laugh. "Go to bed, bird boy."

"Wait, wait, wait, hold on," he said, holding his hands up. "You're not going to give me a good night kiss?"

You scoffed.

"And you say you’re not childish."

"No, seriously."

Before you could ask him what he meant, he grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap. Your arms instinctively went around his neck, and you squealed and caught off guard.

"Hey!" You protested, trying to glare at him, but it was hard to do when he was looking at you with such adoration.

"C'mere," he hummed, resting his forehead against yours. "Let's see how good of a kisser you really are."

"Okay, no, let's not," you said, leaning away from him. "That was awful. That was worse than awful."

"Oh, c'mon!" He chuckled, his eyes full of amusement. "I've been waiting to use that for ages."

"Well, don't," you said, shaking your head. "That just made me want to turn into a pancake even more."

"It’s too bad we don't have syrup," he joked, giving you a quick wink. "Guess I'll have to improvise."

"That's it," you said, trying to push him away, but he only laughed and pulled you closer.

"Stop trying to avoid the inevitable, darling," he murmured, his eyes meeting yours.

"Please don't say anything else," you begged, your face growing warm. "Please. I'm not kidding, Takami."

"Neither am I."

And this… This was what everything was worth.

Keigo looked so content. He was happy. He was relaxed. He wasn't thinking about anything but this moment. He wasn't overthinking things. He wasn't forcing himself to stay positive.

He was just being him, finally. The rest of the night the discussion wasn’t brought up again, and it didn’t need to. You both knew exactly what the other was thinking… feeling. And sure, there’s no doubt there’ll be another time when he will be stressed out again, overworking himself and pushing himself too hard, but you would be there to pull him back down.

You would be there to remind him that everything would be okay and that no matter how hard he tries to fix it all on his own, you would simply remind him that he doesn’t have to do that anymore.

He doesn’t need to keep hiding behind that smile; the only smile he should ever have is the real one.

The one where he truly is perfectly fine.

[sanaexus]

social's as chigiri's girlfriend

-liked kuniisuke, nagi.seishiro and 155.6k others

yourusername: he lets me touch his hair i win losers

tagged: chigi.who

kuniisuke: yeah but i'm the one who he kicks balls with ↳hiyori: MATE. NO. ↳yourusername: yeah and i'm the one playing with his balls ↳karasu_tabito: okay what the fuck ↳chigi.who: not true please don't trust her ↳eita.otoya: you sure ab that princess? ↳yourusername: ew don't you have enough bitches already?

nikkoki: he looks so tired of you in the second picture ↳yourusername: YOU CAN'T EVEN SEE HIM WHAT ↳nikkoki: exactly. his annoyance radiates off the picture ↳yourusername: go back to crying like a lil wuss or something

user1: i love your eyelashes ↳yourusername: i love you ↳chigi.who: no you don't ↳yourusername: i'm a free independent woman with my own free will ↳chigi.who: icecream if you shut up ↳yourusername: ok ↳karasu_tabito: so you just buy her silence? ↳chigi.who: yes ↳yourusername: HE LETS ME TOUCH HIS HAIR TOO SO HONESTLY I'M WINNING ↳karasu_tabito: valid

kenyu.yukimiya: what the fuck is he doing in the first picture? ↳chigi.who: can't you see? ↳chigi.who: oh wait no nevermind he actually can't ↳yourusername: THAT'S SO RUDE?? SAY SORRY ↳chigi.who: i'm sorry that you're blind as a bat i guess ↳kenyu.yukimiya: fuck you

mikka.kaiser: why is everyone fucking everyone in this comment section ↳alexis.ness: could be us? ↳isaichii: no one's fucking

-liked by megubachi, reo.miikage and 163.9k others

yourusername: in a world full of boys he's a gentleman (the last image is me n him)

tagged: chigi.who

chigi.who: no that is not us what the fuck. ↳yourusername: aww hyo don't be shy ↳chigi.who: you like playing w my hair right? ↳yourusername: no i'm sorry+ i love you+ don't remove my hair touching privilege + i'm js a girl + don't be a hater

megubachi: the last image is canon (i was the chair) ↳yourusername: my real one fr ↳isaichii: bavjura i didrn except tjis frmo yoi ↳rin.itoshi: what ↳yourusername: "bachira i didn't expect this from you" ↳megubachi: you're still my number one ↳isaichii: sorry guys kaiser was chasing me around like a mad maniac ↳mikka.kaiser: come to papa ↳reo.miikage: what the fuck

nikkoki: was the last picture really necessary? ↳yourusername: are you really necessary ↳isaichii: throwback to the time when someone asked chigiri if his haircare was necessary and without any hesitation he went "are you really necessary" ↳shiidoryu: dk ab that but i can throw a back ↳chigi.who: did it once and i'll do it again

user2: you should date me instead i'll let you touch my hair ↳yourusername: oh emm gee let's go on a date to the park and we'll terrorize kids tgt !! ↳user2: ofc bae ↳chigi.who: i am that kid because what the fuck . ↳yourusername: 🙁 ↳chigi.who: ew ↳yourusername: BEO YOU BETTER FUCKING SLEEP WITH A EYE OPEB I'M GONNA FUCKING CHOP OFF YOU'RE HAIR STEAL YOUR SISTER AND THAN LIKE DRAW IN YOUR FACE ↳mikka.kaiser: bro* an* open* your* then* on* ↳shiidoryu: SHUT UP CAN YOU NOT ENJOY THE DRAMA W/O BEING AN GEEK FOR 2 MINUTES ↳alexis.ness: it's a geek and don't talk to kaiser like that you good for nothing zesty butt loving horny demon ↳itoshi_sae: please help he keeps touching my butt ↳shiidoryu: you're into that bae 😘

-liked by julian.loki, oliver.aiku and 211.5k others

chigi.who: i actually act like a normal boyfriend

tagged: yourusername

julian.loki: just how broad is normal in this situation? ↳yourusername: broader than yo mom ↳julian.loki: .. ↳julian.loki: ok i kinda maybe sorta might have laughed ↳yourusername: normal can mean pushing me off a swing or fighting w a 7 year old who was rude to me btw ↳oliver.aiku: bro got bullied by a 7 year old ↳yourusername: you got cooked by a guy who does puzzles btw ↳oliver.aiku: bye

yourusername: i'm spiderman (REAL NOT CLICKBAIT 3AM CHALLENGE GONE WRONG 🙀🙀😱😱💯💯) ↳rin.itoshi: weren't you batman? ↳yourusername: shhhh that's a secret ↳megubachi: I'M BATMAN??? ↳yourusername: no but you can be hello kitty ↳megubachi: deal

nagi.seishiro: how much we betting y/n fell of the roof on her ass ↳yourusername: RUDE !! I HOPE CHOKI DIES ↳nagi.seishiro: not cool dude :x ↳chigi.who: she did in fact actually fall on her ass ↳yourusername: ihy ↳chigi.who: not what you were saying last night ↳yourusername: I'M STILL A MINORR ↳eita.otoya: TRYNA STRIKE A CORD AND IT'S PROLLY A MINORRR ↳mikka.kaiser: drake fr got cooked ↳yourusername: so did you ↳karasu_tabito: drake x kaiser

yourusername: no but i fr love you ↳chigi.who: i know you do ↳yourusername: WOULD IT KILL TO TELL ME YOU LOVE ME BACK?? ↳chigi.who: i'm js a girl ↳kuniisuke: I FUCKING CALLED IT HE WAS TOO 💅💅 TO BE A SWEATY MAN WHO KICKED BALLS ↳reo.miikage: what ↳megubachi: wajt ↳isaichii: huh ↳hiyori: the fuck ↳mikka.kaiser: why ↳alexis.ness: what ↳eita.otoya: 💀 ↳karasu_tabito: w h a t . ↳rin.itoshi: what the actual fuck ↳shiidoryu: I FUCKING KNOW RIGHT ↳itosh_sae: no ↳barou.shoei: get help and sleep because it's 2 fucking am ↳chigi.who: :p

chigi.who: you're pretty ↳yourusername: i know

wellll that was mid asf i don't know how to write chigiri exactly if you can see but it's fine

[amoscontorta]

Hi, I write fanfiction about Love and Deepspace. Currently Sylus-dominant (heh), although I love and appreciate most of the LIs. Full summaries and tags are in each link.

The Sylus series

Part 1 Alike and cornered beast, Sylus's POV | ao3

I was desperate for Sylus's point of view during the first time that MC meets him in the Alike and Cornered Beast chapters of Long-Awaited Revelry. I wanted to know why he touches MC so reverently but also quite brutally, so I spent a lot of time thinking about possibilities and this is the result.

Part 2 Roleplay, undercurrents, and rising curtain, Sylus's POV | ao3

MC has PTSD from chapter 4 (you know the one), and no one can convince me otherwise, so I re-wrote the auction bits from Sylus's POV to fix this grievous oversight, because I am also firmly convinced he is a champ at handling MC's trauma.

Part 3 No way out, revised | ao3

I thought that MC was too mean to Sylus in his 4 star No Way Out card, and I didn't like it, so I fixed it. I mean, I rewrote how it went like a proper rabid fan.

Part 4 Datura tea, or how all you want is to get some sleep | ao3

You're suffering from insomnia due to untreated PTSD (probably, I don't know, I'm not a doctor or a therapist) from your family getting, well, exploded, and the longer this goes on, the sloppier you become in combat and just existing, and a bad idea is born.

Part 5 Sylus gets a headache | ao3

Sylus has secured the promise from you that he can use your place as a safe house if he's in the area and needs it. Sylus's definition of "need", it turns out, might be different than your own, as illustrated by the first time he shows up unannounced at your door.

Part 6 Wine time with Sylus | ao3

Sylus invites himself over, helps himself to your first aid kit and your kitchen, manipulates you into tasting wine with him, discusses his latest business venture, and gifts you more than one present before he's good and ready to finally leave.

Part 7 Sylus's guide to hiring, or Wine time with Sylus: his POV | ao3

Sylus mulls over all the data he has managed to collect regarding his sweet little hunter so far, and spends some time considering mistakes he's made and his plans for the future. He also hires a new employee and is required to teach the twins to mind their manners in front of guests he's trying to intimidate.

Part 8 Not my type | ao3

Sylus pesters you on your day off while you're at the arcade until you agree to "lend your talents" to him for the evening. So of course you show up at the designated location only to discover it's a nightclub, and you're dressed for a murder, but not on the dance floor.

Control: a Sylus series interlude | ao3

You are feeling a bit depressed after completing a mission that didn't go 100% the way you wanted. Mephisto, and then Sylus, pay you a visit to cheer you up.

Part 10 Sylus makes a deal | ao3

Sylus answers some questions, receives dating advice from a dubious source, makes a deal you can't refuse, receives a birthday invitation, and plans to take you home for the night.

Part 11 Even the rocks on the roadside in the N109 Zone could tell | ao3

Sylus makes one final miscalculation. You wake up from a nightmare in a place you weren't ready to revisit. Sylus has to reckon with the inevitable consequences of how he treated you when you first met him, but you're paying the higher price.

Part 12 Even the rocks on the roadside - Sylus's POV | ao3

Sylus tries to get some paperwork done in his office while you sleep. He receives a call that turns his night upside down and makes him regret some strategic choices he's made up until this point in conquering your heart.

Part 13 Q&A with Sylus Qin | ao3

Sylus cares for your injuries and feeds you a meal. After he shows you a part of his home that you didn't know existed, you finally ask him why he was so cruel to you when you first met him. Sylus does his best to answer with as much honesty as he can right now.

Part 14 How you learned to stop worrying and embrace Sylus Qin | ao3

Sylus reveals his latest little plot and makes you an offer that you ultimately can't refuse. More lying around talking in different beds with Sylus Qin.

Part 15 The dream, the tie, the tour, the dream | ao3

You have a good dream, get a guided tour of Onychinus's base by the chaos twins, talk yourself into being sad again, and then have another good dream

Creature Feature with Sylus Qin | ao3

You and Sylus dress up for a Halloween gala. This is a short little Sylus series interlude, occurring after these idiots finally get together.

One Shots

Sleepy time with Xavier | ao3

You suffer from chronic fatigue and worry that Xavier is only placating you when he says it's fine on the occasions you're too exhausted to follow through on plans together. On one such bad day, he reassures you in a way that you can no longer doubt.

[daz4i]

oh i need to KILL MYSELF kill myself huh

[cressidagrey]

Looked to the Sky - Chapter 7

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings: 

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Elain Bashing, Magical Help with Dyslexia, Rhys is a good big brother, Azriel finally is less of an idiot and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

"I am supposed to...read all of these?" Eira asked Rhys with a grimace. He had dropped a stack of books in front of her at breakfast the next day...after Azriel and she had...come to an understanding of sorts. After…

She didn’t want to think of it. Not right now. She needed something else…something to take her mind off it. Of all of it.  

And Rhys sufficed.

Rhys chuckled, his shoulders shaking with silent amused laughter.

“It's just three books,” he replied with a wide smile. “Magical Primers of sorts. They’ll help you understand how magic works. I recommend starting with the one at the bottom of the pile. That’ll probably be the easiest to digest.”

“How long do I have?” She asked weakly. 

“You’ve got a week,” Rhys said, and the horror dawned on her face. A week. She could never read that in a week. Maybe one book. Maybe if she did nothing else and didn't sleep. Maybe then. "Is something wrong?" he asked, his voice growing gentle. "I know it probably is....overwhelming...."

"I can't read that." Eira blurted out.

"You can't read these books or you can't read at all?" Rhys asked her, no judgement in his voice.

"I can read," she assured him weakly. "I just..." she hesitated. "Promise not to laugh?" she asked him, her voice trembling.

The look on Rhys’ face became instantly serious, the gentle look in his gaze became even more gentle as he took in her expression. "Of course I promise," he assured her, and his voice was so sincere, it almost made her feel like crying.

"The letters change positions," she admitted, her voice tiny.  "I know it sounds insane, but I swear it's what happens."

Rhys was silent, his expression thoughtful. He didn't call out her insanity or brush her off or call her a liar. He just nodded and asked calmly, "What, exactly, do you mean by that? How exactly do they change positions?"

Her shoulders drew up to her ears, her chin drooping in shame. "They...when I'm looking at a word, the letters move around. Switch places. So that the word I'm looking at isn't always the word I'm reading," she explained.

His expression was still calm, like he wasn't shocked or disgusted or horrified by her admission. But a strange look had come to his face, like something she had just said had...clicked in his mind, like he had just figured something out.

"Have you always had this issue with letters?" he asked quietly.

She bit her lip, her face going red with humiliation. "Yes," she admitted quietly. "It first started happening when I learned to read...some of the letters changed around, and I started saying other words, the wrong words. I...Our Grandmother wasn't...she  yelled at me for 'not paying attention'..." Though that was the least she had done. She nearly flinched when she remembered the ruler to the top of her hands.

A muscle ticked in Rhysand's jaw, and for a moment, Eira swore she saw the hint of anger flare on his face. "How old were you?" he asked, almost growling out the words.

"Four," she said quietly, and for a moment, she could have sworn she saw a flash of fury on his face. But it was gone so quickly, she couldn’t be sure.

"So your grandmother punished you for this?" he asked, his voice almost too calm. Like he was holding in some very strong emotions

"Yes," she admitted quietly. "She...she would yell at me and hit me with a ruler. On the fingers." She could still feel that stinging pain, the white-hot sharpness of it. How it had felt when…

"And your parents knew about this?" he asked, his voice low and careful. Like he was trying desperately to keep from letting whatever anger or fury he was feeling slip out.

"No, I...I didn't tell them," Eira confessed. "I was afraid they'd be angry at me for being stupid, because I kept getting words wrong and couldn't read right....and I was afraid Grandmama would get really angry...and I was afraid that I deserved it. Because I can't read like I should."

Rhys was quiet for a long moment, his eyes staring off into space. His hands were clenched into tight, white-knuckled fists. The muscles in his jaw were jumping, like he was trying very hard to keep in the anger that was burning under his skin.

"The letters...the letters that keep changing places...that's a common learning disability, Eira," he finally said quietly. "It's...if you had been born Fae, it would have been caught when you began your lessons and it would have been managed."

Eira’s head jerked up, a small, almost desperate hope flaring in her chest. "Y-you mean...that’s normal? You…you’ve seen others with that issue before?"

Rhys nodded, and there was a grim anger in his eyes as he said, "Yes. And there are ways to help with it, spells to manage it...and it never, never involves a child being yelled at and hit with a ruler."

Something tightened in her throat, and her eyes were suddenly hot. But she fought back the tears...she was not going to cry about this. She would not cry.

Rhys took a deep breath, his hands unfurling from the tight fists he had clenched them into.

He took one of the book, opened it and then did a complicated-looking hand movement over it. He handed it to her. She blinked.

The letters were...different. The script was different. The script was so crystal clear, the lines further apart...for the first time in her life it didn't feel like trying to swim upstream as she read the first few lines. It felt...nearly easy.

"There are different ways to transfigure the spell...different fonts, different colours...spacing. If this doesn't work, we'll try another one."

A shuddering breath left her, and the tears that she had been trying to hold back spilt down her cheeks. In only a few moments, he had done what her entire life of trying and struggling and praying to make sense of the words hadn't, making the script so clear like it was just suddenly easy when it had never been easy in her life.

"Thank you," she whispered to him, her hands trembling slightly as she held the book. "Thank you." She didn't know how else to say it, because it felt like he had given her something priceless...something she had always longed for, something so wonderful, that she didn't even have words for it, had no way of describing the depth of gratitude she felt. And Rhys’s gaze was so gentle as he looked at her.

"I’m just sorry that you've had to go your whole life without that," he murmured gently to her. "No one should struggle that much for something that should come so easily."

And it was that easy suddenly. 

The practical part of learning to control her magic…well that was another thing entirely. They were out in the garden, mostly because Eira was terrified of the idea of burning down the house. 

Rhys sat across from her, not looking worried in the slightest. "It's your magic. There is no need to be afraid," he told her seriously. "Don't be afraid. It will bend to your will. It will do what you want it to do."

She swallowed hard, trying to believe him. He was right....but it was so hard. She was so used to thinking of her magic as wild and uncontrollable, and the thought of letting loose the power that coursed through her veins, of letting it loose into the world...scared her.

"It killed four men," she disagreed quietly. "it burned down trees."

Rhys gently took her hand, his large calloused fingers wrapping around her smaller, paler ones. "I know," he murmured to her. "It did. But those men were trying to harm you, little one. That's why your magic acted as it did, because it was protecting you, because you were in danger. I’m here with you now, I’m not going anywhere. You won't hurt me. You have control. You have control."

Something tightened her chest, his words echoing through her like a soothing balm. He was right. She could control this, if she tried.

She exhaled slowly, breathing out the fear and doubt that was trying to wrap around her heart and soul. "I...I can do this."

A smile curved his lips, his fingers squeezing hers reassuringly. "Yes, you can," he told her, and let go of her hand. "Now, start simple. Don’t focus on anything specific. Just...let your magic flow."

She let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes and reaching for her magic. It was like a roaring flame under her skin, just waiting, aching to be let loose.

She let it flow, let the heat of it fill her, let it course through her veins.

She could feel it. Could feel it spark over her skin. Could...

Her eyes fluttered open, and she saw the tendrils of her magic swirling around her hands. Little sparks snapped along her fingertips, and she had to fight to keep the magic contained.

"Very good," Rhys praised her. "You are doing well." She wet her lips, carefully pulling and pushing...concentrating her magic on her hands. It reacted nearly...rushing. Like it wanted to please her. Like it wanted to help her.

It was nearly like it was alive, like a living thing under her skin...like it wanted to please her. Like it was aching, desperate, to be used, to be commanded. It took a moment to get used to the feel of it, like this wild, feral thing that obeyed her commands, that rushed to her skin at her merest whim.

The lightning crackled between her open hands...and then she pushed it away.

When she pushed, it went. Slid back. Coiled back under her skin, a roiling heat that still burned under her skin, but obeyed her command. It obeyed her. That thought sent a shock through her, that this fearsome, powerful force that had killed 4 faes...it obeyed her. It listened to her.

A quiet, ragged gasp left her, her breath leaving her in a whoosh.

Rhys grinned at her, pride and pleasure gleaming in his eyes. “Very good,” he praised her voice, and his hand squeezed her own. “That was very well done.”

Eira’s hands were trembling violently, her breath shuddering out of her mouth as the adrenaline coursed through her veins. She had done it. She had let loose that fearsome power, and she hadn't hurt anything, hadn't destroyed, hadn't killed. She had controlled it. She had controlled it.

"I didn't hurt you?"

Rhys just smiled at her, lifting a hand and gently running his fingers through her hair. "No," he assured her, his voice gentle. "You did very well. I knew you could do it."

A shuddering sigh left her, and even though she was shaking violently with the adrenaline, her heart was lighter than it had been in days. Because it had worked, she had done it, and she hadn't hurt him.

"The more you do it, the easier it will be," Rhys promised her. "Maybe you'll be able to light a candle with it even."

A small smile tugged at the edges of her lips, and she let out a watery laugh. "A candle?" she repeated, the words sounding almost absurd. The magic she had could burn down a forest. And he was talking about lighting a candle.

A chuckle left his lips, and he leaned over to press a comforting kiss to the top of her head. “Maybe in a few days,” he told her, and warmth blossomed in her chest. “When you get a bit more used to it. But you did well, Eira. You did verywell.”

She had never expected her lessons to be this… undramatic. She'd half-expected sparks, explosions, destruction.

What she hadn't expected was to feel something almost like peace once her magic was unleashed, like it was settling instead of trying to break free.

It was a strange, but almost comforting sensation. Like something had suddenly clicked inside of her, like a piece of her soul that she hadn't even known was missing had finally settled.

At least one thing in her life was…easy.

It was a novelty, she'd admit. To have something in her life that didn't feel like an endless struggle to understand, that didn't feel like everything was stacked against her.

She'd never had anything in her life that was effortless, that came easy to her. Something that made her feel...like she was good at it...like she was talented.

“There is something else that I wanted to talk to you about,” Rhys said quietly. “We received the formal invitation for Elain’s wedding.”

The mention of her sister's name made her blood go cold, and the little bubble of peace inside of her popped like a balloon, leaving her with nothing but a hollow, aching emptiness.

"Oh," she mumbled the word, the sound falling from her lips like a dead thing.

“If you don’t want to attend…neither of us will say a single thing against it,” Rhys said quietly.

The thought of going to this wedding, of seeing her sister walk down the isle, dressed all in white, her hair all done up, with a smile on her face...it was like someone had reached into her chest, wrapped their hands around her heart, and squeezed.

She had never imagined missing Elain’s wedding. But she wanted more than anything to stay far, far away from that stupid, awful event.

She never wanted to see her twin sister again. What did that say about her?

But even as she thought that, even as angry as she was...a part of her still loved her twin sister. A part of her still wanted to reconcile. And that thought made her chest ache with how badly she missed her, with how much she longed to just reach out and fix everything, to go back to how things had been before her sister had said those horrible, awful words to her.

Before she had tried to take her future from Eira. Her baby.

It was such a bitter thought, something that made her chest throb with remembered pain. Elain knew how much she had wanted a baby, how much she had dreamed of holding her own child in her arms...knew how desperately hopeful Eira had been.

And Elain had tried to take that from her.

“Eira,” Rhys said carefully, a look at her hands and she saw the lightning sparking at her fingertips. She willed it away. It disappeared.

She swallowed hard, her hands shaking as she clenched them tightly together, willing the sparks to quell. But the anger, the pain, they burned in her chest, like a flame inside of her, and she couldn't keep the words from coming out, from tumbling past her lips in a rush."All my life, all I ever wanted was to be a mother," she managed to force out, her voice shaking with unshed tears and pain. "All I ever wanted--all I longed for ...was to be a mother, and she, she..."

Her breath came out in a shuddering gasp, and she took a few deep breaths before saying, "She tried to take that from me. I...I would have had that baby by now, Rhys...I would have. And she was just going to...she wanted to take that from me."

“I know,” Rhys said softly. “I know.”

She closed her eyes tightly and took a few deep, shuddering breaths, fighting back the burning pain in her chest, the hot tears that were pricking at her eyes.

"Why would she do that?” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “Why...why would she want to take them from me...?"

Take her babies…and take Azriel too. Because that’s what it felt like. 

Elain had wrapped him around her little finger so that Eira didn’t even have a chance.

“Jealousy,” Rhys answered with a sigh. “Her mind was a wasteland of jealousy, Eira. She was so used to having every male fall all over himself for her…and suddenly there was this vision that showed her twin sister with a male she herself found handsome. And Elain couldn’t have him…nobody could.”

It was an answer she had almost expected, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. It didn’t make the pain any less real.

"She's my sister," Eira whispered. "How...how could she be so selfish? So cruel?"

And it hurt, it burned to even think, to wonder how her sister could have done that to her, had been willing to do that to her.

"I've miss her so much," Eira mumbled, the words like broken blades in her chest. "Every day, I miss her more than I can even put into words ...but how could I ever face her, after what she did...? How could I?"

It was like a storm in her chest, the pain and uncertainty, anger and anguish warring inside of her, and she fought to hold it all in, to keep it behind locked doors inside of her. So much anger...and it was warring with her grief. The two were at odds, at war inside her heart.

“Azriel said that he would come along if you wanted to go,” Rhys said quietly. “We would be there to…you wouldn’t need to face her alone. I am sure Cassian would even borrow you a sword if you wanted one.”

The thought of walking into that wedding, of being on display with the rest of her family...it sent a cold shudder through her. But if her friends were with her, if they were there...maybe she could do it.

Maybe she could go, just this once. Not to celebrate her sister, but to mourn her. Mourn the sister who had been, even if she was gone.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I think I….maybe I’d like that.”

She swallowed hard and looked up to meet Rhys’ eyes. “If I was to attend...if I was to go to the wedding...would you and Azriel be there with me?”

Rhys nodded immediately, his jaw clenching, a hardness in his eyes. "Of course," he assured her, his voice firm and brooking no discussion.

"Azriel will be there, and I'll be there, and Cassian will be there and your sisters damn well better be there too."

She swallowed hard, her heart beating a little bit faster at his words. The thought of walking into that wedding, knowing all eyes would be on her...but Rhys would be there. Azriel would be there. Nesta and Feyre.

Maybe she could do it. Maybe she could.

Even if she wasn’t quite sure that Azriel at Elaine’s wedding was a good idea.

But she pushed that jealousy down. She couldn't...she couldn't...she couldn't keep bringing that up. There must be a day someday in the future where she forgave him for...that. Where she was willing to move on.

She drew in a slow breath, but she couldn't keep the words inside of her. "How...how is Azriel doing?" she asked, her words quiet. "With...Elain, and the wedding...?"

Rhys stared at her. "Eira, I can honestly say, that I don't think that has even crossed his mind," he said quietly.

Her chest went a bit warm at that, at that knowledge. At the thought that Azriel was...fine. That Azriel didn’t...care about Elain's wedding in the slightest.

But a small part of her, a part of her that almost frightened her, couldn't help but wonder....

"It hasn't?" she repeated, and she cursed the thread of hope in her voice.

Rhys studied her for a second or two, as if he, too, could hear the hope in her voice, the need. “No,” he said simply. “It seems that all my spymaster cares about is Elain's twin sister."

***

Azriel should probably consider himself lucky that Nesta hadn't used Ataraxia to cut his throat. Granted, as she had said, the only reason why she didn't was because Eira would be upset if he died.

No, he supposed that was a pretty good reason not to kill him. "And if you ever treat my sister like that again, I'll wring your neck," Nesta hissed.

He didn't doubt that she would.

"Noted," he said, and he was pretty sure he heard Cassian snicker behind them

But what he didn't add was the fact that, if he had that horrible conversation with Eira again, he'd wring himself by the neck. For being such an idiot, such a stupid bastard.

If he ever saw her cry like she had, shake like a leaf because he had broken her heart, shattered it. 

"What are you going to do now?" Cassian asked him. "Anything new on your...wall?"

Ah, the wall.

The wall of doom, as the others had taken to calling it. Or more accurately, 'Azriel's obsessive chart of Eira's life'. 

He had taken the whole thing down. And then put it back up. Put it back up with everything else the shadows could tell him. 

"No," he said. How did he go forward with Eira? How did he...do this? How did he mend things, make things better? He was a Shadowsinger, a spymaster, a warrior and a killer. He had absolutely no idea how to deal with something like this.

"I would suggest you actually try to talk to her this time," Nesta said frostily. "And you owe her an apology as well, Cassian," she hissed.

Cassian let out a long sigh. "Alright," he said, before raising his hands in supplication at the look on Nesta's face. "Alright, I'll talk to her. Jeez, I said I would."

Azriel just suppressed a smile. He had a feeling Cassian had learned to tread very carefully around his mate, not wanting to spark a war between himself and the very, very scary Lady Death of the Night Court.

"That's usually my speciality though," he drawled. "Saying idiotic things. I think it's actually one of my gifts, really."

"Yeah, you've already displayed that gift for Eira, and it was quite a wonderful performance," she said dryly. "Perhaps you could try to make it up to her, hmm?"

"I'll...do my best," he mumbled, and he would, damnit. He would do his absolute best to make this right.

“So where are you going to take her next?” Cassian asked. “I would suggest somewhere you could actually talk to her.”

He'd thought a lot about it, for longer than he really should admit, and he had a few ideas.

"I was actually...thinking of a picnic," he confessed.

"A picnic?" Cassian asked, his voice almost disbelieving. "You and a picnic. Those two words...I never thought I'd hear them in the same sentence, Az."

Azriel just scowled. "What's wrong with a picnic?" he asked, his voice a bit defensive.

"Picnics are for romance," Cassian said, his voice almost gleeful with how teasing it was. "You're going to have a romantic picnic? Is there going to be wine, and roses, and candlelight?"

Azriel felt his heart skip a beat at that...and he had to admit, some of those things actually sounded rather nice...but that didn't mean he was going to admit that.

"Eira doesn't drink wine," Nesta said drily..

Azriel nearly cursed, but caught himself. Right, Eira didn't drink. At all.

Damnit. There went the wine.

"No wine, then," Azriel grumbled. "No wine, but it's still going to be a very romantic picnic, trust me."

"And where do you want to have your very romantic picnic?" Cassian drawled.

"I thought the River Bank at the House," Azriel admitted. She would be comfortable there...If she wanted to get away from him...she easily could.

Cassian actually looked a bit surprised at that. "Huh," he said, sounding a bit impressed against his will. "Didn't think of that. She'll...feel safe there. Plus, there are a few beautiful spots there..."

He swallowed back a bit of the anxiety that he felt. "So...you're saying it's a not completely idiotic idea?"

"It's...definitely a good idea," Cassian conceded. "As long as you actually talk to her this time.  “

"What are you thinking for food?" Nesta asked him pointedly.

She was asking him that question as if he actually knew how to cook anything other than a piece of meat over the fire. He was a court-trained, highly skilled warrior, a Carynthian. He could fight, intimidate, and kill. Asking him to cook? That was a completely different thing…

“I’ll have the shadows pick up some things from a restaurant in the city…that way it will actually be edible,” he answered. 

"I feel like that's probably a very good idea," Cassian said, and Azriel could hear the poorly concealed laughter in his voice.

"Shut up," he growled, but there wasn't enough actual heat in his words. 

“She likes raspberries,” Nesta told him graciously. “She once nearly made herself sick by eating so many of them…If you can get any, she will be delighted,” she promised him. 

Raspberries. He could do raspberries. 

The shadows procured raspberry tarts. He also had them pass Eira a note, asking for her company that evening, receiving her agreement quickly. 

She was giving him a chance. 

Which was how he ended up in the River House with a Picnic Basket, a blanket and a dream.

He chose a place on the bank of the river, a place that was secluded and quiet. A place where he could show Eira that he hadn’t come here to ambush or intimidate her, but to talk to her, to listen.

And then he found her. Waiting for him on the back porch, a book in her hand. 

She hadn't heard him yet, hadn't even noticed him.

He paused, for a moment, taking her in like this.

Beautiful. Even when she was just sitting there, reading and unaware that he was there, she was so damn beautiful that it made him ache inside.

Azriel found his heart catching at the sight of her, the sunlight dappling down through the trees, and the look of near serenity on her face as she read.

He almost didn’t want to disturb her, wanted to just let her remain there as she was, but he pushed down the urge and slowly stepped towards her.

"Eira?" he asked quietly, and it was almost a crime how lovely she looked in the sunlight as she lifted her head from her book, her blue eyes widening in surprise to the sight of him.

"Azriel," she said, her voice soft, and something in his heart twisted as he saw her hands tighten almost imperceptibly on the cover of her book. He swallowed hard, his heart clenching tight at the sight of it.

"I, um," he mumbled, forcing the words from his stupid, clumsy tongue. "I..." He swallowed hard, "I...brought a few things," he finished lamely, setting the picnic basket down at the foot of the porch.

"A picnic," she said, and he could hear the almost faint wonder in her voice. He dared to look up towards her, and saw her watching him, her eyes slightly wide, her lips parted.

"Yes," he said quietly, forcing words past the lump in his throat. "A...picnic," he repeated. "I, um...I thought...If you were willing…"

She was watching him, her blue eyes wide with surprise, the sunlight dappling down across her head, making parts of her braid gleam in gold.

He swallowed once more, his heart clenching in his chest. "I...I wanted to talk to you," he finally managed to confess. "If that’s...if that’s okay."

There was a moment of silence, and he felt like he was going to choke as he watched the different emotions flicker across her eyes.

Surprise, trepidation, hope, and more surprise...and there was a hint of vulnerability in her eyes, as if his words made her scared. Terrified. And he couldn’t blame her, really, not when he had royally messed up last time.

But she slowly nodded, her lips barely curving in the ghost of a smile. “Y—yes,” she said quietly. “I’d like that. Talking, I mean.”

"WIll you come with me?" he asked her, holding out his hand and her smile widened.

He caught a flash of something in her eyes before she slowly stood up, setting her book aside and lifting her own hand to meet his.

He fought the urge to let out a long sigh of relief or to clutch her hand too tightly as she slowly stepped down off the porch, and he gently led her over to the blanket that he had already laid out by the river.

He let go of her hand and watched as she slowly sat down on the blanket, tucking her legs underneath her. Her blue skirts puddled around her and he wondered how she managed to look elegantly while doing it. He stayed standing for a moment, just watching her, taking in the sight of her sitting there on the blanket that he had laid out for her.

Slowly, he also sank down into a sitting position, careful to keep some space between them. He didn’t want to...to startle her, overwhelm her, make her run.

He busied herself with unpacking the food.  

"I love a picnic," Eira said quietly. "When we were still at the cottage, sometimes we ate outside just for a change of scenery. Don't get me wrong, it was...the winters were horrible. But not everything was," Eira whispered. "When we were glamoured...I missed it sometimes. I didn't know what to do with my time when we had staff again. When I didn't need cook, didn't need to harvest vegetables and we could just buy them..."

He had to swallow at that confession. He hadn’t...he hadn’t even realized that she would miss those days, even though of course she would. She’d had...had a life at that cottage, a family, a home.

Even when they had struggled…she still had those things. 

"What do you miss the most?" he asked her curiously, handing her a plate and cutlery, and she thanked him with a smile. 

She went quiet for a moment as she thought about that question, her head tilting faintly to the side before she spoke again.

“I think…” she began, her voice a mere murmur. “I think I miss the animals the most. We were at the edge of a forest...you could see deers sometimes...sometimes stray cats...I loved the stray cats. There was this one...it was ancient. Only had half a tail," she recounted with a laugh. "It used to come visit me when I was gardening...Sun itself in a spot and keep me company, listen to me singing...let me pet it however much I wanted."

He could almost picture that image. Could picture her, singing a soft, quiet song, as a cat sat in a patch of sunlight, enjoying her music.

He found himself wondering...he found himself wondering what other secrets Eira was hiding. How many more things he didn’t know about her. How many things he had never realized, never even thought about before...

"Do you actually enjoy gardening?" he asked her, unable to help himself.

She blinked at that question, looking...surprised he had asked. Then she nodded, a small smile on her lips. "Yes," she confessed. "It was a part of my chores, a part of survival, but I enjoyed it. It was..." She paused as if she almost wasn’t sure how to explain herself. "It was soothing," she confessed quietly. "Gardening...it keeps my hands preoccupied. Busy. And you get a result at the end of it... It...it was good."

"I couldn't hunt...I have absolutely no talent for that...so when Feyre started hunting...I made sure that she didn't need to worry about anything else," she explained.

He swallowed against the lump in his throat as she explained more about how their lives had been at the cottage, at how they had divided their tasks and...how they had survived.

How she had kept Feyre from having even more weight on her shoulders. Had taken that weight onto her own.

He wanted to ask her, wanted to ask her if it had been hard. If the weight of surviving had been too heavy for her.

But he...he didn’t want to push her. Didn’t want to bring up unpleasant memories, not when they finally had a chance to talk to each other.

"And you?" she suddenly asked, jolting him from his thoughts.

"You...you train and fight," she said quietly. “Is...is that soothing for you? Can you just...turn off your brain that way?"

It was a quiet, direct question, and it sent a shard of a shiver down his spine.

He wanted to lie to her about it. Wanted to say that yes, hunting and killing creatures and people was soothing, that he could turn off all of his mind and become the living, breathing blade that he was.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie to her. He found his throat bobbing as he swallowed once more, trying to find the right words to explain himself that wasn’t just excuses.

"Not always," he confessed quietly. "There are nights...there are nights when I can sleep, when I can just let go. When the killing is necessary to keep the people I care about safe," he said.

He was about to go on when his throat was dry, and he had to swallow hard before continuing. "But...there are nights when I can’t," he continued, his voice a painful whisper. "There are nights when the killing is not necessary, and I can’t…I can’t just forget after it."

It was the most open he had ever been with anyone, including his brothers, about the truth of what was inside him.

But with Eira...he wanted to be open. Wanted to be honest. He wanted her to finally know how broken he was, how damaged he was, and see if she would still look at him with those beautiful, wide blue eyes of her and not turn away.

To his surprise, she didn’t. Instead, she...she slowly nodded, that quiet understanding in her gaze.

The expression in her eyes...she understood. She understood how broken he was. How he was nothing more than a weapon. A killing machine in the shape of a male. She understood that brokenness and she wasn’t running.

“You should have a hobby,” she said finally, and there was a soft, teasing lilt in her voice. Surprising him. He expected hesitation, coldness maybe…but she was clearly serious about giving him a chance. 

“A hobby,” she repeated, her voice still so very teasing. “Something to help you wind down, to relax, and to...to keep your mind occupied. Instead of just going to the training rings all the time like Cassian always says you do. It's why I garden, why I sew...why I embroider," she answered honestly. "It calms me. Feyre paints...I do that." He nodded, feeling the lump in his throat growing even larger. 

She sewed and embroidered and gardened. And she did them all to try and calm her mind and heart, to distract herself even a little from how broken the world really was, to try and make something beautiful.

"I like listening to music," he said quietly.

"Like the symphony," Eira recounted and he nodded.

Which reminded him of the harp he had given her...

"I am sorry about the harp," he blurted out.

"Why?" Eira asked him, shock evident on her face. "Why would you be sorry about..."

"I didn't even think about that fact that giving you the same thing that you lost to keep your family from starving was maybe not...the kindest thing to do."

Eira froze for a moment, something like shock flickering across her face before she let out a quiet, somewhat shaky laugh, and he felt a cold ball of fear form in his stomach. She was…she was upset. Surely she had to be upset. But her voice was level and soft when she spoke.

“You really think that it…that it bothers me?” she asked, incredulity in her voice. “That I care that you gave me the same instrument that I had to sell?”

He opened his mouth, ready to tell her that yes, that was exactly what he thought, and that he had hurt her, but she cut him off.

“Azriel,” she said quietly, and the way she said it, the way his name rolled over her tongue, was like a gentle caress. His thoughts stuttered to a halt and he stared at her.

“I…I didn't think twice about that,” Eira confessed quietly. “I am so happy about the harp. About the fact that you gave it to me, and the fact that I can play again, do something that I loved...”

That confession...it was shattering him. He had worried over that harp, over the fact that he had probably reminded her of the worst parts of her life without even realizing it, but here she was, telling him that it hadn't even crossed her mind.

“I…" Azriel swallowed hard, his throat painfully tight, but he forced himself to speak anyway. "Then…you’re not…you’re not upset with me about it?" he asked again, his heart clenching in hope, in terror, in prayer, and she simply shook her head, her eyes still filled with that quiet wonder.

“No,” she murmured to him, her voice so soft and gentle. “No, I am not. How could I be? How could I be upset about the fact that you gave me something that I love, when you did it out of kindness, out of some attempt to make me happy?”

"I went about it wrong," he said quietly. "I should have...I should have actually talked to you. Asked you what you wanted...what you liked to do."

"We can talk. I like talking to you like this," Eira admitted quietly. "Getting to know you...I..."

He felt something in his heart tug at her admission, at her quiet confession. She…she liked talking to him. She wanted to get to know him better, to have him get to know her better.

He couldn’t stop a smile from tugging at his lips as he nodded, hope swelling in his chest.

He felt something in his heart tug at her admission, at her quiet confession. She…she liked talking to him. She wanted to get to know him better, to have him get to know her better.

"I wrote a list of questions," he admitted and she started laughing.

"Is that how the spymaster gets information?" she teased him.

He groaned in embarrassment, feeling the back of his neck starting to flush hotly as she just kept laughing. “Hush,” he muttered, his voice almost pleading. “Please, just hush."

Her laughter was like music, that was all there was to it. It sent something warm and golden through his heart, made him almost dizzy with how lovely it was, and he found himself wanting to hear more of it.

To hear her laugh just like that all the time, for the rest of his life...that would be Heaven.

"What's your favourite colour?" he asked her, and the amusement glinted in her eyes.

“Blue,” Eira answered, honestly, a blush rising on her cheeks. 

Blue.

He hadn’t known that. 

"And yours?" she asked him.

For just a moment he came up empty. What was his favourite colour? Black? "Blue," he answered, honestly. Blue. Blue because it meant coming home. The colour of the sky...of his siphons...of Eira's eyes.

"Favourite Food?" he asked her, clearing his throat.

She had to bite down on her lower lip before answering, trying and failing to keep her amusement from overwhelming her completely. “Favourite food?” she echoed faintly. “You really…a question like that is on your list?”

To his mortification, he was blushing now. He had made that list, trying to come up with as many possible good questions as he could think of. And of course, he had also put some of the stupidest and most mundane questions he could think of on that list as well.

"It is,” he muttered awkwardly, and she outright laughed again, burying her face in her hands this time, but it was a fond sort of laughter. Like she thought the question was ridiculous but was amused and charmed by his effort anyway.

"I want to know you," he admitted quietly.

Her laughter stopped, like she’d suddenly been stunned into silence. She slowly pulled her hands down from her face, that blush on her cheeks still there as she met his eyes.

“I…you do?” she whispered in surprise, and there was a trace of…something in her voice. Hope, perhaps. A hope that he meant what he said.

“Yes,” he answered her quietly, the word coming out in a strangled whisper as a wave of heat washed through him. He meant it. He meant it more than anything.

"Mine is this Illyrian candy that involves nuts and honey," he admitted. "It's so sweet that your teeth get stuck together."

Her eyes widened at that, and her lips parted in surprise. He could practically see her trying to imagine just how sweet those nuts and honey had to be, to make your teeth stick together.

Then she let out a soft laugh, the sound like music to his ears. “Oh goodness,” she muttered. “That sounds like…that sounds like something that tastes amazing and gives you a stomach ache at the same time.”

“It is,” he confessed, and he found himself smiling as he did so. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten…and it makes me feel sick to my stomach if I eat too much of it.”

"Raspberries for me," Eira admitted to him. "I once nearly got myself sick with eating so many of them too."

"Look in the basket," he told her.

She squealed. Squealed as she saw the tarts, her eyes widening in surprise before a look like ecstasy washed over her face. His heart stopped in that moment, his breath catching in his throat as this beautiful female made such an adorable sound over pastries that he had brought, for her.

The shock and surprise on her face lasted for only a moment, before being replaced with absolute and childish joy, and he found a strangled chuckle tearing from his throat.

She’d…she’d squealed. Squealed and made an expression like a happy child on Solstice morning at the sight of raspberry tarts. All at something he had brought.

"How?!" she demanded.

He found himself grinning at her excitement, that childish reaction to seeing a gift in a basket. “I have my ways,” he told her with a hint of smugness in his voice, but he felt a strange rush of pride at the fact that he’d managed to surprise her like this. At the fact that he had given her something that would make her reaction so…adorable.

“In this case, the way was your sister.”

She laughed at that, the sound bright and happy.

[themultifanshipper]

a rare fluffy thought from me but i feel like oscar is initially really closed off and even a little standoffish but once you break past the shell of "scary cool collected guy" he's just a total cuddle bug and needs physical contact 24/7. like the mclaren mechanics have walked in to his drivers room multiple times in the hours leading up to a race or drivers parade and he's just cuddling you on the couch (most of the time you're laying on his chest bc hehe boobie pillows) and it's one of the few things that can help him really get calmed down and in to the race headspace.

am i totally off with this one or did i hit the nail on the head bc i feel like there's no in between for this one

Absolutely he's a cuddler

Warnings: ultra fluffy with a little bit (okay more than a little bit) of suggestive stuff at the end bc I can't help myself hehe

He needs physical contact at all times when he's out of the car. If you're lying down somewhere he'll find you and just shove his face in your boobs for comfort. He'll shove his hands between your thighs to keep them warm because they are alway fucking freezing for some reason.

Even in the shower he can't bear leaving you alone and he'll wrap his arms around you and just stand there with you under the water until it runs cold, kissing the top of your head every now and then because he loves you so so much.

Sometimes the day after a bad race he gets so down he physically can't get out of bed and he clings to you, forcing you to stay in bed all day with him as he runs his hands and mouth all over you, just for comfort. And it eventually lulls you back to sleep but he just keeps going, wrapped around you like a koala, stroking your hair, digging his face into your neck, chest, thighs, stomach... any expanse of flesh he can find, really.

On very good days, like after winning a race, he'll make you sit on his lap and wrap your legs and arms around him, wrapping his own arms around you. He'll kiss up and down your neck and chest whispering “I love you... I love you... I love you...” over and over because he's so lost in the pleasure of feeling your body pressed against his and the beating of your heart under his touch.

He'll get so lost in the closeness that he doesn't even realise when he starts grinding into you, still whispering “I love you, I love you, I love you”, still kissing all over your heated skin, clinging on for dear life to feel as close to you as he possibly can. Every time he ends up finishing in his pants like a teenager just because he can't get enough of the feeling of your heated body writhing in his lap.

He'll just keep grinding mindlessly like a puppy, continuing his endless stream of “I love you, I love you, I love you” and eventually the delicious friction inevitably makes you fall over the edge as well.

Truth be told, he's a bit unhinged about you. He'd dig a hole in your chest and live inside it if he could.

The closest thing he can get is when he slides into you and just stays there, breathing you in, mapping out your skin with his fingers, tracing patterns (usually his name and/or race number) into your flesh for hours until you swear you can feel it branded into your skin.

You two often fall asleep like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, hand roaming, lips exploring, all the while whispering “I love you, I love you, I love you..."

I honestly haven't counted how many times the word "wrap" has appeared in this but I swear I deleted a load of them lmao

[aceyalonso]

ix - the reason i can't think straight has a name

chapter summary : you and oscar spend the night at nonna chiara's cottage to help with "renovations"

alternative summary : sappy couple shit

warnings : swearing, use of the pet names "baby" and good girl", suggestive conversation, smut, oral (both receiving), unprotected sex (use a condom guys!), slight hair pulling, praise kink, slight degradation kink, breeding

word count : 21.7k

a/n : long chapter to make up for the short chapters recently (this is practically porn with a lot of plot)

song : whats the matter with you - lexi jayde

Sunday, 7:31 AM

Y/n slowly opens her eyes, squinting as the sunlight filters through the curtains and into the room. She feels a sense of disorientation for a moment before everything comes back to her. She's still in Oscar's bed, the covers tangled around her legs.

As Y/n tries to turn around, she feels Oscar's arms tighten around her waist, his body pressed close to hers. She can feel the warmth of his chest against her back, his breath tickling her neck.

Oscar's voice is soft in her ear, whispered against her skin. "Don't leave yet," he murmurs, his arms still around her waist. He sounds half asleep, his voice gravelly and low.

Y/n feels a shiver run down her spine at his words, his breath warm against her skin. She relaxes into his embrace, her body molding against his. She has no intention of leaving anyway, but she still turns her head slightly to look at him over her shoulder.

She twists slightly in his arms, trying to turn around so she can see his face. She speaks up, her voice still drowsy. "I just wanted to turn around so I can see you," she says, her words a sleepy mumble. "I wasn't going anywhere."

Oscar lets out a small sigh and loosens his grip on her waist, allowing her to turn around in his arms. He feels her shift her body, moving until they're facing each other. His eyes are half-open as he looks at her, his expression a mix of tenderness and grogginess.

She can see the sleepiness etched on his face, his hair mussed and his eyes heavy-lidded. Despite his disheveled state, he still looks unbearably handsome in the soft light of the early morning.

Y/n smiles sleepily at him, her eyes roaming his features. She reaches out and gently cards her fingers through his messy hair, stroking it back from his face.

Oscar lets out a soft hum, his eyes fluttering shut at the feel of her touch. He leans into her hand, enjoying the soothing sensation of her fingers running through his hair.

Oscar's voice is soft, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. "I like that," he whispers, his eyes still closed as he revels in the feel of her fingers gently scratching his scalp. "Keep doing that, baby."

Y/n smiles, amused by his drowsy response, She continues to run her fingers through his hair, her touch gentle and soothing. She loves seeing him like this, his defenses down and his expression soft and vulnerable.

As she takes her hand out of his hair, she watches his expression closely to see his reaction. He lets out a small noise of protest, his eyes opening slightly. He looks at her with a slight pout, his face a mix of disappointment and fatigue.

"Hey," he mutters, his voice thick with sleep. "Why'd you stop?"

Y/n laughs softly at his response, her heart swelling at how adorably grumpy he looks. "Just wanted to see your reaction Oz," she teases, a playful glint in her eye.

Oscar narrows his eyes at her, a mock glare on his face. "You're so cruel," he grumbles, but there's no real heat behind his words. "I was enjoying that."

Y/n smiles mischievously as she teases him. She loves seeing this playful side of him. "Oh, you were enjoying it, were you?" she says, her tone light and playful. "Poor baby, you'll have to suffer through life without head scratches."

Oscar pretends to pout, a petulant expression on his face. "You're sadistic, you know that?" he grouses, but there's a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Y/n grins as she climbs on top of him, her body settling onto his. "Sorry," she says, her voice light and teasing. Before he can respond, showering him with kisses, peppering his cheeks and neck with small, affectionate kisses.

Oscar can't help but smile, his earlier pout disappearing under the onslaught of her affection. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer against him. He lets out a contented sigh as her lips trail over his skin, his body melting into the mattress.

As she continues to kiss his neck and cheek, Oscar's hands start to move up and down her back in slow, soothing strokes. He trails his fingers over the fabric of her his shirt, tracing lazy shapes and patterns, enjoying the feel of her body against his.

His fingers move in random patterns, drawing circles and spirals on her back, tracing the curves and dips of her spine. He seems to be lost in the simple pleasure of touching her, holding her, having her.

Without warning, Oscar suddenly rolls them over, pinning her body beneath his. His movements are swift and confident, and in a matter of seconds, he's hovering over her, his body pressing her into the bed.

Y/n is momentarily surprised at the sudden change in position, but she quickly recovers and flashes him a smile. She can feel the weight of his body pressed against hers, the heat and strength of him making her heart skip a beat.

With her pinned underneath him, Oscar slowly moves his lips along her neck and shoulders, his kisses soft and lingering. He can feel her skin heating up under his touch, hear her breath hitching ever so slightly as his moves lower, finding sensitive spots that make her gasp.

As Y/n winds her arms around his neck, Oscar smiles against her skin, enjoying the feel of her body pressed against his. He can feel her pulse thrumming under his lips as he continues to kiss and nibble at her neck and shoulders, his touches growing bolder and insistent.

Y/n's fingers find his shoulder blades, feeling the raised and uneven lines of her nails, the souvenirs left from last night's activities. Oscar shivers slightly at the sensation, his body remembering her touch all too vividly.

As her fingers trace over the marks she left on his shoulders, feeling the slight ridges and grooves on his skin. "Do these hurt?" she asks, her voice a soft whisper, her touch gentle and tentative.

Oscar felt a tingle run down his spine at her touch, the sensitive areas where she left her marks coming alive under her fingertips. "A little bit," he admits, his voice a low grumble. "But in a good way, of course."

His words are half-groan, half-confession, betraying his apparent enjoyment of the lingering pain. He lets out a slow breath, his body shuddering slightly as her fingers continue to explore the marks she left.

Oscar looks at her for a moment, his gaze intense and filled with a mixture of tenderness and desire. Then he leans in and captures his lips in a deep, passionate kiss, his mouth moving against hers with practiced ease.

He can feel her response immediately, her body arching up into him, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly. He kisses her hungrily, his tongue slipping into her mouth, tasting and exploring her with a growing need.

As their kiss deepens, Oscar's hands travel lower, moving under the shirt she's wearing. He can feel the warmth and softness of her skin as his palms skim over her stomach, slowly making their way up to her chest. His fingers brush over her breasts, his touch gentle and exploratory.

Y/n gasps softly against his lips, her body responding to his touch. Her hands grasp his biceps, her nails digging into his skin as his fingers move over her sensitive flesh. The feeling of his hands on her body is both stimulating and reassuring, making her feel both vulnerable and secure at the same time.

As he continues to tease her body with his touch, Oscar breaks the kiss and whispers in her ear. "Still sensitive, huh?" he says, his voice dripping with playful smugness. "I guess I did a good job last night, didn't I?"

Y/n responds with a coy smile, her cheeks lightly flushed. "Yeah, you did quite a number on me," she admits, her low and a little breathless. "I'll be feeling it for days, I think."

Oscar lets out a soft chuckle at her words, his ego boosted by her admission. He then moves his attention back to her mouth, recapturing her lips with another deep kiss. He kisses her hungrily, his tongue exploring her mouth with fervor.

Suddenly, the door bangs open and May barges in without knocking. "Hey Osc, have seen Y/n-" She stops abruptly, her eyes widening as she takes in the scene before her. Y/n is in Oscar's bed, covered up by the sheets, and it's clear that both of them are only half-decent.

May stares at them for a moment, her mouth hanging open. There's a brief moment of stunned silence as May just stands there, processing what she's just walked into. Then she quickly closes the door without another word, leaving Oscar and Y/n alone in the room once again.

Oscar lets out a low groan, his face falling onto Y/n's shoulder. "Fucks sake," he mutters, his voice muffled. "I forgot to lock the damn door."

He looks over at Y/n with an apologetic expression. "Sorry," he says, his tone sheepish. "Wasn't expecting May to walk in like that."

Y/n lets out a soft laugh, amused at his expression. "It's okay, she assures him, propping herself up on one elbow. "I doubt it's the first time May's walked in on you with a girl."

Oscar can't help but grin at her words, his embarrassment starting to face. "Yeah, that's true," he says, his tone turning more lighthearted. "My sister has zero concept of personal space, I swear."

Y/n grins at him, her eyes sparkling. "I don't know," she says, her tone teasing. "I'd say her timing was pretty perfect. Gives her something to gossip about for the rest of the day."

Oscar groans and buries his face in her shoulder once more. "Please don't say that," he mutters, his voice muffled against her skin. "I don't need May gossiping about this to everyone in the house. She'll never shut up about it."

Y/n laughs softly, patting his head in mock sympathy. "Aw, poor baby," she teases. "Afraid your little sister is going to give you a hard time?"

Oscar lifts his head to pout at her, his expression bordering on petulant. "You're supposed to be on my side," he grumbles, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Not making fun of me."

Y/n grins, clearly enjoying his pouty expression. "But it's so much funnier to tease you," she says, poking his cheek playfully. "You make such cute faces when you're annoyed."

Oscar lets out another exaggerated sigh, feigning irritation. "You're impossible," he says, his lips twitching in an effort not to smile. "You know that, right?"

Y/n laughs out loud at his response, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "And yet you still like me," she points out, her tone cheeky.

Oscar pretends to consider this for a moment, a mock-thoughtful expression on his face. "Hmm… I suppose you're right," he concedes, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "Despite the fact that you're a complete pain in my ass, I do like you. Strange, isn't it?"

Y/n nods, still grinning. "Very strange indeed," she agrees, her tone playful. "You seem to have a weird preference for girls who like tormenting you."

Oscar moves, kissing her shoulder one more time before sitting down on the edge of the bed. He sits with his back to her, his body still bare except for a pair of boxers. His legs are stretched out on the floor, and he leans over slightly to pick up his shirt from the floor.

As he bends over to pick up his shirt, Y'n takes the opportunity to admire his bare back. Her eyes roam over his skin, her gaze falling on the red scratches she left the night before. They're still visible, a stark contrast to his pale skin.

Y/n gets up from the bed, wrapping her arms around Oscar's waist, and pressing her body against his back. She hugs him from behind, her chin resting on his shoulder. She can feel his body heat and the firmness of his bare skin against her chest.

She nuzzles her face into his neck, taking a deep breath. "You smell good," she says, her voice soft and low. Y/n plants a soft kiss on the sensitive spot below his ear, her lips lingering against his skin. "Like soap and your cologne."

Oscar lets out a soft laugh as Y/n's lips brush against his neck, her affectionate gesture tickling him slightly. "You're so clingy," he teases, his voice a mix of amusement and affection.

Y/n scoffs, lightly nipping his earlobe in retaliation. "I'm not clingy," she protests, her tone a mix of mock offense and playfulness. "I'm just expressing my affection in a physical way. There's a difference."

Oscar laughs again, his body shaking slightly with the force of it. "Yeah, right," he says, his tone light and teasing. "You're like a baby koala. Always clinging to me and refusing to let go."

Y/n grins at his comment, her expression mock-offended. "Says the Australian in the room," she retorts, making a bad impression of his accent. She then adds, with a hint of sarcasm, "Because everyone knows Australians are experts on koala behavior, right?"

Oscar snickers at her attempt to mimic his accent, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "Nice try," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You sound like a bad Crocodile Dundee impersonator."

Y/n shakes her head, her giggles filling the air. "What the hell is a Crocodile Dundee?" she asks, her tone a mix of amusement and confusion. "Is it some kind of weird Australian thing I'm supposed to know?"

Oscar grins at her question, clearly enjoying her ignorance. "You've never heard of Crocodile Dundee?" he asks, his tone incredulous. "It's a classic Australian movie. You know, the one where Paul Hogan runs around in the Outback with a big ass knife, wrestling crocodiles and being an absolute legend."

She raises an eyebrow, her expression a mix of skepticism and intrigue. "That sounds… ridiculous," she says, her voice slightly deadpan. "Are you messing with me, or is that actually a real movie?"

Oscar laughs, clearly amused by her reaction. "I'm not messing with you baby," he assures her. "It's a real movie. And it's a classic. You've got to watch it sometime. It's pure Aussie gold."

Y/n snickers at his enthusiasm, a smirk on her face. "Right, because nothing screams 'quality cinema' like a guy running around in the wilderness wrestling crocodiles," she teases, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Oscar huffs in mock offense, pretending to be wounded by her words. "You're ruining the chemistry between us," he says, his tone overly dramatic. "How dare you make fun of Crocodile Dundee? It's an iconic movie, a true masterpiece of Australian cinema!"

Y/n laughs at his reaction, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, I'm sorry," she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I didn't realize that Crocodile Dundee was sacred and above criticism. Please forgive me, oh great Aussie cinema connoisseur."

Oscar pouts at her, his expression playfully petulant. "I'll only forgive you if you give me a kiss," he says, his voice low and teasing. "You've hurt the delicate ego of an Aussie movie purist, after all. It's a serious offense."

She laughs at his melodramatic declarations, her eyes glittering with humor. "Alright, alright," she concedes, planting a quick kiss on his lips. "I'll appease the Aussie movie purist and his fragile ego."

Oscar grins at her playful compliance, a smug expression on his face. "Good girl," he says, his tone laced with mock self-importance. "You've now officially been forgiven for your blatant Crocodile Dundee defamation."

Y/n looks up at Oscar with her mouth open, her expression a mixture of shock and fascination. "Wait, did you just call me a good girl?" she asks, her voice a mix of incredulity and curiosity.

Y'n holds her hands up in front of her body, her gestures exaggerated. "Oh, god," she says, her voice a mix of surprise and mock frustration. "That just made me so…" She trails off, her cheeks flushing pink. "I mean, you can't just say stuff like that."

Oscar laughs at her reaction, clearly enjoying her flustered state. "Why not?" he asks, his tone smug. "You obviously like it."

Y/n opens and closes her mouth a few times, her usual sass and confidence momentarily lost. "I… I do not," she protests weakly, her voice not quite as convincing as she'd like it to be. "It's just… you can't just say things like that and not expect a reaction."

Oscar laughs heartily at Y/n's flustered reaction, her protest sounding weak even to her own ears. "Sure you don't," he says, his tone dripping with skepticism. He watches as she stands up from the bed, her face still flushed.

Y/n attempts to regain her composure, smoothing her hair back and taking a deep breath. "Shut up," she mutters, her voice a grumble. "Your ego doesn't need any more stroking."

She crosses her arms over her chest, trying to regain her composure. "I'm not running away," she retorts, her voice a little bit too defensive. "I'm just… going to get something to drink, that's all."

Oscar glances down at the shirt she's wearing, which is his. It hangs loosely on her petite frame, the fabric drowning her slightly. A possessive glint shines in his eyes. He crosses his arms, trying to look nonchalant.

"You're going downstairs wearing my shirt, huh?" he says, his tone playful yet a hint of possession seeping through.

Y/n meets his gaze, an amused smile playing on her lips. She's well aware that wearing his clothes is a surefire way to press his buttons. "Yeah, I am," she replies, her voice casual. "Is that a problem?"

Oscar feigns annoyance, his shoulders slumping in exaggerated defeat. "Oh, no, it's not a problem at all," he says, his tone filled with mock irritation. "It's just going to drive me crazy seeing you strutting around in my shirt, looking all adorable and tempting."

Y/n laughs at his response, her expression playful yet a bit smug. "Tempting, huh? I didn't realize my sartorial choices had that much power over you," she teases, her voice light and teasing.

Oscar stands up from the bed, stretching his arms above his head. He watches as Y/n saunters out of the room, his eyes following her every move. The sight of her in his shirt is enough to make his heart race, and the thought of her parading around the house in it is both endearing and torturous.

Y/n descends the stairs, her hair a tangled mess framing her face. She's still wearing Oscar's shirt, the fabric swallowing her small frame. It's obvious she hasn't bothered to look in the mirror or even attempt to tame her bedhead.

As she enters the kitchen, she heads straight for the refrigerator, rummaging around for something to drink. She's completely unaware of how disheveled she looks or how tempting she is in Oscar's oversized shirt.

Meanwhile, Oscar is upstairs, grumbling to himself about how unfair it is for her to look so adorable in his clothes. He contemplates going downstairs but decides to stay put, knowing it would only fuel her sassiness.

Hattie, Oscar's sister, steps into the kitchen with a cheerful smile on her face. "Good morning," she greets, her voice sing-song and cheerful. She looks at Y/n, taking in her disheveled appearance with an amused expression.

Hattie notices the oversized shirt Y/n is wearing and raises an eyebrow, a sly grin on her face. "Is that Scar's shirt you're wearing?" she asks, her voice dripping with curiosity.

Y/n blushes at her observation, feeling a bit embarrassed to be caught in her current state. "Uh, yeah… it is," she admits, her voice shy.

Hattie grins widely, her eyes dancing with mischief. "I knew it!" she exclaims, obviously amused by the situation. "You're practically swimming in it. It looks like you're wearing a tent."

Y/n laughs, feeling a bit self-conscious about how oversized the shirt is on her small frame. "Yeah, it's a bit big on me," she admits, fidgeting with the hem of the shirt.

Hattie chuckles as she leaves Y/n alone in the kitchen, clearly enjoying the interaction. Her departure leaves Y/n standing by herself, still holding a glass of water and feeling a bit exposed in the oversized shirt.

She takes a small sip from the glass, trying to calm her nerves. The silence in the kitchen is deafening, her thoughts racing with self-consciousness. She glances towards the stairs, wondering if she should go back upstairs or stay here.

Before she can make a decision, footsteps sound from above, growing louder as someone descends the stairs. Y/n turns her head towards the sound, her heart rate quickening with a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

She realizes it's Oscar coming down the stairs, and her heart skips a beat as he enters the kitchen. His eyes immediately land on her, his gaze roaming over her frame, taking in the sight of her wearing his shirt.

Oscar walks towards Y/n, a soft smile spreading across his face. He stands in front of her, his eyes roaming over her petite form, the way her hair is a tangled mess around her shoulders, and the way his shirt hangs on her.

He reaches out and brushes a strand of hair away from her face, his touch gentle. "You look adorable in my shirt," he says, his voice low and affectionate.

His eyes linger on the collar of the shirt, the way it hangs off her left shoulder, revealing a glimpse of her bare skin. He can't help the possessive streak that runs through him, the knowledge that she's wearing his shirt makes him feel a sense of pride and desire.

Y/n returns his smile, her heart fluttering in her chest at his affectionate gaze. She feels a bit self-conscious under his intense gaze, but at the same time, she's also strangely pleased that she's able to provoke such a reaction in him.

She reaches up and fiddles with the hem of the shirt, fidgeting with the fabric as she tries to hide her nervousness.

Oscar's eyes track her fingers as they fidget with the hem of the shirt, his mind going to less-than-innocent places. He steps closer, invading her personal space, his body nearly pressing against hers.

He leans down, his head coming to rest on her shoulder. He breathes in her scent, his nose nuzzling into the crook of her neck. The proximity between them is intimate, his body heat enveloping her.

Their moment is interrupted as Y/n's mother walks into the kitchen, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight before her. Y/n and Oscar quickly straighten up, both feeling a bit sheepish to be caught in such an intimate position.

Y/n's mother raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "Well, good morning, you two," she says, her tone dripping with playful sarcasm. "I see you're both up and… cozy."

Y/n feels her cheeks flush as her mom glances from her to Oscar, her knowing gaze missing nothing. Oscar, on the other hand, looks a bit sheepish, his cheeks slightly pink. He clears his throat and attempts to put some distance between them, but it's a bit too late to make things look innocent.

Y/n's mother grins, clearly enjoying the situation. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she says, her tone laced with amusement. She heads over to the coffee maker, preparing her morning cup. "Don't mind me. Just continue what you were doing."

She shoots her mom a mortified look, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She glances at Oscar, hoping he'll say something to diffuse the situation, but he looks just as embarrassed as she feels. They both stand there awkwardly, trying to appear casual while under her mom's watchful eye.

Y/n's mom pours herself a cup of coffee, taking a sip before turning back to them. "You know," she says, her voice dripping with feigned innocence. "That shirt looks awfully big on you, Y/n. Where'd you get it?"

Y/n's cheeks burn even hotter as her mom's words hit home. She knows her mom has already figured out Oscar is the source of the oversized shirt. She darts a guilty glance at Oscar, then looks away, unable to meet either her mom's or his gaze.

Oscar looks sheepishly at the ground, his mind searching for something, anything, to say to break the tension. But he's at a loss for words, feeling like he's been caught red-handed. He fidgets with the hem of his shirt, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Y/n's mom watches their embarrassed reactions, clearly amused by the situation. She grins at the both of them, her eyes twinkling with playful mischief. "Don't worry, I won't tell your father," she says, taking another sip from her coffee cup. "But maybe try to be a little less obvious next time, huh?"

Y/n's shoulders sag with relief at her mom's words. She shoots her a grateful look, silently thanking her for being understanding. Oscar, on the other hand, lets out a relieved breath, grateful that the whole thing didn't escalate further. But he can't help feeling a bit embarrassed that they were so easily caught in such an intimate moment by her mother.

Y/n's mom exits the kitchen, a smirk still on her face. Once she's gone, the kitchen falls into an awkward silence. Y/n and Oscar stand there, their bodies still close to each other, but neither of them knows what to say. The intimacy of the moment earlier is now replaced by a sense of embarrassment and mild mortification.

Oscar breaks the silence, his voice low. "Well, that's the second time we've been caught," he mutters, a hint of annoyance in his tone. "We really need to work on being more discreet."

Y/n snickers at his comment, amused despite their embarrassing situation. "Yeah, apparently we suck at being sneaky," she replies, a smirk on her face. "We might need to invest in some ninja lessons."

Oscar laughs at her response, the embarrassment from before slowly fading. "Yeah, or at least wear more camouflage-friendly clothes," he teases, gesturing to the oversized shirt she's wearing. "That thing's like a giant 'Property of Oscar' billboard."

Y/n laughs, gently swatting his arm with her hand. "Hey, this shirt's comfortable," she defends, running her fingers over the soft fabric. "And it smells like you… which is nice."

Oscar's expression softens at her words, the possessiveness flaring up again at the knowledge that she's wearing his shirt, his scent enveloping her. He reaches out and tugs on the end of one of the too-long sleeves, a playful grin on his face.

"It looks good on you," he says, his voice suddenly lower, his gaze lingering on her frame. "But I gotta admit… I prefer it off."

Y/n blushes at his words, her heart rate quickening with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. She playfully smacks his arm again, trying to play it cool, but she can't help the shiver that runs down her spine at his suggestive implication.

Oscar grins at her reaction, clearly pleased with himself for making her blush. He steps closer, invading her personal space once again. He reaches out and tugs on the hem of the shirt, his fingers brushing against her skin. "You know… it'd be really tempting to just pull this shirt right off of you," he murmurs, his voice low and suggestive.

Y/n tries to act coy, but she can't help the fluttering in her chest as his words send a jolt of excitement through her. She jokingly jabs a finger into his chest, feigning a stern expression. "Hey, don't even think about it," she warns, her voice firm but with a hint of playfulness. "We just got caught by my mom, remember? We can't be doing stuff in the kitchen now."

Oscar grins at her faux-stern demeanor, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "You're no fun," he teases, feigning a pout. "But… you're right. Your mom would probably kill me if she walked in on us in the middle of… well, you know."

Y/n laughs, shaking her head at his shamelessness. "Yeah, I'd rather not have you die a painful death today," she replies, rolling her eyes. "Let's focus on something less mortifying, like breakfast maybe?"

Oscar hums, considering their options. "How about we head over to your Nonna Chiara's café for breakfast?" he suggests, a smile on his face. "I could go for some coffee right now."

Y/n's face lights up at the suggestion. "Ooh, that sounds great!" she says, her taste buds already anticipating the delectable pastries and rich espresso the café is known for. "I could definitely go for a mocha and a muffin right now."

Y/n laughs along with Oscar, both of them feeling excited about their morning plans. "Alright," she says, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Give me ten minutes to freshen up, and I'll meet you in the living room."

Oscar nods in agreement, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before she excuses herself to go prepare. He watches her go, admiring the sight of her in his shirt before turning to go get ready himself.

Sunday, 7:52 AM

The ten minutes pass quickly, and soon enough, Oscar finds himself waiting in the living room, checking the time on his phone. He runs his hand through his hair in anticipation, looking forward to the morning out with Y/n at Nonna Chiara's café.

As he waits, he glances around the room, his eyes roaming over the family photos on the walls and various trinkets scattered here and there. It's a cozy, comfortable space, but he's impatient to get going, eager to spend some time alone with Y/n.

Just as he starts to wonder if she's taking too long, Y/n emerges from the hallway, looking refreshed and ready to go. She sports a pair of jeans and a light jacket to ward off the morning chill. Her hair is pulled back in a simple ponytail, and a playful smile graces her lips.

"Sorry for the wait," she says, not looking sorry at all. "Ready to go?"

Oscar takes in her appearance, his eyes scanning over her in appreciation. She looks lovely, as usual, but there's something extra about seeing her in his clothes that makes his heart skip a beat.

"Yeah," he replies, his voice betraying a hint of impatience. "Let's get going. I'm starving."

He stands up from the sofa, shoving his phone into his pocket. He crosses the room to her side, his hand instinctively reaching for her waist to guide her towards the door.

Y/n grins at his eagerness, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Someone's hungry," she teases, batting his hand away from her waist. "And impatient, as usual."

She steps away from his reach, heading towards the front door. As she passes him, she brushes a hand across his chest, her touch feather-light.

Oscar suppresses a grumble at her teasing, the brief contact of her hand on his chest making him want to pull her back to him. He's tempted to grab her and press her against him, but he holds himself back, knowing they need to get going before they do something they'd regret.

He follows her to the door, his gaze focused on the sway of her hips in her jeans. He swallows hard as he imagines pulling her closer, his hands on her hips, his lips against her neck…

Y/n can feel his gaze on her back, the intensity of his thoughts almost palpable in the air. She glances at him over her shoulder, catching him staring, and smirks.

"Keep your hands to yourself, Oz," she teases, her tone light but with a hint of warning.

Once outside, Y/n and Oscar head towards Y/n's car parked in the driveway. Before they reach the vehicle, Oscar swoops in front of her and grabs the keys from her hand.

"I'll drive," he says, a smirk on his face as he unlocks the car.

Y/n lets out a huff, feigning annoyance at his audacity. She crosses her arms over her chest, a small smile playing on her lips. "You're so bossy," she accuses, but there's no real heat behind her words.

Oscar grins as he opens the passenger door for her, gesturing for her to get in. "And you love it," he responds, his tone cocky but with a hint of affection.

Y/n rolls her eyes, but she can't deny the truth in his words. She climbs into the seat, muttering under her breath about his bossy tendencies. But as he closes the door and walks around to the driver's side, she can't help the flutter of her heart at his gentlemanly gesture.

Once he's in the driver's seat, he glances over at her, the mischievous gleam in his eye. He starts the car, the engine purring to life.

"Seatbelt," he instructs, his voice low and commanding.

Y/n lets out a scoff, but she complies, pulling the seatbelt across her chest and buckling it. She crosses her arms again, feigning irritation at his tone but secretly enjoying the authoritative way he speaks to her.

As Oscar pulls out of the driveway and merges onto the road, a comfortable silence settles between them. He lets one hand rest casually on the gearshift, his fingers tapping out a steady rhythm against the leather.

Y/n looks out the window, watching the scenery pass by in a blur of colors. The silence in the car isn't uncomfortable, but there's a tension hanging in the air between them, an unspoken anticipation of what's to come once they arrive at the café.

As they drive, Oscar glances over at her every so often, admiring her profile and the way the sunlight streaming through the window kisses her skin. He wants to say something, to fill the silence with words of affection or dirty promises, but he knows that waiting is a part of the fun.

Y/n can feel his eyes on her, the heat of his gaze making her skin tingle. She steals a glance at him, her heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his eyes. She wants to act nonchalant, to pretend she doesn't feel his eyes on her, but she can't keep the hint of a smile off her face.

The drive doesn't take long, and soon enough, they're pulling into the parking lot near the familiar plaza. Oscar parks the car and turns off the engine, the sudden silence in the car deafening. He looks over at her, the tension rising between them.

Y/n unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to him, her heart beating faster as she meets his gaze. The silence in the car makes the sound of her own breathing seem loud, and she can swear she can see his pulse pounding in his neck.

Oscar leans closer to her, his hand reaching out to grasp the back of her neck. He pulls her towards him, his voice a whisper.

"We don't have to go in just yet, you know." Oscar grins, his eyes darkening as he gazes at her.

His fingers trail down the side of her neck, the caress gentle but possessive. He leans a little closer, his lips hovering near hers. "I can think of a few things we can do in the car."

Y/n laughs softly at his suggestion, the sound filled with a mix of amusement and desire.

"You're impossible," she teases, even as her heart hammers in her chest. "We're in public, remember? You'll just have to control yourself for a little while longer."

Oscar's hand drops from her neck, and he leans back in his seat, his expression a mask of mock disappointment.

"You're no fun," he pouts, his tone whiny. "But I suppose you're right. Can't have those old ladies in the café seeing us get handsy in the car."

Y/n giggles at his pouting expression, finding his theatrics endearing. She reaches out and playfully swats his shoulder.

"Oh, stop being such a drama queen," she teases, her tone light. "You can survive a few hours without fucking me, I'm sure."

Oscar feigns offense at her words, his hand flying to his chest in a dramatic gesture. But there's a spark of heat in his eyes as he looks at her.

"Hours?" he asks, his tone exaggeratedly melodramatic. "You're going to make me suffer for hours, huh?"

Y/n laughs again, enjoying their playful banter. "I suppose I am," she replies, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "You'll just have to find something else to occupy your mind. Like coffee and pastries."

As they leave the car and approach Nonna Chiara's cafe, the scent of freshly brewed espresso and pastries wafts out from the open doors. The cafe is situated in a quaint building, painted a soft yellow with a green awning over the entrance. Inside, patrons sit at tables chatting and sipping their morning drinks, creating a lively atmosphere.

Oscar opens the door for Y/n, gesturing for her to go in first. As they step inside, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods fills their senses, their mouths immediately watering in anticipation. A bell jingles above their head, signaling their arrival, and a few people glance up before returning to their conversations.

As they step up to the register, they find Nonna Chiara standing behind the counter, smiling warmly at them. The elderly woman is wearing a white apron dusted with flour, and her hair is pulled back into a neat bun. She greets them in her lilting Italian accent.

"Buongiorno!" she says, eyes sparkling. "I hoped you would be coming by today."

Nonna Chiara looks at them both, taking in their casual attire and the way they stand close together. She smiles knowingly.

"Is it just the two of you today?" she asks, a hint of mirth in her voice.

Nonna Chiara's expression brightens at Y/n's as she nods her head yes, and her eyes dart between the two of them.

"Ah, I see," she says, a knowing smile on her lips. "I was hoping the young lady who enjoyed my tiramisu would return."

Nonna Chiara chuckles along with them, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She takes down their orders, jotting them down on a small notepad. Y/n and Oscar place their order, their mouths watering at the thought of the pastries and coffee they're about to enjoy.

Once they've placed their orders, Oscar looks around the cafe, taking in the cozy atmosphere. It's the kind of place they could spend hours in, sipping coffee and talking about everything and nothing at all.

Daniel brings their food out to them. He places the food on the table with a smile before doing a double take as he spots Oscar and Y/n. His jaw drops slightly, clearly surprised to see them here together.

He manages to collect himself quickly, but it's clear he's trying to process this unexpected turn of events. He glances over at Nonna Chiara, who smiles innocently, clearly enjoying the young man's confusion.

"Uh, enjoy your food," Daniel manages to say, his voice a little shaky. He gives one more incredulous look before walking back to the counter, clearly bewildered by the sight of Y/n and Oscar.

Daniel nods awkwardly, still clearly confused, and walks back to the counter. Nonna Chiara watches the exchange with a satisfied smile, clearly pleased that she managed to surprise Daniel.

Y/n notices Daniel whispering to Nonna Chiara, their heads close together. She can't hear what they're saying, but it's clear they're talking about her and Oscar. Nonna Chiara glances over, catching Y/n's eye and giving her a wink, clearly amused by the situation.

As they dig into their food, Y/n chuckles at the sight of Daniel's bewilderment. She can only imagine what Nonna Chiara has told him about them, and she's amused by the effect it's having on her poor uncle.

Oscar, oblivious to the gossip at the counter, is busy enjoying his food. He chews slowly, savoring every bite. Occasionally, he glances at Y/n, noticing her chuckling under her breath.

Once they've finished their meal, Y/n and Oscar make their way to the counter to pay. Nonna Chiara is standing there, still sporting a satisfied smile on her face. Behind her, Daniel is still trying to process what he's just witnessed, still looking bewildered.

As Y/n hands over the money, Nonna Chiara leans in with a sly smile on her lips. She whispers in Y/n's ear, her voice too low for Oscar to hear.

"Looks like he's your boyfriend this time around," she says, her tone approving. "I can see the way he looks at you. Like you're the only one in the room."

Y/n blushes at Nonna Chiara's words, her heart fluttering at the thought of Oscar looking at her like that. She glances back at him, and sure enough, he's watching her with a warm, affectionate gaze.

Nonna Chiara chuckles, noticing Y/n's blush and the look on Oscar's face. "Young love," she says, patting Y/n's hand gently. "It's a beautiful thing. Just remember to hold onto each other tight, okay?"

Y/n nods, her heart swelling with a mix of gratitude and tenderness at Nonna Chiara's words. She can't help but feel touched by the older woman's wisdom and affection.

Nonna Chiara looks at Y/n with a twinkle in her eye, her mind already forming a plan. She smiles warmly and asks, "By the way, do you remember that old cottage me and Daniel fixed up a while back? The one we turned into an Airbnb?"

Y/n nods, recalling the quaint cottage Nonna Chiara is referring to. "Yeah, I remember," she says, her curiosity piqued by the older woman's question. "What about it?"

Nonna Chiara leans in again, her voice low and conspiratorial. "You know, I've got a little secret for you," she whispers. "If you and that handsome boyfriend of yours ever want some time alone, you can always stay at that cottage. Daniel and I haven't rented it out yet.

Y/n's heart leaps at the suggestion, her mind immediately filled with possibilities - both the innocent and not-so-innocent. Spending time with Oscar in a cozy cottage, tucked away from the world, sounds like a dream come true.

She glances back at Oscar, who's engaged in a conversation with Daniel. The idea of spending a night away with him, no distractions, no interruptions, is incredibly tempting.

Nonna Chiara notices the look in Y/n's eyes and smiles, clearly pleased with the idea she's planted in the young woman's mind. "Something to think about, no?" she says, her voice knowing.

Y/n can only nod, her mind already running through the various scenarios that could play out in the secluded cottage. The thought of being alone with Oscar, their worries and responsibilities far away, makes her heart race with excitement.

Nonna Chiara leans in once more, her hand gripping Y/n's arm gently. "If you ever decide to take me up on my offer," she says, her voice a soft murmur, "just remember, the key's under the flower pot with the red chrysanthemums." She gives Y/n a wink before stepping back, her eyes dancing with mischief.

Y/n nods again, committing the location of the key to memory. She glances over at Oscar and Daniel, who are still engaged in conversation. The idea of having a secret retreat, a place just for the two of them, is intoxicating.

She can't wait to tell Oscar about the cottage, to see the look in his eyes when she tells him about the possibility of spending time together in seclusion. The anticipation is already making her pulse race.

Y/n thanks Nonna Chiara for the information and rejoins Oscar, her heart filled with giddy excitement at the prospect of a romantic getaway.

As they leave the cafe, Y/n and Oscar step out into the warm sunshine, strolling arm in arm down the cobblestone square. They wander past little boutique shops and cafes, the air filled with the chatter of passersby and the sound of soft music spilling out of open doors. The atmosphere is relaxed and peaceful, and Y/n can feel the tension leaving her body as they walk.

They window shop together, browsing through the wares in the store windows. From time to time, Oscar will stop to point out something that catches his eye, and Y/n will laugh and tease him about his questionable taste. But really, she's enjoying every moment they spend together, soaking in his company and his presence like a warm, comforting blanket.

As they stroll along, Y/n glances up at Oscar and takes a deep breath. She turns to him, a sly smile on her face. "Hey, you know what Nonna Chiara said to me before we left the cafe?"

Oscar looks down at her, his brow furrowing slightly in curiosity. "I have a feeling you're about to tell me," he replies, his tone amused. "What did she say?"

Y/n grins, excitement bubbling up in her chest. "She told me that if we ever wanted to have some alone time, we could stay at this cottage she and Daniel renovated as an Airbnb," she explains. "It's secluded, cozy... perfect for some alone time if you ask me."

Oscar's eyes light up at the mention of the cottage. He can't help but feel intrigued by the idea of spending time alone with Y/n in a secluded cottage. The more he thinks about it, the more appealing it becomes.

"Seriously?" he asks, a hint of desire in his voice. "That sounds amazing. I'd love to have some time alone with you, away from everything and everyone."

Y/n grins at Oscar's enthusiasm, but she quickly sobers up as she reminds him of their predicament. "Yeah, it sounds great, but we'll need a good excuse if we're going to actually go," she says, her tone slightly sheepish. "How are we going to justify spending multiple days at a secluded cottage without raising any eyebrows?"

Oscar ponders for a moment, his fingers tapping against his chin thoughtfully. He knows Y/n's right - they'll need a good explanation if they want to spend time together in secret. He racks his brain for a plausible excuse, his frustration growing as his mind goes blank.

"Damn it, why is it so hard to plan?" Oscar mutters, his frustration creeping into his voice. "I can't think of a single excuse that won't look suspicious as hell."

Y/n reaches out and pats his arm soothingly. "Don't worry, we'll think of something," she says, though she can feel a hint of worry creeping into her own heart. They need a solid plan if they're going to successfully pull this off.

They continue walking, silently contemplating their options. They need an explanation that will hold up to scrutiny but also won't give away the true nature of their trip. It's a fine line to walk, and they both know it.

Y/n's eyebrows shoot up as a thought suddenly occurs to her. She turns to Oscar, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Wait, I've got it. I have an idea."

Y/n glances up at Oscar, her face breaking into a sly smile. "Okay, here's my idea," she says, excitement in her voice. "We'll tell our parents that Nonna Chiara needs our help with some last-minute renovations at the cottage. She can't find anyone else, and we're the only ones she can depend on. It's a great excuse, don't you think."

Y/n continues, her mind racing with all the possibilities. "And the best part is, if the forecast calls for rain tomorrow night, we can say we got caught in the storm and had to stay the night. They'll have no reason to doubt us, and we'll have a perfect excuse for being there together."

Oscar nods, his face lighting up as he realizes how perfect the plan is. It's simple, believable, and gives them exactly the cover they need. He grins at Y/n, impressed with her quick thinking.

"That's brilliant," he says, admiration in his voice. "They'll never suspect a thing. And if we happen to get stuck there for more than one night... well, that's just a happy coincidence, right?"

Y/n laughs, her heart racing with excitement at the prospect of their secret getaway. The pieces are falling into place, and she can almost feel the peace and comfort of the secluded cottage already. She grins up at Oscar, feeling like they're one step closer to their romantic retreat.

Oscar grins as he swings his arm over Y/n's shoulders, pulling her closer to him. He plants a quick, affectionate kiss on her cheek, his lips warm and soft against her skin. Y/n's heart skips a beat at the gesture, a blush creeping up her neck.

"What was that for?" she teases, her voice filled with playful curiosity.

Oscar laughs with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Oh, nothing," he says, feigning innocence. "Just felt like it, that's all."

Y/n rolls her eyes, shaking her head but unable to suppress her smile. "Uh-huh, sure," she replies, pretending to act annoyed. "You just can't keep your hands to yourself, can you?"

Oscar grins wider at her teasing, his arm tightening around her shoulders. "What can I say? You're too irresistible," he replies, his voice dripping with mock arrogance. "I can't help myself."

Y/n and Oscar stroll into the quaint vintage vinyl shop, the smell of old records and musty paper filling their noses. Rows and rows of records line the walls, each one meticulously organized and waiting for a new home. The air is filled with the soft sound of jazz music playing from a worn-in record player.

Y/n's eyes light up as she takes in the scene, the nostalgia washing over her like a wave. She loves the feel of vinyl, the weight of the records in her hands, the way the needle scratching the surface creates a sound that can't be replicated digitally.

She heads over to the jazz section, her fingers skimming over the spines of the records, reading the titles with a smile. Oscar follows close behind, his own eyes scanning the selection. He pulls out a record, examining it with interest.

Oscar's gaze falls on a worn copy of Double Fantasy by John Lennon. He lifts it gently from the shelf, the sleeve cover tattered and faded. He turns it over in his hands, admiring the track listing on the back.

"Hey, look at this," he says, holding up the record for Y/n to see. "It's Double Fantasy. Do you know this album?"

Y/n glances over, her face lighting up at the sight of the record. "Of course," she replies. "John Lennon, 1980. It's got all the hits on it. Hard Times Are Over, I'm Losing You, and of course, Beautiful Boy. It's a classic."

Oscar nods in agreement, his finger tracing over the track listing. "Yeah, it's a masterpiece. Lennon was a genius, there's no denying that." He puts the record back on the shelf, his eyes continuing to scan the other titles.

Y/n watches him with a smile, happy to see him so engrossed in the music. She glances over at the jazz section, her eyes dancing over the titles until she spots a familiar one. She picks it up, holding it reverently in her hands.

She lifts the copy of A Love Supreme by John Coltrane, its cover battered and worn from years of being loved. She runs her fingers over the title, her heart swelling with a sense of nostalgia.

"A Love Supreme," she says, her voice filled with awe. "My dad used to play this album all the time when I was a kid. It always felt like a spiritual experience, listening to it. I haven't heard it in years."

Oscar chuckles, still holding onto the John Lennon vinyl. "Looks like we both have a thing for the classics," he says, gesturing to the John Coltrane record in Y/n's hands.

Y/n looks at the John Lennon vinyl in Oscar's hands, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Hey, we should totally recreate the album cover," she says, her voice filled with excitement. "It'll be so corny, but so fun. C'mon, let's do it."

Oscar laughs, amused by her suggestion. "You want to recreate the album cover? Really? That's cheesy as hell."

Y/n grins, her eyes sparkling with determination. "Exactly. It's so cheesy it's irresistible. Please, please, pretty please?" She bats her eyelashes exaggeratedly, giving him her best puppy dog eyes.

Oscar rolls his eyes, pretending to act put upon, but he's secretly finding her begging adorable. He can never refuse her anything. "Fine, fine," he says, giving in. "Let's do it."

Y/n places her phone atop a nearby shelf, angling it so that the front-facing camera is aimed toward them. She sets the timer, giving them just a few seconds to strike a pose.

Y/n quickly holds the John Lennon vinyl up in front of their faces, trying to mimic the iconic album cover. Meanwhile, Oscar only looks at her in confusion, realizing what she's doing but not having enough time to react. The camera snaps the picture just as Oscar's face registers surprise, and Y/n laughs at the ridiculous end result.

As they laugh at the ridiculous photo, Y/n realizes that she didn't execute her plan as she intended. She quickly explains that she meant for them to pose behind the vinyl, so it looks like they're kissing in the picture. Oscar chuckles, shaking his head in amusement at her mistake. "You mean like this?" he says, taking the vinyl from her and holding it up between them, leaning in close with a playful grin on his face.

Y/n grins, nodding her head in agreement. "Yes, exactly like that," she says, her heart racing with anticipation. She steps closer to him, their bodies nearly touching as he holds the vinyl up between them.

She sets up the phone again, readjusting the angle to capture the perfect shot. She presses the shutter button, feeling a flutter in her chest as she waits for the camera to snap the picture. The vinyl obscures their faces, leaving their heads just barely visible behind them, creating the illusion of a coy kiss.

As their faces hide behind the vinyl, Oscar takes advantage of the moment and impulsively leans in, pressing his lips against hers in a soft kiss. Y/n's eyes widen in surprise, but she quickly melts into the kiss, savoring the feeling of his lips against hers.

Time seems to stand still as they share a tender, secret moment behind the album cover. Oscar's hand moves to the small of her back, pulling her closer, while Y/n's fingers find his hair, tangling in the soft strands.

As they pulled away from the kiss, Y/n burst into laughter, her heart pounding in her chest. The idea of trying to recreate the album cover had been silly enough, but Oscar's impulsive kiss had taken it to a whole new level. She can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Oscar grins at the sound of her laughter, his heart swelling with affection. He couldn't deny that he had been feeling impulsive, but the fact that she found their little moment so amusing only made it more special to him. He watches her, enjoying the way her eyes shine with laughter and the way her cheeks flush pink.

As her laughter dies down, Y/n playfully smacks Oscar's arm. "You sneaky little devil," she says, trying to sound stern but failing miserably due to her wide grin. "I was trying to recreate the album cover, and you go and kiss me instead."

yn.jpg ♫ John Lennon • Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)

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sienna_cresenzo DID I MISS A CHAPTER??

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may.piastri please pay for my therapy for what I walked in on earlier, thank you ↳ yn.jpg it's your fault you didn't knock ↳ may.piastri :(

Sunday, 1:19 PM

Oscar and Y/n eventually pull themselves away from the vinyl records, their arms laden with bags filled with vintage gems. They exit the quaint shop and step outside into the warm sunlight. Checking their watches, they realize it's already a little after 1pm.

Y/n looks at Oscar, feeling a pang of disappointment that their little adventure had to come to an end. "We should probably head back," she says, her voice tinged with reluctance.

Oscar nods, his expression mirroring her disappointment. "Yeah, I guess so," he replies, slinging a bag over his shoulder. "But this was fun, right?"

Oscar and Y/n walk back to the car, their footsteps in sync as they retrace their path. The sun beats down on them, but the warmth of the summer air is a pleasant contrast to the coolness of the vinyl shop. They toss their newfound treasures into the trunk, sighing in satisfaction at a perfect afternoon well spent.

Oscar climbs into the driver's seat and keys the ignition, the engine roaring to life. He glances over at Y/n, a smile on his face as he starts the journey back home.

The drive back is filled with easy conversation and the hum of the engine, the sun beating down on them through the windows. Every now and then, Oscar reaches over to hold Y/n's hand, his thumb tracing small circles on her skin. Every moment feels precious and fleeting.

Y/n rests her head against the window, feeling content and at peace. She gazes out at the passing scenery, watching the trees and houses pass by as they make their way back. Every so often, she steals a glance at Oscar, her heart swelling with affection for the boy sitting beside her.

Suddenly, Oscar makes a turn that Y/n doesn't recognize, causing her heart to skip a beat. She looks at him with a puzzled expression, a hint of unease in her voice.

"Where are we going?" she asks, her voice slightly shaky.

Oscar chuckles warmly, noticing the nervousness in her tone. "Don't worry," he reassures her, his hand covering hers comfortingly. "I just want to take us on a little detour before we head back."

Oscar pulls the car to a stop atop a secluded hill, the view of the city sprawling before them in all its glory. The sun casts a golden hue over the landscape, the buildings and trees bathed in the warm light. Y/n gazes out of the car window, her eyes wide in wonder and curiosity at the unexpected turn of events.

Oscar kills the engine and turns to Y/n with a smile. "Come on," he says, his voice filled with excitement. "There's something I want to show you."

Y/n's heart thumps in her chest as she unbuckles her seatbelt and steps out of the car, following Oscar's lead. The air is warm and a little bit crisp, carrying the scent of wildflowers and open space. The soft sound of crickets chirping in the nearby bushes accompanies their footsteps as they make their way to the edge of the hill.

Y/n walks beside Oscar, her hand finding his as they approach the edge of the bluff. The view is even more breathtaking from here, the city lights twinkling below them like a sea of stars. But Y/n senses there's something more, something that Oscar is leading her to.

Oscar stops at the edge of the bluff and looks out at the view, a contemplative look on his face. "It's probably not the most ideal time to be up here," he muses aloud. "The sun's beating down pretty hard, and there's no shade. But the view is worth it, don't you think?"

Oscar turns to Y/n, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I actually stumbled upon this place while I was out on my run a few days ago," he reveals. "I thought it was too beautiful not to share with you."

Y/n gazes at Oscar, a mix of admiration and surprise on her face. "I can't believe I've never found this place before," she says, a hint of disappointment in her voice. "I've been going to Italy every summer for as long as I can remember, and yet I've never stumbled upon this spot." Her eyes widen as she takes in the breathtaking view once again, feeling like she's seeing Italy in a whole new light.

But as she turns back to Oscar, her disappointment fades, replaced by a sense of gratitude. "I'm glad you found it," she says quietly. "And I'm glad you wanted to share it with me."

Oscar wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to his side. "I couldn't keep it to myself," he says, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Especially since I knew you'd appreciate it as much as I do."

Y/n leans into his embrace, feeling a flutter in her heart. The warmth of his touch chases away any lingering disappointment, and she feels a rush of gratitude for the boy standing beside her. The sun's rays cast a warm glow over their bodies, the heat of the day mixing with the heat of their affection.

They stand there in silence for a while, simply enjoying the beauty of their surroundings and the closeness of one another. The sound of the wind rustling through the trees mixes with the distant hum of the city, creating a peaceful melody that envelops them both in a cozy bubble of comfort.

Y/n looks up at Oscar, her eyes filled with a mixture of tenderness and admiration. She can't believe how lucky she is to be here, experiencing this moment with him. And as she takes in his profile - the sun casting a golden halo around his messy hair, the way his eyes gleam with contentment - she feels her heart skip a beat.

As if sensing her gaze, Oscar turns to her, his eyes meeting hers. He smiles, a soft, warm smile that makes her heart flutter. There's something unspoken in his gaze, a depth of feeling that sends a wave of heat rushing through her body.

Oscar gazes down at Y/n, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. Her hair is tousled by the wind, her cheeks flushed with a hint of pink, and she looks so damn beautiful. He wants to tell her how he feels, how much she means to him, but the words catch in his throat.

Sunday, 6:38 PM

The family is gathered around the dinner table, the delicious scent of home-cooked food filling the air. There's laughter and chatter, and everyone seems at ease as they enjoy the meal together.

Y/n sits next to Oscar, her heart still thrumming with excitement from their time at the bluff. She sneaks glances at him throughout the meal, a smile on her lips every time their eyes meet. The memory of their time alone on hill keeps replaying in her mind, filling her with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty.

As the dinner nears its end, Y/n clears her throat and turns to the rest of the family, her voice cutting through the pleasant chatter. "By the way," she begins, her tone casual yet purposeful, "Nonna Chiara mentioned needing some help with a few renovations around that old cottage they had." The mention of renovations sparks some murmurs of curiosity among the family members.

Y/n's dad, overhearing the mention of renovations, interjects with a curious tone. "What exactly does she need help with?" he asks, pushing his plate aside and giving her his full attention.

Oscar seizes the opportunity to speak up, his voice confident and casual. "Yeah, Nonna Chiara asked us about helping with some stuff around the cottage," he says, his eyes flickering to Y/n for a moment before returning to Y/n's dad. "She needs some painting done, and some shelves in the kitchen need to be set up."

Y/n chimes in, her voice a little bit nervous but steady. "Yeah, Nonna Chiara specifically asked me and Oscar to help out with some things," she says, her gaze bouncing between her dad and the rest of the family, who is listening intently.

Y/n's words draw the family's attention, and a few curious looks are exchanged between them. The mention of Y/n and Oscar working together piques their interest, and it seems like the conversation is about to shift towards something more intriguing.

Y/n's mom, always observant, smiles at Y/n with a hint of curiosity in her eyes. "Oh, really?" she asks, her tone casual yet interested. "Just the two of you, huh?"

Y/n nods at her mom, trying not to let any nervousness show on her face. "Yeah, Nonna Chiara said she wanted us to work on it together," she replies, keeping her tone light and nonchalant. "I guess she thought we could get it done faster that way."

The family members exchange a few more glances, the implications of Y/n and Oscar working together not going unnoticed. But before anyone can comment further, Y/n's dad speaks up, his voice practical and pragmatic.

Y/n's dad, always protective of his daughter, gives a slight cough and clears his throat. "Well," he says, his tone a mixture of concern and curiosity, "I suppose it's good that Nonna Chiara's got some projects for you. But, uh, I trust that Oscar will be a perfect gentleman during this little renovation project, you hear me?"

The others chuckle at Y/n's dad's protective comment, knowing that he's half-joking but also half-serious. Y/n rolls her eyes a bit, used to her dad's overprotectiveness, but she can't help the amused smile that playing at the corners of her lips.

Oscar, picking up on Y/n's dad's undertones, nods in agreement. "Of course," he assures him, his voice serious yet light. "I'll be on my best behavior. Wouldn't want to upset Nonna Chiara, or worse, you."

Y/n's mom, always the lighthearted one, can't help but let out a warm, amused laugh at the exchange. "Oh, stop it, you two," she chides them, her eyes sparkling with laughter. "I'm sure Oscar will treat Y/n with nothing but respect."

The table erupts into laughter and chatter again, the momentary tension dissipated by Y/n's mom's jest. The conversation transitions back to more lighthearted topics, but the thought of Y/n and Oscar working together on Nonna Chiara's renovations remains at the back of everyone's minds. Especially Y/n's father.

Sunday, 10:31 PM

Y/n was in her room, singing her heart out to Teenage Dream by Katy Perry while going through her nighttime skincare routine. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun, and her skin gleamed with a healthy, radiant glow. She moved with a graceful ease as she applied her moisturizers and serums, the lyrics of the song flowing from her lips effortlessly.

As she splashed water on her face and looked into the mirror, she couldn't help but feel a little silly for singing aloud, but the music and the familiar routine of her skincare routine brought her a sense of comfort and relaxation. The sound of her own voice, singing along to the cheerful tune, echoed softly off the walls of her room, adding a bit of warmth and joy to the otherwise quiet night.

Y/n finishes applying her last moisturizer and reaches for her phone on the vanity table. As she picks it up and taps the screen, she notices a notification of a new text from an unknown number.

Y/n quickly edits the contact name to "AA oz 🐨" a small smile playing on her lips as she types it in. She can't help but feel a warmth in her chest at the realization that it was actually Oscar who had texted her, despite the unexpected number. With a mix of excitement and anticipation, she continues the conversation, typing a little bit faster than before.

Y/n had just finished texting Oscar goodnight, a small smile lingering on her lips as she placed her phone back on the nightstand. But as she turned towards the sound of the knock on the door, her heart skipped a beat, a mixture of anticipation and surprise rushing through her. She looks at the door, wondering who could be standing on the other side at this late hour.

Y/n takes a deep breath, her heart beating a little faster, and walks towards the door. Her mind is racing with possibilities, wondering why or why someone is here at her door so late at night. With a slight shaky hand, she grabs the handle and opens it, revealing Oscar standing on the other side.

Oscar walks in, a warm smile on his face as he settles on the edge of Y/n's bed. He looks around the room, taking in the soft lighting and the personal touches that make it distinctly hers. He then turns to her and gestures for her to sit down next to him.

Come on," he says, his voice slightly husky and filled with a gentle insistence. "You were telling me how you wanted to watch Mamma Mia, right? Well, I'm not leaving until we watch at least one movie. So get over here, come sit next to me."

Y/n chuckles at his persistence and slowly makes her way over to the bed, settling down next to him. The bed dips a little under their combined weight, and she's suddenly very aware of how close they are sitting to each other. She can smell his familiar scent, a subtle mixture of laundry detergent and his natural, masculine musk.

Y/n retrieves her laptop from the desk and turns back to Oscar, a playful sparkle in her eyes. "You better make yourself comfortable. We're in for a few hours of chick flicks." She climbs back onto the bed and pats the spot next to her. "And you might as well lay down. It'll be more comfortable for both of us."

Oscar smirks at her suggestion, a hint of teasing in his voice. "Ooh, I see what this is about. You just want an excuse to cuddle, don't you? Admit it, this is all just a ploy to get close to me." He playfully gives her a gentle nudge with his shoulder, his eyes filled with lighthearted banter.

Y/n laughs and playfully shoves him back, her cheeks flushing slightly as she tries to hide her reaction to his tease. "Oh, shut up. You're the one who offered to watch a movie with me. And for your information, it's just so we can both be comfortable."

He chuckles and holds up his hands in mock surrender, a cheeky grin on his lips. "Alright, alright. I get it. It's purely for the sake of comfort, nothing more. You're the one who's being all cozy." Despite his teasing, he shifts and arranges his body more comfortably on the bed, his arm lightly brushing against hers as he does so.

Y/n and Oscar are both bundled up in soft blankets and propped comfortably against a small mountain of pillows. They're snuggled together, the laptop perched in front of them on their laps. The light from the screen dances across their faces, casting shadows and highlights in the dimly lit room.

Monday, 12:40 AM

As the the third movie of the night plays, Y/n feels a wave of tiredness wash over her. The soft, cozy atmosphere, coupled with the warmth of Oscar's body beside hers and the comforting rhythm of his steady breathing, lull her to rest her head against his shoulder. Her hair brushes against his collarbone, her body relaxed and loose against his.

Oscar senses the slight weight of Y/n's head on his shoulder and looks down at her, a small, fond smile playing on his lips. He adjusts his position slightly, pulling her closer to him, so that she's more comfortable. One of his arms casually finds its way around her waist, pulling her into a half embrace as they continue watching the movie.

Y/n nuzzles her head into the crook of his shoulder, a contented sigh escaping her lips. The steady beat of his heart, the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes - all of it is comforting and calming. The movie continues to play, the comedy and drama unfolding on the screen blending seamlessly with the quiet, intimate bubble they've created around themselves.

As the movie progresses, Y/n finds herself feeling more and more comfortable and drowsy, her eyelids growing heavier with each passing moment. The warmth of Oscar's body, the sound of his steady breathing, and the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat all seem to merge into a soothing lullaby, pulling her towards the threshold of sleep.

As the movie ends and the room falls silent, Oscar glances down at Y/n and notices her eyes fluttering shut, her breathing becoming slow and even. He reaches over and gently closes her laptop, careful not to disturb her too much. Seeing her so calm and relaxed, snuggled against his shoulder, a small, tender smile forms on his lips.

Oscar carefully moves, removing his arm from around her waist and slowly lowering her head onto the pillow. He gazes down at her for a moment, a mixture of affection and tenderness in his eyes. Before leaving the room, he leans down, and gently plants a light, tender kiss on her forehead. He pulls the blanket up to her shoulders, tucking her in to further ensure her comfort and warmth as she sleeps.

Oscar stands there for a moment, just watching her sleep peaceful, the soft rise and fall of her chest. He leans down close to her ear and whispers, his voice barely above a hushed breath.

"Sweet dreams, beautiful. I'll see you in the morning."

As Oscar whispers to Y/n, he notices her stirring a little. Her lashes flutter slightly, and she lets out a soft huff, a subtle hint of response to his words. With a small smile, he gently smoothes back a stray strand of hair from her face, admiring her peaceful, sleeping form for another moment before quietly making his way out of the room.

Monday, 9:01 AM

The next morning, Y/n yawns and stretches, taking a moment to absorb the early rays of sunlight seeping through the curtains. Remembering the night before, she gets out of bed and quickly freshen up. Dressed in comfortable attire, she makes her way downstairs to the living room, her heart lightly drumming with anticipation as she waits for Oscar to appear.

She takes a seat on the couch, her eyes flickering towards the door every now and then, waiting for any sign of Oscar. She can't help but recall their late-night movie session and the warm, intimate moments they shared. A mixture of excitement and nervousness swirls in her stomach, making her fingers fidget with the loose thread on her sleeve as she waits impatiently.

As Oscar descends the stairs, he notices Y/n sitting on the couch, her eyes darting towards him. He smiles, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of her waiting for him. In his hand, he carries a small bag, the soft sound of its contents rustling with each step.

He approaches her and greets her with a warm "good morning." His eyes rake over her, taking in the sight of her dressed casually, her hair slightly messy, but in a charming way. He tries to ignore the fact that seeing her like this, all sleepy and cute, makes his heart race just a bit faster.

Y/n stands, her own bag slung over her shoulder, and asks Oscar if he's ready to go. In response, he nods, a mix of excitement and anticipation shining in his eyes.

"Yep, I'm all set," he replies, a smile playing on his lips. "Let's go before Nonna Chiara gives us an earful for being late."

Y/n chuckles at Oscar's comment, the sound of her laughter filling the air. They head out towards the car, the early morning sun just starting to peek over the horizon.

As they reach the car, Oscar opens the passenger side door for Y/n, gesturing for her to get in. A playful smirk is on his lips, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "After you, Ma'am."

Y/n rolls her eyes at the nickname but can't help the small, amused smile that tugs at the corners of her lips. She gracefully slides into the car and settles into her seat, buckling her seatbelt as she does.

As they drive, Oscar glances over at Y/n, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. After a moment of comfortable silence, he speaks up, his voice casual but tinged with curiosity. "So, we're going to the market first, right? I just wanna make sure I remembered the plan correctly."

Y/n nods in confirmation, her eyes still on the scenery passing by outside the window.

"Yeah, that's right. We're stopping at the market first to pick up some supplies. After that, we head straight to the cottage," she replies, a slight note of excitement in her voice at the thought of the day ahead.

As the car continues, Y/n reaches for her phone and connects it to the car's sound system, a sly smile playing on her lips. She scrolls through her music library and taps on "Just the Way You Are" by Bruno Mars. The soft, soulful melody fills the car, creating a soothing and romantic ambiance.

Oscar glances over at Y/n and smiles when he sees her singing along to the song playing through the car's speakers. Inspired, he joins in, his deep, smooth voice harmonizing with Y/n's in a sweet, unexpected duet.

They continue to sing together, the lyrics filled with heartfelt admiration and appreciation. Their voices blend effortlessly, each hitting the right notes and adding an extra layer of warmth to the atmosphere inside the car. The open road stretches out in front of them, the early morning sun casting long shadows as they sing their hearts out.

Occasionally, they throw each other glances, small grins on their faces as they share this moment, singing their favorite song together in the privacy of the car. Between verses, they burst out into laughter, their spirits high and playful, enjoying each other's company and the connection that the music and the journey together creates.

As the last notes of "Everybody Talks" by Neon Trees fade out, they pull into the parking lot of the marketplace. They park the car and unbuckled their seatbelts, the final strains of the song still lingering in the air.

Y/n grabs ahold of Oscar's hand, her grip firm and playful. A determined, excited expression on her face, she drags Oscar along with her towards the entrance of the marketplace.

She glances over her shoulder at Oscar, a smirk on her lips. She tugs at his hand again, their fingers intertwining as she urges him forward.

"C'mon, Oz," she playfully teases, her voice light and cheerful. "We've got a lot to get through, and we're on a tight schedule. Let's go."

She grins at his resigned expression and continues to pull him along, her energy and excitement infectious. The sun shines down on them as they make their way towards the entrance of the marketplace, the sounds of other shoppers and vendors providing a backdrop to their banter and laughter.

Y/n and Oscar weave through the marketplace, their hands still linked together as they make their way through the different stalls and vendors. They pick up fresh produce, fragrant spices, and other ingredients needed for the meals they'll be making later at Nonna Chiara's house. The air is filled with the bustle of shoppers, the aroma of various foods, and the hustle and bargaining of the market dealers.

He turns back to Y/n, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hey, guess what I got for you," he says, his voice teasing and deliberately trying to keep the bouquet hidden. He steps closer to her, his tall figure towering over hers as he looms there, his secret clutched behind his back.

Oscar smirks, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Aw, c'mon, don't you trust me?" he teases, his voice dripping with faux innocence. He moves the bouquet slightly behind his back, preventing her from catching a glimpse of the surprise.

Y/n rolls her eyes playfully, her suspicion growing but also tinged with excitement. She crosses her arms and pretends to act uninterested, raising an eyebrow as she looks at Oscar.

Oscar chuckles at her feigned indifference, clearly enjoying this little game of surprise he's playing. He steps closer, closing the gap between them, his tall frame towering over her. He leans in, his voice lowered to a whisper, his lips almost touching her ear.

"Close your eyes," he whispers, his warm breath fanning gently against her skin. His tone is soft yet commanding, leaving no room for disobedience.

Y/n, caught up in the moment, hesitates for a second before deciding to play along. She closes her eyes, her eyelids fluttering shut, a mixture of anticipation and curiosity coursing through her body.

With a satisfied smile, Oscar takes this chance to gently bring the hidden bouquet of sunflowers around from behind his back. He holds it in front of Y/n, the vibrant yellow flowers in full bloom, their petals almost glowing in the sunlight.

He takes her hand and places the bouquet in her palm, her fingers curling around the stems instinctively. He whispers softly, his voice barely above a breath, "Open your eyes."

Y/n slowly opens her eyes, her gaze falling on the bright, cheerful sunflowers now cradled in her hand. A small, surprised laugh escapes her lips, her eyes widening slightly as she takes in the unexpected, yet sweet gesture.

Oscar watches her reaction closely, his heart pounding with anticipation. He studies her face, looking for any hint of disappointment or dislike, but instead, sees a wide grin spreading on her lips, her eyes sparkling with delight.

Y/n looks down at the sunflowers, her fingers gently brushing against the soft petals. A soft, awestruck smile graces her lips as she glances up at Oscar, her eyes filled with warmth and gratitude.

"You didn't have to do this," she whispers, her voice touched by his thoughtful gesture. "They're beautiful."

With a cheeky grin and a twinkle in his eye, Oscar admits, "Actually, I didn't pay for those yet." He laughs lightly and turns back towards the flower stall, which was conveniently located next to the produce store Y/n was browsing in. He approaches the vendor and pays for the bouquet of sunflowers, his smile lingering on his lips the entire time.

After a brief exchange with the florist, he returns to Y/n, the bouquet of sunflowers now officially paid for and officially hers. He hands them back to her with a playful shrug, as if it were only a minor detail.

Y/n accepts the bouquet back from Oscar, her fingers once again curling around the stems. She looks at him, her eyes shining with appreciation and fond exasperation.

"You're ridiculous," she says, her voice laced with affectionate amusement. "I can't take you anywhere, can I?"

The female florist, who's been watching the interaction between Y/n and Oscar, turns to her male produce vendor friend, a knowing smile playing on her lips. He's been witnessing the scene as well, and they exchange a look, their eyes sparkling with mirth.

The produce vendor lets out a soft chuckle and nods towards Y/n and Oscar. In a low voice, he comments to the florist, "They're adorable."

The florist nods in agreement, her eyes still on the couple. She adds, her voice hushed but full of warmth, "They have great chemistry. It's so obvious they really like each other."

As Y/n and Oscar move away from the stalls, they're blissfully unaware of the conversation happening behind them. The produce vendor and the florist continue discussing the couple, their voices hushed but filled with fondness.

The produce vendor leans closer and says, a hint of excitement in his voice, "I bet they're on a date. They'd make a great couple."

The florist nods, her eyes following the pair as they move away. She grins widely, clearly enjoying the speculation. "Definitely a date," she replies, her tone playful. "They've got that new couple energy going on."

Walking back towards the car, Y/n cradles the sunflowers in one hand while her other hand is still intertwined with Oscar's. They make their way through the bustling marketplace, the sounds and smells of the place providing a vibrant backdrop to their casual conversation.

As they reach the car, Oscar unlocks the doors and opens the passenger side for Y/n, gesturing for her to get in. Once she's settled, he shuts the door and rounds the car, sliding into the driver's seat beside her.

He buckles his seatbelt, a satisfied smile on his lips as he looks over at Y/n. She's still holding the bouquet of sunflowers, her fingers gently caressing the velvety petals. He gives her a gentle smile and starts the car, ready to head to Nonna Chiara's house.

As the moments between them grow heavy with the silence, Oscar feels an impulsive idea take hold of him. He glances over at Y/n, her gaze still on the bouquet in her hands, and he decides to act on his emotions. Without giving it much thought, he leans over, his hand gently tilting her chin towards him, and captures her lips in a soft, tender kiss.

Y/n laughs against his lips, her lips curving into a warm smile. She pulls away slightly, keeping her face close to his. She gazes at him with sparkling eyes, a hint of playful curiosity in her voice as she asks, "What was that for?"

Oscar grins, his eyes lighting up with affection. He shrugs as if it were a completely normal response, his lips still close to hers. His voice is soft and tinged with subtle desire as he replies, "Just felt like it."

He leans in again, pressing another light kiss to her forehead, his fingers tracing along her cheek in a tender caress. His eyes lock with hers, filled with a mixture of affection and a hint of longing.

Oscar pulls back, sitting straight in his seat once more. His hand doesn't leave her chin, his thumb gently rubbing against her jawline. He looks at her for a moment in silence, his heart still pounding from the fleeting intimacy they just shared, and a soft smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

Y/n grins widely, her laugh light and bubbling out of her in response to Oscar's kiss. She lightly swats his shoulder with her hand, her eyes still sparkling with affection. Her voice is laced with playful scolding, yet softened by her evident enjoyment of his spontaneous gesture.

"Drive already," she says, still giggling slightly. "Before we end up getting in trouble for loitering."

Oscar chuckles and nods, his eyes still glued to her smile. He pulls away, his hand leaving her chin reluctantly, but his fingers lingering on her hand for a brief moment as if reluctant to break the connection. He ignites the car and starts pulling out of the parking spot, his grin mirroring her own.

Monday, 10:56 AM

After a short drive, they arrive at Nonna Chiara's charming cottage. The car comes to a stop in front of the quaint house, its white facade and green shutters adding to its picturesque charm. The surroundings are peaceful, the countryside providing a serene backdrop to the cozy cottage.

Y/n looks up at the cottage, a wave of nostalgia and comfort washing over her as she takes in the familiar sight. She can't help but smile, her eyes lingering on the cottage's warm, inviting windows and the little porch where she used to sit and talk with Nonna Chiara as a child.

Beside her, Oscar turns off the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt, but he keeps his eyes on the cottage as well, noting the peaceful, idyllic atmosphere of the surroundings. He glances at Y/n, her smile speaks volumes about the feelings this place holds for her.

As Y/n walks towards the door, her eyes scan the quaint porch of the cottage, searching for the familiar potted red chrysanthemums that Nonna Chiara always kept near the entrance. The chrysanthemums were her favorite flowers, and the sight of them was always a warm welcome to the cottage.

Oscar follows close behind, his hands carrying the bags of freshly bought produce. He watches as Y/n's gaze travels over the porch, looking for the telltale reds and yellows of the chrysanthemum pots.

Finally, Y/n spots the pot tucked in a corner beside the door, the red chrysanthemums in full bloom and standing in vibrant contrast against the white walls of the cottage. She stops in front of it, a small smile of nostalgia and happiness on her lips as she looks down at the familiar flowers.

She reaches out a hand, gently touching the petals, feeling the silky smoothness against her fingertips. The chrysanthemums always reminded her of Nonna Chiara, of the countless hours spent talking and laughing with her on this porch, the scent of the flowers filling the air, and the sunlight dancing on the petals.

With a soft tug, Y/n lifts the pot and retrieves the key hidden underneath, her fingers gently running over the smooth surface of the pot before finding the cold, slender shape of the key. She straightens up, clutching the key in her hand, and turns towards the door.

Her hand is a bit shaky as she slides the key into the lock, the familiar feel of the gesture stirring a mix of anticipation and emotion within her. The lock clicks open, and she slowly pushes the door open, the creak of the old hinges breaking the silent anticipation.

With a soft tug, Y/n lifts the pot and retrieves the key hidden underneath, her fingers gently running over the smooth surface of the pot before finding the cold, slender shape of the key. She straightens up, clutching the key in her hand, and turns towards the door.

Oscar watches her, his eyes attentive and observant. He notices the slight tremble in her hand as she turns the key, the way her breath hitches as the door slowly creaks open. It's clear that this place holds a lot of significance for her, her emotions and memories are intertwined with the very essence of the cottage.

As they step inside, the cottage embraces them with its warm, Mediterranean charm. The interior is bathed in soft, natural light that filters through the windows, casting a nostalgic, cozy atmosphere over the room.

The walls are painted in earthy tones, and traditional decor items and family heirlooms dot the space. A faint, familiar scent lingers in the air, a mix of herbs, old books, and a hint of Nonna Chiara's favorite cooking spices.

Oscar closes the door with his leg, he turns his attention to Y/n, a warm smile on his face. He watches as she relaxes on the couch, her body sinking into the cushions, her eyes closed in contentment. He steps further into the living room, taking in the comfort and nostalgia of the cottage himself.

Oscar walks over to Y/n, standing beside the couch and looking down at her with a soft, affectionate smile. He lets out a gentle chuckle and says, "Looks like someone's making themselves right at home."

Y/n opens her eyes, a lazy, content expression on her face. She looks up at Oscar, her lips curving into a soft smile. Her voice is a bit muffled as she speaks, her words tinged with nostalgia and a hint of playfulness. "Well, you can't blame me. This couch is as close to heaven as I get."

Oscar sets the bags of produce on the old wooden center table, the sound of the fruits and vegetables clinking together breaking the peaceful silence of the cottage. He glances at the table, the fruits and vegetables a vibrant splash of color against the old, weathered wood.

He lays down beside her, his head resting against the softness of her chest. His body molding to the comfortable, familiar cushion of the sofa, and he lets out a soft exhale, his breath mingling with hers.

As he settles into place, he can feel the steady beat of her heart beneath his ear, a soothing rhythm that fills his senses and makes him feel at ease.

She giggles as their hands intertwine, her chest moving slightly beneath his head. The sound of her laughter fills the space, a bubbly, carefree sound that spreads warmth through the atmosphere. She looks down at him, her eyes sparkling with affection and a hint of mischief.

As they lie there together, Oscar lifts his head slightly to look at Y/n, a thoughtful expression on his face. He breaks the comfortable silence, his voice soft and warm. "So, what should we do now?"

He props himself up on his elbow, his head resting against his palm, as he gazes at her with a curious, affectionate smile. His eyes trace over her face, taking in the way the soft light of the cottage dances over her features.

He raises an eyebrow, waiting for her answer, anticipating whatever idea she might have. He's quite content with the current moment, lying beside her on the cozy couch, but he's always open to whatever she might suggest.

The silence stretches on for a moment, but it's a comfortable quiet, filled with expectation. He continues to look at her, his gaze a mix of admiration and curiosity. He waits patiently for her response, his mind already considering the possibilities of the rest of the afternoon.

Y/n smiles at his question, her eyes studying his face for a moment. She thinks for a few seconds, mulling over their options, but her decision is already made. She grins, a flicker of mischief in her expression.

"Well," she says, her fingers idly playing with his. "There's one thing I've always wanted to do in this old cottage…"

"And what's that?" he asks, his voice curious and eager. He can tell by the sparkle in her eyes that she has something in mind, something that is sure to make this afternoon memorable.

He repositions himself, shifting so he can give her his full attention, his gaze fixed on her face as he waits for her answer. He can sense her excitement, and it only makes him more intrigued about whatever idea she has for them.

Y/n grins widely, her eyes dancing with excitement. She glances around the cottage, as if to make sure the coast is clear, and then turns back to him, her voice filled with anticipation. "You have to promise not to laugh or find this silly…"

Oscar's curiosity grows, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. He can tell that whatever she's about to suggest must be something really special or unusual.

He looks at her with an amused and affectionate smile, his voice sincere and reassuring. "I promise," he says, his eyes meeting hers with earnestness. "I won't laugh or think it's silly, whatever it is."

Y/n hesitates for a moment, her cheeks flushing slightly with a combination of sheepishness and excitement. She looks at him, trying to gauge his reaction, before finally speaking again, her voice soft and just above a whisper. "Let's play hide-and-seek."

As soon as the words leave her lips, Oscar can't help but let out a small burst of laughter. It's not a mocking laugh, but a surprised and amused one, filled with a fond affection.

"Hide-and-seek!?" he repeats, his laughter tinged with disbelief and joy. He glances around the cottage, its quaint rooms and nooks suddenly transformed into potential hiding spots in his mind.

His voice is light and filled with a hint of incredulity. He can't believe she suggested something so unexpected, but at the same time, he's utterly charmed. The thought of playing a childlike game in the old cottage, filled with memories and nostalgia, has a certain appeal that he can't deny.

He grins at her, his eyes dancing with a mixture of amusement and delight. He can feel the excitement building between them, the atmosphere crackling with a youthful energy.

"You're serious about this?" he asks, his voice filled with surprise but laced with eagerness.

Y/n nods, her sheepish smile turning into a grin. She looks at him, her eyes sparkling with the anticipation of a challenge. She can see the spark of joy and excitement in his gaze, and it only fuels her own enthusiasm.

"Dead serious," she replies, her voice firm and eager. "I've always wanted to play hide-and-seek here. There are so many good hiding spots."

She glances around the cozy cottage, her mind already racing with plans for potential hiding places. The thought of running and hiding in the familiar rooms, like they did as kids, feels like a burst of nostalgia mixed with a dash of adventure. She glances back at him, her voice filled with determination.

"You can't say no," she adds, lifting a finger in a mock-threatening gesture. "It'll be fun. Trust me."

Oscar grins at her playful threat. The thought of saying no never even crossed his mind, not after seeing her excitement and determination. He can feel his own heart rate pick up, the thrill of the idea of playing hide-and-seek seeping into his veins like adrenaline.

Oscar and Y/n face each other, eyes locked in a determined stare. It's a game of rock paper scissors, the winner deciding who seeks first. Tension hangs in the air as they countdown in sync.

"One… two… three!"

Their hands go up, forming their chosen shape. But it's Y/n's paper that beats Oscar's rock.

As the game concludes, a smug grin spreads across Y/n's face. She let out a victorious laugh, her hand raised in celebration. She had won, which meant she would hide first while Oscar would seek.

"Ha, I win!" she exclaims, her tone filled with triumph and joy. "Looks like you have to count first, while I find the perfect hiding spot."

Her eyes sparkle with a mix of excitement and mischief, already contemplating where to hide. She looks around the room, surveying the furniture and corners with a shrewd eye. The cottage feels like a playground for the game, full of potential hiding spots.

Meanwhile, Oscar's expression morphs into a feigned pout. He acts disappointed, his shoulders slumped and his lips turned down in a mock-hurt frown. But behind his jokingly hurt expression, there's a twinkle in his eyes, a hint of the eagerness to find her and win the game.

He sighs dramatically, shaking his head in mock disappointment. He moves to the center of the room, his hands covering his eyes as he begins to count loudly and slowly. He begins counting, his voice echoing through the cottage, while he keeps his eyes covered tightly with his hands. "One… two… three… four… five…"

Y/n grins as she watches him cover his eyes and start counting. She takes the opportunity to quietly slip away, her footsteps light and almost imperceptible. She tiptoed around the room, her mind whirling with where she could hide.

Y/n sneaks silently toward the old, wooden cupboard in the corner of the room. The kitchen-like room is small, and the cupboard is situated right next to the oven. She looks around, making sure Oscar hasn't peeked, before carefully opening the cupboard door and squeezing herself inside, her small frame fitting just perfectly among the bowls, jars, and pans.

Y/n sneaks silently towards the old cupboard in the corner of the room. It's an antique piece, with dark wooden panels and a small latch on the front. She opens the cupboard, its familiar creaks of protest like a comforting sound to her ears. She steps inside, carefully closing the door behind her. She is now hidden in the shadows of the cupboard, the walls hiding her from Oscar's sight.

She presses against the back of the cupboard, her breath held in anticipation. She can hear Oscar's voice counting, his tone loud and steady, slowly approaching the number they agreed on. A shiver of excitement runs through her as she awaits the moment he'll start searching.

The seconds tick by, each one making her heart beat faster. She can hear Oscar's voice growing closer to the end of his countdown, each number bringing him closer to finding her. The thought of being found fills her with a strange mix of thrill and anticipation.

Finally, Oscar reaches the agreed number, marking the end of his countdown. He finishes his last "twenty" with a flourish, his voice echoing through the cottage before falling silent. The room suddenly fills with an anticipatory hush, the silence heavy with the knowledge that the game has begun.

Oscar lowers his hands from his eyes, his gaze scanning the room with focused attention. He looks around the space, his eyes searching for any hint of her presence. But she is hidden well, the shadows and silence of the cupboard cloaking her from his view.

He moves slowly, his footsteps quiet but deliberate, as he starts to investigate the different spots in the room. He checks under the furniture and peeks into the corners, but she remains hidden, the cupboard keeping her concealed.

Oscar hears a soft noise coming from the cupboard, a small rustle, or a tiny breath. He grins to himself, knowing instantly that he's found her. But instead of calmly opening the cupboard, he decides to have a bit of fun. He stands right in front of the cupboard, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. He takes a deep breath, his heart racing with anticipation, and suddenly opens the cupboard, yelling "BOO!"

Y/n lets out a shrill scream when the cupboard door suddenly opens, her heart leaping into her throat. She had been so focused on being quiet and stealthy that the sudden loud noise completely startled her. She was so sure that she had managed to remain hidden, but Oscar managed to find her unexpectedly.

Oscar staggers back a bit in surprise, his cheek slightly red from the impact of her hand. He wasn't expecting such a strong reaction, and for a moment, he stood there with a mix of surprise and pain on his face. He rubs his cheek gently, a small hint of a smile on his face despite the stinging sensation.

He looks at her, his expression a mix of confusion and amusement. He wasn't mad, far from it. In fact, he found her reaction quite cute and endearing. He glances at her, a lopsided smile on his face.

"Did I scare you that bad?" he asks, his voice a mix of amusement and disbelief. He keeps rubbing his cheek, the feeling of her slap still lingering on his skin.

Y/n can't help but laugh at the unexpected turn of events. The mixture of adrenaline, surprise, and the fact that she accidentally slapped Oscar is enough to bring a wave of laughter bubbling up from within her. She gently holds his cheek, her fingers tracing over the skin as she giggles away.

Y/n takes a few moments to catch her breath and compose herself, still giggling slightly as she looks at Oscar. She can see the slight redness on his cheek, and she feels a slight pang of remorse for reacting so strongly. She takes a deep breath and smiles apologetically.

"I'm sorry," she says, her voice still tinged with laughter but sincere.

She gently caresses his cheek again, her touch a mixture of soothing and apologetic. Her eyes sparkle with a hint of embarrassment and guilt. She didn't mean to hit him so hard, it was just a surprised reflex.

Oscar laughs, shaking his head lightly as he looks at her. He can see the guilt lingering in her eyes and he wants to reassure her that he's not mad at her for the unexpected slap.

"Yeah, maybe that's our one and only round," he replies, his tone light and jestful. "We don't want my face turning any redder, right?"

He flashes her a playful grin, silently telling her that it's all in good fun and that he's not actually upset with her. He reaches up, gently taking her hand that's still resting on his cheek, and gives it a gentle squeeze.

His touch is affectionate and reassuring, a silent message of forgiveness and understanding. He doesn't want her to linger in the moment, not when they are having so much fun and joy in the old cottage.

With the game of hide and seek concluded, Y/n and Oscar make their way back to the cozy couch in the living room. The thrill of the game still tingles in Y/n's stomach, her hand remaining holding Oscar's as they sit down again.

Oscar sprawls onto the couch, pulling Y/n down with him as he lays back. He wraps his arms around her, tugging her against him. He looks up at her, a relaxed smile on his face.

The soft cushions of the couch form a comfortable bed for them, the light from the room just right for this moment. He pulls her tighter against him, her body fitting perfectly against his. He lets out a content sigh, his hands gently tracing patterns on her back.

As Y/n lies against Oscar, a sudden memory surfaces in her mind. She abruptly remembers the lipstick she bought the previous day, the one she hadn't had the chance to use yet. Her eyes widen slightly, and she looks at Oscar, an idea forming in her mind.

Y/n disentangles herself from Oscar's arms, her movement quick and eager. Oscar watches her get up puzzled, a slight frown on his face.

"Where are you going?" he asks, his voice filled with curiosity.

Y/n walks over to her bag and digs out the newly purchased lipstick. She takes a moment to observe it, the sleek and shiny tube catching the light. She then turns to the nearby mirror, a hint of a smile on her lips. "Lipstick," she says excitedly.

She uncaps the lipstick, bringing it up to her lips. With steady and practiced motions, she applies the new shade, careful not to stray outside the lines.

Oscar watches Y/n from his position on the couch, his gaze fixated on her every move as she applies the lipstick. A soft smile graces his lips, his eyes watching her intently. The sight of her carefully applying makeup is oddly mesmerizing and cute to him.

Y/n finishes applying the lipstick, her lips now sporting a fresh and vibrant hue. She smiles, satisfied with the result before turning back to Oscar. She walks back to the couch and sits down next to him, her movements graceful and elegant.

She looks at Oscar, her eyes sparkling with a hint of satisfaction and confidence, the new lipstick emphasizing the natural beauty of her features even more.

Y/n turns to Oscar, her eyes searching his face for a reaction. She's curious to know his opinion about the new look, her heart beating just a bit faster at the prospect of his answer. She speaks up, her voice soft but eager. "Does it look good on me?"

Oscar looks at Y/n, his eyes roaming over her face and taking in the new look. The new shade of lipstick accentuates her lips, bringing out her natural charm and making her look even more beautiful than usual.

He smiles warmly at her and says, "You look gorgeous," his voice is sincere and full of admiration.

Y/n leans in and places a light kiss on Oscar's cheek, the new shade of lipstick leaving a faint, but noticeable mark behind. She pulls back slightly, a satisfied smile on her face, enjoying the sight of the lipstick mark her kiss left on his skin.

Oscar starts to speak, but before he can say anything, Y/n swoops in and starts planting more kisses on his face, her lips leaving a trail of lipstick marks on his cheeks, forehead, and even his nose. With a mischievous glimmer in her eyes, she smooches him repeatedly, each kiss leaving a vibrant mark behind.

Monday, 4:51 PM

Some time passes and now Oscar and Y/n are getting ready to prepare dinner. The day has advanced and hunger has slowly encroached on their stomachs. They make their way to the kitchen, eager to get started on the cooking.

They enter the kitchen, the evening light filtering in through the windows. Y/n glances around, her eyes falling on the various cooking supplies and ingredients laid out on the counter.

Y/n looks at the ingredients spread before them and says with confidence, "We should make pasta. It's simple and easy to prepare." With a smile, she begins to take out the things they would need: pasta, sauce, cheese, and other toppings of their choosing.

As Y/n works on preparing the pasta and sauce, she pulls her hair back into a tidy ponytail, the movement swift and effortless. Her hair is swept up and out of her face, held back by a soft scrunchie. She glances at Oscar and notices him staring, a small smile playing on her lips.

She raises an eyebrow at him, a hint of curiosity in her expression. "What are you staring at?" she asks, her voice lighthearted and playful, as she continues stirring the sauce.

Oscar shakes his head, a sheepish grin on his face as he is caught staring. He looks away for a moment before turning back to her, his eyes still admiring her appearance. "Just thinking about how cute you look with your hair up like that," he replies, his tone affectionate.

Y/n can't help but blush at his compliment, the heat rising to her cheeks. She smiles, her heart fluttering a bit at his words. "Oh, really?" she teases, a hint of coyness in her tone, "You're just trying to flatter me so I'll make the pasta better." She gives him a playful wink, continuing to stir the sauce.

Oscar stands up from his spot and walks over to Y/n, sneaking up behind her while she's stirring the sauce. He encircles her in a warm and tight hug, his arms wrapping gently around her, pulling her back against his chest.

His arms tighten around her, holding her closer against his chest. He can feel the warmth of her body against him and the rapid beating of her heart, the subtle signs of his effect on her. He grins against her skin, his lips lingering just a bit longer on her neck before he speaks into her ear.

"You know," he murmurs, his voice low and a bit huskier than usual, "I think the pasta's gonna taste better if you're distracted." His breath fans her ear, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps down her neck.

He continues to press kisses against her neck and shoulders, his hands gently running down her arms before encircling her waist again. He holds her close, his body pressed against her, the warm heat between them growing with every kiss and touch.

Y/n shivered at the sensation, her nipples hardening against the thin fabric of her t-shirt. Without turning around, she reached back, unbuttoning her pants and allowing them to fall to her ankles. Her black lace panties were the only thing standing between her and his eager mouth.

"You always wear lace, Y/n"" he whispered into her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "It suits you."

Oscar bent her over the kitchen counter, exposing her wet, aching cunt to his hungry gaze. He wasted no time, diving between her thighs, his tongue delving into her folds. Y/n let out a moan, her hands gripping the edge of the counter as she arched her back, offering herself fully to him.

Each flick of his skilled tongue sent shivers down her spine, her body writhing with pleasure. As the sauce continued to simmer, so did her lust, the heat of the stove mirroring the fire that raged within her. Oscar's tongue played with her clit, teasing it mercilessly, causing her to whimper and squirm.

"Oh god, Oz," Y/n panted, her voice ragged with need. "I'm so close..."

He continued to torment her, his tongue flicking faster, more insistent. Y/n could feel the orgasm building, coiling tight within her like a spring. Then, with a final, intense flick, she exploded, her entire body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

Oscar continued to pleasure her, sucking and licking until the last wave of her climax had passed. He pulled away, smirking up at her as she regained her composure.

After his unexpected and passionate act, Oscar pulls up her pants, his hands lingering a bit longer on her hips than necessary. He steps back, his expression a mix of satisfaction and feigned innocence, as if he hadn't just sent waves of pleasure through her moments ago.

Y/n continues stirring the sauce in the pot, her cheeks still flushed and her breaths slightly shortened. Despite her best efforts to appear calmer, her legs betray her, trembling ever so slightly. The aftermath of Oscar's actions still lingers on her, her body still buzzing with the aftershocks of pleasure.

Oscar can't help but laugh at the sight of Y/n still visibly affected by his previous actions. He walks over to the nearby sink, a hint of a smirk on his face, and proceeds to wash his mouth, thoroughly rinsing away the evidence of their moments of passion.

Once he's finished rinsing his mouth, Oscar proceeds to wash his hands, turning on the faucet and running them under the water. He lathers up the soap, making sure to thoroughly clean between his fingers and under his nails. All the while, he casts occasional glances at Y/n, taking in her flushed and disheveled form with satisfaction.

Oscar walks over to Y/n, planting a quick kiss on her cheek before saying, "Sit down, I'll finish up here." There's a hint of playfulness in his tone, mixed with a bit of concern for her still trembling legs.

He gently pushes her towards a nearby chair, a smirk on his face, silently amused by the lingering effect he has on her. He then returns his attention to the sauce, stirring it and adjusting the heat to let it simmer.

As he continues working on the sauce, he glances at Y/n, watching as she takes a seat in the chair. He can see the way she's still trying to calm her breaths, her cheeks still rosy, and a satisfied grin forms on his lips. Oscar knows that he's stirred her up pretty good in more ways than one.

Y/n's laughter interrupts Oscar's reverie, her words and the look on her face instantly catching his attention. Oscar looks down and realizes he's sporting a visible and undeniable tent in his pants. He blushes immediately, a mix of embarrassment and surprise washing over him.

She winks at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she continues scrolling through the pictures on her phone. The photos of them together earlier in the day, smiling and laughing, and probably some of the earlier moments in the kitchen.

Oscar chuckles, looking down at his pants with a mild blush on his cheeks. He can't deny the fact that the memories of their time together have indeed gotten him a bit excited. He looks back at Y/n, a bit embarrassed but trying to play it cool, and replies,

"Yeah, maybe I should. Or you could just stop going on your phone and suck me off right now."

Y/n grins, her eyes still on the photos on her phone, her mind already contemplating the future 'later'.

"Oh, I'll be giving you more than just a blowjob later, don't you worry about that," she says, a hint of mischief in her tone.

Oscar laughs along with Y/n, the banter between them light and playful. As the pasta finishes cooking, he turns off the heat and grabs a nearby plate, preparing to serve the food.

He looks at her, a hint of mischievousness in his eyes, and says, "Can you pass me the plate, please? The pasta's ready." He holds out his hand expectantly.

He waits for Y/n to hand him the plate so he can start dishing up the pasta. The kitchen is filled with the scent of the tomato sauce and the sound of their laughter, the earlier moments of passion mixed with the easy banter between them.

He takes the plate from Y/n's hands, his touch gentle and careful. He starts scooping out the pasta from the pot, ladling a generous serving onto the plate. The sauce coats the pasta, the noodles shining with a layer of rich, tomatoey goodness.

The evening progresses, and with the pasta cooked and served, Oscar and Y/n spend the rest of the evening playing card games together. They sit at the kitchen table, the deck of cards shuffled and ready for the game to begin.

They take turns dealing and playing the games, competitive spirits igniting as they try to outdo each other in each round. Laughter and banter fill the air as they play, their words light and playful as they tease and taunt each other.

Hours passed, the games continued and the fun never seemed to end. The atmosphere is relaxed and comfortable, the earlier moments of passion set aside in favor of the simple joy of spending time together. They're both enjoying themselves, the light-hearted competition bringing out a fun and carefree side to them both.

As the night progresses and the card games finally come to an end, Oscar and Y/n decide it's time to call it a night. They stretch and yawn, the hours of playtime leaving them feeling a bit tired but satisfied.

They make their way to the bedroom, their steps unhurried and relaxed. Once they reach the bed, they both settle down on the covers, their bodies seeking the comfort of each other's presence.

They lay side by side, their limbs slightly touching under the covers. The room is quiet, the only sounds being their soft breaths and the occasional rustle of fabric as they adjust their positions.

They're close enough to feel each other's warmth, a source of comfort and security in the quiet darkness of the room. They both shift a bit, getting more settled into the bed, their bodies gravitating towards each other as they prepare to sleep.

Oscar gazes back at her, his expression confused and a bit worried, unsure of what promise she's referring to. He responds jokingly, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"You're not gonna murder me because I cheated at a card game, are you? You did jokingly say you'd murder me, but I assumed you were just bluffing."

Y/n laughs at Oscar's initial confusion, finding his worry amusing. She shakes her head, clarifying herself as she explains what she's referring to.

"No, no, not about the cheating. I'm talking about the promise I made to you in the kitchen earlier. Remember?"

She smirks, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she recalls the moment in the kitchen, their earlier playful banter, and the promise she made in the heat of the moment.

She looks at Oscar, her gaze steady and seductive, expecting him to remember what she promised. Her expression seems to say "Don't tell me you forgot already."

The silence hangs in the air for a moment as Oscar's mind goes back to the kitchen, trying to recall the specific promise she made. His brows furrow slightly as he wracks his brain, the memories of their playful banter in the kitchen slowly returning to him. Her words from earlier replayed in his head.

Finally, it seems to click, Oscar's eyes widening slightly as he remembers the promise she made. A grin forms on his lips, and he gives her a knowing look, his gaze meeting hers in the dim light of the room.

"Oh, that promise," he responds, his voice dripping with a mixture of amusement and desire. "I think I remember… But do remind me again, just to be safe," he says with a wink.

Y/n rolls her eyes in mock exasperation at Oscar's challenge, a subtle smirk on her lips. She glances back at him with a determined expression, a hint of playfulness and confidence in her gaze.

"I'll show you," she responds, her words firm and suggestive. "Don't worry, I keep my promises."

Y/n lay on the bed, her head between Oscar's thighs, while he propped himself up on his elbows. He looked down at her with a mixture of desire and admiration.

"Y/n, you look so pretty like that," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. He ran his fingers through her hair, gently tugging on her locks. "Your mouth feels incredible, baby."

Y/n's lips wrapped around the head of his cock, her tongue tracing the vein that ran along its length. Oscar's hips bucked involuntarily, his fingers tightening in her hair. "Fuck, yes. That's it. Suck me off, baby."

She took him deeper into her mouth, swirling her tongue around his shaft. Oscar groaned louder, his breathing becoming more labored. "You're so good at this, baby. You're making me feel so good, so fucking good"

Her eyes met Oscar's for a moment, a devilish grin playing on her lips. She pulled off his cock, the wet sound echoing in the room. "Is that so, Oscar?" she asked teasingly, before taking him back into her mouth with a moan.

Oscar's head fell back, his eyes closing as he surrendered to the pleasure. "Oh, God, yes. Your mouth is heaven," he panted, his grip on her hair tightening. "Suck me harder, baby. Show me how much you love my cock in your mouth."

Y/n obeyed, taking him deeper and bobbing her head faster. Oscar's thrusts became more aggressive, his hips meeting her eager mouth with a fervor that matched her own. "You're such a good girl," he praised, his voice thick with lust. "I bet you'd do anything to make me cum, wouldn't you?"

Y/n let out a muffled moan, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked him off eagerly. Oscar's fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her head back and forth as he controlled the pace. "That's it, Y/n. Show me how much you crave my cock."

Her eyes watered, her cheeks flushed with arousal. She could feel Oscar's control slipping, and she knew she was close to making him explode. With one final, powerful thrust, she felt his cock pulse in her mouth.

"Fuck, baby," Oscar cried out, his release flooding her mouth. She swallowed his seed, her eyes meeting his as she pulled off his cock. A satisfied smirk graced her lips as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Oscar collapsed back onto the bed, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. "Fuck, Y/n. That was incredible."

Y/n leaned forward, pressing her lips to Oscar's in a searing kiss. Their tongues danced together, exploring each other's mouths. As the passion between them grew, Y/n shifted her position, straddling his thigh.

The pressure of her wetness against his leg sent shivers down Oscar's spine. He reached down, sliding his hand between her legs, feeling her slick folds. "You're so wet, baby," he groaned, his fingers teasing her clit.

Y/n moaned into his mouth, grinding her hips against his hand. Her kisses grew more desperate, her need for him becoming more insistent. She broke the kiss, her breaths coming in short pants. "Please, Oscar. I want you inside me."

He rolled them both over, positioning himself between her thighs. Y/n arched her back, offering herself to him. "I want to feel you, every inch," she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation.

Oscar's eyes locked onto hers as he pushed into her, filling her completely. Y/n gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as he began

to thrust into her. Their hips met in a frantic dance, their moans filling the room. Oscar's grip on Y/n tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as he lost himself in the rhythm of their lovemaking.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his pace increasing. Y/n wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. "I need you, Oscar. Don't stop."

He didn't, driving into her with a fierce intensity that left them both breathless. Their bodies slapped together, the sound of their passion echoing in the room. Y/n's eyes rolled back, her orgasm building within her.

"Oscar, I'm close," she panted, her voice thick with need.

"Me too, baby," he growled, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Let go for me. Let go and feel me inside you."

Y/n's body convulsed, her orgasm washing over her like a tidal wave. The sensation was enough to tip Oscar over the edge, his own release filling her as he cried out her name.

Oscar's cum spilled out of Y/n, his breaths coming in gasps as he pulled out of her. He didn't waste any time, pushing her onto all fours, her ass in the air, inviting him to take her from behind.

Y/n let out a moan, her body aching for more. She felt him position himself at her entrance, and then he thrust back into her, filling her completely. The change in position gave him a deeper, more powerful entry, and Y/n couldn't help but cry out at the sensation.

Oscar's hands found her breasts, squeezing and kneading them as he began to thrust into her. "You like this, don't you, baby?" he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Being taken from behind like a dirty little slut."

Y/n's hips bucked, meeting his thrusts with a hunger that mirrored his own. "Yes, Oscar. I love it. Please, don't stop."

He gripped her hips, his thrusts becoming more forceful. The sound of their flesh slapping together filled the room, the air thick with the scent of their arousal. Y/n's nails dug into the sheets, her body writhing beneath him. The relentless pounding set her nerves on fire, her orgasm building once again.

"Oh god, Oscar," she moaned, her voice thick with need. "I'm so close."

He increased his pace, his own desire reaching a boiling point. "Come for me, baby. Feel me filling you up."

Y/n's body tensed, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave. Her cries filled the room as she came undone, her inner muscles clenching around his cock. The sensation was enough to push Oscar over the edge, his own release filling her as he cried out her name.

Oscar pulled out of Y/n, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he admired the sight of her glistening body. He moved to straddle her chest, spreading her legs wide.

"Lay back, baby," he commanded, his voice laced with desire. "I want to see you when I fuck you."

Y/n complied, her heart racing with anticipation. Oscar positioned himself at her entrance, and then he thrust into her, filling her completely. She cried out at the sensation, her ankles hooked over his shoulders, giving him the deepest access possible.

Oscar's hands found her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples as he began to thrust into her. "Look at me, Y/n. Watch me fuck you," he commanded, his eyes locked onto hers.

Y/n met his gaze, her body arching to meet his thrusts. The intimacy of this position, the raw vulnerability of having her ankles over her shoulders, made her feel exposed and desired in a way that left her breathless.

"Oscar, I need you," she panted, her voice thick with lust. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

He grinned, his thrusts becoming more aggressive. The room was filled with the sound of their flesh slapping together, their moans mingling in the air. Y/n's body writhed beneath him, her nails digging into the sheets as her orgasm built once again.

"Oh god, Oscar," she cried out, her body tensing. "I'm going to come."

He responded by increasing his pace, his own desire reaching a fever pitch. "Cum for me, baby."

Her orgasm crashed over her, her cries filling the room as she came undone. The sensation was enough to push Oscar over the edge, his own release filling her as he cried out her name.

As their orgasms subsided, Oscar collapsed onto Y/n, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, his lips finding hers in a tender kiss.

"God, Y/n," he whispered, his voice soft with satisfaction. "You're incredible."

She smiled up at him, her body still humming with the aftershocks of their passion. "So are you, Oscar."

He pulled out of her, his spent cock leaving a trail of evidence between them. They lay entwined, their hearts beating in unison, the sweat on their bodies glistening in the dim light.

Y/n lies back in bed, her body slightly trembling with residual pleasure and tiredness. She lets out a satisfied sigh before turning towards Oscar, a small smile on her lips.

"We'll need to stop by the pharmacy tomorrow," she says, her voice a bit weary but resolute. "We're gonna need some Plan B."

Oscar nods, understanding the necessity and importance of stopping by the pharmacy. He stands up from the bed and walks over to the bathroom. After a moment, he returns with a towel in hand.

He approaches Y/n, his movements gentle and careful as he begins to clean her up with the towel, his touches gentle and soothing as he takes care of her.

He moves the towel across her skin, wiping away the remnants of their intimate encounter, his touch firm yet tender as he ensures she's clean and comfortable. He takes his time, making sure to not miss any spot.

Once he's satisfied that she's clean, he gently pats her dry with the towel, the soft cloth absorbing the excess moisture from her body. There's a hint of care and nurturing in his actions as he takes care of her, a small gesture of affection.

yn.jpg ♫ Taylor Swift • Guilty as Sin?

liked by oscarpiastrii, may.piastri, sienna_cresenzo and 1,433 others yn.jpg the reason i can't think straight has a name tagged oscarpiastrii

oscarpiastrii 😄😄😄

sienna_cresenzo so im guessing the swimsuit thing worked??? ↳ oscarpiastrii What swimsuit thing? ↳ yn.jpg nothing oz, go back to bed

may.piastri "renovations" they said

𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 | 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍

taglist:

@ellen3101 @lil13 @idgasb @formulaal @mickslover @yolobiishhh @piastri-my-boy @landorris @czennieszn @bunnyleclerc @mythicalmaven @lovestay4evr @p1astrisgirl

[amomentsescape]

Slashers x reader with wings. Reader's wings are bound, hidden and look heavily damaged from that.

How do the slashers find out? How do they react?

Add the crow guy, Eric, I think?

Slashers with Winged! Reader

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, Bo, & Eric

A/N: I am once again sleep deprived, so I apologize if there are any typos or nonsense that I didn't catch reading through this. Thank you for your request!

Freddy Krueger

As mentioned in many previous posts, you can't really hide anything from Freddy

Whenever you sleep, you're in his territory, and he can do whatever he pleases

And one of the last things he'll ever let you do is hide yourself from him

He could see the damage from all the years of hiding your wings, binding them up in hopes no one would notice

And this honestly pisses him off a bit

Why would you ever want to be like everyone else?

Your wings were beautiful, and they made you that much more special

The moment he sees your wings free, you better believe he'll never let you hide them again

Anyone who even gives you the slightest look will be dealt with that same night

Michael Myers

Another one that you can't really hide anything from

He may let you think that he doesn't know about your wings

But in reality, he's known about them this whole time

However, he won't push you to reveal yourself to him until you're ready

It's not like it's a huge deal to him anyways

He's neutral about the whole situation

Wings or no wings, nothing will sway his opinion on you

Just don't wait too long to talk to him about it though

The more time that passes, the more irritated he'll become

Because after this much time together, you have to fully trust him now

Right?

Jason Voorhees

Jason is pretty much clueless from the start

It's not that he isn't observant to you (he watches you 24/7)

It's just that he fully respects your boundaries and won't even hold your hand unless you tell him he can

So when he accidentally walked in on you one day and saw your damaged wings, he just stands there in shock

He snaps out of it when he notices your bashful and worried face however

He's just so confused on why you would hide this from him

He thinks your wings suit you perfectly

In fact, it makes him feel even more assured that you two are meant for each other

He also grew up wanting to hide a part of himself

But having each other means fully embracing the insecurities of the other

He doesn't ever want you to hide your wings from him again

Thomas Hewitt

He honestly would have never even knew about them if it wasn't for his need for late night affection

He just wanted to cuddle up next to you in the middle of the night

But he was met with something out of place on your back

He couldn't help but peek, and the moment he did, he was stunned

But did he even think about running?

No. He just decided to wait until morning to talk to you about it

When he asked you, he could tell you were uncomfortable

And because of this, he did everything he could to reassure you that he wasn't upset or grossed out by your wings

He loves them!

He took them in his hands gently and carefully removed the bindings

There will be no more hiding from him after that

And he'll happily caress your wings every night until you feel reassured

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba didn't mean to walk in on you like this

But the moment he sees the wings, all decency goes out the door

He stumbles in further, his hands reaching out to them

They're breathtaking... but why are they so damaged?

It physically hurts him to see you in any type of pain, and yet you've been carrying this around with you this whole time?

He's a bit hurt you didn't feel comfortable talking to him about this, but he's even more hurt by the fact that they look painful to you

He doesn't even let you protest before he's breaking the ties and freeing the wings

He's blubbering to you, making you promise to never hurt yourself like this, especially when it's something so cool

He spends the next few days playing with your wings, admiring them like a kid with a new toy

Brahms Heelshire

The day he finds out about your wings is one of betrayal

Brahms refuses to let you keep secrets from him, and hiding such a big thing from him upsets him greatly

How can he trust you?

You’ll need to give him some time to cool down, but once he does, he’ll be on you

Will force you to free your wings so he can play with them

It honestly hurts him a bit to see the destruction brought to them

He empathizes with you a bit

He has also spent a good portion of his life hiding a part of himself

But it’s because of this experience that he refuses to let you do the same any longer

You’re with him now anyways

He’ll never let you leave the house

So there will never be another soul to judge this part of you ever again

Norman Bates

He’s kind of speculated for a bit that you were hiding something

He didn’t know exactly what, he just could feel it in his gut

This insecurity was beginning to eat away at him until the day he finally saw the truth

It would be a lie to say that he wasn’t a bit scared at first

Angels have wings, but so did the devil

But seeing your pained expression reassured Norman that you were far from something evil

Once he let everything soak in, he’ll be all over you asking questions

He wants to know everything about you and your wings

He doesn’t want you to hide them anymore, and he’ll take the time each night to clean them and help heal them from years of damage

These are a part of you, and he loves everything about you

Billy Loomis

Billy doesn't really speculate anything

He's confident that he would be able to tell if you were keeping anything from him

Until the night he sneaks in through your window in hopes of surprising you

But instead, he's the one with the surprise

He sees you looking sadly at yourself through the bathroom mirror, your damaged wings on full display

He spends the next few days going radio silent towards you

But on the fourth day, he storms your room and interrogates you on your wings

Why the hell would you lie to him?

He doesn't care that you have something that makes you "different"

He's simply hurt that you kept it from him

However, it only takes an open conversation for him to calm down

He's still a little pissy but happy to know the truth

Just don't keep anything from him again

Stu Macher

This boy is absolutely clueless

But his unconditional, completely suffocating affection is what finally makes you feel comfortable to open up to him

And when you do, his eyes widen and his jaw drops

You almost think he's going to be upset until he speaks

"That's fucking sick"

Has you unbind them immediately with the promise that you won't keep them hidden away like that anymore

He constantly reassures you that anyone who sees them will have the same reaction as him

There are thousands of people that would kill to have wings like yours

Stu included

So don't ever hide something that literally makes you so unique

He loves them

Vincent Sinclair

You honestly told him about your wings right away

It was after a deep conversation about his own insecurities over his appearance and scars

He showed you his face, and you showed him your wings

It was a raw moment of vulnerability between you two, and all it did was strengthen your bond

After that night, you rarely saw him wear that mask, and he refused to let you tied up your wings like that again

He wants to love the real you

And any part you hide from him is a part of you that he can't love freely

He thinks your wings are beautiful, and you become even more of a inspiration for his art

You are quite literally an angel in his eyes, and he won't ever take advantage of that

Bo Sinclair

He was being flirty and touchy, as Bo does

And the moment he felt your back, he was throwing questions at you left and right

There was no lying or hiding the truth from him any longer

Bo hates secrets

So when you fully reveal yourself to him, he's shocked

He doesn't really know what to say at first

He didn't think something like this was possible

But after finally accepting the reality of the situation, he angrily begins tearing off your bindings

How dare you hurt yourself like this? How could you willingly lie to him after all this time?

He's a good mixture of disbelieving and pissed at you

It'll take a couple days to fully understand the situation

But once he does, it's smooth sailing

Eric Draven

Eric is all-knowing

And he knows that you're keeping something from him

But unlike a lot of the others, he's not upset or angry about it

You'll tell him when you're ready, and he trusts you enough to know it isn't anything terrible

And once you do open up about it, he's in absolute awe

His companion is a crow for goodness sake

To think he was ever going to react in any way other than admiration would have been stupid

He does get a bit emotional seeing your wings all tied up and damaged however

He's gentle with you as he sets them free

To see that pain you put yourself through really upsets him

He doesn't ever want you to do something like that again, especially when he sees this as a true gift

He'll spend the rest of the night cleaning and taking care of them, lulling you to sleep