#removing myself from the equation

[jerzwriter]

We don't have a dress.

My daughter is going to put me in my grave.

[chrimsone]

I haven’t read your fanfiction yet but I saw it on AO3 after just posting my own and flipping through chapters I saw you noted down your Tumblr account and I just wanted to say from the bits and pieces I skimmed through it seems very good and I’m excited to read it

oh yay! It's always nice to know folk are actually reading the stuff I throw out there :3c

ik it's not everyone's cup of tea because I avoid canon characters like the plague in fear of making them ooc. which I hope to make up for it by trying to offer like.. a parallel experience to what the player character does

[a-bitch-made-fullmetal]

GOOD morning. keen observers of Me as a person on the internet might know that I've published a couple of fma fanfics, one of which is titled "chance encounter". that fic, of course, is about Hohenheim being a transphobic piece of shit because I love making fictional fathers evil for no reason.

another fun fact, that fic was originally meant to be from Ed's pov before I changed my mind and made it from Roy's instead because in my head certain elements worked better that way. but I recently came across the original draft, and I quite like it actually, so I'm posting it here!

trigger warning for transphobia and misgendering and also Ray's Customary Hohenheim Character Slander™

At first, Edward thought he wouldn't recognise him.

Hoped he wouldn't recognise him.

It had been over ten years, and he doubted the man had spared them more than a handful of thoughts in the decade he had left them to fend for themselves.

He couldn't possibly recognise him.

Ed shook his head, didn't brush his bangs back when they fell into his face. His gaze landed on the debris littering the street, the torn up cobblestones, the loose wires sparking away from the base of a toppled streetlight.

“Fullmetal.” Edward turned and watched the Colonel step up beside him, surveying the damage they had done as he tugged his ignition gloves off. He waited for him to say something else, rubbing at his faintly aching wrist–sprained, probably–but Mustang stayed silent.

He turned his attention to his little brother, clunking around awkwardly in the background like he didn't know what to do with himself.

At least he didn't have to worry about being recognised.

Ed swallowed against the sour taste on his tongue.

Havoc approached the man idling on the other side of the street, undoubtedly staring at Ed from behind reflective glasses, and he angled himself further away.

“Well, we got our guy–let’s go,” he said and didn't acknowledge the strange look Mustang shot him.

“...sure. The team can handle the rest.” Edward trudged past him, only to screech to a halt two steps later. “Alphonse! C’mon, let's pack it up.”

There was a brief silence before heavy clanking footsteps drew nearer, and Ed closed his eyes, praying for the first time in a long time.

“Alright, boys-” the Colonel began as he fell into step next to them, Hawkeye the ever dutiful shadow at his back.

A heavy hand clapped down on Ed's flesh shoulder, whirling him around with enough force his braid whipped behind his back. He knocked the unwelcome appendage off without thinking about it, moving a quick step backwards to get out of reach.

Golden eyes stared down at him from behind wired frames, and Ed's mouth pulled into a sneer. He was dimly aware of Alphonse's quiet brother somewhere next to him, followed by a metallic click he immediately recognised as the sound of a gun being cocked.

“Rebecca,” Hohenheim said, and Edward reared backwards as if struck-

God, he wished he had just struck him.

That would have hurt less.

“Dad,” Alphonse said quietly, and Hohenheim’s cold eyes flitted from Ed to Al and back, not paying any mind to Hawkeye and her gun, or the fact that Mustang pulled his ignition gloves back on and readied himself to snap.

“I could have sworn you were a girl the last time I saw you,” he said, and Ed balled his fists so tightly the metallic screech of automail filled the otherwise silent street.

“You must be mistaking me for someone else,” he pressed past gritted teeth, eyes narrowed in a vicious glare, his chest so tight he could barely breathe.

“Let's go, Fullmetal,” the Colonel said, voice calm but fingers still poised to snap, and all of a sudden he experienced an appreciation for Mustang's presence he had never known before.

“Yeah.” He turned on his heel, ready to get as far away from this as fast as possible, when a hand closed around his flesh–injured–wrist and yanked him back.

He yelped and attempted to free himself, but Hohenheim didn't budge, and his wrist hurt.

“Unhand him!” Mustang demanded at once, and Hawkeye narrowed her eyes, clicking off the safety.

“She's my daughter,” was all Hohenheim said, and yet all the air rushed from Ed's lungs as if he had taken a good punch to the solar plexus. “Rebecca- you're with the military?”

Ed stared up at the man in pressing silence. It was like he was watching the scene unfold as a third party, standing next to his frozen body, unaffected.

“Dad-” Al began next to him, taking a hulking step forward, his usually soft tinny voice stern.

“My name is Edward,” he cut in, toneless and blank faced, and Hohenheim’s brows knotted in a frown.

“Let go of my subordinate, I will not be asking again-” Mustang hissed from somewhere behind his shoulder, Alphonse audibly nodding his agreement.

“I'm her father,” Hohenheim said as if that was all reasoning required and yanked Ed off balance with a firm tug on his trapped wrist, making him stumble another step forward. “What's going on, Rebecca? What happened to you brother? What did you do?”

Edward's breath caught in his tight throat. His wrist throbbed. He bit back a wince.

“It's Edward,” he breathed again, but his voice was weak and small and barely audible, and he hated himself for it.

“You think I don't recognise my own daughter? I was there for your birth, I gave you your name–what is this, some kind of charade for the sake of your military career?” the last words dripped from his lips like poison, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses, and his fingers tightened around his wrist. This time, Edward couldn't suppress his pained whimper.

“You're hurting him!” Alphonse called, one armoured hand shooting out, but Hohenheim yanked his hand back as if burned before he could make contact. Ed ripped his arm away, cradling it to his chest, and took two quick steps backwards. The added distance wasn't nearly enough.

Something in the man's eyes changed, then, softened, and he let his hand drop to his side, fingers flexing.

“I didn't mean-” he said to Ed, who just glared and sneered, but paused before something akin to an apology could actually leave his mouth–Edward couldn't say he was surprised.

Hohenheim turned to Alphonse. Hawkeye moved from her place beside the Colonel to Edward's other side on silent soles, so that he was flanked by both adults. Inexplicably, something tight inside him uncoiled ever so slightly.

“Him?” Hohenheim said as if he hadn't heard every single time someone had referred to Edward before this instance.

Al nodded. “He's my brother,” he said softly, and Edward swallowed hard, still so affected by the way his little brother spoke those words, effortless and earnest.

The man's mouth tightened into a hard line, and he lowered his head, the reflection of his glasses hiding his eyes from view.

“Your mother would be heartbroken if she could see you like this,” he said quietly, and the numbness encompassing Ed was devoured by an inferno of rage as though with a snap of the Colonel's fingers.

“You do not get to talk about our mother,” he snarled, storming out from the protective cocoon of Mustang and Hawkeye to crowd into Hohenheim's space, his face twisted with fury.

“You-” He jabbed his automail finger into the man's chest, hard. “keep her name out of your mouth, do you understand me? You have no fucking right-”

“Edward.” Somehow, his real name from that man's mouth felt more like a slap to the face than the other one had. “Understand- you took her daughter from her. You took my daughter from me.”

His arm dropped. Spots danced across his vision as though he had taken a blow to the nose, and Ed stumbled backwards-

Right into a pair of strong arms.

“Alright, that's enough. Boys, we're leaving,” Mustang said, low and controlled, and took Ed by his automail arm with a gentleness that was by no means necessary–but still appreciated, even though he wouldn't admit to that out loud–, turning him around, breaking his gaze away from Hohenheim.

Hawkeye lowered her gun, but didn't put it away yet. Alphonse let out a muffled sigh, and then he fell into step behind them.

“Wait- Flame Alchemist,” Hohenheim called, and Mustang let out a long breath, his brow creased with annoyance.

“What?” he snapped, only halfway turned around, his arm a protective barrier between Ed and that man.

“They're my children. I have a right to them.”

A burst of hysterical laughter tore from Ed's throat, but neither man acknowledged him. Al lowered his head with a soft creak, mumbling a tiny brother that tugged on something deep inside his ribcage.

Mustang scoffed. “They're orphans on paper. I'm their legal guardian. You have the right to fuck right off.”

With that, he wrapped his arm tighter around Ed and firmly led him away, Alphonse following without another word.

His chest hurt, and his wrist throbbed, but the tight knot in his stomach loosened with every step he took.

[artificial-condition]

Time to start looking for new jobs babes 🥰

[petrichorium]

I haven’t refreshed my dash yet but I think I’ll take an impromptu hiatus

[fooltofancy]

facedown on the floor what do i do with my stupid fucking couch

[bi0mancy]

i'm probably gonna move hazel to @defi4nce & delete this account bc logging into my blogs is just making me really unhappy & lonely so may as well have everything in the same space.

[tropicana-on-the-walkway]

Maturing is not letting other people's bad mood affect your good mood

[the-physicality]

i don't even know what to say

i had a bad feeling about this game ever since i went to watch and it was on *m*z*n pr*me

what happened to the offense

what happened to the defense [what happened to the defense is that atlanta has one 3 point threat and apparently washington has 8?

monique i thought had a very good game

celeste did well

natasha mack again had good impact

honestly i thought we took better care of the ball tonight than we have in a while but the shots were just not falling

i'm still annoyed at nate's rotations and honestly i think they are fucking up the first quarters

like i get that he's working on rotations or what ever but if people are getting points [the first points, the only points so far] maybe keep those people in instead of pulling them halfway through the quarter

i want to say this politely: it seems like he has pre planned rotations that he's going to implement regardless of the context of the game -_-

like we lost the 1st by 9, we lost the 2nd by 9, we lost the 3rd by 4 and we won the 4th by 9. thus the game by 13

if we lose the 1st by 5 instead that means that we've either played better defense or scored more points which keeps us hotter going into the 2nd, making it easier to play well, etc.

[yououghtaknow]

just woke up and i am INSTANTLY experiencing some of the worst bpd feelings i've had in a While

[aventurineswife]

Hi! This is my first time making a request but I literally love all of your hsr work and wanted to give it a try! Can I request Aventurine, Ratio, and/or anyone else you feel inspired to write reacting to reader stopping by to see them while they’re working? Have a great day/night!

In the Silence Between Chaos

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Romance, Fluff, Lighthearted, Playful Banter, Casual Humor, Established Relationship.

A/N: HII!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!! I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS!!🤭💖🫶

The steady hum of the office filled the space as Aventurine tapped his pen rhythmically against his desk, the gold nib catching the light of the green-glass lamp. Documents were scattered before him in a meticulous chaos only he could understand, numbers and risks dancing across the pages. The roulette-themed clock on the wall ticked steadily, but his focus was unshaken—until the sound of the door opening broke the monotony.

"Ah, darling," he greeted smoothly, his eyes lighting up as you stepped in. His ever-present smile softened into something more genuine. "To what do I owe this delightful interruption?"

You held up a small paper bag with a playful smirk. "Just thought you could use a break. Your assistant practically begged me to rescue you from yourself."

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Rescue me? From work? You wound me." But the way he reached for the bag betrayed his eagerness.

Inside was a small box of pastries and a note in your handwriting: For the gambler who bets on everything but sleep.

Aventurine’s laughter bubbled forth, rich and carefree. "You know me too well," he said, setting the bag aside. "But tell me—since you're here—how about we make a wager?" His eyes glinted mischievously.

"And what are we betting on this time?" you asked, crossing your arms with a smirk.

"Whether or not this pastry tastes as sweet as you."

You rolled your eyes but laughed, knowing full well you had already lost.

The rhythmic tapping of keys filled the air in Ratio's dimly lit laboratory. Shelves lined with books, glowing screens, and complex holographic projections dominated the room. The doctor sat hunched over his desk, hair falling over his face as his fingers danced over the keyboard. He was lost in his work, eyes fixed on a glowing equation that twisted and turned in midair.

The creak of the door broke his concentration. "Veritas?" Your voice cut through the silence like a beam of light, making his head snap up.

"Ah, [Name]," he said, his sharp eyes softening as he removed his glasses and leaned back in his chair. "I wasn’t expecting visitors. Is there something urgent you need?"

You shook your head, holding up a thermos and a small container. "Not urgent, just… figured you might need a break. Thought I’d bring you some tea and snacks."

He blinked, momentarily taken aback, before letting out a low chuckle. "You’ve come to save me from myself, have you? Very well, I’ll indulge your concern." He gestured toward the nearest chair. "Sit."

Placing the thermos and snacks on the table, you watched as he poured himself a cup. His movements were precise, almost ritualistic, and you couldn’t help but admire the way he carried himself with a quiet intensity.

"I’ve been working on a solution to a rather stubborn problem," he said, breaking the silence. "But I must admit, this interruption is… welcome."

You leaned forward, curiosity piqued. "What’s the problem?"

His lips curved into a small smile. "A theoretical model on multidimensional communication. Fascinating, yet infuriatingly elusive. Much like you."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Infuriating, huh? And yet here I am, bringing you tea."

"Indeed," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "You’re quite the enigma yourself. A distraction, yes, but also a source of clarity." His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the intensity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat.

"Ratio," you teased, trying to lighten the mood, "are you saying I’m your muse?"

"Perhaps," he replied, a rare softness in his tone. "Or perhaps just the only person who can remind me to step away from the chaos and appreciate the simpler things."

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, the hum of machinery around you fading into the background. In that moment, it wasn’t about equations or theories—it was about the connection you shared, grounding him in a way no academic pursuit ever could.

[tommyssupercoolblog]

I'd like to "yes and" this and elaborate :3

if you don't like tommyinnit (or. Anything) that's okay! You don't have to like everything. It's impossible to. But your taste is not universal. And Tommy HAS grown, he just hasn't grown in a way that makes him palatable to you. He didn't "not mature", he just didn't do it in the same direction you did. Some adults like dick jokes. Some adults, especially nerodivergent ones, are loud and weird. (Although to be honest he's quieter in his videos, specifically, than he used to be during recordings. I actually find him very mellowed out on video compared to streams or older videos, at times.) he has a fanbsse because people like different things.

Like... One of my favorite musicals of all time? Is cats. You know, Cats? The show everyone makes fun of because it's cringe and weird, and then a movie studio butchered it into a horrible adaptation in 2019? That cats. I love cats, and Mr mistoffolees is my favorite character (and the song about him is my favorite song). Most people say cats is dumb and uncomfortable and weird, but I think (for the stage show) it's silly and fun and charming. You can think of the most weird, cringe, awful thing you can imagine and for someone else, it just doesn't hit that way for whatever reason.

Everyone is growing and changing but we don't always go the same way. And part of life is realizing that sometimes, movies and music and yes, people, that you used to love, don't click with you anymore. The puzzle pieces that used to click together are both different shapes now, and the new shapes don't connect.

This last part might be a bit of a reach but I saw that this ask mentioned that you're 15, and a lot of people's teenage years are spent distancing themselves from "childish" things, and cringing, and trying to sort of...stake out a place in the world, and a large part of that is 1) throwing old things out 2) fighting for your place in the adult society you're being ushered into. I think it's no coincidence that right now is the time where you're feeling like jokes and humor that's weird or "juvenile" is bad, or a sign of being immature all around. You're probably not going to turn around a few years later and like that stuff again (I mean some people do but it depends) but you are at a pivotal time in figuring out how you slot into things. So lashing out at things you consider cringe or beneath you is pretty expected.

But consider it this way... is it fair to ask Tommyinnit, and all of his subscribers, to change their whole sense of humor, their personality, the way they carry themselves, all to be palatable to you?

There's probably tons of people who find things about your sense of humor and personality unpalatable. Should you lose your individuality and just sort of be whatever they want you to be, for them?

Who gets to decide how we all have to change? Who gets to pick the mold we squeeze into? What if culture changes, do we repeat the process all over again? What about different cultures, different countries?

The disdain you (seem to) feel for cringe things is your brain trying to help you get into a good place, socially, and fit into the circles you want to be in and make friends with the kinds of people you want to learn from and emulate. But it doesn't mean that those people are actually a problem. It's an internal standard/guidance, not a universal law. It can help you, it can hurt you, but however you use (or don't use) it to mold yourself, it definitely shouldn't be used as a force on others.

I genuinely don’t know how tommyinnit has a fanbase anymore. He has failed to ever mature and is genuinely annoying. I loved him when I was 11-12 and i’m almost 15 and can’t stand him anymore so I think that says a lot about him (and his fanbase because most of them are just as immature)

I think it’s moreso that you just don’t like his style of humor anymore, and that’s okay.

You’ll realize as you continue to grow that there are lots of people who feel this way— that there is no way to enjoy any of it— about the things you love, and you will also realize that it’s wrong for them to view you or your interests as “stupid” just because they don’t get the same enjoyment as you do.

[anim-ttrpgs]

Reading the book, and I'm already loving it. I agree with a lot of the things y'all say in it (players control the characters, not the narrator, etc.), but I was surprised at the strong insistence on 3rd person play.

Personally I like 1st person play because it helps me with immersion. If I play in 3rd person then my mental camera goes 3rd person, which feels more like playing a video game and removes that thrill of embodying someone else and living in a new world.

Usually I see people either take a strong pro 1st person stance, or a noncommittal stance, but this is the first time I've come across a game that insists on the 3rd person. I'm curious about the reasoning behind it. Was it just a philosophical decision, or did it bear out in playtesting that 3rd person was the better method? In the book y'all acknowledge that 3rd person play doesn't eliminate the threat of griefing from bad faith players.

Y'all clearly put a lot of thought into the game, so that really interested me. Could be a good learning opportunity!

I passed this on to one of our team and this is what she had to say:

In addition to our own home table just preferring to play in 3rd person, we believe that perspective is an important element of TTRPGs that doesn't get explored very often in the modern landscape. The games we play are composed of language - not just the words on the page, but the words we say at the table. Changing the verbiage will create a different emotional space, and a different experience. That zoomed out mental camera you describe is part of the point! In any TTRPG, players are always two things: participant, and audience. The narration we employ at the table affects the game world, yes, but we are also the only people there to see it play out. Eureka strongly emphasizes the "audience" side of that equation, and wants to frame the "participant" side as an act of authorship and discovery rather than one of inhabiting the world.

Just on a fundamental level, perspective is a defining part of any media - the camera angle in a movie or video game, the person of a book's prose, who tells the story, and who they tell it for. The way we frame a story changes the response it evokes. As you say, you've seen either strong pro-1st-person stances or neutral ones, but not a strong pro-3rd-person stance. I don't think that's because 1st person is inherently better for this sort of game, I think its because there is a tendency in the hobby right now - for a variety of reasons - to treat TTRPGs like a form of improv theater. That's not a problem in isolation per se, but I think it's one that limits what the medium can be or do. TTRPGs can be improv theater, but is that all they can be?

On a final note, we have also seen the insistence on 1st-person play and the approach of "embodying" a character occasionally cause real harm when the people involved have trouble separating player and character. That's also part of the reason we're so insistent about these being two separate people, because investigators tend to do some pretty messed up things (this being a horror focused game, after all), and we don't want people equivocating their friends with the characters they play when that level of emotional intensity is involved. Many people who play in 1st person are able to engage with that in a healthy way and understand the difference, of course, but I think it's hard to deny that the language makes that equivocation easier.

- @ashweather (person from out team who doesn't normally run this blog)

Adding on myself, another thing that I always like to bring up in this discussion is that first-person verbiage did not used to be so universal! Playing in the hobby even 4 or 5 years ago, you'd see (or at least I would see) a mix of third and first person verbiage at tables, and even people who used both interchangably. It's only in the past few years that third-person verbiage for TTRPGs has gone practically extinct, and i think most of the blame lies at the feet of big-budget "actual play" shows like Critical Role being many people's only reference for how a TTRPG can be played. Critical Role uses first-person, so therefor that's how TTRPGs are played.

I've even had people tell me on multiple separate occassions "that's wrong" when I'm trying to use third-person verbiage for TTRPGs, when playing with rulebooks which explicitly say in their text early on "you can use 1st or 3rd person to describe your character's actions"! (most, if not all, D&D edition rulebooks say this!)

In closing, yeah, if Eureka were a video game, it would be in third-person. Eureka doesn't want you in its world, it wants a character.

[navybrat817]

Oh, this smirk!

The Rejects

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, mentioned Steve Rogers x Female Reader, mentioned Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Bucky address the elephant in the room.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Flirting, friends with benefits (not Bucky x Reader), light angst, tension, Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning)

A/N: This was meant to be something else completely, but the muse did what she wanted. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“You jealous?”

Looking up from the Scrabble board, you suppressed the urge to roll your eyes at Bucky’s smug expression. “Jealous of what exactly?” you asked, downing the rest of your drink and not flinching at the sting.

“Come on. You know what,” he answered, crossing his arms as he leaned on the table. “Or do I need to say it?”

“Please, enlighten me,” you said as you placed a square on the board. You knew exactly what he was referring to, but you’d play his game. “Go on. Don’t be shy.”

“Steve and Natasha sleeping together,” he answered.

Big boy actually said it.

You allowed the eyeroll to happen when he smirked. They left the two of you alone almost an hour ago and it was a feat that you went that long without acknowledging it. “No, I’m not. Why would I be?”

Bucky pointed at you with his beer bottle. “Because you used to hook up with Steve.”

“And you used to sleep with Natasha,” you said without skipping a beat. That wiped the smirk off his face. “So sorry you got stuck playing Scrabble with a reject like me.”

You didn’t have super soldier hearing the way he did, but you heard his teeth grind when he selected his next piece. “You’re not a reject,” he said above a whisper.

Neither of you spoke as you kept playing. After a bad mission months ago, you slept with Steve. It wasn’t a big deal. Adrenaline was high and he gave you the release you needed. Expecting it to be a one time thing, it surprised you when he shoved you against a wall days later. You fell into a “friends with benefits” arrangement with him after that.

While he treated you well enough, you both maintained that it wouldn’t go beyond sex. From what Natasha told you, she had a similar arrangement with Bucky. It worked for your needs.

You were content.

Until you noticed how Steve and Natasha’s gazes lingered on each other after briefings. How easily they fell in step beside each other despite their sometimes opposing views. She trusted the Captain, which wasn’t easy for the former spy. Steve respected her and that said something. You accepted that they needed each other and quietly removed yourself from the equation.

Bucky did the same.

“You know what? I am jealous,” you admitted, the game forgotten at that point. “But not because they’re sleeping together.”

Bucky’s cheek twitched, like he didn’t quite believe you. “Then why are you?”

Glancing down the hall before you looked back at Bucky, you sighed. “As happy as I am for them, I'm a little sad for myself. Because they found something in each other that no one has found with me,” you told him, narrowing your eyes when his slightly widened. “What?” you asked. If the former Winter Soldier made fun of you or laughed, you wouldn’t hesitate to smack him because you weren’t afraid of him.

“Nothing,” he said, the index finger on his vibranium hand tapping the table in a fast motion. “I just understand how you feel.”

Shame flooded you for thinking he’d poke fun at your vulnerability. He wasn’t a bad guy. Far from it. In fact, Steve never got jealous or insecure when you talked to Bucky and Natasha hadn’t either. They encouraged the two of you to become friends. Looking back, it was easy to think they supported the friendship to phase you two out. But you knew that wasn’t the case.

They weren’t cruel.

What would’ve happened if I slept with Bucky instead of Steve? Is it wrong that I’ve thought about that more than once?

“So, why are a couple of 'rejects' like us who are not jealous of our former lovers sitting here playing board games instead of going out and looking for ‘the one’?” you teased.

“Because I was too chicken to ask you out tonight, even after I got the okay from Steve.”

What?

You blinked once. Twice. “Your best friend, who has been inside me, is cool with you asking me out?”

He winced at your choice of words. “Well, when you put it like that. Yeah?” he replied, before he straightened up, confidence filling those pretty blue eyes of his. “I don’t give a fuck that you slept with Steve. I’m asking you out.”

Your smile turned a little warmer and you reigned your claws in. “You want to take me on a date?” you asked, your heart swelling when he ran a hand through his hair and nodded. "If this is just to fill a void, I don't think it's a good idea."

If Bucky needed that, you understood. But could you do that again? No. Not with him.

"I'm asking because I want to, doll. You're a badass and I like your company," he said. That was a big deal since Bucky only seemed to like a handful of people. "And if you’ll let me, I’ll ruin you.”

Fuck.

“I don’t know,” you said in a singsong voice, stretching and purposely sticking your chest out to draw his gaze to your breasts. “We’ve both done the whole friends with benefits thing before and-”

He reached across the table to take your hand. “You wouldn’t be my friend. You’d be my girl.”

Your stomach did a funny flip, something you hadn’t felt in a long time. The word “yes” was on the tip of your tongue. Because you had a right to be happy. All of you did.

I slept with Steve. Natasha slept with Bucky. Steve is sleeping with Natasha. The next logical step is sleeping with Bucky, right? Who knew math could be fun?

“What would Nat think?” you asked. Though you were certain she had no feelings for Bucky beyond friendship, you didn’t want her to be uncomfortable just because you were fine with her and Steve.

Your phone buzzed a half a minute later with a text from the former Black Widow herself.

“Go for it. He'll be good to you and you deserve it.”

Bucky chuckled when you looked back down the hall. “Steve and his fucking hearing,” you muttered before you threw your head back. “Stop listening to our conversation! That’s rude!”

“Sorry!” Steve yelled back.

You smiled at Bucky, the atmosphere lighter even with the tension. “Okay. You beat me in Scrabble, you pick where we go for our first date. I win, I get to pick and no complaints.”

His eyes lit up as your heart raced. “Deal,” he said, the smirk slowly appearing on his face again. “But the loser has to play the next game naked.”

“Game on, Barnes.”

So, there we go. 😂 I hope you lovelies liked it! More of these two with A Couple of Cuties. Love and thanks for reading. 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[f14fun]

lay all your love on me - op81 (C1)

synopsis: in which oscar piastri and a university student begging for her euro summer vacation collide in a steamy, abba-inspired romance

prose (6.0K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | series index ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

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01: The Thermodynamics of My Hot Mess

I wasn't jealous before we met. Now every woman I see is a potential threat. The once timid, tame, collegiate girl I was before I met you has turned me possessive, it isn't nice.

And it’s all your fault, Oscar Piastri. You’ve taken the calm, rational part of me and set it on fire, leaving nothing but the green-eyed monster in its place. Oscar Piastri, you have turned me into a jealous mess, filled with envy and desperation I never thought possible. It’s like you’ve invaded every corner of my mind, making me obsess over the thought of you, the idea that someone else might take you away from me.

Even in my wildest, most fantasmic dreams, I would never have predicted that a spontaneous trip to Santorini, Greece, would spark the greatest lustful romance of my life. It was supposed to be a simple escape, a break from the pressures of college life. But the moment I laid eyes on you, everything changed. The calm, composed person I used to be unraveled with every stolen glance, every accidental touch, every moment we spent together under the Mediterranean sun.

But here I am, in a whirlwind romance that’s as exhilarating as terrifying, driven by emotions I didn’t even know I had. And the craziest part? I wouldn’t trade it for anything. This chaotic, intense passion has awakened something in me that I can’t ignore, something that makes me feel more alive than I ever have before.

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Three weeks ago, I was drooling on page one hundred thirty-eight of my physics textbook on thermodynamics, barely awake and running on fumes. I was practically strung out on Monster Energy Drinks and those overpriced, sugary lattes from the campus vending machine—the only thing keeping me from completely passing out on the spot. The dense equations and dry theories blurred together on the page, making it impossible to focus. My brain begged for a break, but I kept pushing, hoping the caffeine would magically make the material stick.

News flash, it didn't.

So, when Mama casually mentioned that we’d be vacationing in Santorini for summer break, it was like a lifeline had been thrown my way. Suddenly, the fog of exhaustion lifted, and a thrill of excitement surged through me. It was as if a dormant part of me, buried beneath layers of stress and routine, had been awakened, eager for the unexpected adventure that awaited.

The idea of trading my study desk for the stunning views of Santorini seemed almost surreal. My thoughts raced as I imagined wandering through the picturesque streets, soaking in the sun, and immersing myself in a world far removed from the rigors of academic life. It was an escape I hadn't known I needed, a break from the monotony of textbooks and equations.

I pictured myself strolling along the charming alleys lined with whitewashed buildings and vibrant bougainvillea, the scent of the Mediterranean Sea mingling with the aroma of fresh local cuisine. The thought of exploring ancient ruins and savoring sunsets that painted the sky in hues of orange and pink felt like stepping into a dream.

And not to mention, a part of me was inkling for a dream-like, rom-com-esque summer romance. I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, a change of scenery could bring that fantasy to life.

As I swiped through images of ancient ruins, bustling cityscapes, and pristine beaches, I couldn't help but imagine myself in those exotic locales, experiencing the same thrilling adventures and romantic escapades. It was hard not to get swept up in the fantasy, picturing myself in those picture-perfect settings, with someone special by my side. It could quite literally be anyone, at this point. My horrific failed romancing attempts as well as my "not quite mediocre", yet "not quite stellar" looks were keeping me away from all the hotties.

The contrast between the vibrant, sun-soaked images on my screen and the monotony of my daily grind was stark. Quite embarrassing, frankly.

It fueled my desire for something more; something that broke away from the predictability of my studies and everyday responsibilities. Each scroll made the dream of a spontaneous adventure feel more urgent, intensifying my longing for a chance to immerse myself in the extraordinary.

Girls that I had grown up with were posing like models. Vogue, Elle, Cosmopolitan. And I wanted to be just like them.

Teeny tiny bikinis tied by a loose string, new ear and a belly piercing, flip-flops, and red tan lines. Margaritas, mojitos with lime, white wine. Loud club music, the nightlife of a girl in a foreign country, and dark blue eyeshadow and glitter. Flocking around older guys with them, locking lips with handsome strangers in bars, and flaunting all their escapades (or namely, their sexcapades) It was all so racy, daring, and outgoing. All of these things were unlike me, but I was a girl who dreamed of having fun. So you never know, I could suddenly change overnight.

The thought of stepping into that world, even just for a summer, was both thrilling and terrifying. It was a side of life I had only seen through screens, and part of me wondered if I was capable of embracing it. What would it feel like to let go of all my inhibitions, to live without worrying about consequences? To be that carefree girl who dances until dawn, flirts shamelessly, and collects stories too wild to share with anyone but your closest friends?

I couldn’t help but wonder if that girl was buried somewhere inside me, waiting for the right moment—or the right place—to emerge. Maybe Santorini would be the setting for my own little transformation, a place where I could shed my quiet, reserved self and become someone who seizes the moment without hesitation. After all, isn’t that what summer is for?

And when Mama told me about our trip to Santorini, that possibility suddenly seemed within reach. The idea of a vacation to such a dreamlike destination felt like the perfect catalyst for the change I’d been secretly craving. But more than that, it was a surge of joy and gratitude that hit me, knowing how hard she worked to make this happen. Growing up, it was just the two of us—Mama working tirelessly to provide for me and make every day special despite our modest means. She had always done her best to ensure that I had the opportunities I needed, even if it meant making sacrifices. The idea of a vacation, something so seemingly extravagant, was a rare treat, and I was thrilled beyond words.

To say the least, the envy was palpable, a green-eyed monster gnawing at me, craving the excitement and connection that seemed to radiate from every carefully curated Pinterest-worthy post.

Yeah, you can say that that excitement might not have lasted that long.

"Wait, wait, wait, repeat that please?" I questioned, exasperated by both the shitty wifi in my dorm room as well as my mother's purposeful exclusion of information. I sat criss-crossed in my twin-xl dorm room bed, surrounded by the comforting clutter of my college life. My phone rested precariously on the edge of my left knee (balancing carefully as I too, was practicing balancing my temper), its screen flickering with a weak signal as I struggled to catch every word Mama was saying. To my left, a wall was covered in an eclectic array of Polaroids and dimmed fairy lights, creating a soft, warm glow against the stark white of the dormitory walls. The space felt cozy but cramped, with textbooks and scattered notes littering the desk beneath the small window, which offered a view of the bustling campus below.

"Well I thought it would be a wonderful surprise for you," Mama said, elated over the fact that this bit of information was quite important. She wore a gigantic stretching grin on her face, a strict contrast to the curvature of my dimpled frown.

"By purposely excluding that we would be sharing a house with another family?" I incredulously asked, my left eyebrow arching up, my mouth turning into an even more prominent downward frown. Fuck, the shitty dorm wifi is acting up again. Now on Facetime, I was stuck like that. Great. I was eternally engraved into my phone as an unhappy bitch.

"You can make wonderful friends! I heard that they are your age," Mama wiggled her eyebrows. Figures. Of course, she would turn an opportunity that seemed to actively pray on my downfall into a splendid opportunity for me to, *shudders*, socialize.

"I don't need new friends, and there are four of them! That's a lot of people," I exclaimed, throwing my hands into the hair and finger-combing the stray bits of hair out of my face. Socializing was a lot for me sometimes. The thought of mingling with a whole new group felt like a daunting task, especially when my comfort zone was so tightly packed within the walls of my current routine. Each new interaction felt like a potential minefield of awkward conversations and missteps, a far cry from the cozy familiarity of my small circle. (Okay, a circle may be an exaggeration. Maybe a direct line would be a better description to describe the relationships around me: small, minimal, clean)

"Four kids your age, and two parents. This is the perfect mixing pot for you to make friends," Mama pointedly replied.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I don't need friends," I lied.

"That's a lie," Mama accused. Well, not accused. She was right, but I wouldn't give that to her. I was innately stubborn. Wonder where I got that from…

"Of course not! I have a great social life, thank you very much," I lied, again. Blinking slowly, I tried to not let my eyes expose me.

"You haven't brought a boyfriend home ever. And you have one friend total." Mama snapped back.

"Well, Clementine is a very amazing and loyal best friend," I narrowed my eyes.

"Amen to that one," I could hear Clementine's voice echo from her bunk bed next to me. She was mindlessly scrolling through her phone under her light-blue comforter, yet this nosy bitch was still listening to our conversation.

"Mind your business Missus Nosy," I sassed at Clementine.

"Whatever, your business is mine. You forget we are literally ten feet away from each other." She groaned as she flipped to face me from under the comfort of her blankets. Mama laughed and I grimaced again.

"Seriously, you should branch out. As a young lady, you must learn to explore your choices-" Mama continued, and I could feel a heartfelt lecture incoming.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it I know." I rolled my eyes and laughed.

"So, what exactly are we supposed to do with this family?" I asked, still trying to wrap my head around the idea.

"You’ll figure it out," Mama said with a reassuring tone. "It's an opportunity to meet new people and have some fun. Plus, they might have interesting stories to share."

"Right, because nothing says 'fun' like having to navigate the quirks of a new family while on vacation," I said, sarcastically. "I suppose I could use a few new stories to tell."

"That's the spirit! And who knows, maybe you’ll end up having a great time. Sometimes the best adventures come from the unexpected," Mama said optimistically.

"I guess we’ll see. Just don’t be surprised if I spend most of my time avoiding their overzealous attempts at bonding," I replied, half-joking.

"Fair enough," Mama laughed. "Just promise me you’ll at least give it a chance. And who knows, you might even surprise yourself."

"Yeah, yeah. I promise," I said with a resigned sigh. "I'll give it a chance, even if it means putting up with a bunch of new faces."

"That’s all I ask," Mama said, her voice softening. "I’m looking forward to this trip, and I hope you will be too."

"Me too, I guess," I said, trying to muster some enthusiasm. "Just don’t expect me to become best friends with everyone right away."

"Deal," Mama said with a smile. "And remember, it’s supposed to be an adventure."

"Adventure. Got it," I said, rolling my eyes again but smiling this time. "Let’s hope it’s more exciting than a group project."

"Exactly! Now, get ready for a summer you won’t forget," Mama said, her tone upbeat.

"Yeah, yeah," I replied, "I’ll do my best."

As the call ended, I shook my head, trying to shake off the unease. Interrupting me from my daydreaming, Clementine cleared her throat.

"Yeah yeah yeah, I'll do my best." She mocked me in a high-pitched voice.

"Girl shut up," I groaned, throwing one of my various squishmallows at her head.

"Branch out my ass, you need to get cronked." Clementine gestured enthusiastically. Yes, she was the most extroverted person that I knew, and I loved it about her. We were just two opposite ends of a stick, and I did have a lot to learn about her charisma as well.

"What you just described is quite literally the evil alter-ego version of me, you know that right?" I deadpanned. Throwing back the squishmallow at me, she continued.

"Oh, come on! Loosen up and have some fun," Clementine replied with a flourish. "You’re too stiff, girl. You need to embrace the chaos and just go with it. And you know that you really want to have fun." She wiggled her eyebrows.

"Okay yes fine, you got me." I rolled my eyes again.

"It's the summer somewhere new, be happy! You can be anyone that you want for a bit." She said.

"Yeah, sure. Maybe if the wifi wasn’t being a pain, I’d have a better attitude," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Blame it on the wifi all you want," Clementine said, laughing. "But seriously, you’re going to have a blast. Just let yourself get loose. Besides, how often do you get to have spontaneous adventures like this?"

"True," I admitted, "but it’s a lot easier for you to say. You thrive on chaos. Eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

"Okay, make me sound like some ravenous gossip party monster, Mrs. Malnourished-From-Any-Entertainment," Clementine rolled her eyes.

"Hey!!" I sputtered, trying to feign madness. I failed, as I immediately burst out laughing.

"And I swear you’re going to learn to love all the chaos too!" Clementine said enthusiastically. "It’s all about stepping out of your comfort zone. You’ve got to live a little!"

I sighed, shaking my head but smiling. "Alright, Miss Extrovert, I’ll try. Just don’t expect me to start dancing on tables or anything."

"Hey, you never know!" Clementine teased. "You might surprise yourself. Besides, it’s all about making memories, right?"

"Make memories, youthful nature, spring in my step, all right I get it man!" I yell, burrowing my face in my pillow, also conveniently getting a mouthful of hair. Yum.

"And don't forget it's actually time for you to get laid," Clementine said in a sing-songy type of voice.

"Clementine!" I exclaimed. She really had no filter, this girl…

"What? I'm just saying," Clementine shrugged, her grin widening. "A little romance never hurt anyone, right?"

"Yeah, but could you not be so… blunt about it?" I replied, trying to regain my composure. "I mean, it's one thing to tease me about dancing on tables, but this is pushing it."

Clementine laughed, unabashedly. "Oh, come on. You're going to a beautiful place with a bunch of people your age. It’s practically a recipe for adventure. And who knows? Maybe this will be the summer you meet someone special."

"Or maybe it’ll be the summer I learn to tolerate sharing a house with strangers," I said, rolling my eyes. "But thanks for the… encouragement."

"Hey, I’m just trying to help you make the most of it," Clementine said, her tone softening. "Sometimes a little push is all you need to open up and see things differently."

I sighed, shaking my head but smiling despite myself. "Alright, alright. I get it. I’ll keep an open mind. But no promises on the whole ‘getting laid’ part."

"And plus, I have absolutely no skills in approaching any guy ever. You know this," I cried in despair. Clementine laughed, recalling all the times when my horrible romancing skills failed me. Note, there are way too many to mention, so why do I even bother to find a boyfriend in the first place…

"Oh, I remember the summer fair incident," Clementine said, her laughter bubbling up. "You were trying to strike up a conversation with that guy at the cotton candy stand, and you got so flustered you ended up spilling your drink all over him."

"Please don't remind me of that, oh no," I groaned.

"And then, in an attempt to salvage the situation, you accidentally knocked over the cotton candy machine. The whole thing turned into a sticky, sugary disaster. You actually looked beet red it was so funny," Clementine continued laughing.

"I still cringe thinking about that," I groaned, hiding my face. "I was so embarrassed I avoided that fair for months."

"And let’s not forget that one party during Midsummer's last year," Clementine said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Oh let's not bring that one up from the archives-" I started to say.

"Girl you need to stop pretending that you can actually dance," Clementine giggled.

"Hey! I actually didn't know that he was a professional dancer, okay? Showing me up that badly was so embarrassing, I did want to die so bad at that moment," I recalled.

"I was trying to save your horrid fate," Clementine continued.

"You can't just gesture to me at a party and try to whisper yell, it's so loud. That would've never worked," I argued.

"Well from the sidelines it was actually pretty funny seeing you trip and then knock over those plastic cups," Clementine continued.

"Yeah? It wasn't funny when I landed in that bowl of punch face-first though," I whined.

"Yeah! Of course, it wasn't because my car smelled like the rancid mix of alcohol and punch for weeks," Clementine complained.

"That's my revenge for you. You should've yanked me out of the dance circle the minute I stepped foot in there. Why I did it, I have no idea to this day," I lamented.

"Ugh, meanie," Clementine laughed at me.

"That was such a mess, though" I admitted, cringing. "I had to help clean up while everyone tried not to laugh at me."

"But hey," Clementine said, her tone softening. "All those awkward moments make for great stories, and they don’t define who you are. Sometimes, it’s those hilarious failures that end up being the most memorable."

"Fine, Mom," I droned on. "You have a point."

Clementine’s eyes twinkled with a mix of sympathy and amusement. "Exactly. And besides, who knows? Maybe this summer will be the time you finally get it right. You’re going to be in a new place with new people. It’s a fresh start."

"I suppose," I said, still feeling a bit skeptical but warming up to the idea. "I guess there's something to be said for making a fool of yourself in a new environment. It might not be so bad if everyone’s in the same boat."

Okay, I lied again. It was that bad.

(Guys I promise that I'm not a serial liar, I just exaggerate. A bit.)

The overwhelming heat of Greece, and pretty much the heat of the Mediterranean hit me like a truck immediately when I landed. It was dry heat, no humidity no nothing. Just good ole heavy heat. Sweating through the airport terminal, then customs, to the shuttle, my bra was pretty much damp by the time I had stepped onto the cobbled ground in front of our air b&b.

Beaded sweat was clouding my vision, completely ruining the pretty vision I had when I put gel on my forehead to curl my baby hairs. I was seeing stars (mostly perspiration). It was hot. I was getting a hot flash/nearly dying of heatstroke.

The dreamy images of Santorini I had envisioned from my cool, comfortable dorm room felt like a distant fantasy now. The picturesque streets, which I had imagined as quaint and inviting, seemed more like a maze of sun-baked stone. My excitement was quickly replaced by a wave of discomfort and disorientation.

“Welcome to paradise,” I muttered sarcastically to myself, feeling like I was melting into the pavement. I glanced over at my mom, who was also looking a little wilted but trying to maintain her usual upbeat demeanor.

“This is just the beginning,” she said, her voice cheerful but slightly strained. “It’ll get better once we get settled in.”

I hoped she was right. For now, though, all I could think about was finding a cool, shaded spot and trying to regain some semblance of composure. The fantasy of a perfect summer seemed to be melting away as quickly as the ice in my now lukewarm drink.

I fumbled with the keys to the front door, my fingers slick with sweat. The lock was stubborn, refusing to cooperate as I struggled to get inside. My mom was at my side, trying to help but also looking equally overheated.

“Maybe I should have warned you about the heat,” she said, her voice strained but still optimistic. “It’s a bit of an adjustment.”

“I think ‘a bit’ is an understatement,” I managed to reply, finally pushing the door open and stepping into the cooler interior. The contrast was immediate, but the relief was short-lived as I realized the air conditioning wasn’t working properly.

“This is not how I pictured it,” I admitted, feeling my earlier excitement wane. The romanticized version of this trip was crumbling under the harsh reality of the Mediterranean heat and my physical discomfort.

My mom looked around, her face showing a mixture of apology and determination. “We’ll get it sorted,” she said. “Let’s just unpack and try to cool off. Maybe a cold shower will help.”

I nodded, trying to muster up some enthusiasm. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan. I just hope the heat doesn’t turn this whole trip into a sweaty ordeal.” To foreshadow, it pretty much was like that the entire trip.

As soon as I stepped inside, the first thing that hit me was the chaotic array of shoes scattered haphazardly across the floor. There were sneakers, sandals, and flip-flops in a disordered spread as if a small army had shed their footwear in a hurry. The once inviting entrance now resembled a makeshift shoe rack, cluttered with mismatched pairs and abandoned shoes.

“Mama, it looks like we’re not the first ones here,” I said, my voice tinged with annoyance as I kicked aside a stray sandal. “It’s a mess.” I could feel my frustration mounting as I took in the scene. The once appealing idea of arriving at a neatly prepared vacation home now seemed overshadowed by the disorder and lack of preparation.

God, I hoped that whoever was here didn't make the whole place look like the dorm room of a stinky, smelly, teenage boy.

Mama quickly scanned the surrounding areas. “Oh, I didn’t realize. They must have arrived before us. They’re probably out exploring the city.”

“That’s just great,” I said, feeling a mix of irritation and resignation. “They’re already out having fun while we’re stuck schlepping our luggage.”

With a sigh, I grabbed two huge pieces of luggage and began dragging them up a narrow flight of stairs. Each step felt like a small victory, but the sweat pouring down my back made every movement feel like a monumental effort. I didn’t even know my butt could sweat that much. It was as if my entire body was engaged in a desperate battle against the oppressive heat. My clothes clung to me in a way that made me feel like a walking puddle.

Every few steps, I had to stop and catch my breath, wiping the sweat from my forehead and cursing under my breath. The heat inside the house, combined with the physical exertion, had me feeling utterly drenched. My damp hair stuck to my neck, and I could smell the distinct, unpleasant odor of sweat mingling with the heat.

“Can you believe this?” I called down to my mom, trying to keep my frustration in check while I heaved one suitcase up another step. “I’m already drenched, and we haven’t even started unpacking. I feel like I’m swimming in my sweat!”

“I’m sure it’ll be worth it once we get settled,” she said from below, her voice slightly muffled by the distance. “Just hang in there. Take that cold shower, aye? It’ll make you feel better.”

Her optimism was appreciated, but it did little to ease the burning frustration I felt. I finally managed to get both suitcases into our room and collapsed onto the bed, feeling utterly defeated. My legs felt like jelly, and I flopped down with a dramatic groan. The mattress, thankfully cooler than the air, felt like the only respite I’d had all day.

“I’m taking a shower,” I announced, my voice flat with exhaustion. “I need to cool off before I melt into a puddle. This heat is seriously getting to me.”

Grabbing all my toiletries in one hand (which would be moderately regrettable in approximately a minute), my phone and a towel haphazardly slung over my shoulder, I sped-walked to the nearest bathroom. My appearance was nothing short of disastrous: a loose beige bra that clung awkwardly to my sweat-drenched skin, and tightly fitted black spandex shorts that felt like they were melting into my sweaty legs. But, by golly, I was determined to take a shower. I assured myself that no one was there but Mama and me.

That is what I thought.

Clearly, that thought changed when I threw open the bathroom door to be met with a wall of steam and the startling sight of a pasty, pale chest belonging to a random white guy. In a comedy of errors, we collided headfirst into each other. He let out a yelp of surprise as I stumbled backward, dropping my toiletries and towel in the process.

“AHHH!” We both screamed in unison, our voices mingling in a perfect pitch of panic and disbelief. My phone slipped from my grasp and clattered to the floor, the emergency contact screen flashing in alarm and my phone's flashlight being turned on as it bounced. The towel, now airborne, landed atop the guy’s head like a makeshift hat, which only made the situation more absurd. My toiletries, scattered like fallen soldiers, rolled across the tile in every direction.

In the frenzy, the guy’s shampoo bottle, which had been precariously perched on the edge of the sink, took a dive and exploded into a foamy mess, splattering us both with a thick layer of bubbles. I slipped on the slick tile, my foot skidding out from under me and sending me crashing into a pile of wet towels.

In the chaos, I tried to grab onto the nearest thing for support, which ended up being his bicep. My fingers closed around the surprisingly smooth and firm muscle, and I couldn't help but notice how it felt like a warm, solid rock under my touch. The unexpected contact sent a flush of heat to my cheeks, and I found myself blushing furiously as I tried to steady myself.

Never mind the sudden fucking romance, I was flailing and falling, and it was embarrassing as hell.

As I yanked on his arm, he lost his balance and we both went tumbling to the floor in a tangled heap of limbs, shampoo, and toilet paper. The sheer force of our combined weight caused the guy to slam into the opposite wall, sending a shower of misplaced toiletries and a small avalanche of cleaning supplies cascading down on us. We landed in an awkward, sprawled mess, my leg draped over his and his arm pinned beneath my back, all while the air was filled with the scent of minty shampoo.

"What the actual fuck," The weird white guy said. I was surprised to hear an Australian accent escape his mouth, quite different than the accents I heard every day.

"Who the fuck are you?" I exclaimed in disbelief, trying to stand up, but wincing because my head and bum hurt very much.

He groaned, trying to sit up and shift me off his chest. "I'm Oscar. From Australia."

"Oscar who?" I asked, still struggling to comprehend the situation while attempting to fix my disheveled hair.

“Oscar from Australia,” he deadpanned, his frustration evident. His wet hair, still dripping from his recent shower, clung to his forehead, adding to his slightly disheveled look. Despite his frown, which was more a mix of irritation and bemusement, there was something oddly cute about him. His features were sharp but softened by his annoyed expression, and his damp hair only added to his rugged charm. The heat of the bathroom made his skin glisten slightly, and the combination of his tousled hair and pouty frown gave him a kind of adorably exasperated vibe. "You know, as in the guy whose bicep you just clung to like a life raft in a storm."

"Well, excuse me, Oscar from Australia," I retorted, finally managing to get to my feet but still wobbly. "I didn’t exactly plan on meeting you in such a—uh—personal way."

Oscar smirked, flicking some shampoo suds off his hand. "Yeah, well, this wasn’t how I planned to greet my new neighbors either. I was expecting someone who could walk without tripping over thin air, but hey, I guess we can’t all be that lucky."

I crossed my arms, glaring at him. "Great. So not only am I dealing with a mess of shampoo and toiletries, but now I have to navigate an awkward introduction with some guy who thinks he’s important enough to be 'Oscar from Australia.'" I honestly did not give a fuck if he was called "Oscar from Bumfuck Nowhere" or "Oscar the Prince of Bahrain", he needed to chill the fuck out.

Oscar raised an eyebrow, still struggling to keep a straight face. "Well, you know, ‘Oscar from Australia’ doesn’t have a very high bar for first impressions apparently. But hey, at least you’ll remember me, right?”

I rolled my eyes, snatching my towel off his head. "Yeah, I’ll definitely remember you as the guy who managed to turn my bathroom break into an episode of slapstick comedy."

Wiping a loose tear that streamed down my face due to shampoo getting in my eyes, I continued. "I just wanted a goddamn shower after that long plane ride and the bloody heat from outside man. What the hell…" I drifted off.

Oscar’s face twitched between amusement and exasperation. Honestly, now that I am thinking about it, his countenance was definitely leaning more toward exasperation and frustration. "I’m sorry my ‘Australian charm’ is such a disaster for you. But you know, I wasn’t exactly planning on getting tackled by a very disheveled girl either."

I huffed, my arms crossed defiantly over my chest, and my posture was a rigid display of frustration. My shoulders were hunched slightly, and I tilted my head to one side, making it clear I was not in the mood for further nonsense. My face was a portrait of annoyance—my brows were furrowed deeply, and my lips were pressed into a thin line. A flush of irritation spread across my cheeks, and my eyes, which had been rimmed with the remnants of shampoo, glared at Oscar with unfiltered exasperation. Every muscle in my expression seemed to scream, "Seriously?" as I struggled to keep my composure amidst the chaotic aftermath of our unintended collision.

"Oh, so now I’m ‘disheveled’? You might have noticed I was in the middle of trying to clean myself up when you decided to become a human wrecking ball."

Oscar chuckled despite himself. "Look, I didn’t mean to turn your bath into a soap opera. It was an accident—just like your epic phone drop and shampoo explosion." The audacity of this guy to even put my "epic phone drop" in air quotes. What a comic. Haha, totally funny.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Yeah, well, it’s not every day I get tackled by a random guy in the shower. Maybe you could’ve picked a less dramatic way to introduce yourself."

This "Oscar from Australia" guy was really starting to annoy me.

To be fair, I may have been escalating the whole thing because I truly do feel like a different person the moment heat washes over me. And this whole situation—sweaty, disheveled, and now dealing with a ridiculously charming yet infuriating Australian—was the cherry on top of my chaotic day.

Oscar shook his head, a smirk still tugging at his lips. "Well, if you ever need a more dramatic first impression, you know where to find me." With that, he turned and walked out, leaving me alone in the steamy mess of the bathroom.

The jokes on him, first impressions are first and quite permanent. They don't change.

As I stood in the shower, still reeling from our chaotic confrontation, I finally managed to get my shower running. The cool water cascading down my back felt like a small slice of relief after the sweltering heat and tension of the past few minutes. I glanced at my reflection in the misty mirror, trying to scrub away the remnants of shampoo and irritation. My hair, now a tangled mess of suds and frustration, clung to my face as I attempted to regain some semblance of dignity.

It struck me suddenly—amidst the chaos and embarrassment—that something had shifted within me. I had been more assertive and bold than I ever remembered being, and this unexpected encounter had stirred confidence in me I hadn't recognized before. I didn’t just let the situation unfold; I stood my ground, even if it meant facing down a charming yet infuriating Australian.

Blushing slightly, I scolded myself silently. Really? Hurling myself at a guy I just met the moment I get to Santorini? It was like I’d thrown my usual reserved self out the window along with my dignity.

This wasn't Love Island. And he certainly wasn't the steamy-hot Australian guy from Casa who would be able to woo my heart in mere milliseconds.

Sweet lord, Clementine told me to reset myself this vacation. I had singlehandedly managed to reset my personality in three minutes.

As I rinsed the last of the foam from my hair, a sudden pang of regret hit me. I had never actually told Oscar my name. How had I managed to skip such a basic part of an introduction amid our chaotic collision? The thought gnawed at me, adding another layer to my mortification.

To him, I was probably that weird, really sweaty, and kind of stinky vacation girl with a pissy attitude. Now I am not saying that that isn't a spot-on accurate description of me, but it kind of hurts that I didn't behave better.

A lack of decorum on both of our parts, I'll conclude.

I couldn’t help but replay the moment when I’d bumped into him—his rock-solid chest meeting mine with surprising warmth. My eyes had instinctively trailed down from his broad shoulders to the defined abs that quite literally were making eye contact with me. The firm, unexpected contact of his body against mine had sent a jolt through me, making me acutely aware of how close we’d been.

Even now, the memory of that fleeting contact made me blush deeper, and my face felt like it was on fire. The way his chest had felt—solid and warm—seemed to linger, leaving an imprint on my senses. I recalled how his abs had pressed against me, their tautness undeniable from even where I was standing. It was almost embarrassing how my eyes had involuntarily traced those contours, as if they were a new and intriguing landscape I had never seen before.

Ugh, what the fuck. I desperately needed a Facetime to debrief all of this confusing absurdity with dearest Clementine.

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taglist! @mingyusbigrighttoe @theblueblub @demandealalune @linnygirl09

[honeylations]

SEO DOAH x FEM!READER

Prompt: Doah studies as hard as she can all the time and luckily as her girlfriend, you’re there to help her take all that stress away

Warnings/Notes: eating 🐱, fingering, sub Doah, g!p reader, pretend the pyramid game itself does not exist so we can be peaceful

A/N: for our cutie patootie Doah and also for that anon that requested :3

It was around 7:45am when you walked into the classroom with your arms stretched out wide, seeing that the whole class was almost present.

But your eyes immediately moved to the front where your cute girlfriend was sitting, already going through one text book as her hand scribbled note after note.

Who would’ve thought you’d date such a cute quiet nerd? She was a big comparison to you. Obnoxiously loud, social, yet laid back with school work.

“Morning baby” you whispered in her ear and kissed her temple.

“Mhm. Good morning” she muttered in return.

Her eyes didn’t even leave the page.

“Wow. At this point, you love that text book more than me” you pouted, breaking Doah’s concentration.

She finally looked at you with her boba eyes, obviously trying to seem angry but anything she does just ended up being cute. “I’m studying”

“Oh really? I couldn’t tell” you joked while she scowled, pulling at your cheek.

“Sometimes I wonder how we ended up being together in the first place”

You winced from the pinch. “Ouch. I was literally asking myself that a few seconds ago. I guess it doesn’t matter, it makes our love story a bit cuter don’t you think?”

“You have a way with words, Choi Y/n” Doah smiled and looked down at her text book again.

You finally took the seat beside her and made a quick move to kiss her cheek before she could dodge it. “Mwuah”

“Stop it, I need to focus”

“Baby, you stress yourself too much! It’s time for a break... Are you even listening to me?”

Your girlfriend hummed.

“Doah baby, I’m serious. You need to remove all that stress before it eats you up” You scolded and the shorter girl removed her gaze from whatever paragraph she was on.

“And how can I magically remove all this stress, Y/n? Hm? Intrigue me”

Taking her words as a challenge, you slid an arm around her waist and pulled her closer that her chair scraped the floor. Doah gasped and her hands immediately went onto your shoulders.

“W-What are you doing?”

“You really wanna know how I can remove that stress? It’s an easy math equation. My mouth plus your body equals no more stress! Tada!

“C-Choi Y/n! We’re in public!” She whisper yelled, looking around to check if any of her classmates had heard.

You gave her your famous charming eyes, the one that made her fall for you from the start. “Please, my love?”

Oh and your charming words too.

“Behave”

You only smirked and leaned your lips close to her ear. “Don’t you miss my tongue, baby? I promise I’ll let you study in peace after”

Doah let out a shaky sigh. “You really promise?”

“Certain”

And just like that, you two were hiding in the teacher’s lounge thanks to Doah’s privileges. All doors were locked and the curtains had all been shut for privacy.

Although you weren’t entirely against the idea of an audience, your girlfriend would definitely burn you alive if any exhibitionism happened.

Doah was in your lap, her glasses had been discarded somewhere and her uniform was unbuttoned. She was releasing adorable moans while you lapped at her neck, being yanked away by the hair just when you were about to bite.

“No marks, Choi”

You couldn’t utter a quick response when she crashed your lips together, her small tongue pushing its way inside. It was an invitation for you to suck at it, letting it explore more of her mouth that the mix of your salivas were dripping down your chins.

It was so hot.

You were already painfully rock hard, the bulge poking at your girlfriend’s clothed entrance.

The shorter girl pulled away, admiring the string of saliva that connected your tongues. She moved off your lap to lie down on the long couch, bringing you with her.

She took her underwear off but every other clothing stayed. “I’m not taking anything else off. You’ve got 10 minutes to make me cum and then we’re out of here”

“Baby. I only need 5 minutes” you let out an arrogant scoff, quickly kissing her lips before shuffling down to rest in between her spread legs.

You pushed her skirt up and felt your mouth water at the sight of her soaked pussy. Not planning on wasting any more time, you leaned your lips towards her clit and sucked on it gently.

Doah’s back automatically arched, her hands going into your hair. “A-Ah!”

You broke away from her clit to move even further down, sliding your long tongue inside her cunt, groaning from her taste.

Your girlfriend’s hips started to gyrate, relishing in the feeling of you eating her out so good.

“O-Oh yes Y/n. So good baby s-so good!”

“Fuck I missed this” you pulled your tongue out to mutter before diving straight back in, wrapping your arms around your girlfriend’s soft thighs to hold her down.

Doah was a moaning mess, one hand was still in your hair while the other had pushed her bra up to toy with her nipples.

“Don’t stop please, baby”

You decided to return your attention to her clit, sucking harsher than before while plunging two fingers inside her wet hole.

You looked up as your ministrations continued and wow it was a sight to see.

Your girlfriend’s head was thrown back and the light that peaked out from the curtains shined a small spotlight on her body. Like she was an angel.

It encouraged you to double your efforts, thrusting your fingers faster, kissing her clit hungrily, intending to leave her in a sobbing mess.

You were almost there anyways.

“Ah, ah, ah….Y/n I’m going to cum!” She squealed cutely.

Your fingers reached deeper, feeling her walls clench around you. Doah released a final cry as she fisted your hair, legs shaking when you continued to clean her up and your fingers moving to a slower pace.

Pulling away from her, you looked up from between her legs and smiled proudly. Doah’s cheeks went redder at the sight of your mouth completely soaked with her cum.

“That felt so good” she sighed and flopped her head back on the couch.

You crawled up and captured her lips in another sloppy kiss, moving to the side to hide in her neck while you started panting. Doah felt movement between you both and she looked down, seeing you jerking your big cock.

“Mmm Doah baby” you whined.

“Keep stroking your cock like that” she whispered, letting you grunt and lick at her skin while you chased your orgasm.

“Hah…hah fuck gonna cum, Doah…”

“Sit up, let me see you”

You did as told and admired your fucked out girlfriend below you. Her tits were exposed and her cunt was still leaking more cum. You scooped up some of that liquid with your fingers and used it as lube, the hand on your cock moving faster.

“H-Holy shit Doah!”

“Here baby. Cum all over me” Your girlfriend husked and pushed her breasts out.

You aimed your cock towards her plump tits and exploded, closing your eyes from the intensity before laying on top of your girlfriend.

She caressed your back gently.

“Thank you, baby” you heard her say.

It was rare for her to call you by nicknames.

“For?” You panted.

“Taking away all the stress. I love you”