#series: reparations

[jayflrt]

STOP YNS PFP . i thought it was tha return of baby yoda w falsies... heeseungs true love

THE DOG JAY LORE....... ifykyk

[shegeekery]

Reparenting Loki

I want to talk about a dynamic in the Loki/Mobius relationship (in the Loki TV-series) that I've seen touched on but not really discussed in depth.

Note to Lokius-lovers: nothing I say here in any way precludes a healthy romantic relationship. They're both consenting adults, after all, and this wasn't a formal therapist-client relationship.

There's a technique in therapy called "reparenting". The idea is that trauma and behaviors caused by bad parenting can be addressed to some extent if the therapist assumes the role of a "good parent".

I think we can all agree that the "All-Father" was crap as an actual father. Odin knew that Loki took after him even more than Thor did, but many of those shared traits were things that he tried to hide from everyone, while Thor better represented the image he wanted to project. The result was a cruel favoritism, which was picked up by Thor and the rest of the Asgardians. Frigga's love and support wasn't enough to counteract that cruelty, particularly in a strongly patriarchal society like Asgard.

Side note (because I'm that kind of geek): there were so many similarities between Odin and Loki (Odin's friend and blood-brother rather than his son) in the old Norse myths that some scholars have suggested that Loki was at one point simply an aspect of Odin. There's also evidence that the stories as they came down to us were manipulated by the Christians who committed them to writing to shoehorn Loki into something more like the Christian Devil.

Anyway, getting back to our guys... Within the context of the TVA, Mobius represented an authority figure to Loki, who had a long history of rebelling against (or betraying) authority for obvious reasons.

I think the first turning point in the relationship for Loki was:

Loki: I am smart!

Mobius: I know. Loki is rarely left speechless, but his only response to Mobius's simple affirmation was a very un-Loki-like "Okay..." He didn't know how to respond because he wasn't used to that kind of thing, particularly from someone who had power over him. It happened again with:

Loki: A villain.

Mobius: That's not how I see it.

The dynamic between these two people throughout Season 1 was like that. Mobius's genuine love (whether you read it as romantic, platonic, fatherly, brotherly, or a mix of any or all of these) for and non-judgmental acceptance of Loki was apparent from the start, but of course Loki's experiences during his very long lifetime made it nearly impossible for him to trust that until Mobius's actions convinced him that it was real. Learning to trust Mobius also allowed Loki to see himself in a new light.

For his part, Mobius consistently modeled what a good father would have been: loving and accepting, yes, but still able to apply "tough love" when that was warranted. Mobius didn't put Loki into the bad-memory loop to punish him because he was angry (though he was angry, or at least a bit hurt and disappointed). He was just trying to force Loki to acknowledge a truth about himself so that they could move forward — and it worked!

Mobius's instincts and experience as an actual father to two boys, one reasonably well-behaved and the other a mischievous troublemaker, served him well in this, even if he didn't consciously remember his life on the timeline.

Mobius all but confirmed this when he said:

Mobius:  I see a scared little boy, shivering in the cold... 

It's also significant that when Loki brought this up later, he called it "patronizing", which we usually use to mean "condescending", but can also mean "supporting" and has its root in the Latin word "pater" (father).

I see the hug in episode 1-5 as a sign that the reparenting had taken hold, and that Loki, while not completely healed (it would take a lot more than that!), was at least in a place where he could trust someone, accept love/friendship, and think beyond his own wants and needs.

By Season 2, the relationship between the two men was evolving into one of equals, but even then Loki still occasionally looked to Mobius for guidance. Mobius's approval had become important to him. When Loki witnessed the firm but compassionate way in which Don dealt with two boys who were so like himself and Thor (despite being a stressed-out single dad rather than a god-king with tremendous resources at his disposal), he had to have seen that this was at the core of who Mobius was. Moreover, Loki — and any viewers who had similarly survived a traumatic childhood full of emotional abuse and neglect — probably guessed that Don himself was a survivor who was determined to see to it that his boys would never have to deal with that. If that was the case, then Mobius didn't just see his own son in Loki. He saw himself and couldn't help but empathize.

Don wasn't perfect. His frustration with his younger son was very evident, but Loki, observing, could see the love that lay under it. He may even have thought of times when Odin was driven to anger by Loki's actions and realized that the anger didn't necessarily mean that Odin didn't really love him. Learning to forgive what can be forgiven is another aspect of recovering from childhood trauma.

It's worth remembering that Mobius knew Loki in much the same way we do. We got to see the things that Loki never let anybody see: the fear, the vulnerability, the pain, the longing, and the sadness. (Doesn't hurt that TH can turn a simple reaction shot into a freakin' soliloquy!) The difference is that, while we only get to see the highlights (and lowlights) of Loki's life, Mobius had access to all of it and he had centuries to study it.

Mobius literally knew Loki better than anyone else in (or out) of the multiverse. How could he not love him? And for Loki, knowing that somebody who knew him that well genuinely cared so much for him (same with Sylvie, who understood him in ways that only another Loki could and vice-versa) had to have shaken him to his core and made him rethink a lot of things. The fact that it was Mobius to whom Loki turned in episode 2.6 when he thought he might have to kill Sylvie shows how much he still looked up to Mobius in many ways.

This was a show about redemption, yes, but also about healing from childhood trauma. They did an amazing job with it.

[ausetkmt]

When Sorry Isn't Enough: The Controversy Over Apologies and Reparations for Human Injustice (Critical American Series)

When Sorry Isn't Enough: The Controversy Over Apologies and Reparations for Human Injustice (Critical American Series)

Leading scholars, activists, and political leaders on being victim's of the world's worst atrocities "How much compensation ought to be paid to a woman who was raped 7,500 times? What would the members of the Commission want for their daughters if their daughters had been raped even once?"—Karen Parker, speaking before the U.N. Commission on Human Rights Seemingly every week, a new question arises relative to the current worldwide ferment over human injustices. Why does the U.S. offer $20,000 atonement money to Japanese Americans relocated to concentration camps during World War II, while not even apologizing to African Americans for 250 years of human bondage and another century of institutionalized discrimination? How can the U.S. and Canada best grapple with the genocidal campaigns against Native Americans on which their countries were founded? How should Japan make amends to Korean "comfort women" sexually enslaved during World War II? Why does South Africa deem it necessary to grant amnesty to whites who tortured and murdered blacks under apartheid? Is Germany's highly praised redress program, which has paid billions of dollars to Jews worldwide, a success, and, as such, an example for others?More generally, is compensation for a historical wrong dangerous "blood money" that allows a nation to wash its hands forever of its responsibility to those it has injured? A rich collection of essays from leading scholars, pundits, activists, and political leaders the world over, many written expressly for this volume, When Sorry Isn't Enough also includes the voices of the victims of some of the world's worst atrocities, thereby providing a panoramic perspective on an international controversy often marked more by heat than reason.

[hypaalicious]

I’m watching Castlevania Nocturne for the plot.

[loboto-bear]

HIII HOW ARE YOU, I JUST WANTED TO SAY I READ YOUR ATTACHMENT THEORY FIC AND??? YOUR WRITING IS IMPECCABLE DUDE, THE WAY YOU GOT DOWN FRANCO'S MANNERISMS WITH ALL THE LITTLE COMMENTS WAS CHEF'S KISS, AND THE MAIN CHARACTER WAS SO WELL WRITTEN TOO!!! THANK YOU FOR FEEDING THE FRANCO ENJOYERS 🙏🙏 PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WRITE MORE (IF YOU WANT TO, OF COURSE) YOU'RE HELLA TALENTED

Thank you, Other Extremely Enthusiastic Anon :)))

Again, I’m very happy to hear that people are enjoying my work. I’m glad to know that I’ve characterised Franco accurately and enjoyably. I always do my best to do characters justice when I write them.

In regards to writing more, you’ll be happy to know that there’s already a follow-up in the works. I’m going to make it into a tiny series following the same nurse and her many “therapy” sessions with Franco. I think that format is a good way for me to analyse his character, while also being self-indulgent and feeding the community, so to speak

Thanks again and keep an eye on my blog for updates :))))

[nashvillethotchicken]

My toxic trait is that I'm a pjo ares apologist

[scarefox]

Rewatching the preview to fix me 🙃

[riversidewings]

"Living Ghosts" #17: "Splitting Rock"

From my reparenting series “Living Ghosts.” In which a trans lesbian combat doll named River, reunited with and reparenting her younger self now named Emi, visits Shiogama Shrine for a picnic under the cherry blossoms, and reflects on how far she and her daughter by choice have come.

(If you've enjoyed these stories, please consider supporting my work by subbing at komaneko.gay)

A story:

East of the City of Immortals, in the city to which it gave its name, its head in forest, its feet in Matsushima Bay, Shiogama Shrine sat amidst a sea of pink-white double-cherry trees in bloom. The flowers, of which shrine and city alike were very proud, had become the shrine's crest, and thus the basis of the crest that River and Emi wore on the crested overcoats that surmounted their kimono.

Twofold blossoms, with a central fan of three blades. Sharpness and softness in balance, with flowers that bloomed late but twice as full.

High above the shrine hall's eaves, corvids wheeled in a dark wave.

River smiled wistfully. When she'd first come here, all those years ago, she'd been a little bit intimidated by them, but now, it felt comforting, every time she heard the cawing and caught the flap of dark wings marked on her heads-up projection. They really were ever-present.

Mother and daughter made their offering of coin together, before the ancient shrine hall. It was not their home shrine, in the riverbend back in the city, but they cherished it all the same for its beauty and for the weight of shared history it carried, as one of the region's oldest and most storied places of worship.

They said silent prayers. The wind in the blooming trees came as if in reply.

Afterward, Emi turned to her mother, then looked out around the shrine grounds, eyes wide in awe.

"It's…so quiet." Her voice was hushed. "It's like, inside my head…"

"…the anxiety doesn't have any room," the older woman murmured, nodding slowly in recognition. "It's like my headspace is calm but flowing, like a…"

"…like a mirror-smooth river reflecting the sky," the girl echoed. "Yeah."

River smiled knowingly, her voice just as hushed. "I call it capital-S Stillness, but it comes in many different names and forms. This is just one of them." Then she gestured over her shoulder. "Walk with me a bit?"

So they walked for awhile, under the trees drifting in the breeze that rose from the sea. They ambled from the main shrine to the adjoining Shiwahiko Shrine and back again before finding a seat in the shadow of one of the cherry trees.

"Underrated," Emi murmured, gesturing broadly. "Everybody's so busy going to the same dozen spots they miss out on shit like this. This really is underrated."

"Severely underrated, but then so much about this corner of the country is." River smoothly shrugged off her messenger bag and retrieved a pair of neatly rubber-banded cypress magewappa bento, handing one to her daughter. "Here you go, honey. Gyutan onigiri, all yours."

"Mm, thanks."

Hanami-- flower-viewing-- was a centuries old custom, as were shrine visits. Sometimes they got very loud and lively, and that had its place and its pluses. But it was this sort of quieter observance with the people who mattered most, that mother and daughter, one soul at two times, loved the most.

"Hey, Emi?"

"Yeah?"

"Gonna be two years soon, since we first bumped into each other." She took another bite of her own meal, a foil-wrapped onigirazu. "And look at how far you've come."

The girl blushed, her gaze momentarily falling. "Thanks. Feels like longer, sometimes. I'm just happy we get to be together, now."

"You're like these Shiogama cherries." Her mother gestured with outstretched synthetic fingertip at one of the cherry tree's broad branches. "It took awhile, but you've split rocks and weathered the cold to finally bloom."

Emi thought it over for a moment. A flash of mischief passed over her expression. "Hey, we've got both sides of Shiogama covered, Mom. I've got the cherry trees and you've got the salt."

River sputtered in her surprise, and laughed. "Ooh, touché, kid, touché. I am pretty salty."

"You taught me," the girl replied, as she finished her last onigiri. "Salt is important. It clears things away and sets things right."

Salt was a purifier in shrine ritual, but here specifically, it was more than that. The story went that once, ages ago, the local gods had taught the humans how to reclaim salt from the ocean in salt kettles-- shiogama, in Japanese. Those kettles were believed to still be the divine vessels of Shiogama Shrine, hidden away in the inner sanctum, in the shrine to which they gave their name, which in turn gave its name to the city.

"Am I really doing that good, honey?" asked the unlikely mother to her daughter by choice.

"You've come a long way too," said the girl. "And you're doing just fine."

The sword looked on in pride at her daughter.

"Thanks."

pictured: the twofold cherries of Shiogama Shrine in full bloom

[xceanlynx]

FUCK IT I'M CRYING AGAIN

[jayflrt]

Where can one (me) read “reparations”

I saw somone say its there favorite work of yours but i dont remmeber reading it, i would love to bc i enjoy your works

LOL you can read it here !! thank you for enjoying my works ♡

[captaingimpy]

Thoughts on media: Exploring the Depths of "The Big Bang Theory" Through the Lens of "Young Sheldon"

Hey everyone! I have a confession to make : Big Bang Theory is the show that I fall asleep to, I’ve seen every episode of the show multiple times, I’ve looked at the type of humor, sat there and dissected it, I’ve criticized it, and then come to appreciate it again as something that allows me to make fun of myself, some people that I know. At the same time, it literally provides a noise barrier…

[yannig]

I personnaly love the idea that Kim is very aware of his father's manipulations, on a level Kinn isn't (which is basically canon). And so he's removing himself from Kinn as much as possible because if they don't have a relationship at all then Korn can't use them against each other (be it by pitting them against each other or using their affection for each other the way Gun does with Macau and Vegas). So he thinks it's safer for both of them if Korn think they don't care about each other.

And on top of that, he kinda resent Kinn for not seeing how bad Korn is, for still respecting him so much, when he's Kim's worst ennemi, far beyond Gun or Vegas. When all Kim wants is an opportunity to kill Korn. [I am of the opinion Korn should have died, and I hate that he won in the end, and if Kinn won't kill him then Kim should get to do it. As a treat for everything he put him through. (Porsche or Chay are also options but that's a different discussion.)] Imo, Kim's murder board is about piecing together Korn's plans so he can get rid of him. For everyone's safety, both his own and his brothers. But Kinn won't see how dangerous Korn is and part of Kim kinda hates him for it. And he can't even express that because any emotion he shows toward Kinn can and will be used against them, so he has no option but to bottle it up and let it fester.

And on Kinn's side, there is also some resentment because he feels like both his brothers left him alone ; and to make it worst Kim does it by fulfilling a dream that was Kinn's first. Kinn loves music, he loves singing and playing guitar, we learn that when he's lost in the forest with Porsche. I usually headcannon that he's the one who got Kim into music in the first place. And now Kinn can't play music anymore because he has the heir's responsibilities to shoulder, because Thankhun won't, and Kim is leaving him too and living his dream, and he loves them but he can't help but resent them too, because fuck, all he wants is someone at his side that he can trust but they won't do it, and what im saying is Kinn has abandonment issues.

what do you think is the reason why kim and kinn are so distant? do you think it was because of a major event(s) or a gradual build up?

oh this is such a good question thank you!

so like. honestly, i think there are a ton of possibilities, and my headcanons for this change in every fic i write.

the version i'm most inclined toward though is that it was a gradual build-up, and that Korn was in a large part responsible. like, Korn's father pitted his sons against each other, it seems, and now Korn and Gun are enemies, so it would be reasonable to assume that Korn is perpetuating the continuation of that cycle – pitting Kinn and Kim against each other in subtle ways as they grow up.

One of my favorite headcanons is that, in reality, Kinn and Kim are being very specifically groomed for certain positions = Kinn as leader, Kim as enforcer (similar to how Korn and Gun are) but that, to create competition, Korn would subtly imply that if either of them didn't excel at their duties, they would be dismissed – and that could mean very bad things, in the mafia. (one idea that i like, is that Khun's kidnapping was orchestrated, because he was not fulfilling his duties to Korn's standards. [this would even work if it wasn't orchestrated, and just implied to have been] so Kinn and Kim both...suspect, very vaguely, and understand what may be in store for them if they fail). So, in my fic "this tender violence" i went with the headcanon that when the whole Tawan fiasco happened, Korn planted the seed in their minds that Kinn could be replaced by Kim, and the fallout for Kinn if that happened would be... not good.

Obviously, this would never actually happen, because Kim's role in the family has already been established, and Korn is not actually going to put someone like Kim in a leadership role, but it makes the boys more distrustful of each other because it pits them against each other in a very dangerous way. we can look at it as competition, but i think resentment is more apt. Kim doesn't want to become the leader, and he resents Kinn for putting him in that position. Kinn thinks Kim is preparing to replace him, and he's scared of what that would mean for him. It situates Kim as an enemy to him, to a certain extent.

This particular headcanon would give Kim a really strong incentive to leave the family – he's protecting Kinn, in a way, by removing himself from the equation, but he's also screwing over Korn and protecting his own feelings by avoiding Kinn. If they don't communicate to clear the air, all of that resentment and fear isn't going to go anywhere. And it seems from canon like Kim is particularly responsible for the distance between them, which would make a lot of sense with this headcanon. Kim would not want to reach out to someone he thinks views him as an adversary/enemy, and he'd also not want Kinn to know he's trying to protect him. His martyr-complex is too big for that.

this is the headcanon i'm inclined to go with these days, but i'm definitely interested in hearing other takes on it!

thank you again for the ask <3

[nepenthean-sleep]

ok i just gotta say. even if (and especially if) you hate the royal family, watch the harry and meghan documentary, at least episodes 2 and 3. what a fucking breath of fresh air it is that one of the most important members of the family is out here talking about the racism, imperialism, and misogyny that britain and british culture has inflicted on billions of people throughout history

[annwrites]

⸻ a call to arms. part ten. ⸻

· pairing: jacaerys velaryon x dragonseed!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you receive an unexpected summons to the red keep. · tw: talk of war & trauma, ptsd · word count: 4,254

Even months after having taken King’s Landing, you still have yet to grow comfortable to the sound of the bells tolling once again.

The day Rhaenyra took the Capitol was a day of much bloodshed. Otto Hightower had been the first to be put to the sword as dragons lined the walls of King’s Landing, including your own.

Silverwing screeched below you as you remained silent atop your mount, watching numbly as people screamed and ran in fear from her, Vermithor, Caraxes, Moondancer, Sheepstealer, Syrax, Seasmoke, and more.

Alicent Hightower’s life had been under consideration to be spared, until Rhaenyra came to discover that she had apparently betrayed her.

She’d supposedly promised her the life of her son in exchange for her, her daughter’s, and granddaughter’s, but when his chambers were found to be empty, Rhaenyra became enraged and refused to listen to “any further lies�� the Lady Alicent spoke.

She exclaimed that she already took her throne through the initial lie that began the war: that it was what her late husband wanted, and thus endangered the lives of all of her sons by starting an unnecessary conflict. Sons she also proclaimed to be bastards for years on-end.

No forgiveness was found within Her Grace when Alicent left this world directly after her father.

Helaena was admittedly spared, but is kept, along with her daughter, under close watch within the Keep.

War still continued to break out through various kingdoms, since Aegon’s death was not something that could be confirmed, until a Braavosi ship captain discovered his presence aboard his ship, along with Larys Strong.

And so he redirected his merchant ship to the Capitol, leaving the men trapped in the hull as he collected his hefty reward for delivering them to the queen.

The morning began as their lives ended upon the executioner’s block.

It took some time for peace to be found, but it was, nevertheless. And for those who refused to bend the knee once more to their rightful queen met a swift end.

It grieved Rhaenyra to have her hand forced, but she did what was necessary to put an end to something which should not have ever began. So much death and destruction, and for what?

Had the Greens never usurped her throne, they would still be alive. Hundreds would.

At least reparations are being made, if naught else. Lands and keeps and homes are being restored, and Her Grace does what she can for her people.

Meanwhile, you remain content within your home. As content as you can be, at least.

When nightmares and memories of your horrific deeds at the Gullet and Spicetown aren’t plaguing your mind and every waking moment, that is.

Some days, you can barely stand to be touched or near others, so you instead lock yourself away in your bedroom and curl into yourself as you squeeze your eyes shut and will it all away.

And then the bells begin to toll every day at midday, and you’re taken back to that morn atop the walls when you anticipated the command of burning people in the streets.

You feared returning home to your mother and sister, only to find corpses in their stead.

Instead, you’d stood before that front door feeling shattered and distant as you lifted a heavy fist to knock. You’d collapsed in your mother’s arms the moment she opened it.

And people call you fortunate. Or blessed. Or lucky beyond measure.

They have no idea what it cost you.

Maisily is positioned comfortably in your lap with her head resting on your shoulder as you read quietly to her from the book in your hand. She’s nearly to sleep for her afternoon nap when there’s a quiet knock at the door.

You sigh and softly shut the novel, then press a kiss to her forehead.

“Come,” you call as quietly as you can, so as not to wake her.

The door slowly opens and one of the household servants, Jodi, steps inside. “Forgive me, My Lady.”

You gesture to Maisily, then glance toward the bed behind you. “I would, but…”

She smiles softly, then takes her from you and carries her over.

You rise and pad over to tuck her in.

“What is it?” You ask while you tuck a curl behind her ear and she snuggles against a soft pillow.

The young woman shifts on her feet. “There is…a guard here to retrieve you back to the Red Keep, My Lady.”

Your brows furrow and you look at her suddenly. “G-Guard? Red—”

She nods.

“Why?” You ask, your voice rising slightly in a panic as your heart begins to pound between your breasts.

You’ve not left your home in months. You hardly even bother to step outside anymore.

It’s not safe out there.

Nowhere is.

Not after all you’ve seen and done.

She shakes her head. “He didn’t say, My Lady. Not to me…”

She glances to the doorway and you follow her line-of-sight.

“Is he here in my home?”

She swallows nervously. “Yes, My Lady.”

You grow silent for a moment as you think. But you know that if you’ve been summoned, there is no getting out of it. Your presence is expected. It’s not a request.

You’d been so foolish to think you’d be allowed to live the rest of your life here in peace without ever having to return to a place which is nothing more than a traumatic memory for you. Because that Keep—the throne within—how much blood was shed creating a path to it? How much is on your hands alone?

You ignore the trembling of them as you tuck blankets tightly round Maisily before standing and exiting the room, making your way downstairs to greet your…guest.

You run your shaking hands nervously down the front of your gown, smoothing the flowing fabric.

You had anticipated that it was the queen who sent for you. That, mayhaps, she merely wanted to ensure you and your family are still doing well months after the end of the war. That you want for nothing.

Instead, you are standing within Jacaerys’ chambers.

You could crawl out of your skin at the fact.

Because you know you can’t hide the truth now.

He enters the room from the balcony, his cane softly clicking against the polished marble floor as he passes the threshold, bringing him inside.

He doesn’t so much as get a chance to open his mouth to speak before his eyes widen in shock while he takes you in.

For days—nay, weeks—he’s been rehearsing this moment in his head over and over again, to the point of exhaustion. But this he had not accounted for—had not known that he would need to.

“You’re with child.”

His eyes flit to yours, searching within for the truth.

You slide your hands protectively over your swollen belly and tell him the only thing you can think of to protect yourself and your unborn babe.

“It isn’t yours.”

His mouth tugs into a frown as he takes a measured step closer. “I don’t believe you.”

He rests both hands atop his cane while he awaits more lies to spill from your lips he has so dearly missed kissing and listening to loving words come from.

His heart aches for you.

You shrug slightly, trying to combat your sudden shortness of breath while your pulse steadily rises in fright.

“I’ve had many men since I returned here. I realized just how short life truly is after the war. Even upon Dragonstone I took more than just you into my bed. My story where I proclaimed otherwise was a mere lie, so as to protect him. Even if you eventually took him from me anyway.”

You pretend to smirk. “Ser Myles.”

His jaw ticks while his eyes bore into yours. Those oceans of lilac which remind him of a soft spring morn have now returned to him at last.

The thought of this being the last time he ever gazes into them… It can’t be.

“Name them.”

Your brows furrow and he takes another step closer to you.

“The men you’ve bedded. Name them.”

You scoff and begin to stutter over your words. “I… I am under no obligation t-to—”

“It is a command,” he states firmly. “From your crown prince. You shall not leave this place until you do so.”

He knows, merely by studying you—your frail frame, which has lost so much weight, your pallor skin, and the way your limbs twitch—that you are most likely like him now: unable to hardly stand the touch of anyone.

For there is only one who may sooth the terrors that plague you within your mind. One you each have been so convinced you could never again have.

Today is when that fact changes.

You clutch nervously at your belly while tears sting your eyes. “W-Why? So you can take them from me as well? So…so you…you c-c—”

He steps closer and closer, then cups your cheek gently within his palm as he brushes the pad of his thumb along the apple of it.

He watches with a bleeding heart as tear after tear slips from your eyes.

“You’re carrying my heir,” he says with a creased brow as his eyes search yours.

Your features shift into something akin to loathing then as you wrench yourself away from him.

“It is my baby, and you can’t have it! I won’t let you take it away from me!” You shout in a panic.

He rapidly shakes his head while reaching toward you, desperate to reassure you that he would never.

“I have been the one growing it within my womb! Have been…been suffering every day! While you threw me aside, like you never knew me at all. Make her give you one instead! Make Baela do it! My baby. You can’t!”

Jacaerys shakes his head rapidly. “What do you think I mean to do? Is that why you think I summoned you here? To steal your child from your womb the moment it enters this world? I did not know you were even carrying until a moment ago when I set eyes upon you once more.”

Tears sting your eyes and you choke back a sob. “Please, I want to go home! Please let go, I beg of you!”

He wraps his arms around you then and holds you close while he cups the back of your head as a gesture of security and safety.

“I want you to listen to me for a moment, my love,” he says quietly—soothingly.

You cry softly against his shoulder.

“I summoned you here because I have good news. Everything is alright, I swear it to you. Everything is perfectly well in the world. You’ve nothing to fear. You and your child are just fine.”

You begin to calm in his arms and quickly are overtaken by a state of weakness—exhaustion.

So he guides you over to a large plush settee positioned before a low fire that crackles softly within the room’s hearth.

He seats himself heavily and sets his cane to the side before turning to you.

“Baela and Addam are due to be wed in a fortnight,” he says with a happy smile. “It will be held in the Sept and the city will be filled with celebration. We’ve even put effort forth to have food delivered to the poorest in the city, as well as toys for the children—ribbons for the girls to have. Just…small gestures, I know. But we are doing what we can when able. Even if it seems minuscule… It is only the very beginning.”

Your chin wobbles as your eyes flit between his. “What does any of that have to do with me or my babe?”

He settles his hand atop yours, which rest in your lap.

“Do you not see, my love?” He asks with hope in his eyes. “We are free to be together now.”

Your brows furrow. “H-How—”

He nods slightly. “Baela and I… We tried.”

He glances to the window. “But each of us wanted another. We were miserable in the thought that that was to be our lives: living together, but apart in our hearts and minds. Forever living within memories. And so we had a discussion. A difficult one, but one that left us in the relief of understanding once it was done.

“So we went before my mother, told her of our true feelings, and she gave Baela her blessing for her and Addam to bind themselves in matrimony. The entire reason we were betrothed to begin with was to strengthen Luke’s claim to Driftmark’s throne, as you know. But now everything has changed. She and I will always have fondness, and mayhaps love in a familial form, but we are not in love. She and Ser Addam very much are.”

He cups your cheek in his hand and you sniffle.

“You threw me aside. Would not even…look at me—”

He swallow thickly. “I know. I did it for you.”

Your brows knit together.

He raises his opposite hand momentarily. “Allow me to explain. Baela and I wanted to protect you and Addam both. And so we—”

He drops his hand and glances downward, softly shaking his head. “You cannot imagine how difficult it was for the two of us to treat each of you the way we did when you stood before my mother: as strangers. But we did it because we feared punishment befalling each of you if she suspected that we betrayed our betrothal to take others into our beds, especially at such a pivotal moment. What if Lord Corlys discovered and disavowed the prospect of my marrying his granddaughter, and we thus also lost his fleet and house’s support? What if Baela became with child and it wasn’t mine and there was further repeat of…”

He does not finish his statement. “But most of all: what if she took it out on you and him? What if she refused to reward either of you for your efforts to our cause?”

His eyes return to yours. “What was most important to Baela and I was your and Addam’s safety. You each having housing and food and coin. For your family’s to be tended to. We each hated ourselves for it—that unconscionable treatment—but we knew not what else to do.”

He scoots the least bit closer and rests his palm against your back. “But now you know the truth and we are righting our wrongs as best we can. This is my attempt at that.”

He twines his fingers between yours and his throat bobs as he steadies himself and stares into your eyes. “I would get on one knee, if able.”

A tear slips down your cheek in guilt. “I tried…”

He shakes his head, then leans forward and presses his forehead to your own. “I would not be here at all, were it not for you. Even then, it still works. Just not…properly. I have you to thank for my life.”

You bite your lower lip until you taste blood. “And how many did I take in its place? Do you’ve any idea the things I did those few days—at the Gullet and Spicetown? Did your mother tell you, or Daemon, or…”

You shake your head softly and silver waves slip over your shoulders. “They saw. They saw as I made the enemy into corpses and ash.”

“You had no other choice,” he whispers, sliding a hand along your waist to ground you to him.

“I did it because it felt good.”

You’ve admitted it now. Finally. After so many moons, you’ve let it come forth: that hideous fucking truth you’ve tried to desperately bury. Only, the more effort you put forth in doing so, the worse things became.

You could tell no other. Not your mother, and most certainly not Maisily—even if she has inundated you with questions about it all, you’ve refrained from telling her hardly anything. You will not sully her with your horrific acts.

You continue. “After what was done to you—the thought that you may not survive it—I unleashed my wrath upon them. And I reveled in it. I got my revenge. Body by body. Man by man. I did not rest  until their screams instead turned to silence. Until their ships turned to ash in the sea. Until their weapons were but splintered pieces of wood and their swords puddles of metal.

“I did that, and I liked it. It felt like the right thing to do. And then I began to fear—as I sat atop Silverwing overlooking the destruction I had wrought—that the phrase about our line and Gods and coins is true. That maybe I had gone mad. Because I didn’t want to stop.”

You pull back and look into his eyes. “I felt, for the first time in all my life, free and without fear. Unstoppable.”

Your chin wobbles. “I made her do that. Made my Silverwing…”

You begin to sob. “How could I have done that to her? Even the men I killed—they were merely doing the same as our side was: fighting for what they thought was right. And now they are lost to their families, their friends, and homes for forever. Their bodies will never be laid to rest.”

You wrap your arms around yourself.

“It’s all my fault,” you whisper. “Dozens upon dozens…”

Jace shakes his head while taking your face between his hands. “Because others did not do the same? Because I didn’t? I burned how many ships, all because one dared launch a scorpion bolt at you? And just like you, it felt like the right thing to do, because I was protecting that which I love. It felt freeing to exact punishment on those who brought it upon themselves. I felt vindicated in it. And I won’t apologize for it. Because by doing what we did, we are still alive. They made their choice. We all knew there was a chance that we were not to come home when we went off to war.”

He slides his shaking hand high into your hair and he buries his fingers in your curls in the hope of stilling them. “You are not alone. I too have suffered. As well as my mother. And Baela. And Hugh. And…”

He trails off. “But we live with it, because it is what must be done. We serve the Realm now. Peacefully. For our people.”

He looks at you. “We can be together now. That is why I brought you here: to ask for your hand.”

You stare at him in shock.

“Marry me,” he whispers tenderly, tucking a lock of silver behind your ear.

“Let us be together—the way we are meant to be. And we’ll never feel alone again. Will not wallow in hopelessness again so long as we have each other. We can…share our grief. Our darkest moments and thoughts and… No one else could understand. But we do. We understand each other.”

A tear slips down his cheek. “Please marry me. Please. I’m—”

He chokes back a sob. “I’m begging you. You’re all I want. I can’t do it without you. I don’t know how anymore.”

You worry your lip between your teeth as you fight a losing battle against further tears. “I don’t want to be queen…”

He takes you into his arms. “You would need be as much in name only. I would have no expectation for you to partake in politicking. There would be some expected appearances, of course. But apart from those, if you wished to remain here and be only my wife and mother to our child and little Maisily, then that is what will be. I only want you to feel safe. I want only to take care of you now. You and your family. Please let me. Please.”

He pauses for a moment. “You understand the smallfolk better than I can ever hope to. And I know they matter to you. To have you to council me on their needs, how best to look after them… Without you coming into my life, I fear I would still seem them as I initially saw you when we first met. You’ve changed everything, and for the better. I love you.”

You remain silent, for a long while as you lean against him, and he against you.

Two halves upholding one whole. If one pulls away, the other falls.

And you don’t want that: to fall.

You feel as if you’ve been continuously doing so since the Gullet. Falling further and further into an endless, black pit. For the firs time since then, you feel as if the sensation has stopped, and you are finally where you’re meant to be. Safe within his arms. Where none can harm you ever again.

“Yes.”

Your wedding takes place shortly after Baela and Addam’s, but is far more private in nature.

One, because the two of you wish for it to be. Two, due to your…condition, the people discovering Jacaerys’ heir was conceived out of wedlock is less than ideal.

Your mother and Maisily are moved into the Red Keep in rooms very near your own, and they each settle in comfortable to daily routines, but know they are always welcome to seek out either you or Jacaerys for any reason.

Quite often, Maisily comes to spend the night in your bed, and Jacaerys never tells her no, as he considers her his own now, and knows she is a great source of comfort for you.

Your mother comes to spend much of her time in the gardens and it does her quite well, which makes you…very happy to see.

When your little one comes screaming into the world, it is a boy, who is promptly named Lucerys.

He is the delight of your and Jacaerys’ lives, and a source of much curiosity for Maisily as she stands over his crib or bassinet and softly pokes at him, wondering about her new little brother.

Even your mother tends to him often—rocking him in her arms as she sits before her balcony, telling him stories of his late grandsire.

Jacaerys promises you—per his own request—that your next son be named after your late father, which he regrets never having a chance to meet.

There are nights where you, at times, still wake up screaming in terror as you choke on ash-filled air that is not there, but Jace merely holds you close until your trembling body calms and you fall asleep against his chest.

For him, he’s woken often by a throbbing in his scarred leg and memories of drowning under the influence of milk of the poppy. He had seen a great many terrible visions due to it. One of which was the fall of his family one-by-one. It had all seemed so frighteningly real.

And there had been one which was worse than all the rest: you lying in his arms upon undetermined shores as you drowned in your own blood. You would stare up at him with a look of desperation for him to make it stop, but all he could do was cradle you against his chest and tell you over and over ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ as you slipped away. Afterward…it always ended the same way: with him driving his own sword through his chest to follow along behind you into the next world. For his last reason for living was then lost to him.

He was supposed to be the one protecting you at war. Instead, he’d lain there useless upon a sick bed while you had to act in his stead. Something you never wanted to begin with. Should’ve never had thrust upon you.

That guilt never leaves him, even if you tell him it is in no way his fault. That it is what it is. Nothing which can be changed.

So you instead focus, as much as you can, on each other, and your family. Your son, Maisily, your mother and his, his brothers, and so on. You and Baela even become very close penpals. As a woman, after what you did, you confide in her the fear of not being a good enough mother to your child.

She shares in that, as she and Addam have begun to create their own line, as well.

But you assure each other that due to that same fear, you know you will be otherwise: everything your little ones need.

She becomes like a sister to you. And you to her, next to Rhaena, that is.

You even begin to venture, in time, back into the city you came from, to gain a new relationship with your people. It makes it easier that you are already familiar with so many.

A city which is in better shape now than you’ve ever seen it, for Rhaenyra has had many stonemasons and smiths of various trades tending to it. And she regularly holds audience with her subjects to hear their grievances and needs, and she does all she can to assure their happiness and wellness throughout the realm.

You know the deep-buried wounds of war within your mind may fade, but will never leave you entirely—any of you.

But it is made easier to bear in a kingdom of peace, with your lover, husband, and future king at your side, and your family all around with the memories of war behind you as you step forward…into a better future.

[sleepyangelkami]

CARL GRIMES MASTERLIST

ONE SHOTS

hush trouble adjusting sheltered oblivious clingy

DRABBLES

silent affection echoing need destruction and reparation safety blanket

SERIES

perverted

[mythicalmaven]

Beyond Boundaries • Oscar Piastri (PART FIVE)

Masterlist

Yes! You saw it correct! Time for chapter 5 already! <3 cant wait for chapter 6 already I tried something new this chapter & that was including some gifs in the chapter to make it a little more dynamic! It's just a little trial, so please let me know if you liked it or not, so that I know if I should include those more often :) So, just for the record, the chapter isn't finished after the gifs, it continues below the gif! :)

↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!reader (norris!reader) ↳word count: 4.2K ↳ parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, ↳chapter warnings: jealousy, first kiss, smut, 18+ content (mdni!), oral (male!receiving), fingering, emotional rollercoaster, brothers teammate trope, bestfriend!reader

↳series summary: Since Oscar joined McLaren as your brother’s teammate, you two have quickly become best friends. Recently promoted to be Oscar’s physiotherapist, you both relish the opportunity to spend more time together. However, as the new role brings you closer, Oscar finds himself grappling with unexpected feelings and rising tension, leaving him conflicted about how to handle his emotions

The rest of the holiday went by excruciatingly slow, the interactions between you and Oscar have been limited, you honestly were pretty much unable to look him in the eye, until you were pretty much forced by your job duties. Which meant you both had to put on a straight face and be act like the professional ones. The first time you spoke about what happened during your shared holiday, was the Wednesday before the Australian Grand Prix. You both had to attend the driver's meeting that was planned. His initial behavior towards you was distant and cold, something you completely understand. You had been avoiding him and he obviously noticed that. 

Afterwards you had decided to take Oscar aside, asking him if he was okay with having a talk with you. It took you a few days to work up the courage to talk to him. You knew you shouldn't have avoided him for so long, he didn't deserve that treatment and you knew it.  The talk with Oscar resulted in a big relief and a reparation of your friendship, a friendship with maybe potential for a little more.

*flashback to wednesday*

The two of you were sitting on the couch in Oscar's drivers' room, both looking at the floor. Talking about what happened during the holiday and how you both felt about it. You apologized to him about the way you handled everything and how you treated him. It was a good and relieving conversation, both glad that you made up. Because the both of you honestly couldn't stand this a day longer.

"I missed you" Oscar mumbled under his breath "I've felt annoyingly incomplete these past days"

You rested your head on his shoulder "I missed you too, Osc" you murmured back at him "I missed our jokes, our silly little facetime calls in the middle of the night, our movie night. I've missed my best friend"

Friendzone, that's what Oscar felt himself getting pushed back into. He rolled his eyes, puffing out a frustrated sigh "Don't you think you should stop calling me that?"

You looked at him confused "What? Why?"  

Oscar raised an eyebrow at you, rolling his eyes "I think we both know we crossed that line the moment you gave me a handjob, don't you think?" 

You chuckled at him, laughing it off a little "It wasn't just me! You pleasured me too, you know?" 

Oscar threw his hands up defensively "Hey! You started it!" he joked back at you.

Another laugh left your lips "Sure, we went beyond boundaries, but that doesn't mean you can't still be my best friend?"

The Australian driver jokingly shot you a suggestive look "What if I don't want to be just your best friend?"

"Osc.."  you uttered "We both know we shouldn't go down that road"

"I know, and I agree that it's for the best if we don't, but it doesn't change my feelings for you" he said, verbally admitting his feelings towards you for the first time "I can't change the fact that I'm in love with you"

You looked at him, softly placing a hand on his thigh, trying to comfort both yourself and him. You wanted to kiss him, but you can't, you shouldn't. It tore you apart, but it was for the best. You found yourself unable to reply to his words, too overwhelmed.

"Just be honest with me please, do you have feelings for me?" Oscar asked, placing his hand on top of yours. 

You looked at him, his brown eyes meeting yours "Yes"

*back to present*

It was Sunday, which meant it was race day. The race took the least expected turn, which lead to Max not even finishing and Carlos securing another win. The whole ordeal resulting in your brother on the podium for a 3rd place and Oscar finished right behind him in 4th. To say that you were proud, would have been a massive understatement. Event though the boys themselves might be a little disappointed about not reaching the top step, you were over the moon. To celebrate Carlos' victory the drivers had decided to go to a well known nightclub in Melbourne. 

You were currently trying to convince Oscar to join the lot of you, which seemed to be a lot more difficult than you would have liked "Come on Oscar! You gotta come!"

Charles piped in, leaning on your shoulder "Yes! Listen to y/n! It won't be as bad as you think!" Charles exclaimed "And! Not entirely unimportant, those nightclubs are full of hot women. You cant convince me that you wouldn't enjoy having a little fun with a gorgeous woman"

"I don't need a random girl twerking on me, thanks. I'm fine where I am" Oscar replied a little uncomfortable. Yes he definitely would enjoy having a little fun with a gorgeous woman; but only if that woman was you.

Charles looked at him and rolled his eyes "Don't be a party pooper, Piastri" he joked, putting his arm around your shoulder, sending Oscar a little puppy dog face "Do it for us?"

"Fine" he huffed, finally giving in

"Yayy!" you cheered, jumping into Oscar's arms, hugging him enthusiastically.

—————⋆₊⁺☾⋆the nightclub⋆☾⋆₊⁺—————

A few hours had passed since you all arrived at the nightclub, one that was pretty private and today only allowed entrance to the drivers, f1 staff and their invitees as well as a few other high established guests. So to speak, it was safe for the drivers to have a fun night out without the media getting involved.

You couldn't deny you might have had a few too many cocktails, completely unaware of just how drunk you were. Oscar stood at the bar, a beer in one hand and the other in his pocket, watching you intently. His gaze was locked on Carlos, who was dancing with you far too sensually for Oscar's liking.

The music thrummed through the room, a sultry beat promising temptation. You felt Carlos's steady hand on your waist as you moved together, the rhythm guiding your steps. His touch was warm and reassuring, but your eyes kept darting over his shoulder, seeking out Oscar.

Oscar stood on the opposite side of the room, his gaze fixed on you. He watched every sway of your hips, every flick of your hair, the intensity in his eyes palpable. You met his stare head-on, a smirk playing on your lips as you leaned closer to Carlos, your fingers trailing lightly down his arm.

You saw the muscle in Oscar's jaw tighten, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Carlos was getting on his nerves today. If he wasn't driving him off the track, he was stealing the girl of his dreams. Yes, Oscar knew he was exaggerating the problem, but with too much beer in his system, he was extra annoyed.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" Lando asked, following Oscar's gaze. "Oh, that's what's bothering you," he chuckled.

Oscar and Lando's friendship had fortunately returned to normal quickly after the whole ordeal. After his talk with you, Lando immediately went to Oscar, apologizing for the situation. They discussed many things, including Oscar's feelings for you, which Oscar found incredibly scary due to his previous reaction. Lando admitted he had been too overprotective and childish. He told Oscar he realized he would always be protective over his sister, but if she had to date someone, it might as well be someone he trusted more than anyone, pretty much giving him a green light.

Oscar downed the rest of his beer in one go, almost slamming the glass on the bar, and ordered two shots. "I need more alcohol," he huffed.

"Oscar, she's single and drunk, it doesn't mean anything to her. She probably just wanted to have a little fun and Carlos was at the right place at the right moment" Lando laughed, knowing his sister well. "And besides, I can guarantee you Carlos isn't interested in her that way. They just like to flirt sometimes."

"Yeah, everyone but me," Oscar huffed, handing Lando one of the shots he ordered.

Lando laughed again, rolling his eyes. "That's your own fault, you idiot. You're the one standing by the bar instead of on the dance floor."

"I can't dance," Oscar stated simply, trying not to say too much.

"Mate, if you dance with her, she'll probably take the lead anyway," Lando began, running a hand through his curls, looking back at his sister. "And you're blind as well, by the way."

Oscar gave the Brit a confused look before Lando immediately opened his mouth. "Oscar, it disgusts me to say this because she is my sister. But she's literally undressing you with her eyes. Eww." Lando pulled a disgusted face before continuing. "She's been looking at you pretty much every few seconds. I know my sister; she's one hundred percent trying to make you jealous, mate."

"Even if she is, what am I supposed to do about that?" Oscar scoffed, redirecting his gaze towards you to see if Lando was right. "She's the one who told me we shouldn't be together."

"She said you guys shouldn't date; she didn't say anything about being friends with benefits, did she?" Lando said, pulling yet another disgusted face. "It's honestly downright revolting to talk about my sister doing stuff like that, but someone had to tell you because I'm going insane from all your pining."

While the two boys stood there, Daniel joined them, putting his arm around Lando's shoulder. "Lando is right, you know."

"See! Even Danny agrees!" Lando exclaimed.

Daniel laughed at Lando's enthusiasm, glad to see he made up his mind. "You could always give her a taste of her own medicine. Go dance with my sister over there," he said, pointing at the brunette dancing with Pierre and Charles. "Just whisper in her ear that I sent you and that you need to make Y/N jealous, and I'm sure she'll play along."

"Daniel, how do you expect me to do that? I have the social skills of a peanut," Oscar replied.

The two boys laughed at Oscar, finding it incredibly funny how awkward he could be. "Just go! Go with the flow, come on, live a little!"

"Ugh, fine," Oscar huffed, a sigh of annoyance leaving his lips as he walked off towards the crowd of people on the dance floor.

Lando looked back at Daniel, giving him a smirk. "Mint."

"It's funny to see how quick you turned around. I'm proud of you, though," Daniel told Lando, still leaning his head on the younger one's shoulder.

"Would be a little hypocritical of me, now wouldn't it?" Lando replied, turning around in Daniel's arms, giving him a quick, sneaky peck on the cheek before pulling away quickly to make sure no one saw.

"Honestly surprised she hasn't figured it out yet. We've been a little too obvious, no?" Daniel asked.

Lando chuckled, taking a sip from his drink. "And that's exactly why she hasn't caught on to it yet. I'll tell her eventually, though."

Meanwhile Lando and Daniel were talking, Oscar was already on the dance floor, his arms around Michelle, Daniel's sister. He explained his plan to her, which she replied to with a roll of her eyes and a giggle, but gladly agreed to. It felt wrong, horribly wrong. The alcohol was making it a lot easier, kinda served as liquid courage. 

"She's looking" Daniel's sister whispered in his ear, gliding her arms over his back.

 As the music shifted to a slower, more sensual rhythm, he pulled her close, their bodies moving in perfect synchrony. He whispered something in her ear that made her laugh, her hand resting comfortably on his shoulder.

You felt a sharp pang of jealousy twist in your gut. Carlos must have sensed the change in your demeanor because he gave you a questioning look. But you were too focused on the scene unfolding before you to offer any explanation.

Oscar's hand was low on Michelle's back, guiding her movements with a practiced ease. She looked up at him through her lashes, a playful smile on her lips, and he responded with a grin of his own, his eyes flicking to you for the briefest of moments. It was a challenge, a direct provocation.

Determined not to let him see how much it affected you, you pressed closer to Carlos, your movements becoming more fluid and seductive. You laughed at something Carlos whispered, but the sound was hollow even to your own ears.

Across the room, Oscar spun Michelle, his hand lingering on hers a fraction longer than necessary. He dipped her, their faces inches apart, and your heart raced with a mixture of anger and something you didn't want to name. When he pulled her back up, their gazes locked, and the air between them seemed as though it crackled with unspoken  tension.

But it was the look he shot you afterward, a look filled with defiance and raw emotion, that made your breath catch. The dance floor had become a battleground, each movement a strategic play in a game of jealousy and desire. And neither of you was willing to back down.

Carlos's hand slid up your arm, his touch gentle but firm, grounding you. "You okay?" he murmured, concern lacing his voice.

You forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah, just... caught up in the moment."

But as you glanced back at Oscar, now laughing with Michelle as if nothing else mattered, you knew the truth. The moment was far from over, and the stakes had never been higher.

"You're trying to make him jealous, aren't you?" Carlos whispered in your ear, a smirk growing on his lips. 

"Duh, obviously" you retorted, pulling the Spaniard even closer, your arms around his neck inching his face even closer to you. 

"Well, I think it's working. He's coming over" he spoke in a low voice "Keep your eyes on me until he's here, cariño" 

You tried your best not to look behind you, feeling the adrenaline surge through your body, nerves overwhelming you. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your arm, the familiar warmth of Oscar's fingers enclosing your upper arm, pulling you out of Carlos' grasp. You looked into his eyes, and before you could react, he cupped your cheek in his hand and smashed his lips to yours.

The kiss was fierce and urgent, a release of all the emotions both of you had been holding back. His lips moved against yours with a desperate intensity, and you matched his fervor, your hands flying to his shoulders, then tangling in his hair. You could taste the faint bitterness of beer on his tongue as it slipped into your mouth, and the sensation sent a shiver down your spine.

Oscar's other hand slid around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. Your bodies moved in sync, pressing against each other as if trying to meld together. You tugged at his hair, eliciting a low groan from him that you felt reverberate through your own chest.

The kiss grew messier, more frantic, fueled by the alcohol coursing through your veins. His hands roamed your back, gripping and kneading, while your fingers traced the line of his jaw, down to his neck, then back up to his hair. The world around you blurred into nothingness; there was only Oscar, his touch, his taste, his heat.

Eventually, the need for air forced you both to break apart, but only just. Your foreheads rested together, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. His eyes were still closed, his lips slightly parted, and you could feel his heartbeat echoing the wild rhythm of your own.

Oscar's voice was a rough whisper as he spoke, "I've wanted to do that for so long."

You nodded slightly, your fingers still tangled in his hair. "Me too."

For a moment, neither of you moved, savoring the closeness, the shared warmth, the unspoken promise hanging in the air. The nightclub continued to pulse around you, but in that moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the world.

Oscar pressed his lips to yours again, more a short brush of your lips this time "Come back to the hotel with me? No strings attached" he proposed, his voice a little husky.

That's how you both ended up in the elevator, on its way to the floor where both of your hotel rooms were located. Oscar had pinned you against the elevator wall, his lips feverishly peppering your neck with kisses, unable to hold back. His hands roamed from your back to your stomach, slipping under your top to grab your hips, his thumbs pressing into your hipbones.

"I need you so bad, love," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and ragged.

"Fuck, Osc— I-I need you too," you moaned out, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer.

His mouth moved up to capture your lips in a searing kiss, tongues tangling with a desperation that made your head spin. You could taste the remnants of alcohol on his tongue, mixed with the raw desire that fueled both of you. Your hands explored his body, fingers slipping under his shirt to feel the hard muscles of his back, the heat of his skin.

Oscar's grip tightened on your hips, pulling you flush against him. The elevator hummed around you, but all you could focus on was the sensation of his hands, his mouth, his body pressing into yours. He trailed kisses along your jawline, nipping at your earlobe before returning to your lips with renewed hunger.

You arched into him, your back pressing harder against the cool metal wall of the elevator. The contrast between the cold surface and Oscar's fiery touch sent shivers down your spine. His hands slid up, pushing your top higher, his fingers splaying over your ribs as if trying to memorize every inch of your skin.

"Oscar," you breathed, your voice a mix of urgency and need.

He responded with a low growl, capturing your lips once more in a kiss that stole your breath away. One hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as his other hand gripped your waist, anchoring you to him. The elevator dinged, signaling your arrival at the desired floor, but neither of you moved, lost in the moment.

Reluctantly, Oscar broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing heavily. His eyes burned with desire as they locked onto yours. "You okay with my hotel room?" he asked in a whisper, his voice husky with promise 

You nodded, unable to form coherent words, your mind still reeling from the intensity of the kiss. Hand in hand, you stumbled out of the elevator, anticipation thrumming through your veins as you made your way to Oscar's room, ready to lose yourselves in each other.

Oscar reached inside of his pockets to grab his keycard, fumbling with it to open the door. When he finally managed to open it, he pulled you inside with him. As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, Oscar pinned you against the wall, his body pressing into yours. His breath was hot against your ear as he murmured huskily, "I can't wait any longer."

His lips found yours in a heated kiss, his hands roaming your body with a desperate need. One hand slid up under your top, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist, while the other moved lower, slipping under your skirt. You gasped as his fingers brushed against your inner thigh, teasingly close to where you ached for him.

"Oscar," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire. "You have no idea how much I want you," he whispered seductively, his lips grazing your jawline.

His fingers found their way to your core, slipping beneath the fabric of your panties. You moaned softly as he began to caress you, his touch both gentle and insistent. His other hand cupped your cheek, tilting your head so he could claim your lips once more.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "I need to make you feel good."

You could only respond with a whimper, your hands clutching at his shoulders as his fingers moved with expert precision. He circled your sensitive nub, then slipped a finger inside you, his thumb still working on your clit. The dual sensations had you arching into him, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

"That's it, love," he purred, his lips now trailing down your neck. "Let go for me."

He added another finger, curling them just right, and your world narrowed down to the feel of his touch and the sound of his voice. His whispered sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how beautiful you were, how much he needed you, how he wanted to watch you come undone.

Your body responded to his every word, the tension building inside you until it was almost unbearable. "Oscar," you gasped, your nails digging into his back.

"I've got you," he breathed softly, his fingers moving faster, his thumb pressing more firmly. "Come for me, love."

With a cry, you shattered around him, your body trembling as waves of pleasure coursed through you. He held you through it, his fingers still working you gently, drawing out every last bit of your orgasm.

When you finally came down, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathing heavily. He withdrew his hand, bringing it up to cradle your face as he kissed you tenderly, his touch now soft and soothing.

"You're amazing," he whispered, his voice filled with love and awe.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the physical pleasure. "So are you," you replied breathlessly, your fingers tracing his jawline "I need you to fuck me, Osc"

He pulled you into a gentle embrace, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I don't want to remember my first time with you as a drunk encounter against my hotel room door." he admitted, honesty evident in his voice.

"At least let me make you feel good then" you smiled at him, feeling a sudden boost of confidence taking you over as you flipped the two of you around, Oscar now being the one pinned to the wall. You send him a lustful look and sank to your knees, looking up at him with (not so) innocent eyes. 

Oscar let his head fall back against the wall, letting out a soft groan as he felt your hands explore his thighs. His hands moving to your hair, tangling his fingers in it. You fingers were moving extremely slowly, fully on purpose, trying to make the young Australian go insane. You carefully unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pulling it down his thighs. You used your teeth to pull his boxers down, causing Oscar to let out an almost embarrassing whine "Fucking tease" he uttered, his voice nothing but a rough whisper.

You lips traveled from his abdomen to his thighs and back, placing soft kisses everywhere, except for where he needed your lips the most. The sensation was electric as your lips met Oscar's skin, biting, sucking, and leaving a trail of marks in their wake.

Oscar tugged at your hair and moaned out loud as you finally closed your lips around the head of his cock, sucking softly. Your mouth felt even better than it did in his fantasies, Oscar felt like he was in heaven. He didn't want to feel like a teenager and cum too quickly, but the alcohol in his system and the way you worked your magic on him, caused the knot in his stomach to tighten quickly. Adrenaline and heat moving through his body, taking a tighter grip on your hair "Fuck, y/n" 

You licked and sucked, causing Oscar's breath to get caught in his throat. Tongue dancing over the sensitive flesh, coaxing a gasp from Oscar. Each movement sent waves of extreme pleasure coursing through his body, moans only growing louder every second. Unable to hold back the sound escaping his lips.

You then took his whole length in your mouth, your nose almost touching his abs, before releasing most of his member, except for the tip. You looked up at him through your lashes as you twirled your tongue against the underside of his cock "F-Fuck... wait" Oscar uttered, stumbling on his words, his breath coming out in ragged puffs. 

You pulled off him for a little while and looked at him, a little concerned "What's wrong?" you asked softly

 "F-Fuck, I'll come if you do that again"

A smirk formed on your lips, Oscar's dick disappears back between your lips. You bob your head up and down again, the rhythm pretty much perfect for Oscar. Another satisfied moan escapes his lips, right before you repeat your previous action, immediately feeling his himself get closer to the edge. He tried to pull you off his cock, but you refused, only sucking him harder, your eyes meeting his again. 

Oscar feels his orgasm washing over him in a way he has never experienced before, emptying himself in your mouth. You swallowed it all, before slowly pulling away, before you slowly rose from your knees, wiping your lips with the back of you hand. Your lips were puffy and red, your hair a mess. The sight of it almost enough to make Oscar get hard all over again.

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